CHAPTER IX (5)

April 10.—“This day my brother John arrived at Elizabethtown. Spent some time in conversation with him; but was extremely weak.”

This brother had been sent for by the Correspondents, to take care of and instruct Brainerd’s congregation of Indians; he being obliged by his illness to be absent from them. He continued to take care of them till Brainerd’s death, and was soon after ordained his successor in his mission, and to the charge of his congregation.

April 17.—“In the evening, could not but think that God helped me to ‘draw near to the throne of grace,’ though most unworthy, and gave me a sense of his favor; which afforded me inexpressible support and encouragement. Though I scarcely dared to hope that the mercy was real, it appeared so great; yet could not but rejoice that ever God should discover his reconciled face to such a vile sinner. Shame and confusion, at times, covered me; and then hope, and joy, and admiration of divine goodness gained the ascendancy. Sometimes I could not but admire the divine goodness, that the Lord had not let me fall into all the grossest and vilest acts of sin.

April 20.—“Was in a very disordered state, and kept my bed most of the day. I enjoyed a little more comfort than in several of the preceding days. This day I arrived at the age of twenty-nine years.

April 21.—“I set out on my journey for New England, in order (if it might be the will of God) to recover my health by riding.”

This proved his final departure from New-Jersey. He travelled slowly, and arrived among his friends at East-Haddam, about the beginning of May. There is very little account in his diary, of the time that passed from his setting out on his journey to May 10. He speaks of his sometimes finding his heart rejoicing in the glorious perfections of God, and longing to live to him; but complains of the unfixedness of his thoughts, and their being easily diverted from divine subjects, and cries out of his leanness, as testifying against him, in the loudest manner. Concerning those diversions which he was obliged to use for his health, he says, that he sometimes found he could use diversions with “singleness of heart,” aiming at the glory of God; but that he also found there was a necessity of great care and watchfulness, lest he should lose that spiritual temper of mind in his diversions, and lest they should degenerate into what was merely selfish, without any supreme aim at the glory of God in them.

Lord’s day, May 10.—“I could not but feel some measure of gratitude to God at this time, that he had always disposed me, in my ministry, to insist on the great doctrines of regeneration, the new creature, faith in Christ, progressive sanctification, supreme love to God, living entirely to the glory of God, being not our own, and the like. God thus helped me to see, in the surest manner, from time to time, that these, and the like doctrines necessarily connected with them, are the only foundation of safety and salvation for perishing sinners and that those divine dispositions which are consonant hereto, are that holiness, ‘without which no man shall see the Lord.’ The exercise of these Godlike tempers—wherein the soul acts in a kind of concert with God, and would be and do every thing that is pleasing to him—I saw, would stand by the soul in a dying hour; for God must, I think, deny himself, if he cast away his own image, even the soul that is one in desires with himself.

Lord’s day, May 17.—“Spent the forenoon at home, being unable to attend public worship. At this time, God gave me such an affecting sense of my own vileness, and the exceeding sinfulness of my heart, that there seemed to be nothing but sin and corruption within me. ‘Innumerable evils compassed me about;’ my want of spirituality and holy living, my neglect of God, and living to myself. All the abominations of my heart and life seemed to be open to my view; and I had nothing to say, but, ‘God be merciful to me a sinner.’ Toward noon, I saw that the grace of God in Christ is infinitely free toward sinners, such sinners as I was. I also saw that God is the supreme good; that in his presence is life; and I began to long to die, that I might be with him, in a state of freedom from all sin. O how a small glimpse of his excellency refreshed my soul! O how worthy is the blessed God to be loved, adored, and delighted in, for himself, for his own divine excellencies!

“Though I felt much dulness, and want of a spirit of prayer this week, yet I had some glimpses of the excellency of divine things; and especially one morning, in secret meditation and prayer, the excellency and beauty of holiness, as a likeness to the glorious God, was so discovered to me, that I began to long earnestly to be in that world where holiness dwells in perfection. I seemed to long for this perfect holiness, not so much for the sake of my own happiness, although I saw clearly that this was the greatest, yea, the only happiness of the soul, as that I might please God, live entirely to him, and glorify him to the utmost stretch of my rational powers and capacities.

Lord’s day, May 24.—“(At Long-Meadow, in Massachusetts.) Could not but think, as I have often remarked to others, that much more of true religion consists in deep humility, brokenness of heart, and an abasing sense of barrenness and want of grace and holiness, than most who are called Christians imagine; especially those who have been esteemed the converts of the late day. Many seem to know of no other religion but elevated joys and affections, arising only from some flights of imagination, or some suggestion made to their mind, of Christ being their’s, God loving them, and the like.”

On Thursday, May 28, he came from Long-Meadow to Northampton, appearing vastly better than, by his account, he had been in the winter—indeed so well, that he was able to ride twenty-five miles in a day, and to walk half a mile; and appeared cheerful, and free from melancholy; but yet he was undoubtedly, at that time, in a confirmed, incurable consumption.

I had had much opportunity, before this, of particular information concerning him, from many who were well acquainted with him; and had enjoyed a personal interview with him, at New-Haven, near four years before, as has been already mentioned; but now I had opportunity for a more full acquaintance. I found him remarkably sociable, pleasant, and entertaining in his conversation; yet solid, savory, spiritual, and very profitable. He appeared meek, modest, and humble; far from any stiffness, moroseness, or affected singularity in speech or behavior, and seeming to dislike all such things. We enjoyed not only the benefit of his conversation, but had the comfort and advantage of joining with him in family prayer, from time to time. His manner of praying was very agreeable, most becoming a worm of the dust and a disciple of Christ, addressing an infinitely great and holy God, the Father of mercies; not with florid expressions, or a studied eloquence; not with any intemperate vehemence, or indecent boldness. It was at the greatest distance from any appearance of ostentation, and from every thing that might look as though he meant to recommend himself to those that were about him, or set himself off to their acceptance. It was free also from vain repetitions; without impertinent excursions, or needless multiplying of words. He expressed himself with the strictest propriety, with weight and pungency; and yet, what his lips uttered seemed to flow from the fulness of his heart, as deeply impressed with a great and solemn sense of our necessities, unworthiness, and dependence, and of God’s infinite greatness, excellency and sufficiency, rather than merely from a warm and fruitful brain, pouring out good expressions. I know not that I ever heard him so much as ask a blessing or return thanks at table, but there was something remarkable to be observed both in the matter and manner of the performance. In his prayers, he insisted much on the prosperity of Zion, the advancement of Christ’s kingdom in the world, and the flourishing and propagation of religion among the Indians. And he generally made it one petition in his prayer, “that we might not outlive our usefulness.”

Lord’s day, May 31.—“(At Northampton.) I had little inward sweetness in religion most of the week past; not realizing and beholding spiritually the glory of God and the blessed Redeemer; from whence always arise my comforts and joys in religion, if I have any at all; and if I cannot so behold the excellencies and perfections of God, as to cause me to rejoice in him for what he is in himself, I have no solid foundation for joy. To rejoice, only because I apprehend I have an interest in Christ, and shall be finally saved, is a poor mean business indeed.”

This week he consulted Dr. Mather, at my house, concerning his illness; who plainly told him, that there were great evidences of his being in a confirmed consumption, and that he could give him no encouragement that he would ever recover. But it seemed not to occasion the least discomposure in him, nor to make any manner of alteration as to the cheerfulness and serenity of his mind, or the freedom or pleasantness of his conversation.

Lord’s day, June 7.—“My attention was greatly engaged, and my soul so drawn forth this day, by what I heard of the 'exceeding preciousness of the saving grace of God’s Spirit,' that it almost overcame my body, in my weak state. I saw that true grace is exceedingly precious indeed; that it is very rare; and that there is but a very small degree of it, even where the reality of it is to be found; at least I saw this to be my case.

“In the preceding week, I enjoyed some comfortable seasons of meditation. One morning, the cause of God appeared exceedingly precious to me. The Redeemer’s kingdom is all that is valuable in the earth, and I could not but long for the promotion of it in the world. I saw also, that this cause is God’s; that he has an infinitely greater regard and concern for it than I could possibly have; that if I have any true love to this blessed interest, it is only a drop derived from that ocean. Hence I was ready to ‘lift up my head with joy,’ and conclude, 'Well, if God’s cause be so dear and precious to him, he will promote it.' Thus I did, as it were, rest on God that he would surely promote that which was so agreeable to his own will; though the time when, must still be left to his sovereign pleasure.”

He was advised by physicians still to continue riding, as what would tend, above any other means, to prolong his life. He was at a loss, for some time, which way to bend his course; but finally determined to ride from hence to Boston; we having concluded that one of our family should go with him, and be helpful to him in his weak and low state.

June 9.—“I set out on a journey from Northampton to Boston. Travelled slowly, and got some acquaintance with a number of ministers on the road.

“Having now continued to ride for a considerable time, I felt much better than I had formerly done, and found, that in proportion to the prospect I had of being restored to a state of usefulness, I desired the continuance of life; but now death appeared inconceivably more desirable to me than a useless life; yet, blessed be God, I found my heart, at times, fully resigned and reconciled to this greatest of afflictions, if God saw fit thus to deal with me.

June 12.—“I arrived in Boston this day, somewhat fatigued with my journey. Observed that there is no rest but in God; fatigues of body, and anxieties of mind, attend us both in town and country: no place is exempt.

Lord’s day, June 14.—“I enjoyed some enlargement and sweetness in family prayer, as well as in secret exercises; God appeared excellent, his ways full of pleasure and peace, and all I wanted was a spirit of holy fervency to live to him.

June 17.—“This and the two preceding days I spent mainly in visiting the ministers of the town, and was treated with great respect by them.

June 18.—“I was taken exceedingly ill, and brought to the gates of death, by the breaking of small ulcers in my lungs, as my physician supposed. In this extremely weak state I continued for several weeks; and was frequently reduced so low as to be utterly speechless, and not so much as to whisper a word. Even after I had so far revived as to walk about the house, and to step out of doors, I was exercised every day with a faint turn, which continued usually four or five hours; at which times, though I was not so utterly speechless but that I could say yes or no, yet I could not converse at all, nor speak one sentence, without making stops for breath; and a number of times my friends gathered round my bed, to see me breathe my last, which they expected every moment, as I myself also did.