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CHAPTER XVI.
"These are wells without water, clouds that are carried with a tempest; to whom the mist of darkness is reserved. For when they speak great swelling words of vanity, they allure those that were clean escaped from them to live in error - beware lest ye also fall from your own steadfastness." 2 Pet. ii, 17; iii, 17.
The people seeing us disposed to continue the conversation, took their seats. In reply to the minister's remark, that I must be in good health, if he might judge from my loud speaking, I said, "I had rather wear out than rust out." He then remarked, that he was "a good thing to be zealous in a good cause." He remarked further, that I had said one
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thing in my preaching which was not correct. I inquired what it was. He said, "You told us that when Jesus Christ becomes judge, he will lay aside his mediatorial office." I said, in reply, "Is not that correct?" He said, "No, for Jesus Christ will never give up any of offices until all his work is accomplished." I said to him, "What does that scripture mean, "Then shall the end come?" He said it meant "the end of the world." I then said, "I will now give you the rest of the passage, 'then cometh the end, when he shall have delivered up the kingdom of God, even the Father,'" and asked him what kingdom that was which was to be given up, if it were not the mediatorial kingdom. He said he did not know that there was any thing erroneous in the idea which I had advanced, but he wished to ask me one more question, and that was, if I believed it were possible for a man, after he had been converted, to lose the grace received, and be eternally lost. I said, "I do." He said he did not see how that could be the case, when the Scriptures so universally declared that such a man could not be lost, and asked me what I would do with such a scripture as this, "My sheep hear my voice, and I
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know them, and they follow me, and I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish." I answered, "Sir, you know, as well as myself, that every part of that scripture is in the present tense, and the promise is to them as an obedient people." He said, in reply, that they should have eternal life, though they might not follow Christ all the time. Then said I, "That passage of Scripture, in order to meet your views, ought to read thus: "My sheep hear my voice part of the time, and part of the time they hear the voice of Satan; I now them part of the time, and part of the time I know them not; they follow me part of the time, and part of the time they follow Satan, and yet, notwithstanding all this, I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish.'" He said, "No, it reads right as it is." I replied, it could not be consistent then, if his views were right; for if a man could curse and swear, lie and get drunk, he could not at the same time be a follower of the Lord. He said, if a man could curse and swear, it was an evident mark that he never was converted. I then said, "Sir, what will you do with Pete; for he cursed and swore, lied and denied his
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knowledgment." He then said, "That passage means, ' whom the Lord foreknew as his chosen ones, or elect, them he would call, justify, and glorify.'" You told us," said I, "that there was no ifs in the case, and now I shall put another difficulty in your way, for another passage says, 'Many are called, but few are chosen,' and how ill you reconcile these two passage?" He said, "The scripture which says, "Many are called, but few are chosen,"' mean the common call of the gospel, which is common to all; but the call of the Lord is a special call," I then said, "I will give you the call of the Lord: here it is, 'I have called, and ye have refused.'" He said, in reply, that was the common call also. I replied that it was as the call of the Lord, which he had said was a special call; but he persisted in it that, that was the common call. I then said, "Sir, I will thank you to tell me where you get this common and special call - you have not taken it from Scriptures, for it is not there," but to this he gave me no answer. I then said, "It is much easier to ask questions than to answer them, and therefore I will not ask you some. He acknowledged
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that such a course was fair. I then asked him the meaning of that scripture, "He that despised Moses' law, died without mercy under two or three witnesses; of how much sorer punishment shall he be thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot of the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant wherewith he was sanctified an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto the Sprit of grace." He replied, "They used to sacrifice beast, and this was the blood of the beasts." I said, "I positively deny that, for it was 'the blodd of the covenant.'" He then said, "The pronoun 'he' has reference to Jesus Christ," so that it was Jesus Christ that was sanctified by his own blood. I then asked if the greater was ever sanctified by the less. He replied, "The less is always sanctified by the great." I then asked him which was greater, the divinity of Jesus Christ, or his humanity. He said, "The divinity." I said, "Did the divinity bleed?" he said, "No." I then said, "How can you apply it to Jesus Christ?" He made me no answer, but broke off from that subject, and immediately went to another,
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CHAPTER XVIII.
"For when for the time ye ought to be tearchers, ye have need that one teach you again, which be the first principles of the oracles of God," Heb. v, 12.
"And at the same time there arose no small stir about that way. For a certain man said, Sirs, ye know that by this craft we have our wealth." Act xix, 23-25.
In his next remarks he said he did not see how the Methodists could hold to sinless perfection, and falling from grave too. I said, "We do not believe in a sinless perfection and falling from grace too. I said, "We do not believe in a sinless perfection in this life." He said we did. I replied we did not; and not only so, but he never heard any one preach it, neither had he ever read it in a any Methodist book: "we believe," said I, "in Christian perfection, that is to love God with all the heart, soul, mind, and strength." He inquired, "Did ever any one do it?" I said, "Did you never love God with all you heart?" he answered, "No." I said, "How then do you get along in religion?" He said that his experience was like Job's, who said, "If I should say I am perfect, it would prove me perverse." "Well," said I, "we will hear what the Lord says of Job; he
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calls him 'a perfect and an upright man,' now whom shall we believe, Job or God?" He said he did not believe that either of them lied. I said, "Neither do I, but my opinion is, Job spoke of a sinless perfection, and it is as much as if he had said, 'If I should say that I am free from the effects of the fall, my afflictions would prove me perverse;' but when the Lord spoke of him, he considered him in that relation in which he then stood to him, and called him ' a perfect and an upright man.' It is said of Asa, that 'his heart was perfect all his days;' and again, 'The eyes of the Lord run to and fro through all the earth, to show himself strong in behalf of those whose heart is perfect toward him.'" He then said his experience was like St. Paul's. I asked him how that was. "St. Paul," said he, "says, 'Not as thought I had already attained, either were already perfect, but I press toward the mark for the prize of my high calling Christ Jesus.'" I said, "You are now as bad as you were before, for I can make it appear that St. Paul, in that sentence, had reference to a state of sinless perfection; for in another he says, 'as many of us ARE PERFECT, let us be thus
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minded.'" "Well," said he, "I do not care for that, for I do not believe that we can live without sin in this life." I then said, "Sir, is it not your duty to try to live without sin?" To which he replied "Certainly." I then asked him if it was his duty to strive for an impossibility. He answered, "No" I then pointed out to him the difficulty into which he had brought himself, and remarked, "You must get clear of it as you can." At this the congregation smiled, and all were silent for some time. I then desired him to tell me when the Lord, for Christ's sake, pardoned his sins. For a while he made reply: the last question seemed harder than all the rest. At length he acknowledged that his experience was very broken. I admitted that some men enjoyed a clearer evidence of their acceptance with God than others, and pressed him again to tell me when God converted his soul; to which he replied, "When I was about fourteen years of age I lost two of my brothers, and I had some serious thoughts at that time as to what had become of them; but whether my experience is any thing to be depended on or not, I do not know." I was astonished at this; but very little more
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was said on either side, and the conversation soon ended. Soon after this he bade me good night, and we parted for that time. The man of the house then said to me, that he never was so astonished in his life, as he had been that night. I said, "What has so astonished you?" "Why," said he, "Mr. __ has crowded you into an argument, and has brought up the case of old Job and others, and then could do nothing with them." The daughter then said to me, "What did you think of his experience?" I said to her, "I very much doubt whether he ever experienced a change of heart." She said she also doubted it very much, though she never had doubted it before; but now she did not think it right to take the sacrament at the hands of such a man, and she never should do it again. Soon after this she went to the minister, and requested a dismission from his church. He asked her the reason. She told him she did not believe the doctrine he preached. He told her that was no reason. She told him she was not profited under his ministry. He said that was no reason. She told him she did not fellowship the people. He said that was no reason. She said that
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these were all the reasons she could give, and that she should join the Methodists, and so she did. The old lady said, for her part, thought she was brought up under the Calvinistic doctrine, she was awakened and converted among the Methodists, and all the food she got for her soul, except once, was among that people.
We had some very refreshing seasons in some places on this circuit, that year. At S___ there was a good society, and some more were converted and added to the church. At the quarterly meeting there was considerable noise, which offended some, and drove some away from the meeting.
At this place I saw an old gentleman, a Calvinist minister, who, when he was a hundred years old, went into the pulpit and made a prayer; and I understood that when the Methodist preachers first came into the state of Connecticut he went to hear them. The last Rev. Jesse Lee was on of the first. He went to hear him, and when preaching was over, he came to him and said, "Sir, I do not find much fault with your preaching, but I am afraid you are not on a good errant." "Why so?" said the preacher. "Why," said
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he, "I am afraid you have come to break up our congregations." Mr. Lee said, "have you any sinners her?" "Yes," said he. "Well," said Mr. Lee, "they are the ones after which I came. I am on the errand of our Lord; I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." The old gentleman said, "If you think you are called to preach, you ought to go to the wilderness, and preach to the people there, for it is as much as the people can do to support the preachers that they have already." "Well then," said Mr. Lee, "it is the money, not the flock, you are in pursuit of." "No," said the old gentleman, "but it is our duty to take care of the people here." Then said Mr. Lee, "I am afraid you are like the dog in the fable, who would neither eat the hay himself, nor suffer the ox to eat it." (The reason why Mr. Lee said this was, the old gentleman had lately given up preaching because his eye sight had failed him, and he could no longer see to read his sermons.) The minister replied, "I am an old man." "Never too old to do good, "said Mr. Lee. At this the old gentleman was offended, and thus the conversation was brought to a close.
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His remarks, however, respecting the support of the ministry, for their frankness and honesty, ought to be recorded, as they contain, no doubt, the true reason of that opposition which the Methodists have net with from the standing order in New-England. They were afraid the people could not support a new class of ministers, in addition to the old. They felt as if they had the first right, and were afraid the Methodists would break up their congregations, and that they should be turned adrift. The same reasons against the introduction of Methodism into New-England still prevail, though we do not often meet with so honest an avowal of them from the clergy of the present day.
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SUPPLEMENT
TO
THE SUPERNUMERARY;
OR,
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF ITINERANCY.
In looking over the records of my past life, as contained in the preceding pages, I find that there are many things that had escaped my recollection when I first began to write; for I had not kept a journal of my life, and of course had to write from memory, and that not very strong or retentive.
When I travelled on Middletown circuit, Conn., in 1813, I had brother Arnold Scholefield for my colleague, and a very agreeable one he was, as much so as any man that I ever travelled with. We laboured together very harmoniously. One year before this, when I was on the district, I saw brother E. Washburn for the first time, in Middletown. He was then a located preacher. I was much pleased with him on many account, but especially with his open frankness of manner. Soon after this he joined the con-
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ference again. From the first to the last my acquaintance with him has been very pleasant. This year I attended a camp meeting about twenty miles east of Middletown, where the preachers were all strangers to me. I had to introduce myself to the presiding elder, brother Joe Winch, who received me very kindly, and asked me if I would preach. I told him that I had come for the purpose. He then asked me when I would preach; I said, "Any day you please." He then asked me at what hour? I said, "In the evening I can speak with the most ease." He said I might preach on Saturday evening, for then there would be the greatest number of hearers; there would be persons from different congregations, who on the sabbath would be at their own places of worship. Brother Samuel Luckey was there, and preceded me. His text was, "Praying in the Holy Ghost," Jude 18th; and he certainly preached and prayed in the Holy Ghost. When I began my exercised, the choir sung the tune called "China," which I had never heard before. I thought it the most melodious singing that I ever heard; and this with what I had heard before put me in tune for
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preaching. There was a young collegian present who undertook to write down my sermon; but I went a-head so much like a steamboat, that he gave our writing. It was thought by some that the sermon would be printed, but I heard no more of it while I was there. I heard brother Winch tell over some of the trials that he met with on some parts of his district, and I must say that I pitied him from my heart.
It is thought by some of our friends, and preachers also, that the presiding elder has an easy task of it; but little do they think, that all the most difficult things on his district have to be brought before him for decision. He has "to see that his preachers behave well, and want nothing," which of itself is no easy charge, so that he needs to have the wisdom of the serpent and harmlessness of the dove. But, as it respects myself at this camp meeting, I think I never preached with more satisfaction to my own mind than I did at this time; and the congregation behaved so remarkably well, that I was highly gratified. I believe that there was great good done at this meeting, although the preachers were mostly young men.
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Brother Winch told me that the preachers got so poor a support in that conference, that many of them had been driven to the necessity of asking the bishop for a transfer to the New-York, or some other conference; but the bishop did not see fit to grant it, for he wished to keep all the talent that he could in that conference; and though they could not get their wishes granted, they believed the bishop's motives were good; yet they thought it was their duty to take care of their families, and provide for them. The consequence was, many of them located, and went to the west, and joined other conferences. At this camp meeting there was one of our preachers who, with his family, was going to the west. He told me he was from Boston, but he could not get a support for his family; and though he loved the people, he had to leave them. Brother Winch told me he thought he should have to do so too. I suppose they are doing better there now.
I returned to my circuit in company with brother Coan, from North Guilford, to whom I said I wished that the people on our circuit knew one tune that was sung at the camp meeting. He asked me what tune it was. I
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said, I could not tell him the name of the tune, but it was a common metre, and in triple time. He said it was "China;" and when I got to Ponsett, where brother Washburn used to live, they would sing it for me. Brother Washburn, among other good things, had taught them to sin: and they sung extremely well - for they had now three teachers in that place. I do think that singing is an excellent part of divine worship, and that it will be our employment in heaven.
At North Guilford there was one thing transpired which was very extraordinary. It was in the neighbourhood of brother Coan, at a time when Lorenzo Dow was preaching. He observed that there was a young lady in the congregation who was very inattentive to the word, and was also laughing. He said to her, "Young woman, I will tell your fortune when I get through this head of my discourse;" and when he had got through, he said, "Now, young lady, I will tell you your fortune." She then braced herself up, and, with all the boldness imaginable, laughed the preacher in the face. He then said, "Young lady, you have no time to laugh; you had better be preparing your grave-clothes, for you
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will need them in less than two weeks." Brother Coan told me that he was frightened to hear this bold assertion - for he had not believed in Lorenzo's movements; but so it turned out, that in ten days from that time the young lady was brought a corpse into that house, which was matter of great astonishment to all the congregation. This same young woman was said to be a very healthy person, and this made it appear the more astonishing to the people. I recollect having been with Lorenzo once when he had been telling some of the people their fortunes. As we lodged together that night, I asked him how it was that he could tell the people what was to come to pass, and tell it with such confidence? He said, that things came to his mind with such light and power, that if he did not speak of them he felt guilty.
Brother Coan, who gave me the above account, was one of our best friends; his word could have been taken on any subject. He is no more on earth, but I believe he is gone to glory. I think there can be no doubt of his safe arrival there. While he was living he was a good Christian and a pleasant
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companion; and his house was an excellent home for the preachers.
We had some good times on this circuit, although the alarm of war was all around us. I heard the report of the cannon when the ship President was taken on the south side of Long Island, and also when the British attacked Guilford.
The first part of this year my wife lived in South Salem, part of the year at North Guilford, and part of the year in Middletown, at brother Knight's, which was a very pleasant and agreeable family. From this place I went to Stratford circuit in 1814, where we had some very good times. I had for my colleague Henry Eames, a good man of God. I recollect to have been invited to preach one evening at a private house; and when I came there, in the afternoon, I met with the sister-in-law of the man of the house. She belonged to the Calvinist Church, and I very soon found her to be a woman of piety, and had not thought of disputing with her on points of doctrine; but, when we were conversing on the subject of the duty of parents toward their children, she said she had thought that it did not make any difference
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how children were brought up, for if they were elected to be saved they would be saved, and if not, they would be lost! I then thought I would not do to let that pass by, and take no notice of it. I then said to her, "Dear madam, tell me, do you believe that dreadful doctrine, that God has made a part of the world to be damned, without giving them any chance for heaven?" After pausing a little, she said, "I will be honest. I was brought up under the preaching of the Calvinists, and was taught to believe that the Methodists were the false teachers that were to come in the latter days, and that it was a disgrace to go and hear them; and not wishing to disgrace myself I did not go to hear them, but hearing that there was a camp meeting at Stamford, and as almost every one was going, I thought that I could go without disgracing myself; and my sister and I concluded to go, and such preaching I never heard before. While there I was awakened and converted, and returned home with a determined resolution to join the Methodist Church, having no thought that I should meet with any opposition from my friends, especially from my family. But,
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when I informed my husband of what God had done for me, and that I was going to join the Methodists, he forbid me so doing, but said I might join the Presbyterians; and as I thought it to be my duty to join the church of God, I resolved to see the minister, and tell him my experience, and get the discipline of the church, and see if I could join them, and believe their doctrines. I had an interview with him, and he said I must come and join the church, and take the sacrament. I said 'I want to see the Discipline first, to see if I can join.' 'O!' said he, 'that is not for you to see now; but read the Bible, and at a proper time I will hand you the Discipline.' So," said she, "after I had taken the Lord's supper, he handed me the Discipline. I took it home, and began to read it in the family, and was so displeased with it that I threw it across the room, and said it was too bad to read before my children. I am now in the church, and I know not what to do; all the food that I get for my soul is among the Methodists." When I heard this, I pitied her from my heart.
Not far from where this lady lived there were others almost in the same condition,
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only they took courage and came off and left the church to which they had formerly belonged. They said they had joined the Presbyterian (Congregational) Church, that they had been converted at the camp meeting; and they thought that they would go to the minister and tell him what great things the Lord had done for them, and then they would have a time of rejoicing with their minister. But instead of that, he ridiculed them, and on the sabbath he preached so pointedly at them that some of the congregation turned their heads and laughed them in the face. Being grieved at this, they left him, and sought a place among the Methodists.
In 1815 I went to Redding circuit, and had Reuben Harris for my colleague. Brother Harris was a good preacher; and the people said they would be glad to have him preach for them, if he would only begin in time, and leave off in time.
It was on this circuit that I first heard of the introduction of Methodism in the state of Connecticut.* I believe Jesse Lee was the first Methodist preacher that went into this
*See chap. xvii, p. 115
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state. He thought he had a call from God to go and preach to that people, and made it known to Bishop Asbury, who gave him liberty to go. I believe that the first place he stopped at was Wilton, at the house of John Rockwell, who was the father of my first wife. Thomas Rockwell, my brother-in-law, was then a young man. He had heard the Methodists preach in Bedford, and liked them very well, and invited them to his father's house. Thomas's grandmother was a firm believer in Calvin's view of the "decrees," and concluded that that was the only true doctrine in the world; but Thomas believed as did the Methodists on this subject. It so happened that he and his grandmother got into a dispute about these matters in the presence of brother Lee, and Thomas was too much for his grandmother, which seemed to irritate her; and she said, "Thomas, I will not say you lie, but there is not truth in what you say."
This diverted brother Lee, and he said that it made him think of a little circumstance he had heard of. Two men were walking up a hill together, and on the top of the hill they saw a hollow log; and one said
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that he could crawl through it; the other said he would bet a dollar that he could not. So he crawled in, and when he got about half way through, the other seized the log and rolled it down the hill. When the one in the log got out he was much mortified, but he said, if the other would never tell of it, he would forgive him the dollar; so he told him that he would not. But the first time they met at public house, he said to the landlord, "Landlord, did I ever tell you that I rolled this man down hill in a hollow log?" "No," said the landlord. "Then," said he, "I never will." So this put a stop to the dispute.
Our preaching place was not exactly here, but was in Nod, about three miles off. It was not the place where Cain married his wife; yet it was the place where I first saw my first wife. My wife's mother died before I was married, and she died in great peace: she clapped her hands as long as she could, and died a shouting Methodist. I preached her funeral sermon from the words of the apostle, "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" and had a comfortable time. This was the same scripture from which brother Ezekiel Cooper
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preached my first wife's funeral sermon, which was about twelve years after the death of her mother. Brother Cooper asked me but a few minutes before he preached if I had any choice of a text: I said, "No;" but, while the people were singing, I wished I had given him the text that I had preached at her mother's funeral; and lo, to my surprise, he gave out the same text with a little addition, which was, "Thanks be to God which giveth us the victory."
It is very different now in Wilton from what it was when brother Lee first came there. But since that time we have had to fight many a battle. The "standing order" have done all they could to keep us away. But when the Methodists came in, and the Lord owned their labours, they would then be friendly, and see for union. I well remember a great reformation that took place among the Methodists in Wilton. The minister came forward, and appeared very friendly, and wanted to take some part in the work, and gave advice to the Methodists not to say anything about the young converts joining anywhere. He told them to be still until the work in some sense stopped; for to
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say anything on that subject might be a disadvantage to the work. But the next thing we heard was, that he had made an appointment for all the young converts and mourners to meet him at a certain place; and he got one of his brethren to meet with them, and they divided the people, putting the young converts in one room, and the mourners in another. He then inquired if they had obtained a hope. They said they had. He then asked them if they would be willing to be propounded to the church next sabbath. Nearly all of them answered, "yes;" but one of them told me afterward that when he came to hm and asked him if he were willing, he said he was not ready, for he wanted to see their Discipline. The minister said he had no other than that - pointing to a few pages called "The Covenant." "What," said he, "have you no other?" The minister answered, "No." The young man then went into another room, and asked the other preacher if they had no Discipline. He said, None that they made any use of, only at the presbytery. "I went down," said he, "to Bridgeport, and purchased one of their Disciplines, and took
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it home, and showed it to some of the young converts, who appeared to be astonished, and desired the loan of it, which was readily granted. They then showed it to their minister; and when he saw it he said that that was the work of the Methodists, to do them an injury; and tried to make them believe that the Methodists had forged it to do them harm; and there they let the matter rest without looking any further into it; and I do suppose that one half of the members of that church never saw their confession of faith, and that many of them do not believe it; for they will tell you so if you ask them the question."
At Poplar Plains I saw a young lady from Ohio, who had been disowned by her parents for hearing the Methodists. Her father told her to leave the Methodists, or to leave his house. He also was of the "standing order," and formerly from New-Haven. She left the house, and started for New-Haven, in hopes of finding some one that would take her n, and when she came there she found an uncle, who was on a visit to the place. He was a Presbyterian preacher, who lived about twenty miles off, and he took her to his own
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house, and bid her welcome. This she felt to be a great blessing. When she came there she inquired of her cousins if they were any Methodists in that place. They told her there was one, a black woman. She said, "I must go and see her." "We hope not," said they. "I shall go," said Rebecca, (for that was her name.) "and you must go with me." When she saw the coloured woman she found that there was a large class within three miles, and a church, where they had regular preaching on the sabbath, and so at last she found a home among the Methodists. I do think that she was one of the most pious women that I ever met with. After this she married and kept house; and it was a good home for the Methodist preachers. I have seen showers of tears, so to speak, fall from the people in the gallery of the church, when she has been speaking. But she is no more. I believe she is gone to her reward in heaven; and has long since proved the truth of the Psalmist's words, "When my father and mother forsake me, then the Lord shall take me up."
While I was on this circuit, I received a note from the preacher of the parish, who said he
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was coming to take tea with me and hear me preach. So he came, and we ere introduced to each other, which was not much sooner done than he asked me if I were at the camp meeting on Long Island? I said, "No," for I did not go to camp meetings as much as I had done formerly, for I could not rest there as I used to do. He then said he understood that there was a man there who jumped up and down, but he did not know but that the preacher had told him that which was not right. I said, "Sir, what if the man did jump up and down, as you say?" "Why," said he, "that is not religion." I said, "I know it is not, but it may be the effects of the religion, or caused by it." He said he did not believe it. I said, "How was it with David? He danced before the ark. I know not how he danced, whether he shuffled his feet about, or whether he jumped up and down, as you say." He said it was not right. "But," said I, "did not the young man that was cured by our Saviour go leaping, and jumping, and praising God in the temple?" "O," said he, "there was a reason for that." I said, "What reason?" He said, he had got cured. I said that that was the very
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thing itself, for he had got blessed. He said he believed that there was a great deal of sin committed at camp meetings. I aid that I did not doubt it, but the people that would commit sin at camp meeting would sin if they were at home. He said he thought camp meetings were bad things. I aid we were indebted to Presbyterians for camp meetings, for they were the first that held them. He said it was true, but there was a reason for their so doing; "for," said he, "there were so few preachers in those parts that the people had to go so far to meeting, that they staid some time on the ground after they got there." I said I thought that I could correct him in that, for I was travelling in the state of New-Jersey at the time when one of these camp meetings commenced. It began at the sacramental occasion, and on the second occasion the neighbouring churches came together, and the Methodists joined with them, and so did the Baptists. It was true that the people got into great extremes, but this was opposed on all hands. The Shakers, however, came in, and took off with them a great number, and some of the Presbyterian preachers with them; "but, I think, sir," said I, "that
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you have reason to be thankful to the Methodists for holding camp meetings, for many of your members were converted there; and I know of some of your preachers that were converted at camp meeting." I asked him if he had any conversions in his church? He said, "No." I asked him, if he had any prayer meetings in his church; he said he had appointed some, but could not get any of his people to pray. Sometimes he could catch a Methodist there, and then he could get along very well, otherwise he had all to do himself. I thought he was to be pitied.
At Norwalk we had a good society, and a very good place for meeting. Brother Abslom Day has been of great use to this place. He did a great deal toward building the church. I used to preach here when a corn-crib would hold all the congregation. Then we might say, "By whom shall Jacob arise, for he is small?" Now we may say, "What hath God wrought!" Norwalk is now a station, and supports a preacher comfortably. What great things may grow out of small beginnings!
The introduction of Methodism into Redding is as follows, as near as I can recollect,
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having received my information from one of the parties concerned, a local preacher, now living.
He told me that there were four men, of who he was one, that used to have their feast together frequently, and it cost them a great deal. They had not been in the habit of hearing any preaching, except by the Calvinists. When Jesse Lee came into the town, he inquired for the preacher of the place; and being directed to his house, he rode up to the door, and inquired of the gentleman if he were the minister of the place. He said he was. Mr. Lee then said he was a preacher also, and asked if he might preach in his pulpit. The minister asked him of what denomination he was. Mr. Lee told him he was a Methodist. The minister then said, "No." "May I preach to your people?" said Mr. Lee. The answer was, "No." Mr. Lee said, "I will preach on that rock," pointing with is hand to it, "in tow weeks," at such an hour, and said he wished he would give notice of it to his people, and come and hear him himself. Mr. Lee had but little trouble to give notice, for the news soon spread like fire among dry stubble, and almost the
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whole town came out to hear him. Before he arrived at the place some said, "Mr. Methodist, you would not come here to preach, if you knew whom you had to preach to." But when he came there, on said that he looked like a good-natured fellow, but guessed that he did not know much. But when he took his stand for preaching, he gave out his hymn, and asked if any one would raise the tune, but no one sung by himself. After he had been preaching a while, one said that he did know something; and when he had gone on a little further, one said that he knew as much as their minister; at length he said he knew more, and at the conclusion he said he thought that his preacher knew nothing, and he believe that his preacher thought so himself. The word had taken such effect on these four men, one of whom was a lawyer, that they were all convinced, and soon after converted, and all of them became preachers of the gospel. The lawyer used to plead at the court, and in the intermission used to preach. The judge one day heard him preach, and when he had closed his sermon, came to him and said, "How is this - do you plead law and preach the gospel too?" He
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answered, "I think it will do very well; for it is necessary that there should be lawyers to investigate the law, and it is necessary that they should be good men in order to do justice; and it is necessary that there should be preachers in order to investigate the gospel, and it is necessary that they should be good men too, in order that they may do good." "True, true," said the judge, and left him. Brother Smith (for that was his name) told me that he would not undertake a bad cause for love or money; he once had done it, but he suffered for it, and he never would do it again. But when the people came to him to plead their cause, he would examine them as critically as he could, and if their case was bad, he would advise them to go and settle as soon as they could, and never would ask anything for his advice. But to return. When Mr. Lee had closed the service, he inquired if there were any that would open their doors for such like preaching, and if so he would preach again in two weeks. Brother Aaron Sanford said that his door was opened, and that he must go with him, and make his house his home. So he took preaching to his house, and when his house became too small
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he enlarged it, and had a swing partition, so that it could be raised up; and we used to hold our quarterly meetings there until we were straitened for room. The friends then thought they would build a house for worship. But they had opposition from the "standing order," who blocked up their way, so that they could not get the place they anticipated. Brother Aaron Hunt, having a farm near the Presbyterian church, gave our friends the offer of a lot to build on, and the people came to work to clear off the lot. The Presbyterians then consulted what to do; for they said if the Methodist built their house so near to their place of worship it would ruin them, for they preached so loud that they could not hear their preacher preach, it being so close by. They then concluded to accommodate the Methodists with a building lot at another place not far off. They succeeded in building a house, and at length that was too small, and then they built the second, and now they have a stationed preacher there, and support him well. God has been very gracious to brother Sanford's family; I believe nearly all of them have been converted. Once son is a preacher, and three grandson are
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dispensing the word of life. Brother Aaron Hunt, one of our old preachers, married into this excellent family, and everything goes on harmoniously. Our good old brother Sanford is still living, a witness for Jesus. It is very different now with the preachers from what it was in days gone by, for the time has been when it was thought almost a virture to persecute the Methodists, especially in New-England, or Connecticut, for the Methodist preachers had to dispute every inch of ground. Their circuits were very large, and they had to read their Bibles as they could, sometimes on horseback, and sometimes on their knees, and study their sermons while in bed or on horseback, for at many places they had but poor accommodations. I have had sometimes to travel forty miles on one day, and preach three times; but this was not grievous to me then, and it affords me great pleasure now to think how the Lord hath brought me through. I have seen the time when I neither dreaded heart, cold, rain, nor snow, but now "the grasshopper is a burden." Sometimes, to be sure, I feel as if I were in the bloom of youth, but at other times I feel myself as on the brink of the grave, good for
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nothing. When I look forward I have nothing to fear, but much to hope. Thus I feel while I write. Glory to God for ever.
In the year 1815 I was elected a delegate to the General Conference, which took place in 1816, at Baltimore. Bishop Asbury died a little before the sitting of this conference. Our friends in Baltimore had heard that the bishop, in a former will, had bequeathed his body to his Baltimore friends, he having formed the first Methodist society in that place. They therefore petitioned the General Conference for permission to have his body taken up, and brought to their city. The bishop had been buried in a private burying ground, about seventy miles from Baltimore - the friends in Baltimore wished him to be buried under the pulpit in the Eutaw church. Their request was granted, and they brought him to the city while the conference was in session; and although it was not published in any of the churches, yet I think there was the greatest concourse of people I ever witnessed. It was said by brother Bond, who was with him when he died, and also conveyed his body to the city, that the corpse when taken up was but very little changed, although
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it had been twenty days in the grave. He was put into a lead coffin; so we did not see the corpse. Bishop M'Kendree officiated at the place. Brother Black, one of the delegates from Novia Scotia to our conference, walked with Bishop M'Kendree, and all the preachers of the General Conference walked two and two to the church.
This year I was appointed to Dutchess circuit for the second time; my colleague was Noble W. Thomas, a good brother, and a good preacher. Shortly after we got there we had a good revival in Amenia. I called all the official members together, and gave them what I called some good advice. There had been a good work of God a little north of this, and brother P. Powers and some others of our friends had been very useful there. The Baptist preacher came, and said he had heard good news from there, and he was glad; and that it was no matter what church they belonged to, so they were but Christians. This pleased our simple-hearted friends much; but the next think I found the preacher visited the young converts, and told them they must "do down the banks of Jordan," and that they never could be right until they were
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baptized all under water. This succeeded, and he got the most of them to join his church. I now told our friends not to have anything to do with that people; not to ask them to preach, exhort, or pray in their meetings, when our own preachers should be absent. One of their preachers asked on of our preachers what was the matter, that the Methodist preachers were not willing that they should come in and help us. His answer was, "We do not need you, neither do we want you; we can do our work ourselves, and work on our way, and you can work in your way." Going on in this way we received from forty to fifty, and the Baptists but one.
When I was at Amenia, on Dutchess circuit, I lived near Brother William Anson. He was sick with the typhus fever: I went to see him, and while there met with a Baptist preacher who lived in that place. He said to me, "Are you not going to hear Mr. Clark this afternoon?" This Mr. John Clark was once a Methodist travelling preacher, and had withdrawn from the Methodist Episcopal Church and had joined the Presbyterians. I answered, that I was not; and he said, "Why not?
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for he is as much of a Methodist as you are." I then said, that I liked him so much the less; for I could make it appear that he said he believed that God worked sin in the hearts of sinners, with the intent to damn them. Brother Anson, who was sick on the bed, said to the preacher, Mr. Phileo, (for that was his name,) "I hear many things that I do not believe; but I have heard one thing about you of which I wish to know the truth." "What is that" said he. "That is, your preaching a Beelzebub sermon, as it is called; that you named the psalm and verse where it is said the Lord reigneth, let the earth rejoice: and you read it, Beelzebub reigneth, let the earth tremble; and in so doing called the Lord Beelzebub, and then said, that Beelzebub reigned, therefore people might fall from grace; and as Beelzebub reigned, the people might live without sin in this life; and that if Beelzebub did not reign, that they would not be building that new meeting-house," pointing out of the window with his hand to the Methodist church, which was building at that time. He then said that he had preached there some time, and had not given the Arminians a whipping, and that he had taken that method
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for that purpose; "for," said he, "there are some of that principle in my church." "But," said he, "I will be honest; I meant the Methodists, and intended to attack their erroneous principles." I then said to him, "What erroneous principles?" he said, "That of falling from grace." "How," said I, "is that erroneous?" He said, "Because it makes out the devil to be stronger than God; for," said he, "if the devil can get any of God's children, he must be the strongest." I then said to him, "Does our standing depend altogether on God's being stronger than the devil?" He said, it did. I then asked him if he were as faithful to God as he ought to be; he said, "No." I then said, "What is the matter? is the devil the strongest?" He then said he would prove his doctrine from the Scriptures: "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them out of my hand. For my Father, which gave them me is greater than all; and none is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand." "Now," said he, "I will pin all the force of my argument on the word 'for.' Now, according to our lan-
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guage, the word signifies a reason." "Then," said I, "The word 'for' is not there, and as you pin all on that word, and it is not there, what will you do now?" He said, that he would bring me a scripture that I could not get by, which was, "I will visit their transgressions with the rod, and their iniquities with stripes. Nevertheless, my loving kindness will I not utterly take from them." I then told him I was astonished that a man having studied divinity should quote that for Scripture when there was nothing in the Scriptures like "his loving kindness he would not take from them." He then said, "Let me see that psalm." He took the bible, and looked it over, and then said, "I am right still: for it has reference to his Anointed, which is Jesus Christ, and Jesus Christ and his people are one; and so it cannot be taken from them." I then said to him, "Are you a Christian?" He said he was. I said, "Are you Jesus Christ?" He said, "No." He then scratched his head and said, "Somehow or other my head has got muddy to-day; but I will come one of these days and have it all out with you." But he never came to have it out with me, as he said. But he had said, that the reason
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why he pointed to our meeting-house, and said what he did, was, that if Beelzebub did not reign, there would be but one people, and all would go to one place to worship. But this gave great offense to his church, so much so, that they demanded a public confession; and when he made it, he told them that he was requested to make confession for his manner of preaching the last sabbath. He said that the reason why they enjoined his on him was, because they did not understand him; for his motives were pure, as far as purity could be attached to motives; for al motives were impure; and then his people thought that they could put up with the sermon as well as they could with the confession, and so they dismissed him; and what has become of him I know not.
We held our quarterly meeting at Poughkeepsie, and it was a glorious time. The preachers put up at Judge Williams's. The judge was in the love-feast, and it was the first he ever was in. He said it was the most interesting meeting that he ever attended; "for," said he, "they could not very well be formal, for there was a little praying,
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a little singing, a little exhortation, a little shouting, and praising of God; and there was little or no room for dead formality; it appeared that they were all alive." It was indeed a time to be remembered.
Our meeting at Amenia was still going on: we had some good help from the family of Ingraham's, and also of Powers'. The most of those engaged in this revival are gone home; but the children they had left will rise up and call them blessed. Their father's house was a home for the preachers, and the children would hail them as the rode along, and welcome them to their houses. Is shall always feel grateful to them for what they have done for me and mine.
I will recollect once on a fast day, which was proclaimed by the president of the United States, preaching in the forenoon at our new church, not then finished, and in the afternoon went to hear a Presbyterian preach; and about the middle of the sermon there was the most terrific tempest that I ever witnessed; the hailstones broke out almost all the glass on the west side of the meeting-house, three carriages were upset, and there was much praying for a little time. When the storm
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was a little over the preacher picked up his notes; for he had laid them down, and hunted for his place, and did not very readily find it. He asked them to sing a hymn, while they got their minds composed; but whether he found his place or not, I could not tell, for I was looking at the tempest; it was a very tremendous, and I feared for our meeting-house; but it stood the storm without harm, although that side of our church toward the storm was not closed. For a while we had but one church, and that in union with the Presbyterians and Baptists, which did not do very well; so our friends built one of their own, and all went on well, and we had good times.
During the revival at Amenia, one of Thomas Ingraham's sons experienced a change of heart: he is now a travelling preacher in one of the western conferences. While I was on this circuit I crossed over the river to Newburgh circuit to New-Marlborough, the place of my nativity. In the village of Milton there was a Methodist meeting-house for which the people were in debt $700, and they thought they had nothing to pay. My eldest brother, Henry, said that he had heard that I was a good beggar, and he said
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that they would petition the bishop for me, if I would come; for their house was in danger of being sold. I told him that I would come and help them, for I did not want them to lose their house; and in the year 1816 I was appointed, with Brother H. Bangs, to Newburgh circuit. So I began my work of begging for the house. I drew up the subscription, and headed it with one hundred dollars, and went to my brother, and told him that he must give one hundred dollars more; he said that he had given all that he well could. I told him that the Lord could take that from him, and then it would be lost; "But," said I, "put it in the meeting-house, and you may save it; and not only so but you will not eat less food, nor wear less clothes; and more than this, your children may be converted, and that will be the best of all." "What you say is reasonable," said he; "set me down one hundred dollars." I then went to my brother-in-law, and told him the same story, and he said, "Take thy bill, and write one hundred." I then went to al the rest of the class, and got thirty-five dollars more. I then inquired of the quarterly conference, if it was their wish that the house should be free; they
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voted that it should be paid for. I told them that if they would choose a committee to make out the dividend for each class I would collect it. This being done, I went round the circuit, and collected all that I could. I came to one class, where they were apportioned only ten dollars: they had one rich man in the class: I told them what I had done for their circuit, and they very soon left me alone. I tried the second time, and wished them not to leave me as they had done before; and if they would not pay me anything, I would pay it for them; and then, if they came to the quarterly meeting, I would give them as good a place as I could to stop at, and as good a seat in the house as I could for their comfort; but they would not give me anything, so that made me one hundred and ten. When I came to another place, where their proportion was thirty-seven dollars, I began at the richest man first, and he said he could not afford to give anything; but he would give one dollar. I said it would not do; he said I must get all that I could from the reset of the class, and I must go home with him. I did so, but I had not gone more than half enough, so I talked with him until bed-time, and got
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him to give as high as ten dollars. I stuck for ten, and at length told him to let me set him down ten dollars, and when I came to collect it, if he were not willing to pay the ten, I would pay five: and so it was, the was not rich enough, and I had to pay the five, and that made me one hundred and fifteen dollars. So I got through, and was glad to come off so.
I was highly pleased with my colleague this year; it was a pleasant time to me. I travelled among my friends and relations, in the place of my nativity. It seemed pleasant to go to the place where my parents lived and died. My brother and two sisters witnessed their death. I have preached in my father's house a great many times, and have had some good seasons to my poor soul. I have some sweet prospects of meeting them in glory. I pray the Lord to help me to live for it; for if we live the life of the righteous, we have the promise, that we shall die his death. Then all will be well.
In 1820 I was appointed on New-Rochelle circuit, and had brother William Jewett for my colleague, which was very pleasant. This good brother was a reformation man.
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He laboured hard for souls, and at White Plains we had a glorious revival. There were many souls awakened and converted to God. I took on probation twenty-two at one time, which was thought to be a great many for those times. We admitted into society, first and last, a goodly number; one of them is now a travelling preacher, namely, John Crawford. I used to stop at brother Abraham Miller's. He is a man well known, and well reported of by the preachers who have travelled this circuit. His house was a home for them whenever they were there. He was an exhorter, and laboured much, and with great success. One day I said to him, "Who lives in the second house at the bottom of the hill north of this?" He said, "My eldest brother, James." I asked him if our preachers visited him. He said, "No." I said, "I have a mind to go." He then said he wished I would. I said, "he will not abuse me, will he?" He said, "No, he will treat you kindly." So i went, and introduced myself into the family, and received a hearty welcome indeed. I never was treated better at any place. So I stayed all night, and talked with them about their souls' concern. Both he and some of the famil-
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ly were awakened, and the dear old man became so distressed that our friends feared for him: but he Lord took care of him, and brought him into liberty. At length all the family were brought to taste the pardoning love of God. At this house I made my home whenever I was on that part of the circuit: I shall always gratefully remember this family. Brother James Miller is no more: his sufferings are over. He has left a wife and children to mourn, but not without hope. One of his daughters died before him, and went out the world rejoicing, and clapped her hands for joy; and I have no doubt but there has been a happy and joyful meeting of the father and the daughter in a better world than this, where it is all glory, glory. I feel a little of this while I write, and I hope to join with them when I have finished my work below.
We had a good revival all through the circuit, especially at Rye. We stopped at brother Ezekiel Halsted's, where we had a good home. Part of the family had religion, and part had not. The parents prayed much for their children. Some of them lived in New-York, and some in Rye. The parents asked
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me one day to talk to their son Elisha, who was then keeping store in the village. I told them that I would when I got better acquainted with him, for he was very bashful. If I recollect right, that was the day before he was awakened. I remember well when preaching at that time of having great liberty; and when we came into class, and I was exhorting the class to faithfulness, Elisha was sitting near the gallery stairs, unknown to any one of the family in the house. He at length rose, with his handkerchief to his eyes, and went to his father, who was sitting by the altar, and throwing his arms around his neck, said, "Father, pray for me." I then said, "This is like the prodigal son returning to his father." I asked brother Taylor to pray, and then whispered to the father, and told him to keep up the prayer meeting, for I must go to my next appointment. Sister Halsted and sister Brown at the beginning of the meeting held down their heads, as they said, to keep their eyes from drawing away their hearts, and id not look up to see who it was that I said was like the prodigal son. All the praying was in general terms; and when they were dismissed, and had got into
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the yard, sister Halsted asked who it was that brother Woolsey said was like the prodigal son. One said, "Elisha." She inquired, "What Elisha?" "Your son," was the answer. Then she and sister Brown were so overcome with joy that they hardly knew where they were. We had our quarterly meeting soon after this, and a great many came to the altar to be prayed for, and Elisha with them. This was the beginning of good days in this place. Our presiding elder was not with us at this time, but we got along as well as we could. Brother Halsted at this time had six sons: there were three of them living in New-York. They came up to their father's on a visit, and one of them, William, found peace at his father's house. Elisha found peace in his store chamber. Schureman and Samuel found peace in New-York, and Underhill at the homestead, some years after, he having purchased the place of his father, and moved there. The father is no more. He is gone to his reward in heaven. His son William died in the full triumphs of faith, in New-York, a few years since. His last expressions were taken down in writing; his widow
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has them, and I think they are very valuable. I heard her read them, and if I had them here I would write them down.* He was a great sufferer. But his sufferings are over. All who saw him in his last moments were greatly affected; even the skeptic shed tears, and said, that grace was the best of all, when we came to die. He wanted to see this dying saint at the last, and I think it made a great impression on his mind. I am inclined to think these things cannot be easily forgotten.
When I went to conference I told Bishop George that I had thought of asking for a supernumerary relation. He begged that I would not. I told him that I found I could not do the duty of an effective man on the circuit, and I felt bad to take the place of one that could do effective service. He said he would favour me. I told him that I would do all I could. He said he had heard that of me ever since he first heard of me. So he appointed me on Cortland circuit. It was where I lived at the time, and was
*An account of the death of this good brother, and also that his brother Ezekiel, and of their amiable stepmother, as well as the dying sayings alluded to above, were published in the Christian Advocate and Journal. - Ep.
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one of the hardest circuits on the district, though the bishop did not know it; but he thought it would favour me because it was my home. I tried to do all that I could. My colleague on the circuit was B. Northrop. He was not a very pleasant colleague, for as I travelled round the circuit I would read the rules of society, and endeavour to enforce plainness of manners and dress, and he would follow me, and recommend the wearing of gold, laces, and ruffles, and told the people that it was becoming the Christian. I found that he visited the rich whether they had religion or not, and when some of our friends referred him to me for plainness, he would oppose my plainness, and say how much better it would be for me if I would dress more fashionably; but the poor members of the society he did not visit. I took an opportunity to converse with him; he said that it was only some of the ignorant part of the society that complained of him. I told him that it was some of the most respectable part of society that found fault. He then asked me who they were. I referred him to a young lady whom he highly esteemed. He wished to know what she said
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of him. I then told him that she said he had been a great hurt to her sister, who was opposed to her, and to the Methodists. She further said that the Presbyterian preachers that came there talked more consistently on the subject of religion than he did. He then began to make confession, such as it was. I tried to get along with him as easy as I could. The people on the circuit said that he was not a long-lived Methodist; and so it was, for he at length went to the Episcopalians, and moved somewhere to the west, where he settled. Our loss was not very great.
The next year I was appointed to New-Rochelle circuit. I travelled and laboured hard for more than six months, and then my strength failed, so that I had to give over travelling. I stayed a short time with Joseph Wilson, my brother-in-law, and then came to Rye, and bought me a house, and soon after moved into it; and here I expect to stay until my last remove, which will be to the other world.
Since I have lived in Rye we have had some good revivals; although we have had some discouragements, yet amidst them all, we have kept our heads above the water.
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There are some, however, that have gone back, thinking that they have been hardly dealt with. I have tried to keep peace as much as I could, and this year (1843) God is working wonders among us. Some of our neighbours have been converted, and some are seeking the pearl of great price.
At Lower Rochelle three has been a good work this year. At King-street, also, there has been a great work. In that one society nearly seventy have been added to the church.
At Portchester there has been, and still is, a great work. The last time i was there twenty-two were added to the society. It is thought that at this place most of the people are under concern of mind. If our house of worship were as large again as it is, it would be more convenient, as now we cannot get to the mourners to encourage them. Some of the most respectable persons in the community, both at King-street and Portchester, have joined with us to pull down the strongholds of Satan, and they have become very useful in the church. Some of the first class of people will rise and address the congregation with great confidence and propriety; and
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it is said by others that they cannot stand that, there is so much of God in it that it breaks down their stubborn hearts. Our preachers have their hands full; one attends at King-street, and the other at Portchester.
We have some souls converted in Rye, and others are inquiring the way, or, "What shall I do to be save?" When our preachers came on the circuit they felt much discouraged, and said they had rather taken any circuit on the district than this: they now feel better, and I am glad. When our preachers are cast down I feel sorrow of heart, but when they feel encouraged then I rejoice with them; so I can "rejoice with them that rejoice, and weep with them that weep." But, I believe, when the members are all alive in religion, and striving for that mind that was in the Redeemer, we shall see good times; for we have the promise of God to that effect, and his promises will never fail. There has been a great deal of praying for a revival of the work of God on this circuit, in public as well as in private.
In the village of Milton we have our meetings in a school-house, on Wednesday evening, and on sabbath morning sabbath school,
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then prayer meeting, and also class meeting. In the afternoon we go to church at Rye Village, and then in the evening at the school-house in Milton again. We consider ourselves a highly-favoured people, and we ought to live up to our privileges. - E.W.
Rye, Westchester co., N.Y., 1843
THE END
Wilford Whitaker,
wilfordwhitaker@yahoo.com.
Rev. Elijah Woolsey
Introdcution - Chapter 9 (pages 1 - 69 )
Chaper 10 - Chapter 16 (pages 69 - 105 )
Chapter 16 - End (pages 105 to 164)
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