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MEM OIK 



[lEV. EDWARD PAYSON, D,!) 



I,ATE OF rORTLAND, MAINE. 



BY REV. ASA CUMMINGS 



Be.'.'ve orasse est beni; stxidui.sse .... I-utbeh. 



PUBLISHED BY T1!E 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 

150 NASSAU-STREICT, NEW YORK. 



•ytyd 



*. 



In this edition, whatever was judged to be of mere local 
interest, and a portion of the comments which had been 
largely interspersed, are omitted, under the sanction of the 
author. The exhibition of Dr. Payson's Ijfe and character^ 
especially as shown in his own journal and correspondence, 
ip full ; and every thing retained which was supposed to be 
of general interest to the intelligent and pious reader. 






DISTRICT OF MAINE, TO WIT : 

District ClcrWs O^ce. 
rfE IT REMEMBERED, That Oil tlie tweiity-fiflh day of February, A. D 
1830, and in the fifty-fourth year of the Independence of tlie United Statca 
of America, Mrs. Ann L. Payson, of said district, has deposited in thia 
office the title of a book, the right whereof she claims as proprietor, in tho 
words following, to wit: 

'* A Memoir of the Rev. Edward Payson, D. D. late Pastor of the Se 
coiid Church in Portland. Bene orasse est bene studuisse. — Luiher.^^ 

in conformity to the act of the Conj^ressof the United States, entitled, 
"An Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of 
maps, charts and books, to the authors and prorietors of such copies dur- 
ing the times therein mentioned ;" and also to an act, entitled, " An Act 
supplementary to an act, entitled, * An Act for the encouragement of Isani- 
ing, by securing the copies of maps, charjs and books to the authors and 
proprietors of such copies during 1A\^ tijnes therein mentioned ;' and fo» 
extending the benefits thereof to tlie hi'ts of designing, engraving, and 
etching historical and other prints."* * 

J. MUSSEY, 

Clerk of the District of Maine. 
A true copy as of s eeord, 

Attest, J. MUSSEY, Clerk D. O. Maine. 

Right of publishing transferred to American Tract Society 



Pago. 

Chap. i. Birth ol Edward Payson — His earl^r impres- 
sions ; intellectual qualities ; filial and fraternal 
conduct ; moral character— -His literary education ; 
enters Harvard College ; his reputation there 5 

Chap. n. Comprising a period of three years from the 

time of his leaving college * 14 

Chap. hi. His religious history during the period em- 
braced in the preceding chapter 29 

Chap. iv. Retires to Rindge, and devotes himself ex- 
clusively to his preparation for the ministry G6 

Chap. v. His state of mind in the immediate prospect 
of the ministry 93 

Chap. vi. His first efforts as a preacher — His religious 
character further developed 108 

Chaf. vn. Visits Portland — His favorable reception, 

and Ordination • 125 

Chap. viii. Hisconcern for his flock — Reverse in his 
temporal prospects — Is taken from his work by 
sickness 140 

Chap. ix. Re:?umes his pastoral labors— Letters — Re> 
view of the year 15G 

Chap. x. His dependence on God ; its influence on 
himself and church — His uniform purpose to know 
nothing save Jesus Christ and Him crucified — Illus- 
tration — Letters — Resolutions — Increased success 176 

Chap. xi. Permanency and strength of maternal influ- 
ence — Correspondence — Death-bed anguish, how 
alleviated — Disgraceful incident— Price of popula- 
rity — Reasons of former trial^ developed — -Let- 
ters, &c. 1B8 

Chap. xii. Holy aspirations — Gratitude to the Savior 
— Multiplied labors — Novel family scene — Danger 



1 eOISTEMl^. 

averted — *' Curious frame " — Fiallery depiecated 
— His marriage— Becomes sole pastor of the church 
— Retrospect of the year 216 

CfiAP. xm. Forms of prayer — Thoughts on public 
prayer — His sincerity a grand means of his suc- 
cess 240 

Chap. xiv. The pastor in action — Methods of excit- 
ing, sustaining and extending a due interest in re- 
ligious concerns — Preaching, administration of or- 
dinances, church fast, conference, inquiry meetings 254 

Chap. xv. The same subject — Bible class — Pastoral 
visits — Social parties — Special and casual inter- 
views — Charm of his conversation — Singular ren- 
counter — Whence his competency — His publica- 
tions 29.^ 

Chap. xvi. His exertions without the bounds of his pa- 
rish — Influence on his ministerial associates ; in re- 
suscitating and edifying other churches — Visits 
" The Springs " — Effect of his example, conversa- 
tion, and prayers on other visiters — Excursions in 
behalf of charitable societies — Translation of mi- 
nisters — He is invited to Boston and New-York 317 

Chap. xvii. Letters to persons in various circumstan- 
ces and states of mind 339 

Chap. xvin. His private character — His afections and 
demeanor as a husband, father, master, Iriend — Efis 
gratitude, economy, generosity — His temper of 
mind linder injuries 377 

Chap. xix. Further particulars relating to his person- 
al history, and religious exercises, in connection 
with his pastoral labors and their results 398 

Chap. xx. His last labors — His spiritual joys, heaven- 
ly counsels, and brightening intellect, during the 
progress of his disease — His triumphant death 445 

Lines by Mrs. Sigournev 48ri 



MEMOIR. 



CHAPTER I. 

Birth of Edwaid Pay son — His early iyiipressions ; intellecUuii 
qualities ; filial an ci fraternal conduct; moral character^ 
His literai'y education : e^nters Harvard College ; Ids rejnUa-' 
tio]^ there. 

Edward Payson was born at Rindge, New-Hamp- 
shire, July 25th, 1783. His father was the Rev. Sefn 
Payson, D. D. pastor of the churclj in Rindge, a man 
of piety and public spirit, distinguished as a clergyman, 
and favorably known as an author. His mother, Grata 
Payson, was a distant relative of her husband, their 
lineage, after being traced back a few generations, 
meeting in the same stock. To the Christian fidelity 
of these parents there Ls the fullest testimony in the 
subsequent and repeated acknowledgments of their son, 
who habitually attributed his religious hopes, as well 
as his usefulness in life, under God, to their instruc- 
tions, example, and prayers^ — especially those of his 
mother. She appears to have admitted him to the most 
mtimate, unreserved, and confiding intercourse, which 
was yet so wisely conducted as to strengthen rather 
than diminish his filial reverence ; to have cherished a 



MEM 01 11 or 



remarkable inquisitiveness of mindj which early dis 
covered itself in him ; and to have patiently heard and 
replied to the almost endless inquiries which his early 
thirst for knowledge led him to propose. His fathei 
was not. less really and sincerely interested for the 
welfare of his son ; but, from the nature of the relation, 
and the calls of official duty, his opportunities must 
nave been less frequent, and his instructions have par- 
taken of a more formal character. With the mother, 
however, opportunities were always occurring, and 
she seems to have been blessed with the faculty and 
disposition to turn them to the best advantage. Ed- 
ward's recollections of her extended back to very early 
childhood ; and he has been heard to say, that though 
she was very solicitous that he might be liberally edu- 
cated, and receive every accomplishment which would 
increase his respectability and influence in the world^ 
yet he could, distinctly see that the supreme, the all 
absorbing concern af her soul respecting him, was, that 
he might become a child of God. This manifested it- 
self in her dis« ipline, her counsels, expostulations, and 
prayers, which were followed up with a perseverance 
that nothing could check. And they were not in vain. 
From the first developement of his moral powers, his 
mind was more or less affected by his condition and 
prospects as a sinner. It is among the accredited tra- 
ditions of his family, that he was often known to weep 
under the preaching of the Gospel, when only three 
years old. About this period, too, he would frequently 
call his mother to his bed-side to converse on religion, 
and to answer numerous questions respecting his re- 
lations to God and the future world. How long this 
i^eriousness continued, or to what interruptions it Wd« 



■ EDWARD PAYSON. 7 

subjected, does not clearly appear ; nor is much known 
as to the peculiar character of his exercises at that 
time ; but that they were not mere transient impres- 
sions seems highly probable from the fact, that, in sub- 
sequent years, his mother was inclined to the beliel 
that he .was converted in childhood. There was some 
other cause than maternal partiality for this opinion 
as she did not cherish it alone. Besides, his intimatt 
friends have reason for belie.ving that he never ne- 
glected secret prayer while a resident in his father's 
family. The evidences of his piety, however, were, at 
this period, far from being conclusive ; he, at least, 
does not appear to have regarded them as such ; nei- 
ther were they so regarded by his father, who had 
earnestly desired to see him a decided follower of the 
Redeemer, before encountering the dangers to reli- 
gious principle and pure morals, which are sometimes 
found within the walls of a college. 

How far those mental qualities, which distinguished 
Dr. Payson's maturity, were apparent in his early days, 
cannot now be known ; for, though he died compara- 
tively young, his parents had gone before him, and 
their surviving children were all younger than this 
son. The very few incidents belonging to this pei-iod 
of his history, which have escaped oblivion, though 
not adequate to satisfy curiosity, are, on the whole, 
characteristic, and afford undoubted indications that 
this well-known decision, enterprise, and perseverance 
had dawned even in childhood. 

That he was a minute observer of nature, and highly 
susceptible of emotions from the grand and beautiful 
m the handy-works of God, was obvious to all who 
had the privilege of listening to his conversation or his 



MEMOIR OF 



preach ng. His taste for the sublime very eaily dis- 
covered itself. During a tempest, he might be seen ex- 
posed on the top of the fence, or some other eminence, 
•while the lightnings played and the thunders rolled 
around him, sitting in delightful composure, and en- 
joying the sublimity of the scene. 

He is said to have manifested an early predilection 
for arithmetic ; and was a tolerable proficient in the 
art of reading at the age^of four years — an art which' 
no man ever employed to better advantage. The sur- 
prising quickness with which he would transfer to his 
own mind* the contents of a book, at a time when a new 
book was a greater rarity than it now is, threatene(3 
to exhaust his sources of information through this me- 
dium. All the books in his father's collection, and the 
town library, which were of a character suited to his 
age and attainments, were read before he left the pa- 
ternal home, and retained with such tenacity of me- 
mory, as to be ever after available for illustrating 
truths, or enlivening and embellishing discourse. 

It is natural to inquire whether there was any thing 
in the circumstances of his early youth which will ac- 
count for his mental habits, and especially the rapidity 
of his intellectual operations. A partial answer may 
be found in the fact, that his time was divided between 
labor and study. His father, like most ministers oi 
country congregations, derived the means of support- 
ing his family, in part, from a farm, which his sons 
assisted in cultivating. From his share in these agri- 
cultural labors the subject of this Memoir was not ex- 
empted. But, whatever were his employment, though 
he appears to have engaged in it with cheerfulness, 
and to have prosecuted it with fidelity, his thirst for 



(EDWARD I'AVyOiN. 



knowledge was the ruling passion of his soul. This 
he sought to quench, or rather to cherish, by resorting 
to his book at every interval from toil, however short, 
when lie tasked his pind to the utmost of his power^ 
intent on making the greatest possible acquisition in 
a given time. His mind, though strung up to the high- 
est pitch of exertion at these seasons, suffered no in 
jury thereby, as it was soon diverted from its- employ 
nient by a call to the field ; and every repetition of the 
process extended its capability and powxr. The ac- 
quisitions, in this way obtained, furnished materials 
on which to employ his thoughts while engaged in 
manual labor, which he would not fail to digest and 
lay up in store for future use,— a voluntary discipline , 
of most auspicious influence, as it respects the facility 
of acquiring knowledge, and the power of retaining it. 
His early literary, as well as moral and religious 
education, is believed to have been conducted princi- 
pally by his parents, except the studies preparatory to 
college, which were pursued, in part at least, at a 
neighboring academy. His preparatory course w^as 
completed before the long and fondly-cherished de- 
sires of his father respecting his personal piety were 
realized. Still tne good man could hardly cherish the 
thought of conferring on his son the advantages of a 
public education, without an assurance grounded on 
evidences of experimental religion, that he would em- 
ploy his attainments for the best good of his fellow- 
men, and the glory of his Maker. With reference to 
this essential requisite, he used much earnest expostu 
lation, and even went so far as to say to him, "To 
give you a liberal education, while destitute of reli- 
gion, would be like putting a sw^orti into the hands o< 
^ madman." 



TO MEMOJH OF 

Whether the father was led to adopt such strong 
ianguage, from having observed in his son the exist 
ence of those properties which, in their future devel- 
opement, were to give him such .power over his spe- 
cies, or whether it proceeded merely from anxiety to 
transfer his own feelings *and convictions to the mind oi 
his son, — there does not appear to have been, in either 
the disposition or conduct of the latter, any particular 
cause for unusual apprehensions respecting him. His 
filial affection and conduct had been, and ever con- 
tinued to be, most exemplary, as manifested by his 
letters Avhen absent, and by his reverence for his pa- 
rents and cheerful obedience when at home. His fra- 
' ternal feelings were kind, and his conduct towards his 
brothers and sisters faithful and affectionate. By them 
he was greatly beloved, and his vacations, when he 
should visit home, and mingle again in the domestic 
circle, Avere anticipated with delightful interest, as the 
halcyon days of their lives. His moral character comes 
down to us, even from the first, without a blemish 3 
and, by consent of all, he sustained the reputation rf a 
magnanimous, honorable, generous youth. 

His father, as is obvious from the event, had formed 
no peremptory and unalterable purpose to wait for tlie 
certain fruits of personal religion before sending him 
to college ; and the real cause of hesitancy was, proba- 
bly, the tender age and inexperience of his son. The 
interval of his detention was a favorable season for the 
application of religious motives. As such it was im- 
proved by this solicitous parent, and not in vain ; for 
his faithful suggestions and appeals were afterwards 
recalled by the object of his solicitude, with most grate- 
ful and impressive ihterest. Young Payson though de 



EDWARD PAYSON. 11 

lained from college, was permitted to pursue his stu- 
dies — but whether exclusively, o||in connection with 
other employments, does not appear, — till he was fitted 
to join the Sophomore class ; when, all objections be- 
ing waived, he entered Harvard College, at an advanced 
standing, in 1800, about the time he conipleted his se- 
venteenth year. 

He had now a new ordeal to pass — a severe test for 
both his talents and character. Many a youth, who 
was regarded as a prodigy of genius in the place oi 
hi? nativity, and who anticipated the same eminence 
at the seat of science, has found himself sadly disap- 
pointed, in being obliged to take his rank below medi 
ocrity. Thus it had nearly fared with Pay son — not 
that he was destitute of real wprth ; but there were 
circumstances which prevented that worth from being 
appreciated. The first impressions respecting him 
were unfavorable. "You would have taken him, says 
a classmate, for an unpolished, ignorajat country lad ; 
exceedingly modest, unassuming, and reserved in his 
manners. And, as we generally look for a long time 
at the words and actions of a character through the 
same medium by which he was first presented to us, 
his merit was for a long time unknown." This judg- 
ing from appearances is, perhaps, unavoidable, though 
often very injurious. In his youth, Mr. Payson's mo- 
desty might easily be mistaken for bashfulness 3 as 
through life he had much of a downcast look, holding 
his eyes inclined to the*earth, except when warmly en- 
gaged in conversation ; then they would beam most ex- 
pressively ; and when addressing an audience from the 
pulpit, they would " pry through the portals of the head," 
and give a ihrilunir emphasis to the language of bis lip*: . 



12 MEMOIR OF 

Mn Payson's classmate, just quoted, and wlio also 
occupied the same^oms with him during the whole 
period of his residence at college, bears decided testi- 
mony to the purity of his morals and the regularity oi 
' his habits, as well as other estimable qualities. With 
his intimate friends he was social, communicative, and 
peculiarly interesting and improving, and, by those who 
best knew him, was much beloved. He was distin- 
guished for his industry ; his first care always was to 
be master of the studies of his class, which engaged 
him but a short time, and then he would resume his 
reading. He was invariably prepared to meet his in- 
structor, prompt in reciting, and seldom committed a 
mistake. His manner of rehearsing was rapid, his tone 
of voice low, with a kind of instinctive shrinkins: from 
every thing which had the appearance of display. He 
seems to have been regarded as no more than a decent 
scholar by his associates and teachers generally at col- 
lege ; but, " after having been with him a few jnonths, 
I v/as convinced that he possessed uncommon mental 
powers. Others knew not tliis^ because they knew not 
the man. During the latter part of his collegiate 
course, as he became more known, he rose rapidly in 
the estimation of both the government and his class- 
mates, as a young man of correct morals, amiable dis- 
position, and respectable talents." 

The testimony of another classmate agrees with this 
as to the general character of the man, but is more dis- 
criminating and positive in reference to his merits as 
a scholar. " The circumstance of joining his class at 
an advanced standing, combined^ with his naturally re- 
tiring and unobtrusive manners, contributed, probably 
to his beinsf so little known to a largt portion of his 



EDvVAKD i'AV:r;uN. 13 

college contemporaries, who seemed scarcely aware 
that his talents were of that high order, by which he 
was soon afterwards so eminently distinguished. Yet 
even at that early period, he manifested an energ\^, 
hardihood, and perseverance of character, which were 
sure indications of success, in whatever course he 
might eventually direct his professional pursuits. In 
the regular course of college studies, pursued at the 
time of his residence at Cambridge, he maintamed the 
reputation of a respectable scholar in every branch. 
Intellectual and moral philosophy were more to his 
taste than physical science ; yet he sustained a distin- 
guished rank in the higher branches of the mathema- 
tics, as well as natural philosophy and astronomy, at 
that time so unpopular, and so little understood by a 
large proportion of the students." It is not remem- 
bered, however, that there was any public recognition 
of distinguished merit in him at the time he com- 
menced Bachelor of Arts. 

The reputation of being "a great reader," as the 
phrase is often applied, is a very undesirable distinc- 
tion ; it is one, however, which Mr. Payson bore in 
common with thousands who are not the wiser for 
their reading. His frequent resort to the college li- 
brary was a theme of raillery with his fellow-students, 
who, at one time, represented him as having ' a ma- 
chine to turn over the leaves ;' and at another, as 'hav- 
ing left off taking out books, because he had read all 
the thousands in the alcoves of old Harvard.' Ridi 
cule, in his case, was egregiously misapplied ; for, says 
his constant companion in the study and in the dormi- 
tory, " every thing he read, he made his own. He had 
iht strongest and most tenacious memorv I ever knew. 



ii MExMOiR OF 

It is truly aslonisliing with wiiat rapidity he could read > 
how soon he could devour a large volume, and yet 
give the most particular and accurate account of its 
contents." Testimonies of the same kind might be 
multiplied, and confirmed by many anecdotes, which 
to a stranger would appear incredible, illustrating the 
power of this faculty, and the severity of those testis 
to which it was subjected. 



CHAPTER II. 



Comprismg a period of three years from the time of his leav- 
ing college, 

Mr. Payson was graduated at Harvard University, 
at the commencement in 1803. Soon after leaving col- 
lege, he was, on recommendation, particularly of Pro- 
fessors Tappan and Pearson, engaged to take charge 
of the academy then recently established in Portland. 
He continued in this office for three years, at the close 
of which he was, by the terms of his contract, at liber- 
ty to resign it. Of this liberty his new views of duty, 
at the time, disposed him to avail himself. 

An employment, which requires the daily repetition 
of nearly the same routine of duties, cannot be very 
prolific in incident, or very favorable to the develope- 
ment of those qualities which attract the public eye. 
Nor is it an employment in which real worth is likely 
to be appreciated, except by a very few ; though the 
ftubjeci of this memoir is not thought to have had any 



EDWARD FAYSON. • In 

special cause of complaint, as to the estimation in 
which his services were held. He acquired and sus- 
tained a good reputation as an instructer; but, from a 
man possessing his characteristics, something more 
would naturally be expected. He was certainly endu- 
ed with a rare faculty for communicating knowledge, 
and with a power to awaken, and call into action,4he 
mental energies of either youth or manhood. In the 
existing methods of education, however, there was 
ranch to obstruct the exercise of this power. . The in- 
structer, who should do much more than follow the 
order and manner of the text-books then in use, would 
probably have been regarded as an empiric ; besides, 
the habits of society were then opposed, more than 
they have been since, to every thing which bore the 
appearance of innovation. His native diffidence, also, 
would have operated as a powerful restraint against 
venturing on any bold experiments in a sphere of ac- 
tion and duty in which, judging from the character 
and attainments of many who had filled it, little im- 
provement was to be expected. 

At this period he Avas but a youth; and it is not to 
be supposed that he engaged in the business of in- 
struction, and prosecuted it with that all-absorbing in- 
terest and determination of purpose which distinguish- 
ed his ministerial career. It is, to say the least, ex- 
tremely doubtful whether he had felt the influence on 
human exertion of that principle which is indispen 
«able to man's highest achievements— -cZoiw^ all to iht 
glory of God. As it was, he is remembered by surviv- 
ing pupils with gratitude, respect, and even venera- 
tion. He has left, as will be seen, sufficient evidenct: 
of his deep solicitude for their moral and religious wei- 



16 • MLMUIK OF 

fare, from the time at which he was liomibrtabiy as- 
sured of' his own " acceptance in the Beloved." 

It would seem, from some allusions in his sermons, 
as well as from hints derived from other sources, tliatj 
^daring the early part* of his residence in Portland, he 
indulged himself in such amusements as were fashion- 
abtej or were considered reputable, and that, too, with 
a gust as exquisite as their most hearty devotee — how 
frequently, or to what extent, the writer is ignorant. 
This practice, if it were more than occasional, would 
indicate a relish for social pleasures, in the usual sense 
of the expression, which did not long continue ; for, 
after his seriousness became habitual, he was averse 
to going into company, even to a fault. He dreaded 
an invitation to a social party, though he had reason 
to expect nothing there directly offensive to religious 
feelings. But there were companions whose society 
he sought, and w^hose intercourse was so regulated as 
to subserve mutual improvement. They were select 
iterary friends, some of them his classmates, whose 
fellowship was in a high degree intimate and endear- 
ing. With these he passed many pleasant and profit- 
able hours, and cemented a friendship which conti- 
nued till death, and Avhich has been faithfully recipro- 
cated by the surviving members of the little band, and 
continues to exhibit itself in unfeigned respect for his 
precious memory. The exercises of these meetings 
were not subjected to any very rigid and formal regu- 
lations, such as would have cramped the energies of 
the mind, or restrained even its wilder sallies. Mu- 
tual confidence was the bond of union, which no seve- 
"ity of retort or piquancy of raillery could sunder. Each 
brought forward the results of his reading or invention. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 17 

and exercised his powers at discussion or free conver- 
sation ; andj by this " action of niind upon mind," the 
most brilliant flashes of wit were often struck fllbm one 
so full charged, and so quick at combination as Pay- 
son's, to the no small entertainment of his companions 
Of these intellectual banquets, his contributions were 
the most coveted and exquisite portion. 

But no distance, employment, or friendships could 
vveaken his attachment to the paternal home, or di- 
minish the strength of his filial love. Some extracts 
from his letters will now be given, which, while they 
exhibit the son and the brother in the most amiable 
light, will serve also to illustrate some of his intellec- 
tual qualities. They are addressed to his " Ever Dear 
and Honored Parents." 

" Portland, May 20, 1804. 
" It is not the least among the distressing circum- 
stances attending the late afflicting dispensation o^ 
Providence, that I am unable in person to share in your 
grief, and alleviate, by filial sympathy and affection, the 
keenness of your sorrow. I would fain attempt to afford 
you some consolation ; but the only sources whence 
it can be derived are already your own. I can only 
say for myself — it shall ever be my endeavor, that, so 
far as my exertiofis can avail, you shall not feel his 
loss ; and that we, who remain, will strive to fill, by 
our increased duty, reverence, and affection, the pain- 
ful void thus made in your happiness." 

" January 14, 1805. 
"I congratulate you both on the welcome news, 
fvhich my sister gjave me, of your amended health and 

Payson. «? 



ib MEJNIOIU OF 

spirits. Mine, I feel^ flow with double rapidity since J 
received her letter. I witness, in fancy, the happiness 
of honft, and long to participate and increase it ; bui 
for the present must be content with rejoicing alone. 
I cannot possibly plead guilty to the charge of 'not 
thinking of home, so often as home does of me.' On the 
contrary, I believe home has very little due on that score, 
if we consider the frequency, and not the value, ol 
the thoughts. But, my dear Parents, if a few of those 
thoughts could be imbodied on paper, and sent me, 
how much more good they would do, and how much 
more pleasure they would communicate, than' if they 
were to remain in their native place ! 

'' I am still without an assistant, and as the number 
of students has been increased, my task is very labo- 
rious. However, I shall soon be supplied. — Just now 
I was interrupted. It was my assistant. He is young 
and raw : but so much the better. He will not render 
me small by comparison ! 

'' I had a pleasant vacation. All my classmates who 
are in the district, five in number, met at the. house of 
one of them. The recollection of past scenes was, as 
Ossian says, ' pleasant and mournful to tlfe soul.' 
There is, however, very little satisfaction in recalling 
past pleasures to mind ; that is, what is generally called 
pleasure." 

^ September 8, 1805. 
" The distress I felt at parting with you was soon 
banished by the garrulity of my companion, whose 
chattering tongue for once afforded me pleasure, and, 
besides, freed me from the necessity of talking, foi 
which I felt not very well qualified. T once thought it 



EDWARD PAYSON. IV 

was impossible for my filial affection to be increased, 
but the kindness which first gave birth to it increases 
every visit I make, and that must increase with it. 
Were others blessed with friends like mine, how 
much greater would be the sum of virtue and happi- 
ness on earth than we have reason to fear it is at pre- 
sent. Why cannot other parents learn your art oi 
mixing the friend with the parent.? of joining friend- 
ship to filial affection, and of conciliating love, without 
losing respect ?— an art oi more importance to society, 
rind more difficult to learn, — at least, if we may judge 
by the rareness with which it is found, — than any 
other; and an art which you, my dear parents, cer- 
tainly have in perfection. 

"We had a tolerably pleasant journey, and were re- 
ceived with kindness by Mrs. , and with polite- 
ness, at least, by the rest of the family. After the oth- 
ers were retired, Col. kept me up till past eleven, 

explaining, as well as I could, the difference between 
the various sects of religion, especially between Armi- 
nians and Calvinists. * * * * 

" We had a long passage, but met with no accident, 
except that I carried away my hat — to use a sea- 
phrase — that is, the wind carried it away, and, there 
being no one on board that would fit me, I was two 
days on the water exposed to a bul^ning sun, without 
shelter ; in consequence, my face was scorched pretty 
severely.'' 

" September 20, 1805. 
'^I sadly suspect that this plan of numbering my 
epistles will prove your deficiency, and my attention, 
in a mannei very honorable to myself, and not very 



iO MEMOIR OF 

much so to my good friends at home. This is lay 
fourth, and not one have I receiyed, nor do I expect 
one this long time. However, I say not this by vv^ay 
of complaint. Your kindness, when I was at home, 
proved your affection beyond a doubt ; and if I should 
not receive one letter this year, I shou.d have no right 
to complain. Yet, though not of right, I may of favor 
entreat for a few occasional tokens of remembrance 
I have as yet scarcely recovered from the inflation and 
pride your goodness occasioned. The attention I re- 
ceived led me to suppose myself a person of no small 
consequence ; however, a month's dieting on cold ci- 
vility and formal politeness will, I hope, reduce me to 
my former size. In the meantime, I am convinced 
that my situation here is not so much worse than any 
other as I imagined." 

The following letter describes a scene m a stage- 
coach. Those who have witnessed the Avriter's une- 
qualled command of language, and pov/er to accumu- 
late facts and imagery to give it effect, will most readily 
conceive of the overwhelming torrent of satire which 
he must have poured forth on the occasion described. 
Travelers have often brought themselves into a highly 
mortifymg dilemma by allowing free license to their 
tongues among stftmgers. It was happy for the hero 
in this adventure, that he expended his forces upon a 
legitimate subject of raillery. 

'' Portland, Oct. 8, 1805. 
* My dearest Father, 

" In hopes of rescuing you one moment from the 
;rowd of cares and occupations which surround you, 



EDWARD PAY SON. 2} 

I will give you an anecdote of my journey ; and if you 
condescend to smile over it, why so much the better. 
When seated in a company of strange phizzes, I im 
mediately set myself to decipher them, and assign a 
character and occupation to the owner of each. But 
in the stage w^hich conveyed me to B*****, there ^vas 
one which completely puzzled me. I could think of no 
employment that would fit it, except that of a ******* 
representative, unless it was that of **********^ whose 
pride, being confined in B. by the pressure of wealth 
and talents, had now room to expand itself. A cer- 
tain kind of consequential gravity and pompous so- 
lemnity, together with his dress, might perhaps have 
impressed us with respect, had not a pair of rough, cal- 
lous hands, with crooked, dirty nails, lessened their ef- 
fect. During a pause in the conversation, he presented 
me with a paper, which, on examination, I found to be 
one of those quack advertisements which Mr. **** has 
honored with his signature. Not suspecting in the 
least that the good gentleman had any concern in the 
business, and feeling a fine flow of words at hand, I 
began to entertain my fellow-travelers with its nume- 
rous beauties of expression, spelling, and grammar. 
Finding them very attentive, and encouraged by their 
applause, I next proceeded to utter a most violent phi- 
lippic against quacks of all denominations, especially 
those who go about poisoning the ignorant with patent 
medicines. I could not help observing, however, that 
my eloquence, while it had a powerful effect on the 
muscles of the rest of my companions, seemed to be 
thrown away on this gentleman aforesaid. But, con- 
cluding that his gravity proceeded from a wfsh to keep 
op his dignity, I reso ved to conquer it ; and com- 



22 



MEMOIR OF 



menceda fresh attack, in which, addressing myselt 
entirely to him, I poured forth all the ridicule and 
abuse which my own imagination could suggest, or 
memory could supply — but all in vain — the more ani- 
mated and witty I was, the more doleful he looked, till, 
havmg talked myself out of breath, and finding the lon- 
gitude of his face increase every moment, I desisted, 
very much mortified that mv efforts were so unsuc- 
cessful. But, in the midst of my chagrin, the coach 
stopped, the gentleman alighted, and was welcomed, 
by a little squab wife into a shop, decorated with Un- 
letters, 'Medical Cordial Store.' I afterwards learnt 
he is the greatest quack-medicine seller in B. Excuse 
me, my dear father, for this long, dull story. I thought 
it would be shorter. I feel rather out of tune for em- 
bellishing to-day. 

"We have lately been in a hubbub here about a 
theatre. After a great deal of dispute, the town voted, 
to the astonishment of all, that they would not, if they 
could help it, suffer the establishment of a theatre 
One man said, and said publicly, that he considered it 
as much a duty to carry his children to a play-house, 
as he did to carry them to meeting, and that they got 
more good by it. Among the arguments in favor, it was 
asserted, that, though bad plays were sometimes acted, 
bad sermons were likev/ise preached, and that the pul- 
pit ought to be pulled down as much as the theatre 
Adieu, my dear father, and believe me your most af 
fectionate son, Edward P^wson." 

" October 29, 1805. 
*' I must, my dear mother, give you some account 
uf my comforts. In the first place, I have a very hand- 



EDWARD PAY?JN. 23 

some chamber, which commands a delightful view of 
the harbor and the town, with the adjacent country. 
This chamber is sacred ; for even the master of the 
house does not enter it without express invitation. At 
sunrise a servant comes and lights up a fire, which 
soon induces me to rise, and I have nothing to do but 
sit down to study. When I come from school at night, 
( find a fire built, jack and slippers ready, a lamp as 
tsoon as it is dark, and fuel sufficient for the evening. 
An agreement with a neighboring bookseller furnishes 
me with books in plenty and variety. The objection 
to our meals is, they are too good, and consist of too 
great a variety. And what gives a zest to all, without 
which it would be insipid, is, that I can look round 
me and vicAV all these comforts as the effects of infi- 
nite, unmerited goodness ; of goodness, the operations 
of which I can trace through all my past life ; of good- 
ness, w^hich I humbly hope and trust will continue to 
bless me through all my future existence." 

" November 18, 1805. 
*^ My dear Mother, 

" I last night witnessed a scene to which I had be- 
fore been a stranger ; it was a death-bed scene. A 
yoang gentleman of my acquaintance, and nearly of 
my own age, had been confined thirty-two days, and I 
was requested to watch with him ; and a more exqui- 
sitely distressing task I hope never to undertake. When 
I went, there was little, if any hope of his life. His 
mother — whose favorite lie deservedly was — though 
she is, I believe, a sincere Christian, seemed unable 
lo support the idea of a separation. Fatigue and loss 
of sleep made her liofht-headed and, at times, she 



24 MEMOIR OF 

raved almost as badly as the patient. His sister, a gay 
thoughtless girl, was in a paroxysm of loud and tur- 
bulent grief; while a young lady, whom he was ex- 
pecting to marry, keightened the distress by marks of 
anguish too strong to be concealed, and which seemed 
to flow from tenderness equal to any thing I have met 
with in romance. As I had seen nothing of the kind 
before, its effects on my feelings were irresistible. The 
perpetual groans and ravings of the dying — whose 
head I was for hours obliged to support with one hand 
while I wiped off the sweat of death with the other ; the 
inarticulate expressions of anguish, mingled with the 
prayers of the mother ; the loud and bitter lamentations 
' of the sister ; the stifled agonies of the young lady, and 
the cries of the younger branches of the family, {the 
father was asleep !) formed a combination of sounds 
which I could scarcely support. Add to this the fright- 
ful contortions and apparent agonies of the poor suf- 
ferer, with all the symptoms of approaching death 
About two o'clock he died. I then had the no less dif 
ficult and painful task of endeavoring to quiet the fa- 
mily. The mother, when convinced he was certainly 
dead, became composed, and, with much persuasion 
and some force, was prevailed upon to take her bed, 
as were the rest of the family, except the young lady. 
" You will not wonder if I feel to-day exhausted in 
body and mind. Surely there is no torture like seeing 
distress without the ability of removing it. All day 
have I heard the dying groans sounding in my ears. ) 
could not have believed it possible that any thmg 
could take such astonishing hold of the mind ; and, un- 
. ess you can remember the first death you ever wit- 
aessed, you '^an never conceive how it affected me 



EDWARD PAY30N. 25 

But, distressing as it was, I would not for any thing 
have been absent. I hope it will be of service to me. 
It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the 
house of mirth. Grief has a strong tendency to soften 
the heart, and dispose it to gratitude and other affec- 
tions. An instance of this I saw in this family. They 
are so grateful to me for — I don't know what — that 
ih.ey seem unable to thank me enough." 

^' January 25, 1806. 

"I had a letter from ***'^^* last evening. He is in 
the West Indies, and has just recovered from a fever. 
His letter is more friendlythan any I have received, 
but it is not so serious as I wish. You prophesied, 
when I was at home, that our friendship would not 
last long ; but since it has survived a visit to the Ca- 
taract of Niagara, to Saratoga Springs, and a voyage 
to the West Indies, it is something of a proof thai 
many waters cannot quench, neither floods drown it. 

" A classmate, who has commenced preaching, call- 
ed last week to see me. Speaking of an old tutor of 
ours, a very pious man, who has lately lost a much 
loved wife, he mentioned a letter written by him, in 
which he says, ' The bell is now tolling for my wife's 
funeral ; yet I am happy, happy beyond expression.' 
This my classmate considered as a sure proof of a 
very weak or very insensible mind. It is needless tu 
add, that he rejects evangelical religion, of the truth 
and reality of which I am daily more and more con- 
vinced. But I cannot wonder so few embrace it: 
so long as the reasonings of the head continue to 
be influenced by the feelings of the heart, men will 
eject It." 



C: MEMOIR OF 

" February 9, 1S06. 

"You need be under no apprehension, my dear mo- 
ther, that my present mode of living will render the 
manner of living in the most rustic neighborhood dis 
agreeable. On the contrary, I shall be glad of the ex- 
change, as it respects diet ; for I find it no easy matte/ 
to sit down to a table profusely spread with dainties, 
and take no more than nature requires and temperance 
allows. And I should have infinitely more satisfac- 
tion in the conversation of a plain, unlettered Chris- 
tian, than in the unmeaning tattle of the drawing- 
room, or the flippant vivacity of professed wits. What 
gives me most uneasiness^ and what I fear will al- 
ways be a thorn in my path, is, too great a thirst for 
applause. When I sit down to write, I perpetually 
catch myself considering, not what will be most use- 
ful, but what will be most likely to gain praise from 
an audience. If I should be unpopular, it would, I 
fear, give me more uneasiness than it ought ; and if — 
though I think there is little reason to fear it — I should 
in any degree be acceptable, what a terrible blaze it 
would make in my bosom ! What a temptation this 
disposition will be to suppress, or lightly touch upon 
those doctrines which are most important, because 
th-ey are disagreeable to most persons ! I should at 
once give up in despair, had I nothing but my own 
philosophy to depend on; but I hope and trust I shall 
be enabled to conquer it. 

" If you knew the many things which rendered it 
anlikely that I should continue here half so long as i 
have, you would join with me in thinking an over- 
ruling Providence very visible in the whole afTair. 
Witli respect to continuing longer, I do not mean to 



EDWAHD PAYSON. 27 

!orm a single plan on the subject. If I know any 
thing of my own heart. I can appeal to God as a wit; 
aess of my earnest desire to be in the situation where 
he sees best to place me, without any regard to its be 
mg agreeable or disagreeable ; and he can, and, I doubt 
not, will order matters so as to shorten or prolong my 
stay here as he pleases." 

''•January 15, 1806. 
'' If you, my dear mother, can pick out the meaning 
m the last page, I shall be glad 5 for in truth it is but 
poorly expressed. You must have observed that my 
letters are very obscure ; that the transitions from one 
subject to another are rapid and capricious. The rea- 
son of this confusion is, — when I sit down to write, 
forty ideas jump at once, all equally eager to get out, 
and jostle and incommode each other at such a rate, 
that not the most proper, but the strongest, escapes 
first. My mind would fain i^owx itself all out at once. 
So much by way of apology, by which, as is usually 
the case with apologies, I have only made bad worse '' 

" April 2, 1806. 
" My dear Mother, 

"I have just received your last paqu§t.^ and am so 
rejoiced I can hardly sit still enough to write. They 
were not half long enough to satiate me, and I am 
more hungry than before. Yesterday, in order to ap- 
pease my hunger, I read over all the letters I have re- 
ceived this year past, to my great satisfaction. You 
must not expect method nor legible writing. These 
qualifications are necessary in a billet of compliments^ 
but in a letter to friends, I despise them. However, 
if my good friends are fond of them, and prefer them 



28 MEMOIR OF 

to the rapid effusions of affection that will hardly wait 
the pen's motion, I will soon write a letter that shall 
be as cold and as splendid as an ice-palace. You 
may usually observe my hand-writing is much better 
at the beginning than at the end of my letters ; and 
this happens because I gather warmth as I write. A 
letter to a friend, written with exact care, is like — 
' Madam, I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you in 
very good health," — addressed to a mother^ on meet 
ing her after a years absence. 

• "I did not recollect that I made use of a billet to 
enclose my letters. However, I suppose it did just 
as well. Pray give my love to Phillips, (with the 
rest of the dear clan,) and tell him, that, instead oi 
being a sign of poverty, it is the surest way to be rich, 
to save even the cover of a letter ; besideSj I have pa- 
pa's authority for using billets in that way." 

These extracts show how he appreciated the rela- 
tions of son and brother, and how just he was to all 
the claims which these relations involve. His filial 
affection is among the loveliest traits in his charactier, 
and it never suffered any abatement, so long a« he had 
a parent to loye. He continued to appropriate, unask- 
ed, and of choice, the excess of his earnings above his 
expenditures, to the use of his parents, till the whole 
amount expended for his education had been reim- 
bursed. By word and deed, in the thousand ways 
which affection suggests, he sought their comfort and 
happiness. 

It was not till the third year of his residence in 
Portland, that he made his first appearance before a 
popular assembly. On the 4th of July, 1806, at the 



EDWARD PAYSON. 2£ 

request of the municipal authorities of tlie town, ne 
pronounced the anniversary oration, — a performance 
which secured him unbounded applause, and which 
he was solicited, with great earnestness, to allow to 
be published ; but no persuasion could induce him to 
give a copy. 



CHAPTER III. 



. fits religious history during the period embraced in the pre^ 
ceding chapter, 

FiiOM the early part of 1804, religion seems to have 
been his all-engrossing concern ; his attention v/as 
then arrested, and fixed so as never afterwards to be 
diverted, for any length of time, from the subject. 
Whether he had been in an unconverted, or backslid- 
den state, he was then roused, as from sleep, to take 
a solemn view of his relations as an accountable and 
iiigimortal being. The occasion of this new or revived 
concern for his soul was the death of^ a beloved bro- 
ther. A letter to his parents, in answer to one which 
announced the sorrowful tidings, is the earliest pro- 
duction of his pen, which has escaped oblivion, and, 
on this account alone, will be read with interest. But 
it has a higher value, as it enables us to date the com- 
mencement of his attention to his spiritual interests as 
far back as May 20, 1804,* the time when his letter 

*It has been stated, on credible authority, that Dr. Payson 
97as 50 much affected by this bereavement, that he confined 



30 MEMOIR or 

was dated, and it more than intimates that the subject 
with him was not new. 

" My dear mother's fears respecting my attention to 
religious concerns were, alas ! but too well founded. 
Infatuated by the pleasures and amusements which this 
place affords, and which took the more powerful hold 
on my senses from being adorned with a refinement 
to which I had before been a stranger, I gradually 
grew cold and indifferent to religion ; and, though 1 
still made attempts to'reform, they were too transient 
to be effectual. 

"From this careless frame nothing' but a shock 
like that I have received could have roused me ; and 
though my deceitful heart will, I fear, draw me back 
again into the snare, as soon a-s the first impression is 
worn off, yet I hope, by the assistance of divine grace, 
that this dispensation wall prove of eternal benefit. 
This is my most earnest prayer, and I know it will be 
yours. 

" In reflecting on the ends of Divine Providence m 
this event, I am greatly distressed. To you, my dear 
parents, it could not be necessary. My sister, as you 
sometime since informed me, has turned her attention 
to religion ; the other children are too young to receive 
benefit from it. It remains, then, that I am the Achan 
who has drawn down this punishment, and occasion- 
ed this distress to my friends. My careless, obdurate 
heart rendered it necessary to punish and humble it : 

hhnself to his chamber for three days; and that, previously to 
this period, he had purposed to devote himself to the profes 
sion of the law. If so, the affliction was no less a nercy to the 
church than to himself. 

" God is his own interpreter.'* 



EDWARD PAYSOIS. 3) 

and O that the punishment had fallen where it was 
due ! But I can pursue the subject no further." 

Here is' the subdued tone of the penitent, " come ta 
himself, and returning to his Father." Of his progress 
in piety for the next six months, nothing is known ex- 
cept what may be inferred from a letter dated Dec. 
12th of the same year. An extract will show that he 
was not inattentive to what passed in his own heart, 
nor without experience in the Christian conflict. 

" I have nothing but complaints of myself to make, 
nothing but the same old story of erring and repent- 
mg, but never reforming. I fear 4 am in a sad way. 
I attend public worship and think of every subject but 
the proper one ; or if, by strong exertions, I fix my at- 
tention for a few minutes, I feel an irresistible pro- 
pensity to criticise the preacher, instead of attending 
to the instructions ; and, notwithstanding a full con- 
viction that this conduct is wrong, I persist in it still. 
Hence it happens that the Sabbath, which is so ad- 
mirably calculated to keep alive a sense of religion, 
becomes a ^stumbling-block. The thought of my sin- 
ful neglect and inattention so shames and distresses 
me, that I am unable to approach the throne of grace, 
through shame. As this, I know, is the fruit of a 
self-righteous spirit, I strive against it ; and after two 
or three days, perhaps, am enabled to trust in Christ 
for the pardon of that and other sins. But, another 
Sabbath, the same round is repeated. Thus I go on^ 
sinning and humbling myself after long seeking for a 
proper sense of my sin, then confessing it with con- 
trition and remorse ; and, the next moment, even while 
the joy of obtained pardon and gratitude for divine 
favor is thrilling in my heart, plunging, on the most 



32 MEMOIR OF 

trivial temptation, into the same error, whose bittei 
consequences I had so lately felt. Shame and remorse 
for the ungrateful* returns I have made for the bless- 
ngs bestov^ed, prevent secret prayer, frequently for 
two or three days together, \mtil I can no longer sup 
port it ; and though I have so often experienced for 
giving love, I am too proud to ask for it." 

A few weeks afterwards he writes thus : — " I feel 
convinced by experience, that, if I relax my exertions 
for ever so short a time, it will require additional ex- 
ertions to repair it, and perhaps occasion a week's 
gloom and despondency ; yet the least temptation 
leads me to do what I feel conscious, at the time, I 
shall severely smart for. In the impracticable attempt 
to reconcile God and the world, I spend my time very 
unkappily, neither enjoying the comforts of this world 
nor of religion. But I have at last determined to re- 
" nounce the false pleasures for which I pay so dear ; 
and this I should have done long ago, but for the advice 
and example of some whose judgment I respected. 

" I have lately been severely tried with doubts and 
difficulties respecting many parts of Scripture. Read- 
ing the other day, I met with this passage, ' for his 
great name's sake.' It was immediately suggested to 
my mind, that, as the Deity bestowed all his favor on 
us ' for his great name's sake,' we were under no ob- 
ligation to feel grateful for them. And though my heart 
assented to the propriety of gratitude, my head would 
. not. In hearing my scholars recite the Greek Testa- 
ment, I am disturbed by numberless seeming incon- 
sistencies and doubts, which, though they do not shake 
my belief, retider me for a time extremely miserable. 
1 find no relief, in these trials, from the treatises which 



EDWARD PAYSON. 33 

have been written in proof of the truth of revelation. 
It is from a different source that assistance is received.' 

" April 20, ISQp. 
'' My dearest Mother, 

" I have just been perusing something excessively 
interesting to my feelings. It is a short extract from 
your journal in my sister's letter. Surely it is my own 
fault that I do not resemble Samuel in more instances 
than one. What a disgrace to me, that, with such rare 
and inestimable advantages, I have made no greater 
progress ! However, thanks to the fervent, effectual 
prayer of my righteous parents, and the tender mercies 
of my God upon me, I have reason to hope that the 
pious wishes breathed over my infant head are m 
"feome measure fulfilled ; nor would I exchange the be- 
nefits which I have received from my parents for the 
inheritance of any monarch* in the universe. 

" I feel inclined to hope that I am progressing., 
though by sloil and imperceptible degrees, in the 
knowledge -of divme things. On comparing my former 
and present views, I find that the latter are much less 
confused and perplexed ; that 1 have clearer concep- 
tions of my utter inability to take a single step in reli- 
gion without divine assistance, of the consequent ne- 
cessity of a Savior, and of the way of salvation by 
him. Yet I cannot find that my conduct, my heart, or 

* The admirers of Cowper — between whom and the subject 
of this Memoir there are several strong points of resemblance 
• «iil be reminded, at once, of those beautiful lines : 
^ My boast is not that I deduce my birth 
*" From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth, 
** But higher far my proud pretensions rise — 
" The son of parents passed into the skies." 



34 MEMOIR OF 

disposition, is made better. On the contrary, I fe 
they are worse than ever." 

June 12, 1805. 

" I find I have been trying to establish a righ- 
teousness of my own, though till lately I thought my- 
self free from any such design. Hence arose all that 
unwillingness to perform the public and private exer- 
cises of devotion which I felt after any neglect ol 
duty. I wanted, forsooth, to be encouraged to hope 
for an answer, of peace by some merits of my own, 
and so felt unwilling to approach the throne of grace 
when I had been guilty of any thing which lessened 
my stock of goodness. In short, it was the same kind 
of reluctance which I should feel to approach a fellow 
being whom I had injured. And this, which I now 
see arose from pride, I fondly thought was the effect 
of great humility. Finding myself so deceived here, 
and in numberless other instances, I am utterly at a 
loss what to do. If I attempt to perform ^ny duty, i 
am afraid it is only an attempt to build up a fabric of 
my own; and if I neglect it, the case is still worse. 



" Since the period of my leaving home foi Cam- 
bridge, it has appeared the most discouraging circum 
stance attending the spread of religion, that many who 
undertake to preach it are so shamefully negligerjt. Oi 
this, my dear mother, you can form no just idea, un- 
less you have heard them. While their hearers are 
wishmg and longing for spiritual food, they are obliged 
to rest content with cold, dry lectures on morality, en- 
torced by any motives rather than evangelical. These 



EDWARD PAYSON. 35 

n'iinisters content themselves, generally, with pruning 
off some of the most prominent excrescences of vice 
they leave the root untouched, and cut off only the 
leaves. The more I think of it, the more difficult does 
ihe duty appear; and I tremhle at the thought of in- 
curring such a responsibility. I fear, however, that 
part of my reluctance arises from an indolent disposi- 
l ion, from an unwillingness to encounter the fatigues 
the difficulties and dangers attending the performance 
of a clergyman's duty. I am afraid of conferring too 
much with flesh and blood." 

The next notices which he has left of himself are 
found in a manuscript volume, written in characters 
which it has been a long and difficult work to deci 
pher. The following are the first two paragraphs : — 

^^July 25, 1805. This day, being my twenty-second 
birth-day, I ha^^e determined to commence a diary, as 
a check on the misemployment of time." 

Same date. " Having resolved this day to dedicate 
myself to my Creator, in a serious .and solemn manner, 
by a written covenant, I took a revieiv of my past life, 
and of the numerous mercies by which it has beerf dis- 
tinguished. Then, with sincerity, as I humbly hope 
I took the Lord to be my God, and engaged to love, 
serve, and obey him. Relying on the assistance of hi;* 
Holy Spirit, I engaged to take the Holy Scriptures as 
the rule of mv conduct, the Lord Jesus Christ to be 
my Savior, and the Spirit of all grace and consolation 
as my Guide and Sanctifier. The vows of God are 
apon me." 

Subsequent entries in his diary show an ever-active 
desire to " pay the vows which his lips had uttered, ' 



^i6 W EM OIK OF 

He made strenuous efforts to redeem the mormng hourt) 
from sleep, that he might enjoy an uninterrupted sea- 
son for reading the Scriptures, and other devotional 
exercises ; and, when he failed of this, he suffered 
much in consequence, and lamented it with deep feel- 
ing. His diligence in busmess, as well as fervor ol 
spirit, are abundantly apparent from the account which 
he has given of the employment of every hour, from 
four in the morning to ten at night. — In a letter Co his 
parents, written on this anniversary, he speaks of hav- 
mg already "paid considerable attention to divinity,'" 
and of expecting, " in another year, to commence 
preaching, if he should feel competent to such an un- 
dertaking." 

''Portland, July 25, 1805. 
" My dear Parent , 

" This day, which completes my twenty-second year, 
renews the remembrance of the numerous claims your 
continued care and kindness have on my gratitude and 
affection. To you, next to my heavenly Father, I owe 
that I exist, that I am in a situation to support myself, 
and, what is a still greater obligation, to your admo- 
nitions and instructions I am indebted for all the moral 
and religious impressions which are imprinted in my 
mind, and which, I hope, under God, will give me 
reason to love and bless you through eternity. How 
can I feel sufficient gratitude to the Giver of all good 
for blessing me with such parents ! and how can 1 
thank you sufficiently for all the kindness you have 
lavished upon me, as yet without return ! But it shall 
be the study of my life to show that I am not utterly 
devoid of everv ^^ntiment of gratitude and duty. Par- 



EDWAW.) PAYSON. S7 

don me, my dearest parents, for all the pain, the tiou- 
ble, and anxiety I have given you, and believe me 
while I promise never knowingly to be guilty of anv 
thing to increase the uneasiness I have already occa- 
sioned you. I consider it as one of my greatest bless- 
ings, that I am now in a situation which prevents my 
being a charge to you, and which, besides, might en- 
able me, in case of misfortune, to repay some small 
part of the kindness I have received. I^ with all 1 do 
or may possess, am your property, for you alone put 
me in a situation to obtain it. And if there be any 
thing (as I doubt not there is) which could contribute 
to your happiness, in my power to procure for you, 1 
most earnestly entreat you to let me know it ; and if 1 
do not with the utmost pleasure comply, cast me off as 
d.n ungrateful wretch, utterly unworthy of your kind- 
ness and affection." 

Mr. Payson made a public profession of religion 
September 1, 1805. He connected himself originally 
with the church in Rindge, under the pastoral care of 
his father, while on a visit to his parents during one 
of his quarterly vacations. Of his exercises in the near 
prospect of this solemn act, not a memorial remains. 
The only direct allusion to this public dedication of 
himself to God, is in a letter to his mother, written a 
short time afterwards, in which he says — " As yet I 
have no reas*on to repent of the step I took while at 
home. On the contrary, I esteem it a great blessing 
that- no obstacles prevented it." He adds, "I have 
felt wondrous brave and resolute since my return ; but 
I rejoice with trembling. If I know any thing of my 
self. I sliall need pretty severe discipline through life^ 



J8 ME^lUIR OF 

and I often shrink at the thought of the conflicts iha 
await me, but am encouraged by the promise that my 
strength shall be equal to my day." Never were ap- 
prehensions and hopes more signally lealized. He 
who " tempers the wind to the shorn lamb/' however, 
reserved the bitterest trials for a confirmed state of re- 
ligious experience, mercifully indulging his servant 
with the Light of his countenance, and a peaceful ana 
happy progress in his pilgrimage, in its earliest stages 
October 6tli, he writes — " I know it will add to youi 
tiappmess, my dear mother, to hear that I possess a 
large quantity of that desirable commodity. Since my 
return from Rindge, bating a few disagreeable days 
after parting v/ith my friends, I have hardly known 
one unhappy moment. The doubts which formerly ob- 
scured my mind are dissipated, and I have enjoyed, 
and do still enjoy, mental peace, and, at times, happi- 
ness inexpressible. When I am thus happy, it renders 
me so benevolent that I want to make every one par- 
take of it, and can hardly forbear preaching to every 
man I see. At the same time, the thought of what I 
deserve, compared with -what I enjoy, humbles me to 
the dust ; and the lower I get, the more happy do I 
feel ; and then I am so full of gratitude and love, 1 
can hardly support it. My only source of unhappi- 
ness, at such times, is the moral certainty that I shall 
agam offend that God wTio is so infinitely, so conde- 
scendingly kind. This, indeed, seems impossible at 
ihe time ; it then seems that worldly objects cannot 
possibly agam acquire an undue influence over my 
mind. * * * * To think that I shall again become 
cold and inanimate, that I shall agam oflend and grieve 
the Holy Spirit, and perhaps be left openly to di^ho 



EDWAKD PAYSON. 39 

nor the holy name by which I am called — my dear 
mother, how distressing !" 

" October 29. 

These worldly comforts are nothmg to the 

serenity and peace of mind with which I am favored, 
and the happiness arising from love, gratitude, and 
confidence. Even contrition and remorse for having 
slighted so long such infinite and condescending mer- 
cy, is not without a pleasing kind of pain. But I know 
this state of things is too good to continue long ; and 
I hope I shall be enabled to take up with a much 
smaller number of the comforts of life without mur- 
muring." 

In a letter, dated November 11th, he says, " The 
happiness I mentioned in my last, and in which you 
so kindly participate, I still enjoy, though dimin- 
ished, in some degree, by an examination I have been 
making respecting some important but perplexing 
truths." 

Some weeks after this he wrote — " I did not intend 
to say another word about my feelings ; but I must, 
or else cease writing. I am so happy that I cannot 
possibly think nor write of any thing else. Such a 
glorious, beautiful, consistent scheme for the redemp- 
tion of such miserable wretches ! — such infinite love 
md goodness, joined with such wisdom ! I would, if 
possible, raise my voice so that the whole universe, 
to its remotest bounds, might hear me, if any language 
could be found worthy of such a subject. How trans- 
porting, and yet how humiliating, are the displays of 
divine goodness, which, at some favored moments, we 
feel ! what happiness in humbling ourselves in the 
lust, and confessing our sins and unworthiness I" 



10 MEMOIR or 

A solicitude for the spiritual welfare oi others, which 
IS among the early fruits of experimental religion, and 
one of the most pieasmg evidences of its existence 
was, in Mr. Pay son, coeval with his profession of the 
faith and hope of the Gospel. Of this his pupils, as 
was to be expected, were always the most interesting 
objects. — September 20th he writes — " Last Saturday 
I gave my scholars six questions in the catechism and 
a hymn to commit to memory on the Sabbath ; and. 
on Monday morning, after hearing them recite, I lec- 
tured them on the subjects about three quarters of an 
hour. They paid strict attenti®n. It is, however, dis- 
couraging to attempt any thing of this kind, and a 
most lively faith alone can make it otherwise. Is it 
not astonishing, that those who have a just sense ol 
the importance of religion are not more earnest in r*e- 
commending it to others ? One would suppose they 
could hardly refrain from preaching to them in the 
streets. The reason we do not is. we have not a jusi 
sense of it." 

' October 29. 

" I hope your narrative — for which I thank you — will 
have a tendency to stir me up. I feel a strong and abid- 
ing impression on my mind, that all the good I enjoy 
my friends were stirred up to pray for ; and I hope that 
r?iy scholars also, in this case, will reap the benefit 
When I look at them, and reflect how many dangers 
they are exposed to, what bad examples even the pa- 
rents of many set them, and how few hear any thing 
like religious instruction, I cannot express my feelings. 
Lately I feel a great flow of words when addressing 
them; however, it is just like speaking to dry bones^ 
unless a divine blessing assist. If T could be the mean? 



EDWARD PAYSON. ii 

of doing good only to one. what transport ! Thank 
God, it does not depend on the means, ut on himself; 
otherwise I should give up in despair." 

" January 15, 1806. 

" This morning I was highly favored m speaking 
to my scholars. I spoke nearly three quarters of an 
hour with some earnestness, though not so much as I 
could have wished. Except once, T have felt a very 
considerable share of freedom on these occasions. 
Your mentioning that you were enabled to pray for a 
blessing on these poor endeavors has been a great en- 
couragement to me. They are attentive, and a very 
perceptible difference has taken place in their attention 
to their studies. I liope that, sooner or later, they will 
become attentive to more important pursuits. I am al- 
most afraid to write even to you, my dear mother, on 
these subjects, lest I should make some gross blunder, 
through my ignorance and inexperience. I have often 
observed, that persons who begin to read late in life 
are apt to think every thing they meet with in books 
as new to others as it is to them, and so make them- 
selves ridiculous by retailing, as novelty, what every 
one knew before. In like manner, I am somewhat ap- 
prehensive of appearing to you, m mentioning m\ 
own feelings, as one who is detailing last year's news ; 
for your ideas and feelings must be so far beyond mine^ 
that it will require some patience to read my relations. 
However, I trust to your goodness, and hope you will 
rememoer. that many things, which are now plain and 
:^ommon, were once dark and unusual to you. I am 
pnrsumg my studies pretty much at random, having 
no person to advise with " 



42 MEMoia or 

This anxiety for the souls of his fellow -creatures 
marked his intercourse with associates of the same 
standing with himself. One of his valued companions 
in literary pursuits has furnished the following ex- 
tracts from his pen : 

" December 2, 1805. 
" There is no worldly blessing that is not heightened 
by religion, but none more so than friendship, whether 
it be between relatives by consanguinity, or those who 
are joined in marriage, or other friends. The idea of 
parting must imbitter the pleasure of the man of the 
world ; but the Christian, if he has chosen his friends 
aright, may hope to enjoy their society with more plea- 
sure hereafter than he can now.* For this reason 1 
never should choose a partner for life whom I could 
not hope to meet beyond the tomb." 

" December 9. 
"- Y'ou ascribe, my friend, too much to age and a cul- 
tivated mind, when you speak of them as inconsistent 
with a ^ stupid blindness respecting futurity.' Sad ex- 
perience shows that age the most mature, and minds 
the most cultivated, are too often under the operation 
of such a blindness. Who, among the walks of sci- 
ence, ambition, avarice, or pleasure, is not blind to hi-s 
own mortality ? Who is there who sees that every 
hour of his life he infringes that law which says— 
' cursed i^ every one that continueth not in all things 
written therein to do them V Who sees that his brittle 
thread of life is all on which he hangs over endless 
misery ; and that, if any one of the many dangers tc 
which hp is exposed should be permitted to crush him. 



EDWARD lAYSON. 48 

he would, in a moment, be the subject of despair ? No 
age, no improvement of the mind, will make us see 
these truths to be such. We may assent to them, but 
our conduct shows Ave do not believe them. You do 
not yet, my friend, know the difficulty of the task. 
Consider, first, that the divine law extends to the 
thoughts, and that it makes no allowance for human 
infirmity, and then shut yourself up alone, out of the 
reach of temptation, and try for one hour to be inno- 
cent, and you will find, by the numberless foolish 
thoughts and vicious propensities arising in your mind, 
that it is no easy thing to be negatively good. When, 
in addition to this, you consider that sins of omission 
are equally fatal with sins of commission, you must 
certainly, if you know" any thing of your own heart, 
give up in despair. I write this not to discourage you, 
but to urge the immediate commencement of a work so 
difficult and so important ; and still more to induce 
you to apply to One who can give you strength, and 
will give it, if asked for in a full conviction of your 
own weakness. You know nothing of your own heart, 
and, though you may not assent to this now, the time, 
I hope and trust, will come, when you will assent to 
it. You may not no# believe that naturally, like all 
ot>iers, you aie an enemy to God and his goodness — 
out you must assent to it." 

" May 8. 
" Take my word for it, there is inexpressibly more 
enjoyment in religion, in this life, than the most hap- 
py sinner since creation ever had to boast of. It ap- 
pears gloomy at a distance, but, the nearer it approaches 
the more delightful it becomes. You know that I am 
of a social turn, that I enjoy, or did enjoy amusements 



44 MEMOIR OF 

about as well as others did, and that I have no parti- 
cular reason for flying from them. You know, too, tha> 
I love yoUj and would promote your interest to the ex- 
tent of my powers. You may then consider me, if you 
are so disposed, an impartial witness that the ways ol 
wisdom are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths 
peace. I hope and believe that your own feelings may 
attest the truth of my testimony. That you may knoAv 
more and more of it, is the sincere prayer of your 
friend." 

" July 7. 

'' I dare pledge any thing most dear to me, that, if 
you persist in the diligent use of the means suggested, 
you shalI*not long use them in vain. But, what is in- 
finitely more to the purpose, you have the oath of Him 
who cannot lie, on which to ground your hopes. You 
have nothing to do but, in the exercise of faith, to come, 
as the leper did to our Savior while on earth, and 
throw yourself at his feet, with — ' Lord, if thou wilt, 
thou canst make me clean ;' and rest assured that he 
will put forth his hand and say — ' I will ; be thou 
clean.' He is still as able and as willing to grant every 
request of this nature as he was on earth. If you really 
feel yourself a sinner, and that you have no power to 
save yourself, and are willing to accept of him as a 
Savior, he is ready to receive you. Do not wait, be- 
fore you accept his offers, to render yourself worthy of 
his favor by going about to establish a righteousness 
of your own. He will not be a half Savior. He will 
do all or nothing. If you mean to come to him, you 
must come as a helpless sinner ; not as the Pharisee, 
with a list of virtuous deeds performed, but as the 



EDWARD PAYSON. 45 

publican, with — ^ Lord, be merciful to me a sinner.' " 
On account of the station he occupied, as well as 
the inexhaustible fund of entertainment which he could 
carry into company, he was frequently solicited to make 
one of a visiting party, and to mingle in society on 
various occasions. The nature of the trials hence aris- 
ing, as well as their issue, will be seen from a few 
extracts. 

" After long doubting the propriety, and even the 
lawfulness, of mixing at all in society, where duty 
does not call, and after smarting a number of times for 
indulging myself in it — more, however, through fear 
of offending, than for any pleasure I find in it — I am at 
length brought to renounce it entirely ; and it is not a 
needless scrupulosity. It does appear a duty to shun 
all communication with the world, when there is no 
well-grounded reason to hope to do good. There are, 
to be sure, m^any very plausible reasons, but I doubt 
whether they will bear the test of Scripture." 

To one who urged him to go into society and fre- 
quent public amusements, he wrote : 

* " Can a man walk on pitch, and his feet not be de- 
hled 7 Can a man take coals of fire in his bosom, and 
Vis clothes not be burned ? If he can, he may then 
mix freely with the world, and not be contaminated. 
But I am not the one who can do it. I cannot think it 
proper or expedient for a Christian to go into any com- 
pany, unless necessity calls, where he may, perhaps, 
hear the name he loves and reverences blasphemed, or 
at least profaned — where that book, which he esteems 
ihe word of God, will, if mentioned, be alluded to only 
to waken laughter or ' adorn a tale,' — where the laws 
of good breeding are almost the only laws which may 



46 MEMQIU OF 

not be broken with impunity — and where every thing 
he hears or sees has a strong tendency to extinguish 
the glow of devotion, and entirely banish seriousness. 
I speak only for myself. Others may experience no 
bad eiiects; but, for myself, when I go into company, 
if it is pleasant and agreeable, it has a tendency only 
to fix my thoughts on earth, from which it is my duty 
and my desire to turn them — to give me a distaste for 
serious duties, especially prayer and meditation ; and 
to render me desirous of the applause and approbation 
of those with whom I associate. I cannot avoid feel- 
ing some desire for its friendship ; and this friendship, 
the apostle assures us, and my own experience feel- 
mgly convinces me, is enmity with God.*' 

" I have at length obtained satisfaction respecting my 
doubts about society ; not, however, till I v/as brought 
to give it up. After I had done so, it appeared so plain 
and proper, that I wondered how a doubt could ever 
have arisen on this subject. Now, I shall hardly see a 
person in a week except our own family ; and I have 
no doubt of being much happier for it. Two or three 
plain rules I find of wonderful service in deciding all 
difficult cases. One is, to do nothing' of which I doubt 
in any degree the lawfulness ; the second, to consider 
every thing as unlawful which indisposes me for 
prayer^ and interrupts communion with God ; and 
the third is, never to go into any company^ business, 
or situation^ in which I cannot co7iscientiously ask 
and expect the divine presence. By the help of these 
three rules I settle all my doubts in a trice, and find 
that many things I have hitherto indulged in, are, if 
not utterly unlawful, at least inexpedient, and I can 
renounce them without many sighs." 



EDWARD PAYSOiN. 47 

His determination to exclude himself from company 
vvas very conscientiously formed ; and, so far was he 
from making his own practice a law for others in this 
matter, he expressly assigns his "weakness and in- 
experience '■ as the reason why he " could not indulge 
^n society without detriment." Besides, situated as he 
vvas, he saw '^ no medium between the life of a re- 
cluse and that of a votary ot pleasure." If such were 
the alternative, his decision is to be approved. It re- 
sulted from a right application of his " three plain 
rules," which are certainly Scriptural, and worthy of 
universal adoption. This course was not the fruit of 
misanthropic feelings ; for no man was more suscep- 
tible of the delights of friendship, or more highly ap 
preciated its benefits ; but how " can two walk toge- 
ther except they be agreed ?" His heart now sighed for 
friendships founded on a religious basis. He speaks ol 
•^ a friend, with whom he could converse on religious 
subjects, as having long been a desideratum;" and 
when he thought he had found such a one among his 
former beloved associates, he expresses the most ar- 
dent gratitude to the Giver of every good gift. " I feel 
a satisfaction," he writes, " on this discovery, similar 
to what I should feel at meeting a townsman in a de- 
sert island. You, who live in the midst of Christian 
friends, can hardly conceive of it. Associates are plea- 
sant in any pursuit, but especially so in this. Two are 
better than one. We shall together be better able to 
stand our ground against the assaults of ridicule and 
reproach ; and may animate and encourage each other 
in our course." • 

Having, in a letter to his mother, expressed himself 
as ready to give almost any thing he possessed for au 



48 MEMOIR or 

^ experienced friend," he anticipates her reply, — "You 
will say, perhaps, the Bible is a friend, which, if duly 
consulted, would supersede the necessity of any othei 
adviser. It may be so ; but Ave are apt to be bad com- 
mentators where we are concerned ourselves. A 
friend can judge of our concerns, and give us better 
counsel than, perhaps, he would give himself. We 
are but poor casuists in our own affairs." 

Some miscellaneous extracts will now be given. 

" December 8, 1805. 
'• Though I have experienced many and great com- 
forts, yet I am at times almost discouraged. My heart 
seems to be a soil so bad, tliat all labor is thrown 
away upon it ; for, instead of growing better, it grows 
worse. What a wearisome task, or rather conflict, i 
is, to be always fighting with an enemy, whom no de 
feats can weaken or tire. I am afraid that many of my 
desires to be delivered from his power proceed rather 
from a sinful impatience than a bet-ter source. But it 
is most distressing, when favored with manifestations 
of a Savior's love, to think we shall again sin against 
and grieve him ; especially in the sacrament of the 
supper, the idea that I shall certainly go away and of- 
f€aad him who is there set forth crucified before me, 
embitters ail my happiness." 

" December 25. 
^* My dear Sister, 

'' I am not very prone to indulge the idea that my 
Kappiness can depend on diange of place j but when 
such fancies do gain admittance, home is always tho 
scene of my imaginary bjiss. It is, however, a remed> 



l!;i)WAlU> FAYSON. 49 

to consider, that, however we may be separated from 
our friends in this world, yet, if we choose them aright, 
we may indulge the hope of spending an eternity to- 
gether in the next. 

" I have of late taken some pleasure m recollecting 
the pilgrimages of our old friend Bunyan, and see a 
striking propriety in many parts of them, which I did 
not then rightly understand. For some time past I have 
been with Tender Conscience in the caves of Good 
Resolution and Contemplation, and, like him, fell into 
the clutches of Spiritual Pride. It is astonishing, and 
what nothing but sad experience could make us be- 
lieve, that Satan and a corrupt heart should have the 
art of extracting the most dangerous poison from those 
things which apparently would, and certainly ought 
to have the most beneficial effects, If I do not, after 
all, fall into the hands of old Carnal Security, I shall 
have reason to be thankful. There is such a fascina- 
tion in the magic circle of worldly pleasures and pur- 
suits, as can hardly be conceived without experience ; 
and I am astonished and vexed to find its influence 
continually thwarting and hindering me. And so 
many plausible excuses are perpetually suggesting 
themselves, that compliance can hardly be avoided." 

" January 25. 
'"'' My DEAR Mother, 

" In one of the classics, which form part of my daily 
occupation, there is an account of a tyrant who used 
io torture his subjects by binding them to dead bodies, 
and leaving them to perish by an unnatural and pain- 
nil death. I have often thought the situation of a 
Christian is, in some respects, like that of these poor 



50 MEMOIR OF 

wretches. Bound to a loathsome body of sin, from 
which death alone can free him, and obliged daily to 
experience effects from it not much less painful and 
displeasing to him than a putrefying carcass was to 
those who were united to it, he must suffer almost 
continual torment. I have lately felt doubtful ho^w far 
a due resignation to the divine will obliges us to sub- 
mit with patience to this most painful of all trials, 
and, since we know^ that perfection is not granted to 
any in this world, how far we ought to extend our 
prayers and wishes. I know there is little danger ol 
being too much engaged in seeking deliverance from 
sin ; but is there no danger of that fretful impatience 
which we are apt to feel on other occasions, gaining 
admittance under the appearance of an earnest desire 
for holiness ? And is not indolence, and a wish to be 
freed from the necessity of continual watchfulness 
and conflict, apt to insinuate itself into our desires and 
petitions for divine assistance ? Sin is a sly traitor ; 
and it is but lately I discovered it in my bosom ; and 
now I am so much afraid of it, that I hardly dare ask 
assistance at all. 

" For this month past, I have enjoyed very little of 
that happiness which I once rejoiced in. Yet, blessed 
be God ! I am not left utterly dead and stupid, and 
am enabled to persevere in the use of means, though 
they seldom seem so productive of peace as they once 
did. I hope I have clearer ideas of my strong, ama- 
zingly strong, propensity to every thing that is evil, 
and of the infinite and glorious sufficiency of my Sa- 
vior, than I had while my joys were greater. Then I 
was ready to flatter myself that sin was destroyed ; 
but now 1 find, by sad experience, it is not only alive, 



EDWAKU PAYr-.O^. 52 

but extremely active ; and had I not an Almighty 
Elelper, 1 should instantly give up in despair." 

" Poi tland, Feb. 9, 1806. 
•' My dear Mother, 

" For many reasons, it is impossible that my letters 
should be so acceptable at home as those I receive 
from home are to me. You have friends there to di- 
vide your attention. \o participate in your care, and to 
share and increase your pleasures. But I am alone. 
All my affections must centre at home, and, conse- 
quently, I must feel a greater desire to hear from home, 
and to receive assurances that I am not forgotten, than 
my friends can possibly have to hear from me. 

'• I find nobody, except at times, to whom 1 can com- 
municate my joys, hopes, desires, and fears; nobody 
who can participate my pleasures or sympathize in 
my griefs. It is perhaps best for me that it should be 
so; but it is very unpleasant. Most of my ace aaintance 
consider me, as near as I can guess, but a kind of hy- 
pocrite, who must, as a student in divinity, preserve 
a decent exterior in order to be respected. However, 
it is some consolation that they think the same of 
every one else. Their opinion is of very trifling con- 
sequence. One thing only I wish not to be thought, 
and that is, what is commonly called a rational Chris- 
tian, an epithet which is very frequently bestowed on 
young candidates, and which is almost synonymous 
vvith no Christian. Liberal divines are pretty much 
of the same character." 

" Portland^ April 1, 1806. 
•'* My dear Mother, 

" I am now entirely alone, and, except a visit once 



^'l MEMOIR or 

a fortnight from Mr. R. I see no face within mj^ cham 
ber from one week to another. It is sometimes un- 
pleasant, but, I believe, very profitable, to be debarred 
from society. I am so prone to trust to broken cistern-s, 
that nothing but their being out of my reach can re- 
strain me. When I come home from school, weary 
and dull, if I had any earthly friends at hand I should 
certainly apply to them for relief; but, not having 
any, I am constrained to go where I am much more 
sure of finding it. I begin to find, that the smiles with 
which my early infancy was supported, are changing 
for the less agreeable, but certainly not less needful^ 
discipline of education ; and O what severe discipline 
and how much of it, shall I require ! I see already 
that hard fare and hard labor will be necessary to pre' 
serve me from 'waxing fat and kicking;' and if it has 
this effect, I shall welcome it with pleasure. It seems 
to me one of the worst of the hellish offspring of fall- 
en nature, that it should have such a tendency to pride 
and above all, spiritual pride. How many artifices 
does it contrive to hide itself! If, at any time, I am 
favored with clearer discoveries of my natural and ac- 
quired depravity and hatefulness in the sight of God, 
and am enabled to mourn over it, in comes Spiritual 
Pride, with — ' Ay, this is something like ! this is holy 
mourning for sin ; this is true humility.' If I happen 
to detect and spurn at these thoughts, immediately he 
changes his battery, and begins — ' Another person 
would have indulged those feelings, and imagined he 
was really humble, but you know better ; you can de 
tect and banish pride at once, as you ought to do." 
Thus this hateful enemy continually harasses me 
What a proof that the heart is the native soil of pride 



KDWARD PAYSON. 53 

ivhcn It thus contrives to gather- strength Irom those 
very exercises which one would think must destrby it 
utterly I 

" My other chief besetting sin, which will cut oui 
abundance of work for me, is fondness for applause 
When I sit down to write, this demon is immediately 
in the way, prompting to seek for such observations 
as will be admired, rather than such as will be felt, 
and have a tendency to do good. My proneness to 
these two evils, which I have mentioned, makes me 
think I shall have but little sensible comfort in this 
world, and that I shall be tried by many and grievous 
afflictions, in order to keep me humble and dependent. 
However, it is of no consequence. I know my great 
Physician is both able and willing to cure me, and. 1 
leave the manner to him ; trusting he will enable me 
to take whatever he prescribes, and bless the pre- 
scription." 

" Portland, June 17, 18j}6. 
"My dear Mother, 

" After I have told you that I have been unwell some 
time past, and that I am now as well as usual, my stock 
of information is exhausted — unless, indeed, I still make 
myself the subject; and, for want of a better, I must. 
Owing partly, I believe, to my ill health, I have been 
much afflicted with doubt, whether it is not my duty 
to give up preaching at all. I want, at times, to get 
as far back into the country as possible, and, on a little • 
farm, lead a life as much remote from observation as 
circumstances will allow. It seems to me a little re- 
markable, that, while I am harassed with doubts and 
perplexities about every thins: else, I feel none, or com* 



54 MHMOIR OF 

paratively none, about my own state. If at any time 
such doubts intrude, they • are banished by that text, 
* I am he that blotteth out thy transgressions, for Qnine 
own sake,^ But, lately, the very absence of doubt has 
caused me to doubt ; for if I were a child of God, how 
should I be free from those doubts which trouble his 
children 1 But the greatest difficulty of all is, that the 
certainty which I almost ever feel of my safety, should 
have no more effect on my disposition and conduct. 
This seems to me more unaccountable than any thing 
else ; for even the devils, one would think, might and 
would rejoice to think of approaching happiness. 

" I have, for some time, had something like a desire 
to become a missionary. I have not mentioned it 
before, because I doubted whether it would not be 
only a temporary wish. I should feel less backward to 
preach to savages, or white men little above savages, 
than any where else. However, I hope Providence 
will, some way or other, get me into the place where 
I shall be most useful, be it what it may. I do not 
feel very solicitous in which way or in what situation. 

" I shall be in Boston about the 23d of August, and, 
alter commencement, set out for Rindge, should no- 
thing prevent. At present I can write no more. The 
bearer is booted, whipped, chaired, and waiting. 

'' Present my most affectionate regards to pa'. I 
shall make great encroachments on his time when I 
come home. 

''"Vour affeetionate son, 

"E. Payson." 

A desire to become a missionary, in 1806, was a 
less dubious proof of expansive Christian benevolence 
than it would be at the present day. The obligatioQ 



LDWAKU PWrfON. DC 

of Chrisiians to. send the Gospel to the heathen could 
not have been learned from any thing which the Ame- 
rican Church was then doing, or had done for a long 
period. As to any visible movement, she appeared as 
indifferent to the claims of the unevangelized tribes of 
2nen, as though her Redeemer and Lord had not left it 
in charge to " preach the Gospel to every creature." 
Mr. Pay son was probably ignorant that another youth- 
ful bosom in the country panted v/ith the same desire ; 
though it was about this time, if not in this very year — 
a coincidence which they who regard the works of the 
Lord, and the operation of his hands, will notice with 
pleasure — that Samuel J. Mills felt the desire, and 
formed the purpose, to devote his life to the service of 
Christ among the heathen — a purpose, however, which 
was known, first to his mother, and then to a few indi- 
viduals only, till about four years afterwards. 

In the extracts which have been inserted from his 
letters, the reader has discovered his intimate acquaint- 
ance with the subtle workings of the human heart, and 
his unsleeping vigilance to detect and guard against its 
impositions. His self-knowledge, and the rigid self 
inspection which he habitually maintained, would ap- 
pear in a still more striking light from his private dia- 
ry, if that Avere spread before the public eye. Neither 
friends nor foes could name a fault in him, which he 
had not detected, and condemned in terms of unspar- 
ing severity. They would find their severest judg- 
ments anticipated ; and they would find too — what the 
world little suspects of the Christian — that the small- 
est trespasses were the cause of heartfelt lamentation 
and grief in those hours of secret retirement, when no 
eye but Jehovah's was wUness to his sorrow. In his 



5(3 MKMOIH OF 

example, the young aspirant for fame might see an il 
lustration of the wise man's maxim, "before honoi is 
humility ;" and that the surest path to an enduring 
reputation is found by " asking counsel of God," and 
" acknoAvledging him in all our ways." Faithfulness, 
either to the dead or the living, cannot, however, re- 
quire that a very free use should be made of tke record 
of what passed in the inward sanctuary of his soul — a 
record obviously designed for his private use only, and 
ill characters intended to be illegible by every eye ex- 
cept his own. So much will, nevertheless, be insert- 
ed as is necessary to substantiate the representations 
in this narrative, or disclose important facts in his his- 
tory, which could be learned from no other source. 

Extracts froBii Iiis DiaBT» " 
" Feb, 5, 1806. For tliis fortnight past I have en- 
joyed a tolerable share of assistance, 1 ut nothing trans- 
porting. Slow progress. 

" Feb. 7. Little opportunity for prayer in the raorn- 
mg ; yet God was pleased not wholly to desert me 
during the day, and, in the evening, favored me with 
clearer views of the glorious all-sufficiency of my Sa- 
vior, and of my absolute need of him, than I have be- 
fore experienced. I could, in some measure, feel that 
my deepest humiliation was rank pride, and all that I 
am or can do is sin. Yet, blessed be God, I can plead 
the sufferings and perfect obedience of Jesus Christ, in 
v^hom, though weak in myself, I am strong. 

'' Feb. 8. There is no vice, of which I do not see 
the seeds in myself, and which would bear fruit, did 
not grace prevent. Notwithstanding this, I am per- 
petually pulling the mote out of my brother's eye. 



KDVVARD TAYSON. 57 

" Feb 9. Was much favored in prayer, and still 
more in reading the Bible. Every word seemed to 
come home with power. Of late, I have none of those 
rapturous feelings which used to be so transporting j 
but I enjoy a more calm and equable degree of com- 
fort ; and, though slowly, yet surely, find myself ad« 
vancing. 

"jPo6. 11. Avery dull day — almost discouraged 
yet I hope the experience I gain of my utter inability 
to think so much as a good thought, will have a ten- 
dency to mortify pride. 

^^ Feb. 15. Felt some liveliness in morning prayer, 
and some aspirations after greater measures of holi- 
ness. Resolved to observe this as a day of fasting and 
prayer. After seeking divine assistance, reflecting en 
the innumerable sins of which my life has been full, 
and on the great aggravations that enhance my guilt, 
I attempted, I hope sincerely, to give myself and all 
I possess to God, in the renewal of my covenant en- 
gagements. 

" Feb. 16. Very dull and lifeless in the morning. 
Made a resolution to restrain my temper, and the next 
moment broke it. Felt more lively at meeting. In the 
afternoon and evening was remarkably favored. I felt 
such an overwhelming sense of God's amazing good- 
ness and my own unworthiness as I never had before, 
ft gave me a most earnest desire to spend and be spent 
in the service of God, in any way he should please to 
employ me. 

" Feb. 17. In the morning, felt strong in the Lord, 
and in the power of his might ; thought I could stand 
all enemies, but soon was as lifeless as ever. When 
shall I learn that all my sufficiency is of God ! 



o-:i MEMOIR OF 

" Feb. 19. What a poor, weak, unstable creature 
I am, when Christ is absent ! Read Baxter's Saints' 
Rest ; but, though it is very afFectingly written, I was 
totally unmoved by it. 

" Feb. 23. This is a day to be remembered. I de- 
termined to spend it in fasting and prayer, but was 
prevented. In the afternoon received an invitation to 

spend the evening with , , &c. but, tlxanks to 

divine goodness, was enabled to decline it. I tasted 
much sweetness in the former part of the evening; but 
in the latter part I was favored with such displays of 
divine goodness as almost forced me to exclaim. Lord, 
stay thine hand 1 

" Feb. 23-. Was again favored with the divine pre- 
sence. I have some expectation of a heavy stroke im- 
pending. If it is so, God's will be done. 

" Feb. 24. A great falling off from the enjoyments 
and life of yesterday; yet, blessed be God, I am not 
wholly deserted. I was much favored in speaking to 
the scholars, and they seemed rather more affected 
than common. But I have suffered much to-day from 
the attacks of spiritual pride. This, I already see, will 
be the enemy against which my efforts m^ust be direct- 
ed, and which will cost me m.ost conflicts. But I trust 
in an almighty arm. 

" Feb. 26. I drag along without advancing. O, how 
disproportionate are my endeavors to the mighty prize 
Cor which I contend ! 

" Feb. 28. Resolved to spend this day in fasting . 
and prayer. Did so, but found no relief. Was asto- 
nishingly dead and wandering. In reading Mr. Brain- 
erd's life, I seemed to feel a most ardent desire aftei 
^ome portion of his spirit ; but, when I attempted in 



EDWAIli) PAYSON. . DV 

pray, it vanislied. I could not even mourn over my 
coldness, 

" March 3. In the evening, partly by my own 
fault, and partly by accident, got entangled in vain 
company. Afterwards was in most exquisite distress 
of mind. Had a clearer view of my own sinfulness 
and vileness than ever. 

" March 4. I seem rather to go back than to ad- 
vance. What a display of divine power, to make a 
saint of such a wretch as I ! 

" March 6» My time flies like a vapor, and nothing 
is done. When shall I begin to live for God ! 

" March 8. I cannot accuse myself of indulging 
in any known sin, or neglecting any known duty ; but 
I am so lifeless, so little engaged in religious things, 
that I seem to believe as though I believed not. 

" March 10. Found considerable freedom in prayer. 
Was too passionate in a dispute about a theatre. Had 
little freedom in speaking to the scholars. Was en- 
ibled to be diligent in filling up my time. Was as- 
sisted in my studies. 

''^ March 12. I act as if eternal things v/ere a dream. 
When shall I be wise ! 

" March 13. Favored with great liberty in prayer. 
Was enabled to pray for others more than usual. 

" March 17. Thanks to divine goodness, this has 
been a good day to me. Was favored with considera- 
ble freedom in the morning, and rejoiced in the Lord 
through the day ; but in the evening felt an unusual 
degree of assistance both in prayer and study. Since 

[ BEGAN TO BEG God's BLESSING ON MY STUDIES, I HAVE 
OONE MORE IN ONE ^''EEK THAN IN THE WHOLE YEAR BE- 

i-^ORE. Surely, it is good to draw near to God at all 
(inies. 



60 MEMOl.R OF 

" March 19. Less freedom in prayer than usual. I» 
the evening, was betrayed into folly, if not into sin- 
Could neither write nor read with any profit. What a 
miserable creature am I when Jesus withdraws his as- 
sistance ! Was very positive in a trifle, and was justly 
punished by finding myself in the wrong. Hope it will 
prove a profitable lesson to me. 

" March 23. Am much exercised respectmg apply- 
ing for license to preach, and afraid I am under the in- 
fluence of improper motives ; but I trust my Guide will 
direct me. 

" March 28. Read Pike's Saving Faith ; and, though 
at first I was somewhat alarmed with fears that I had 
it not, yet, blessed be God, my fears and doubts were 
soon removed. I was enabled to appeal to God for a 
witness of what he has done for me. I know that I 
love my Savior; and, though my love is infinitely 
short of his merits, I trust He who gave it me can and 
will increase it. I am sinful^ but He died for sinners 
Felt unusual fervency and sweetness in prayer and 
reading the Scriptures, and was encouraged to go on 
strivmg for more holiness. 

" March 29. Renewed my covenant with God 
Asked assistance to do it with sincerity. My prayer 
was answered in an unusual degree. I had a clearer 
view of my own vileness and depravity, and a more 
distinct and satisfying perception of Christ's ail-sufli- 
ciency and goodness, by far, than I ever enjoyed be- 
fore ; so that I was ready to think I had never known 
any thing of the matter. Was enabled to say, Ahha^ 
Father! in the true spirit of adoption, and to exercise 
strong faith in Christ, and love to Jiim. 
. "Marc/i 30. Had more comfort m ordinances tiian 



EDWARD PAYSON. 61 

ever before. I was almost ready to think this the pe- 
riod of my conversion. The transport I felt was more 
rational and penetrating than I ever beYore experienced, 
ft arose from an apprehension of the perfect sufficiency 
of Christ in all his offices, and from a clear discovery 
of God as my Father, so that I was enabled to trust 
rejoice, and exult in him. 

" April 2. Was enabled in some measure to guard 
against a peevish, impatient disposition. In the even- 
ing, unusually lively and fervent in prayer. 

" April 5. Was very much harassed with wander- 
ing thoughts this morning. Sought to Christ for deli- 
verance, and found it Have fresh reason to think 

visiting is detrimental. In the evening was exceed- 
ingly depressed with a sense of my vileness. I wished 
to shrink from society and observation.* Could hardly 
think of attempting to preach. Threw myself at the 
feet of my blessed Savior, and poured forth my sorrows 
and complaints before him. Yet I suspect there was 
more of self than any other principle in my tears. 

" April 8. Was much exercised to-day, on the sub- 
ject of election, and other truths connected with it. 
Have been much in doubt respecting offering myself 
for examination next month. Fear I am not under the 
influence of proper motives. 

'^ April 13. Sabbath. Felt the love of God sweetly 
shed abroad in my heart. Continued in this frame all 
the morning. Derived much more advantage from or- 
dinances than usual, especially froiri the sacrament 
A profitable day. 

" April 20. Had some sense of my miserable state, 
but little fervency in seeking relief Suspect the weath- 
er and mv health have some influence on me. In thn 



\^2 MEJMOIH OK 

evening had more fervency, but not more sensible as 
sistance. Was, however, resigned to my Master's will, 
and enabled to trust in him. 

" April 26. Was much favored in my approaches to 
the throne of grace to-day. 

" Maij 1. Rose early, and had some life and comfort. 
Have been so much engaged in preparing my sermon 
for examination, that my mind has been much taken ofl 
from religion. I find writing sermons is not praying. 

" May 4. It is now long since I have enjoyed any 
of those sweet seasons of communion with God which 
used to be my chief happiness. I" fear I have neglected 
the Scriptures too much. Am determined to pay more 
attention to them. 

" May 13. This was the day in which I intended to 
be examined before the Association, but it pleased Pro- 
vidence to prevent. In the evening reflected on my late 
coldness and backwardness in religion, and resolved, 
by the help of divine grace, to run with more alacrity 
the race set before me. 

" May 18. I think I never was so favored in prayer 
for so long a period in my life. At meeting, tolerably 
lively. In the intermission, and after meeting, w^as en- 
abled to spend the time profitably, so that I never wa? 
favored with a more profitable Sabbath. 

''May 19. Enjoyed considerable fervor in the morn- 
ing, and some life in speaking to my scholars. En- 
gaged in a dispute at breakfast, and foolishly became 
angry. Retired and prayed for him with whom I was 
angry, and for myself. Was enabled, in a considerable 
degree, to conquer my anger in this matter. 

" May 20. Find some remains of anger, notwith- 
»^tanding all my endeavors to suppress it. 



EDWARD PAYr^ON. (jli 

" May 22. Since I began, in pursuance of my de- 
sign, to read the Scriptures, I have enjoyed more of 
the divine presence than before. 

" May 23. Was favored in prayer. Was applied to 
by the seJectmen to deliver an oration on the 4th oi 
July. Refused at first ; but, being persuaded to consider 
of it, pride and vanity prevailed, and I foolishly com- 
plied.— 7lfe7?i. Never to consider, when I have a pre- 
sentiment, at first, what I ought to do. 

''' Sabbath, June 1. Communion. Enjoyed nmch of 
the divine presence and assistance in prayer and me- 
ditation. Have never had a more profitable morning. 
Found my Savior in his ordinances. Hope I have 
found this a good day. Seemed to feel more property 
in Christ and his benefits than I had ever done before. 
After meeting was filled with the blessed consolations 
of the Spirit. O, how refreshing are those foretastes of 
heaven ! How ravishing the presence of Jesus ! Felt 
a full assurance of my interest in the blessings pur 
chased by Christ. No doubts obscured the sunshine oi 
my mind. God be praised. 

" June 9. Resolved to spend all the time before 
six in religious exercise* Enjoyed some comfort in 
prayer. 

" June 15. Sabbath, Never felt such strong and live- 
ly faith in prayer as this morning. It seemed as if I had 
nothing to do but to take whatever I pleased. 

" June 17. Was much harassed with wandering 
thoughts in m^orning prayer. Was much assisted in 
my studies. 

^* June 28. Felt myself exceedingly vile. Found no 
comfort in the exercises of public worship. My oration 
is a snare to me. O, what an aston-ishing, bewitching 



64 MEMOIR OF 

power a thirst for applause has over my rnhid ! 1 know 
it is of no consequence what mankind think of me, and 
yet I am continually seeking their approbation. 

" June 29. Sabbath. Rose early, and was favored 
with the presence and assistance of the blessed Spirit 
in prayer. O, how sweet and refreshing it is to pour out 
our souls before God ! O, the wonderful and unmerited 
goodness of God, in keepmgme from openly disgrac- 
ing my profession ! If he had left me one moment to 
myself, I had been rumed. Next Sabbath is the com- 
munion. God grant that it may be a refreshing season 
to me, and many others. 

" July 2. Still harassed and perplexed about my ora- 
tion. Could not have believed that the desire of ap 
plause had gained such power over me. 

" July 4. Was enabled to ask for assistance to per- 
form the services of the day. In the evening, felt in 
a most sweet, humble, thankful frame. How shall I 
praise the Lord for all his goodness 1 

" July 5. Felt much of the same temper I experi- 
enced yesterday. In the evening was favored with 
much of the divine presence and blessing in prayer — 
Mem. Applause cannot cofter happiness. 

" July 6. Sabbath. My infinitely gracious God is^ 
still present, to make his goodness pass before me. Ke 
has been with me this, morning in prayer, and nabled 
me sweetly to say. My Father^ my God. At the Lord's 
supper my gracious Savior favored me with some to 
kens of his presence. O that I could find words to ex- 
press half his goodness, or my own vileness ! I hope 
my ^aith received some increase. But what I desire to 
praise my God for, is his w~onderful goodness in assist- 
ing me against pride. 



KHWARD PAYSUN. 65 

" July 7. Still favored with the smiles of my blessed 
Lord. Surely his loving-kindness is better than life. 
How condescendingly kind ! I hope he is teaching me 
the value of worldly applause, and how incompetent it 
is to afford happiness. I have had enough to satisfy me, 
if there were any satisfaction in it. But^ happiness is 
^o he found in God alone. 

* July 18. Very little comfort in prayer. Have fallen 
mto a sadj lifeless state the week past. Hope it will 
convince me more strongly than ever of my weakness 
and vileness. Sat up till 2 o'clock at night, talking 

wuTi Mr. on religious topics. Found he 

had nxore to say in defence of Unitarianism than I 
CQui(J have supposed. 

" July 24. No life at all. O that it were with me 
as in months past ! — In the evening was favored with 
more of the divine presence than I have enjoyed this 
fortnight. 

''^ July 25. Spent the day, according to previous re- 
solution, in fasting and prayer. Was favored with 
much of the divine presence and blessmg, so that it 
was* a comfortable and profitable day to me. Called to 
mind the events of my past life, the mercies I have re- 
ceived, and the ill returns I have made for them. Felt 
a deep sense of my own unworthiness, and the unme- 
rited goodness of God. 

" July 27. Was alarmed with respect to my state 
oy reading Edwards on the Affections ; but obtainea 
^vomfort and assurance by prayer. 

" Aug. 2. Was much engaged in prayer, and thought 
I wus humbled under a sense of sin. Was enabled to 
plead with some earnestness for spiritual blessings. 
But afterwards, reading an account of the conversion 

l»ayso-n. ^ 



66 MEMOIR OF 

of some persons, I was led to doubt whether I had ever 
kuown what it meant, and was much distressed. 

•^ Aug. 3. Was again disturbed with apprehensions 
that I knew nothing of religion ; but, though I could 
not come to Christ as one of his members, I threw 
myself down before him, as a sinner who needed hig 
mediation, and my doubts vanished. 

" Aug. 4. R se with the impression that all I had 
formerly exper cnced was a delusion, and that I was 
still an enemy to God. Was enabled to go to Jesus, 
and plead earn stly for mercy, not for my own sake, 
but for his. I i.( emed determined, if I must perish, to 
perish at his feet; but perhaps I was deceived. How- 
ever, my hopes began to revive. In the evening fool- 
ishly went into company, and had no time for prayer. 

" Aug. 16. Seemed to be something more alive to 
divine things this morning. Found some sweetness 
in prayer and reading the Scriptures. In the evening, 
was much assisted in preparation for the communion 
to-morrow." 



CHAPTER IV. 



Rettrei to Rindge, and devotes himself exclusively to Ms pre- 
par af ion for the ministry. 

In the month of August, 1806, Mr. Payson relin- 
quished his charge of the Academy in Portland : and, 
' after settling his business, went on board a packet fo? 



EDUAKD PAY SON. 07 

B(>slon," in wliicli he remained several days, " tossed 
about by contrary winds, and wounded by the oaths 
and blasphemies of the Avretches on board." He hag 
described " a set " of his fellow-passengers by two 
words, indicative of all that is revolting to modesty 
and pious feeling, and suited to ''vex the righteous 
soul ;-' the bare mention of which would cause others 
to join him in the exclamation — " How dreadful to 
spend an eternity among such wretches !" On the fifth 
day from his embarkation the vessel " arrived in Bos- 
ton in a violent gale of wind, attended with some dan- 
ger." He tarried in the neighborhood till after com • 
mencement, and, notwithstanding the " noise and con- 
fusion, found more pleasure than he had expected in 
meeting his classmates." On his way from Cambridge 
to Rindge, he rode as far as Groton ; but whether the 
stage rested there over night, or took a different route, 
and his desire to tread again the threshold of* his be- 
loved home alone urged him forward — so it was, that 
he left the stage, and " walked home frqm Groton af- 
ter six" in the evening, and v/as at his journey's end 
" about four the next morning," ready to " receive the 
congratulations of his friends." His father's house 
continued, from this time, to be his hallowed and cho- 
sen retirement, till he entered on the active duties of 
the ministry. 

'* Wisdom's self 
" Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude ; 
" Where, with her best nurse, Contemplatiou, 
" She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings.*' 

This step, considered in all its aspects, may jusliy 
be regarded as one of the most important in Mr. Pay- 
son's life, and reflects the highest lionor on his judg* 



tvS Mi:iMOIH OF 

nrient and good sense. Four months previously to tliu 
lime, as has been seen in the preceding pages, he seri- 
ously contemplated making application for license tc 
preach the Gospel. Whatever were the cause that pre- 
vented him, a gracious Providence is visible in it 5 not 
that he was particularly deficient in sacred learning , 
on the contrary, his theological knowledge was pro- 
bably equal to that of most " candidates." Among the 
works which he is known to have read with care, 
alight be named Watson's Tracts, Witsius, Stack- 
house, Jonathan Edwards, besides many works of de- 
votion and practical divinity. Abstracts of several 
other treatises still exist in his hand-writing, which 
were made before he left Portland ; also a collection 
of " Thoughts on the Composition and Delivery ol 
Sermons." Still, during all this time, he was invested 
with a public trust of no light responsibility. His 
school must have mainly engrossed his time, his 
thoughts, and his cares. To suppose that his pro- 
fessional studies were allow^ed more than a secondary 
claim to his attention, were to suppose him unfaithful 
to an important charge, which he had voluntarily as- 
sumed. And though he could hardly have been other 
than a distinguished preacher, even had he entered on 
the sacred office without further preparation, yet he 
would not have been the minister he afterv/ards was. 
This season of retirement has an intimate connection 
with his subsequent eminence and usefulness*. To the 
occupations of these days of seclusion from the world, 
more than to anv other means, may be traced his gi- 
gantic " growth in the knowledge of God," and that ex- 
traordinary unction which attended his performance of 
•official duties. 



EDWARD PAVSON. 69 

This period of his history is memorable, and highly 
nstructive to the student of theology. Having, after 
much deliberation and prayer, chosen the ministry of 
reconciliation as the business of his future life, he gave 
himself up to the work of preparation with an exclu- 
siveness and ardor perhaps never exceeded. From 
every study and pursuit, whatever its charms and at- 
tractions, which was not directly subsidiary to his grand 
design, he resolutely divorced himself — at least till he 
had acquired the art — analogous to the supposed pro- 
perties of the philosopher's stone — " of turning all to* 
gold." He seems to have concentrated and directed all 
his powers to the acquisition of scriptural -knowledge 
■ and the cultivation of Christian and ministerial graces 
in T)bedience to the apostolical precept, "give thyself 
^vholly to them." A decision, once formed, was with him 
usually final ; and, in executing his purpose, " whatever . 
his hand found to do, he did it with his might." These, 
his permanent characteristics, were eminently conspi- 
cuous at this period, while learning to 

*' Negotiate between God and man, 
" As God's ambassador, the grand concerns 
"Of judgment and of mercy." 

With the most exalted views of the holy office to which 
he was looking forward, and of the qualifications requi- 
site to its competent and successful execution, he sought 
them with a proportionate zeal, devoting himself to the 
study of the sacred pages, if man ever did, " with all 
the heart, and soul, and strength, and mind." 

Systems of divinity, as drawn up by men, Mr. Pay- 
son seems always to have regarded as subordinate tc 
the word of God. It was not his habit to decry them as 
iseless ; but he regarded them with a watchful jealou 



70 MEMOIR OF 

sVj and fell it unsafe to trust to llienij as iiis practice 
evidently demonstrates. He found " a more excelleni 
v/ay" to the knowledge of his Master's will, by con- 
sulting directly "the law and the testimony." Thus 
to honor the "lively oracles" is the wisest and safest 
course for every man ; for to embrace a system, with the 
intention of retaining or rejecting it, either wholly or 
m part, as it shall afterwards be found to agree, or not, 
with Scripture, is to incur the hazard of perpetuating 
error — since a man's theory is more likely to modify 
'his views of the Scriptures, than the Scriptures are tc 
correct the mistakes of his theory. This every one may 
have observed in regard to those whose sentiments dif- 
fer from his own. Before this time, indeed, the works 
of the most eminent divines of our own and other coun- 
tries, which were then accessible, and which he is 
known to have read, had doubtless exerted some influ- 
ence in forming his religious opinions; but he was ob- 
viously wedded to none. To none did he feel the attach- 
ment of a partisan ; he had not arrived to that state oJ 
mind which made him feel interested to defend an opi- 
nion because any human master hoxl said it. The pol- 
luting and disorganizing tendency of loose opinions on 
the one hand, and the scarcely less deplorable effects 
of dogmatism on the other, which could not have es- 
caped his observation, not less than the spirit of reli- 
gion and his constitutional independence of mind, con- 
spired to lead him to a just estimate of the value of hu- 
man authority in matters of religious belief, and to con- 
summate his reverence for the " sure word of prophecy,' 
and his confidence in revelation, as an adequate foun 
dation for his faith, and an infallible guide in duty. 

" Here is firm footing — nil is sea hesiilos " 



EDVVAllD PARSON. 71 

Most men, however discordant their principles, pro- 
fess to have derived tliem from the Scriptures ; but, 
'with Mr. P. this was something more than pretence. 
The Bible was with him the subject of close, critical, 
persevering, and, for a time, almost exclusive atten- 
tion, his reading being principally confined to such 
writings as would assist in its elucidation, and unfold 
its literal meaning. In this manner he studied the 
tchole of the Inspired Volume^ from beginning to 
e7id, so that there id as not a verse on which he had 
not formed an opinion. This is not asserted at ran- 
dom. It is but a few years since, that, in conversa- 
tion with a candidate for the ministry, he earnestly 
recommended very particular and daily attention to 
the study of the Scriptures„and enforced his counsel 
by his own experience of the advantages which would 
accrue from the practice. He observed, that before he 
co'aimenced preaching, he made it his great object to 
know what the Bible taught on every subject, and, 
with this purpose, investigated every sentence in it 
so faj: as to be able " to give an answer to every man 
wlio should ask a reason for it."* 

" It is not here alledged that Dr. Fayson comprehended all 
that is contained in the Scriptures, much less that he arrogated 
to himself such knowledge; for, though "the word of Christ 
dv/elt richly" in him, he doubtless continued to " incre ..se iu 
the knowledge of God " by every perusal of it, how Piten so- 
ever repeated, till the last, and even then saw as tnrough a 
glass, darkly, compared with the visions of heaven. Some 
truths cannot be fully comprehended, and may have various 
relatpons which never will be known on earth. JMany things 
respecting unfulfilled predictions can be known by no man till 
after their accomplishment. But he had made every passag3 a 
flistinct object of attention, and, if " hard to be understood,' 



In lliis way he acquired his unparalleled leadmess 
to meet every question, on every occasion, whether 
proposed by a caviller or a conscientious inquirer,^ 
which, it is well known, he usually did in a manner 
as satisfactory as it often was unexpected. The ad- 
vantages hence derived were, in his view, beyond all 
computation. It secured for him the unlimited conh- 
dence of people in the common walks of life, as "a 
man mighty in the Scriptures." It gave him great 
influence with Christians of other denominations. It 
enabled him to confound and silence gainsayers, when 
they could not be convinced, as well as to build up the 
elect of God on their most holy faith. It furnished 
him, too, with ten thousand forms of illustration, or 
modes of conveying to ordinary minds the less obvi- 
ous truths with which he was conversant in the ex- 
ercise of his ministry. He believed " all Scripture 
to be given by inspiration of God, and profitable for 
doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and for instruction 
in righteousness ;" and he was himself a most striking 
exemplification of its competency to render " th^ man 
of God perfect, thoroughly furnished unto every good 
work." 

Of Mr. Payson's devotion to the Scriptures there is. 
evidence of a different nature from that which has just 
been given. Among his papers has been found a small 
nanuscript volume, containing "Notes" on most of 
the books of Scripture. It is among the few interest- 
ing relics of this period of his life. The manuscript 

he could state to the inquirer the causes of the obscurity, and 
in the very fact find a powerful motive to humility, diligence, 
and prayer for divine illumination, thus rendering the darkest 
texts "profitable." 



EDWARD PAYSON, 73 

ends with remarks on 1 John, 5:8. Whether they 
were continuedj in another volume, to the end of Re- 
velation, does not appear. These notes are short in 
themselves, and much abbreviated in the form of ex- 
pression, but bear marks of a kind and extent of in- 
vestigation highly creditable to his learning and judg- 
ment, as well as to his diligence and fidelity. Dis- 
crepancies are accounted for and reconciled * figures 
are explained; chronology, philosophy, topography, 
natural history, ancient languages, are made to con- 
tribute to the elucidation of Scripture. Against pro- 
phecies which have received their completion, are 
found references to the historical characters and 
events by which they are supposed to have been ful- 
filled. It is difficult to characterize these notes by any 
general term, except that they are exegetical, in dis- 
tinction from practical and exporimental. Those on 
the New Testament are professedly collated, in part ; 
and though the same should, on examination, be found 
true of the rest, the manuscript is evidence of his care- 
ful study of the Scriptures ; and for this purpose it was 
introduced to notice. 

To learn more fully Mr. Payson's estimate of the 
Scriptures, the reader should peruse, in this connec- 
tion, his sermon, entitled, '' The Bible above all 
Price.''* In that discourse the preacher is much af 
home ] he treads on ground where he delighted to lin 
ger. He explores a field with whose riches and beau 
ties he was familiar. He clusters together its* excel 
'encies with a dexterous and bountiful hand, and de- 
icribes its efficacy like one who ''spoke that which he 

* Trart No. 71, of ^hd American Tract Society. 



74 MEMOIR Oh' 

knew, a^d testified that which he had seen." . His fa- 
Xiiliarity with the Scriptures was strikingly apparent 
n his pulpit addresses generally ; not so much by long 
quotations as by their general spirit, and the sacred as- 
sociations he was continually awakening. They bore 
prominent traces of the divine model he so faithfully 
studied, not in matter only, but in the manner of ex- 
hibiting it, — so plain, that his hearers could not but 
see it, — enforced by considerations so reasonable and 
moving, that they must feel self-condemned for reject- 
ing it. They were not the cold abstractions of a specu- 
lative mind, but the doctrines which are according to 
godliness, clothed in the fervid language which affec- 
tion dictates. They were not truths merely, but truths 
uttered by one who had felt their power and experi- 
enced their consolations, under the influence of that 
Spirit, who, to use his own expressive language, "lives 
and speaks in every line." 

But there is another part of his example more diffi- 
cult to imitate than the one just sketched. He prayed 
without ceasing-. Aware of the aberrations to which the 
human mind is liable, he most earnestly sought the 
guidance and control of the Holy Spirit. He felt safe 
no where but near the throne of grace. He may be said 
to have studied theology on his knees. Much of his 
time he spent literally prostrated, with the Bible open 
before him, pleading the promises — "I will send the 
Comforter — and when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, 
he will guide you into all truth." He was especially 
jea. ous of his own heart, and, to conquer its evil pro- 
pensities, subjected his body as well as his mind to 
the severest discipline. No man ever strove harder tc 
'■mortifv the flesh, with the affections and lusts." It 



FDWARIJ PAYS50N. If) 

J5 almosc incredible what abstinence and self-denial 
he voluntarily underwent, and what tasks he imposed 
on himself, that he might '• bring every thought into 
captivity to the obedience of Christ.*' He allowed him- 
self only a small part of the twenty-four hours for 
sleep;* and his seasons of fasting were injuriously 
frequent. So far did he carry his abstinence from food, 
that his family were alarmed for his safety. Often 
has his mother, whom he most tenderly loved and re- 
verenced, and whose wishes were law to him, in 
every thing besides his religious principles and inter- 
course with his Maker — in every thing, in short, which 
did not bind the conscience — often has his mother, or 
a favorite sister, stood at the door of his chamber, 
with a little milk, or some other refreshment equally 
simple, pleading in. vain for admission. 

The expediency or duty of such severe mortifica- 
tion turns on the question of its necessity to the at- 
tainment of the object for which in this instance, 
it was practiced. If the subjection of the heart and 
mind, with all their powers, to Christ, could not other- 
v/ise be effected, he was unquestionably right 5 for no 
sacrifice or suifering which is requisite to this can be 

*The following division and appropriation of his time was 
entered in his diary about five weeks after his return to his 
father's: 

" Oct. 5. Resolved to devote, in future, twelve hours to study 
li!)o to devotion; two to relaxation; two to meals and family de- 
votions ; and six to sleep." But this did not long satisfy him. 
His rigid notions of duty led him to subtract two hours from 
the six devoted to sleep, and to multiply his seasons of fasting to 
a degree which the human system could not long have sus- 
tained. A weekly fast, however, was habitual with him, fronc 
this time tiH his last sickness. 



76 MEMOIR OF 

too great. "If thy right hand offend thee, cut il oli; 
if thine eye cause thee to offend, pluck it out." It i& 
moreover true, that the most eminent saints of ancient 
and later times have devoted frequent seasons to pri- 
vate fasting and prayer; and the practice may, there- 
fore, be ranked among the essential means of rapid 
and extensive growth in grace. It w^ere well for indi- 
viduals, it were well for the church, if the practice 
should revive, and become common.* So far from 
weakening the charities of lift, or diminishing the 
amount of active, social duties, it would greatly en- 
hance them. We should witness a more vigorous and 
determined piety, a more diffusive and efficient bene- 
volence. 

Still the religion of Christ enjoins no needless aus- 
terities. It has at times called, and may again cali^ 
for the sacrifice of health, and life, and treasure ; for 
the renunciation of friends and home, and all its en- 
dearments. But in ordinary circumstances, " Godli- 
ness is profitable unto all things — to the life that no'-v 
is, as well as that which is to come." It did not re- 
There are ?ome distln|2;uished laborers in the vineyard of our 
Lord, who practice the essential duty here recommended, not so 
much by totally abstaining from food beyond the accustome':! 
mtervals, as by ''denying themselves" at every meal, and using 
a gpare and simple diet at all times, — a course well adapted to 
preserve both mind and bodj'^ in the best condition for biblical 
research and devotional exercises. This modification of the 
duty was much practiced by Mr. Payson, and strongly recom- 
mended by him to the members of his church. He would have 
them, when fasting on their own private account, not " appear 
imto men to fast:"' but to come to the table, which was spread 
for their families with a cheerful countenance, and partake 
«;paring]v of it.« provisions. 



BDWARD PAYSON. 77 

quire injurious excess of abstinence and mortification 
in one situated as Mr. Payson was. He afterwards 
saw his error — not in fasting, but in fasting so long — 
and lamented it. In this matter his mother was the 
wiser counselor. What she feared came upon him ; 
ihe unhappy consequences to his health were felt, it 
is believed, to his dying day. 

The truth is, Mr. Payson never did any thing by 
halves. Whatever were the objects immediately be- 
fore him, he was iotits in illis, wholly engrossed with 
them. He was therefore particularly liable at this 
stage of his experience, glowing, as he did, with all 
the ardor of a first love, and panting for the honor of 
winning souls to Jesus, to give an undue intensity to 
the meaning of those passages which prescribed his per- 
sonal duty. When he read the strong language of Paul 
— " mortify your members, that are upon the earth ;'^ 
and contemplated his example — "I keep under my 
body, and bring it into subjection ;" and desired above 
all things to be another such champion of the cross ; 
his susceptible and ardent mind might have imbibed 
views of duty which needed to be corrected by an- 
other remark of the same apostle — ''bodily exercise 
profiteth little." When attended Avith the expecta- 
tion, however latent, that it will purchase immuni- 
ties, or merit heaven, so far from ''profiting" at all, it 
vitiates the act, rendering it not only useless, but abo- 
minable. Such an expectation, however, was totally 
abhorrent to all Dr. Payson's views 5 and its existence 
In the faintest degree is not be supposed on any other 
^jrinciples than those which are common to men whoise 
deceitful liearts practice innumerable impositions, un* 
§uspected by their possessors* 



78 MExMOiR OF 

If " he who ruleth his spirit is greater than he wlio 
taketh a city," the rigid discipline and government to 
ivhich Mr. Pay son subjected the passions of the mind 
md the appetites of the body, afford the most conclu- 
sive proof of his real greatness, as well as of his deci 
sion and energy of character, and of hi» unshaken ad 
herence to his purposes. Ignorance and prejudice, un- 
der a show of superior discernment, will see in this 
conduct the future " pope ;" for prejudice, like malice, 
will remain blind to one important fact, which should 
never be lost sight of in estimating Mr. Pay son's cha- 
racter. Except in things expressly enjoined in the 
Scriptures, he never, at this time or afterwards, made 
his own practice a law for others. If he " bound heavy 
burdens and grievous to be borne," he did not " lay them 
on other men's shoulders," but made his own bear their 
oppressive weight. He urged self-denial, prayer, and 
fasting, indeed, as he was obliged by the authority un- 
der which he acted ; but left the measure and degree 
to the decision of each man's conscience. He knew 
more than others of the strength of depravity in his 
own heart, and supposed he had need of severe mea- 
sures to subdue it ; that it Avas of a " kind," of which he 
could not be dispossessed "but by prayer and fasting.'- 
He rightly judged, too, that a minister of the meek and 
self-denying Jesus needed a more than ordinary share 
[)f humility and self-government, to be separated far- 
iber from the contaminations of the world than othei 
men, and to have the habitual state of his affections 
more heavenly. Moreover, he had an overwhelming 
: -Tise of ministerial responsibility, and looked forward 
to the office, not without hope indeed, but yet tremblinf 



EDVVAKD PAYSON 79 

dure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ 1" And 
yet thousands of nominal Christians will censure this 
severe regimen as criminal, by whom he would have 
been suffered lo escape without animadversion, had he 
indulged in an occasional surfeit, and mingled in par- 
ties of pleasure. 

But who can say that he was not moved by an in- 
^uence which it would have been sinful to resist, at 
least till he had reached that limit, beyond which per- 
severance was excess ? That God, who sees the end 
from the beginning, fits his instruments for the pecu- 
liar service which he is preparing for them. A great 
and arduous work was appointed for Mr. Payson, as 
the event proved. And for that kind of preparation, 
which consists in fasting and communion with God, 
he had the high example of the Jewish lawgiver, and 
of One greater than Moses. Thus did Christ, our ex- 
emplar, previous to entering on his public ministry ; 
and also when from among his disciples he " chose 
twelve, whom he named apostles." Thus did the apos- 
tles, after Christ's ascension, whenever they were call- 
ed to set apart a brother to the work of the ministry. 

In this, however, and other duties, the time, man 
ner, and extent of which are left undetermined by the 
express statutes of Christ's kingdom, it is safer to ac 
according to our convictions of duty, for the time be- 
ing, than to make these convictions our unchangeable 
rule of conduct for future time. It is a wise directiouj 
" Be not rash with thy mouth, and let not thy heart be 
hasty to utter any thing before God." In binding our- 
selves by vows to any course of conduct, regard should 
be had to our circumstances as social beings, depen- 
dent on one another, as well as on the Author of o^^k 



i^n MEMoiu or 

existence. No man, perhaps, ever reached any high 
degree of eminence, who did not form purposes and 
resolutions, and adhere to them, when formed, with 
some degree of constancy. There are obvious advan- 
tages in having our general course marked out before 
us — in prosecuting our various duties by system, and 
not at random. But when we descend to details, and 
assign, beforehand, to every hour of the day its em 
ployment, or oblige ourselves to fill up a given number 
of hours with a particular pursuit, we should not over- 
look the limits of human ability, nor the thousand 
changes which may take place in our circumstances, 
and in our relations with those beings among whom 
God has placed us. In consequence of such changes, 
other duties may have a paramount claim to those very 
hours ; and if our resolutions are formed without an eye 
to such contingencies, they may prove a snare to us. 
Disappointments will be unavoidable; vexation and 
discouragement will ensue. It is not to be presumed 
that Mr. Payson formed his purposes without reference 
to the vicissitudes of the human condition. Still, his 
chagrin on failing sometimes to accomplish them, af- 
fords reason to think that he might have been too san- 
guine. It is a little remarkable, that tlie next day after 
ne had sketched the plan for his future daily employ- 
ment, unforeseen events necessarily prevented his ex- 
€:cuting it. 

" Oct. 6. In gL^eat confusion this morning — sistei 
sicK— father going a journey — little time for prayer. 
Was so much hmdered in various ways that I did not 
fulfill my twelve hours,^^ 

From causes equally beyond his control he often 
failed of accoFiplishing al that he prescribed to him- 



EDWAKU I'AYSON. yi 

solf. Such were, neverthelesSj his most laborious 
days. When hindered and diverted from his object 
he would goad himself onward to extraordinary exer- 
tion ; and Avhen successful in executing his plan, his 
satisfaction was exquisite. 

The influence of habitual prayer upon his studies 
was so certain and so operative, that the strength oi 
his devotion seems, for the most part, to have been 
tlie measure of his progress. By his very near ap- 
proach to the Father of lights^ his mind received, as 
[t were, .the direct beams of the Eternal Fountain ol 
illumination. In the light of these beams the truths 
of religion were distinctly perceived, and their rela- 
tions readily traced. These irradiations from the throne 
of God not only contributed to the clearness of his per- 
ceptions, but imparted a kind of seraphic energy and 
quickness to his mental operations. From them he 
derived, not light only, but heat. Few requests wgre 
urged by him more constantly and earnestly than his 
petitions for assistance in study ; and not unfrequentiy 
he records results similar to the following : — '' Was 
much assisted in my studies this evening, so that, not- 
withstanding I was interrupted, I was enabled to write 
twelve pages of my sermon. It was the more pre- 
cious, because it seemed to be in answer to prayer. ' 
Those who would esteem such an "evening's work * 
as too insignificant to be noticed with special grati- 
tude, should know that he had now been only part uf 
*i month in his retirement. Three days later he writes 
—"'Was most remarkably assisted in study, so that I 
wrote three-fourths of a sermon." And on the other 
hand, there are entries of a different character. Ontf 
mav serve as a specimen. 

Pav.son . g 



S2 MEMUIK OF 

''' Sept, 23. Was quite dull and lifeless in prayer^ 
and, in consequence, had no success in study." 

Sometimes even his "lively," fervent prayers were 
not followed by immediate returns ; but when the an- 
swer was granted, it brought with it a rich compensa- 
•:ion for the extreme perplexity and distress which the 
delay oC\:asioned him : 

''March 4. Was entirely discouraged respecting 
my studies, and almost determined to give up in de- 
spair. But see the goodness of God ! He enabled me 
to write a whole sermon, besides reading a great deal; 
and in the evening was pleased to lift up the light 
of his countenance upon me. O how refreshing, 
strengthening, and animating are his smiles! How 
ravishing the contemplation of his holiness, love^ Avis- 
dom, power and goodness ! He seemed to be a bound- 
less ocean of love ; and the sight caused my heart to 
expand with love to him and all his creatures. O how 
trifling do earthly beauties appear when he is pleased 
to unveil his face, and give a glimpse of heaven ! His 
holiness is the chief glory of his nature." 

But in nothing was his progress more rapid than 
m self-knowledge. Here — whether success or disap- 
pointment crowned his other pursuits — he was conti- 
nually extending his discoveries. To those who are 
ignorant of "the plague of their own heart," his con- 
fessions of sin must appear extravagant, and his de- 
scription of his heart a picture having no original, 
save in an apostate spirit. He calls it "a compound' 
of every thing bad." He likens it to "the bottomless 
pit; out of it — as soon as the door, with which the 
Holy Spirit covers it, is opened by his absence — a 
thick, noisome smoke arises, with a tribe of hellish 



EDVVAUU PAYSOK. 8b 

locusts, that devour the tender plants of grac^, and 
bring on a darkness which may be felt." Now, he is 
" crushed into the very dust by the recollection of the 
Bins of his youth;" — now, "filled with distressing feel- 
ings, and loses all hope that he shall ever be fit to 
preach ;" while these very feelings he attributes to a 
criminal cause, as, " disappointed pride, and a conscious 
inferiority to others." At another time he is "brought 
into temptations, which show his inward corruptions, 
against which he had been praying," or which he had 
not before suspected in himself. Again, "if he " at- 
tempts to approach the throne of grace, whole floods 
of evil imaginations carry him away ! so that he is 
fain to have recourse to unthought-of methods to get 
rid of them." And, not to prolong the enumeration, 
he is oppressed with " such a sense of his insignifi- 
cance and vileness, that it seemed as if he should ne- 
ver open his mouth any more, to boast, complain, or 
censure." 

Still, his religion difiered as widely from that of 
the mere ascetic, as Christian charity differs from self- 
ishness. Its fruits demonstrate -the genuineness of 
the stock. His first care was, indeed, to have his own 
" heart right with God ;" but he was, at the same time, 
fertile in good devices, and prompt to execute them. 
To his mother, under domestic trials, the nature oi 
which, though not indicated, appears to have caused 
her bitterness of soul, he was eminently "a son of 
consolation." To other members of the family he 
strove to be useful. The eye that could penetrate the 
walls of his chamber, might have seen him conduct- 
ing a younger brother to the throne of grace, kneeling 
with him before the mercy-seat, and interceding with 



8'i MEMUIU OF 

God for his salvation. He encountered a journey for 
the express purpose of visiting an early friend, of 
whose piety he had once some hope, but v^ho, he fear- 
• *d, had now become indifferent to the one thing need- 
ful — that he might know his state, and encourage him 
o seek that good part which could not be taken from 
him. And so much were his benevolent feelings drawn 
forth towards the inhabitants of his native town, that 
he spared no suitable exertions for their spiritual good. 
A revival of religion among them was the subject of 
fervent prayer ; and in the same object he endeavored 
to enlist other Christians. He procured, through the 
agency of his mother, the institution of a weekly meet- 
ing of female members of the church, for united prayer 
that the work of God might be revived. In short, so 
far was he from being bound up in self, that he exerted 
himself for the good of others in such ways as were 
proper for one in a state of pupilage. 

Even in the most distressing parts of his experience 
there are discoverable those characteristics which dis- 
tinguish it from the torturing convictions of the unre- 
newed soul. If he is in " a sullen, stupid frame," it is 
not without " some melting desires after God.'' If he 
is well nigh "overcome by temptation," it is that he 
may "rejoice the more at his deliverance, when God 
gives him the victory." If he is " discouraged because 
of the difficulties of the w^y, and the small progress 
which he makes," just as "all hope seems departing, 
the fire burns within him." Uniformly, his war is with 
himself, and not with his God. And if to prevent the 
night-watches, that he might meditate in God?s word; 
if to love the habitation of his hoicse, and the place 
where his honor dwelleih ; if to account himself and 



EDWARD PAY SON. 



all things ehe as nothing for Chrisf's sake; if to know 
in whom he has believed, and to draw near to him in 
full assurance of faith ; if to be satisfied as with mar- 
row and fatness, while remembering God and medi- 
tating on him in the night-watches; if to prevent the 
dawning of the morning bij the cries of prayer ; if to 
prefer Jerusalem above one^s chief joy — are scriptural 
marks of piety ; then is his placed beyond suspicion. 
All these, and more, will be recognised in the extracts 
from his journal, with which this chapter concludes. 

" Sept, 29. Had a most transporting view of 
God's glory as consisting in pure holiness. I rejoiced 
greatly that he reigned, and could exalt his own glory. 
Henceforth I will not doubt of my character ; for I 
know, yea, assuredly know, that I love God my Sa • 
vior, and holiness. 

" Oct, 19. Sabbath. Rose with thoughts of God on 
my mind. Was exceedingly assisted in secret and in 
family prayer. Never had my desires and affections 
so much drawn out after God and holiness. Was filled 
with the gracious influences of the Spirit, so that I re-- 
joiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory. Never 
did earth appear so small, heaven so desirable, the Sa- 
vior so precious, holiness so lovely, God so glorious, 
as now. In reading the Scriptures, they seemed to 
open with a clearness and force which delighted and 
astonished me. Such a 'sweet, calm, soul-satisfying 
joy I never felt before m so great a degree. Nothing 
on earth seemed worth a serious thought, but to glorify 
God. Had much of the same temper through the day. 
Was more assisted at meeting than ever before. In 
the evening had a clearer sense of the evil of sm, a 
greater hatred of it, and more fixed resolutions agamst 



so MEMOIH OF 

it than ever. This has been by far the most prpfitaole 
and blessed day to my soul that I ever experienced. 
God be praised ! 

" Oct. 25. Was much depressed with a view of the 
numerous enemies which oppose my journey heaven- 
ward. Had a faint glimpse of Christ, as able to carry 
me through in spite of all. Never before had such a 
clear idea of the passage — If the i^ighteoiis scarcely 
are saved. Seemed to be plunged in a bottomless 
ocean of sin and corruption!, from which no efforts of 
my own could free me. 

"AW. 2. Communion Sabbath. Blessed be God, 
who has caused his loving-kindness to appear. En- 
joyed much assistance in family and secret prayer. 
Was enabled to drag my sins to Christ, beseeching him 
to slay them for me. Afterwards enjoyed great sweet- 
ness in meditation. Was preserved, in some measure, 
from wandering thoughts at meeting. Had a profitable, 
though not 'a very happy time, at communion. After 
meeting, was favored with considerable liberty in fa- 
mily and secret devotions. 

" Nov. 10. Had petitioned, last night, that I might 
awake at a given hour ; my petition was granted, and 
I was assisted in prayer. Felt my dependence on God 
for strength. Was surprisingly favored all day. Was 
m a sweet, humble frame. I admired and loved the 
work which Christ had wrought in my heart by his 
Spirit, just as I should have admired it in any other. 
My faith seemed to be unusually strong, able to grap- 
ple with any thing. I felt all day, that I depended 
entirely on Christ for the continuance of my strength, 

" Nov. 18. Aftei: retiring to rest last night was fa- 
va^^d with an extraordinary display of divine grace 



LDWAKIJ PAY SON. 87 

I rejuiced that the Lord reigned ; that Jesus was ex- 
alted far above principalities and powers. I was per- 
mitted to approach very near him, and to plead with 
much confidence and earnestness for myself and 
others. Waked several times in the night in the 
same frame. In the morning was favored with still 
clearer views, and more near' access to my Saviour, 
and rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory. 
Could not find words to utter my praises for such 
goodness. Had, too, a most humiliating view of my 
own vile and odious nature. 

" Nov. 19. My gracious God is still loading me with 
his unmerited goodness. His mercies follow each 
other, ^s wave follows wave, and the last seems ever 
the greatest This morning I seem to enjoy the ha))- 
piness of heaven. 

" Nov, 21. Resolved to spend this day in fasting and 
prayer for greater measures of grace, and assistance to 
render me more humble and concerned for God's glo- 
ry ; for more love to God and his people, and for minis- 
terial qualifications. After seeking the divine presence, 
for which I was enabled to plead with great earnest- 
ness, and a feeling sense that I could do nothing with- 
out it, I endeavored to recollect and confess my sins. 1 
saw myself exceedingly vile, seemed the chief of sin- 
ners, to be worse than the evil spirits, and thought that 
the lowest place in hell was ijiy due. * * * * I felt 
the most asdent desire for God's glory, and was willing 
to be a stepping-stone, or any thing, however mean, to 
pron^ote it. To be a fellow-laborer with Christ, in the 
glorious work of bringing souls to him, seemed to be the 
most delightful and honorable of all ofhces ; and in this 
service I felt willing to spend and be spent; to suffer pain. 



8S MfMOIK OF 

conleiiiptj and death itself. Felt a most intense love lo)' 
Christ's people, and was willing to be below them all 

'^ Nov. 26. As soon as I awoke, felt my soul go forth 
m longing after more holiness, and promised myself 
much comfort in prayer. But my Lord withdrew him« 
self, and I could do nothing. Felt convinced that it was 
a dispensation of love for my good. 

" Nov. 29. Never was enabled to plead with such 
earnestness and submission before. My mouth was 
filled with arguments, and I seemed to have both my 
Savior and the blessed Spirit go with me, and plead for 
me at the throne of grace. Was favored with a clear 
view of my Savior's beauty and holiness, and of the 
scheme of salvation by him. What a glorious design, 
and how worthy of its Author ! 

" Dec. 1. Favored v/ith an uncommon spirit of 
prayer. Saw that, as a member of Christ, I might pray 
with as much certainty of being heard as Christ him- 
self. Was enabled to plead his merits, sufferings, death, 
God's gracious promises, what he has already done for 
me, the operations of his own Spirit, and his own con- 
duct in hearing others — as reasons why he should hear 
me. * * * Was graciously assisted in pleading, till I 
received an answer of peace. Was most sweetly melt- 
ed witn a view of the love of the blessed Trinity dis- 
played in the work of redemption, and the vile, un- 
grateful returns I had made. 

" Dec. 5. Felt a full persuasion that my present 
dark, comfortless state is only designed for good, to 
teach me humility, dependence, and weanedness from 
the world ; and if it has this effect, I welcome il 
with joy. 

" Dec. 6. All my proud and selfish feeling& seeme(^ 



KDWARD HAV.->ON. 8^ 

to be anniliilaled. J saw and rejoiced that Jesus had 
no need of me, and that he would be praised by others, 
if not by me, to all eternity ; and, provided he could be 
fiflonfiedj I cared not how, or by whom. How sweet tt 
nave pride and self subdued ! 

" Dec. 9. Determined to spend this day in fasting 
and prayer for myself and the advancement of religion 
in this place. Had great and special assistance last 
evening, and now, in pleading for the outpouring of 
the Spirit here, and for help in the duties before me. 
After thinking over my manifold transgressions, my 
sins against light and love, and confessing them — I at- 
tempted to plead my Savior's death and righteousness 
for pardon and reconciliation. I could not obtain it, but 
was for three hours in great perplexity and distress, 
and was more than once. on the point of giving up in 
despair. However, I was enabled to continue reading 
the Scriptures and praying till afternoon, when* the 
cloud dispersed, and my Savior shone out brighter 
than ever before. How did my soul rejoice, and plead ^ 
for sanctifying grace ! Was exhausted and worn out, 
but continued praying, or trying to pray, till night. 

" Dec. 16. Was enabled to realize, for the first time 
in my life, what Christ suffered, and for what a wretch 
he suffered. Was so overwhelmed with the view, that 
I could not, for some time, shed a tear. O how hateful 
did sin appear ! 

" Dec. 17. Was much assisted in writing on Christ's 
passion. * 

" Jan. 4, 1807. Was favored with a spirit of 4)rayer 
beyond all my former experience. I was in great agony, 
and wrestled both for myself aiid others with great 
power. God seemed to bow tlie heavens and come 



90 MEMOIH OF 

down, and open all his treasurer, bidding me take what 
I would. 

" Jan. 6. Was not favored with that sweet sense oi 
pardon which I usually find on occasions of fasting : 
but 1, had a quiet, peaceful, resigned frame, and felt 
none of those repining thoughts which the absence of 
sensible comforts is apt to excite. 

" Jan. 20. Was amazingly assisted in prayer for 
myself, parents, friends, and a revival of religion. 

" Jan. 21. Was favored with the clearest views ol 
the glory of heaven, as consisting in hoViness^ that 1 
ever had. 

" Jan. 29. Never felt such longings after God, or 
such a desire to depart and be with Christ. My soul 
thirsted for more full communion with my God and Sa- 
vior. I do not now feel satisfied, as I used to, with the 
manifestations of the divine presence, but still feel 
hungry and craving. 

" Feb. 2. Was amazingly given up to wandering 
imagmations. If I attempted to pray, in a moment my 
thoughts were m the ends of the earth. If I attempted 
to read the Bible, every verse, almost, afforded ground 
of doubt and caviling- This fully convinced me that 
Satan is able to make me doubt even the existence 
of God. 

" Feb. 18. Was enabled to lie at Jesus' feet, and to 
wash them with the tears of contrition. No pleasure 
f have ever found in religion supeyor to this. 

" Feb. 20. Resolved to spend the day in fasting, and 
had considerable assistance. Had clearer viev/s of the 
majesty, purity, and holiness cf God than usual, and 
this made me abhof myself, and repent in dust and 
ashes. 



KUWARD PAY SON. 91 

" Feh. 28. Was favored with great enlargement in 
prayer. Seemed to be carried out of myself into the 
presence of God. 

" March 2. Seem to be declining ; and less grateful, 
less fervent, than I was, and have less tenderness of 
spirit. Yet I am less apt to think much of myself than 
I was, and hope I am growing in humility. This 
seems the most lovely grace, and most becoming 
sinners. 

" March 7. Were it not for the promised help of 
my Savior, I would think no more of preaching, but 
rather labor for daily bread. 

" March 12. Never appeared so exceedingly vile 
and loathsome to myself as I did this day. It seemed 
as if I could not endure to be near myself. No words 
could express any thing like the sense I had of my un- 
worthiness. It seemed as if I could not, for shame, ask 
God to save me. I felt like sinking into the dust, in 
the idea that his pure eye was fixed upon me, and that 
saints and angels saw how vile I was. 

" March 15. Sabbath. Rose very early, and was 
favored with sweet fervency and communion with 
God in prayer. Went to bed, and lay till morning. 
Enjoyed great liberty in prayer several times before 
meeting. 

" March 17. Was favored with a peculiar experience 
this morning. I thought I knew that I could never heal 
myself before ; but I was made to know it in a different 
manner now. I saw, with most convincing clearness, 
that neither I, nor all created beings, could do the least 
thing towards delivering me from my sinful nature. I 
saw that I depended entirely on the free mercy of God , 
and that there was no reason but his own good plea- 



y^ MEMOIR OF 

sure why he should ever afford me that assistance. 
Feltj for the first time in my life, what the apostle 
meant hy " groanings which cannot be uttered ;" and 
my desires after holiness were so strong, that I was in 
bodily pain, and my soul seemed as if it would burst 
the bands which confined it to the body. 

" March 19. [At the close of a day of fasting and 
prayer.] I find that, even when the spirit is willing, 
the flesh is weak. No days are so fatiguing as those 
which are spent in fervent and continual exercises of 
religion. It will not he so in heaven. 

" March 26. Spent the day in fasting and prayer. 
Was favored with near access to my heavenly Father, 
and a realizing sense of his perfections. O how sw^eetly 
was I enabled to praise and admire his love and good- 
ness in his works ! 

'^ March 31. Spent this day fasting, but not in 
prayer ; for I could not put up a single petition. Was 
entirely deserted, and was ready to say, Surely it is 
in vam to seek after God.. I could not see that I had 
advanced one step in holiness, and was ready to think 
I never should ; yet could think of nothing else worth 
pursuing or living for. Doubted whether it were pos- 
sible that I should know any thing of true religion, and 
yet be so entirely barren. 

" April 7,0 In fasting and prayer, was favored with 
much of a spirit of supplication. I now seem to be 
lifted above those discouraging, desponding doubts, 
which have for some time clogged my soul. No ooob 

COMES OF doubting, OR OF BROODING OVER OUR SINa 

" April 14. Spent this day in fasting and prayer 
Was wholly deserted, except that I saw more of my 
uatural depravity, and the consequent pollution of all 



EDWARD I'AYSON. 9r 

my du les, than ever before. Saw more, too, of the 
^lory and greatness of the work of redemption than I 
had previously. 

" April 22. Spent this day in fasting and prayer. 
At first was stupid ; but soon God was pleased to lift 
up the light of his countenance upon me, and visit me 
with his free Spirit. O how infinitely glorious and 
lovely did God in Christ appear ! I saw, I felt, that 
God was mine, and I his, and was unspeakably happy. 
Now, if ever, I enjoyed communion with God. He 
shone sweetly upon me, and 1 reflected back his beams 
in fervent, admiring, adoring love. Had a most ra- 
vishing view of the glories of heaven, of the ineffable 
delight with which the Lord Jesus beholds the happi- 
ness which he has purchased with his ovv^n blood." 



CHAPTER y. 

//H stale of mind in the immediate prospect of the ministry. 

The tjme now drew near when Mr. Payson was to 
receive license to preach the Gospel. His spirituality 
appears to have increased as that interesting era of his 
life approached. Most sensibly did he feel that he 
'• was no longer his own, but bought with a price," 
and "called by grace to serve God in the Gospel of his 
Son." " The world was crucified to him, and he to the 
world." His piety was distinguished by more frequent 
acts of self-dedication to God — not by short ejacula- 
tions and a general surrender merely, but with great 



94 MEMOIR OF 

deliberation, attended by a minutt survey of the rela- 
tions of the creature to the Creator, and of the obliga- 
tions recognised and assumed by such a consecration. 
Happily, one specimen of the manner in which he gave 
himself up is preserved ; and, though it describes the 
secret dealings of the soul v^^ith its God, it is hoped 
that it will not be desecrated by being brought out to 
the light. If, however, the reader never felt the awe 
which is created by a consciousness of the divine pre 
sence — if he never experienced the emotions of an an- 
cient pilgrim, when, preparing for a similar transac- 
tion, he exclaimed, " How dreadful is this place !" — 
he is urgently requested to pause. If he is conscious 
of any other feelings than those of profound solemnity, 
let him leave this chapter unread. In it he will find 
nothing with which a mind given to levity, or vanity, 
or pride, can possibly sympathize. If he ventures to 
proceed, he will be met at the threshold, if not by " a 
drawn sword in the hand of the Captain of the Lord's 
host," by that which is scarcely less appalling to an 
earthly mind, and which will render almost equally 
appropriate the order addressed to Israel's leader — 
" Loose thy shoe from off thy foot; for the place where- 
on thou standest is holy." 

" May 1, 1807. Having set apart this day for fast- 
ing and prayer, preparatory to the celebration of the 
Lord's supper, I rose early, and sought the divine pre- 
sence and blessing, in which I was favored with fer- 
vency and freedom. My petition was, that I might 
be enabled to see my own character, contrasted with 
the purity of God, and his holy, just, and good law 
that I might be assisted in renewing covenant with 
God, and in giving myself up to him, and that I mis^h' 



EUWAKD l^AYSON. 95 

be favored with ministerial qualifications. ' After this, 
I drew up the following 

COJSffESSION AND FORM OF COVENANT. 

" O thou High and Holy One, that inhabitest eter- 
aity, whose name alone is Jehovah, — who art the one, 
great, eternal, ever-blessed God, before whom angels 
bow and devils tremble, and in whose sight all the na- 
tions of the earth are less than nothing and vanity !— 
wilt thou graciously condescend, in thy sovereign and 
infinite goodness, to look down from thy throne ol 
glory on me, the most unworthy of thy creatures, a 
poor, weak, sinful, vile, and polluted wretch, to behold 
me with mercy and compassion, and permit me, lying 
prostrate in the dust before thee, to address thee as 
my God, my Father, my Creator, my Benefactor, my 
Friend and Redeemer ! 

"O Lord, I would come •with a heart broken and 
contrite for sin, acknowledging myself unworthy oi 
the least of all thy mercies, and deserving nothing at 
thine hand but everlasting banishment from thee and 
happiness. Encouraged by thine own gracious pro- 
mises, I would come, and, with humble confidence, 
take hold on the hope set before me, even thine ever- 
lasting covenant, which is ordered in all things and 
sure. But, O God, what am I, that I should be called 
thy son, that I should call thee my Father, or that 
thou shouldst enter into covenant with me 1 I blush, 
and am ashamed even to lift up my face unto thee, O 
my Father ; for I have sinned against thee, and am 
exceeding vile, vile beyond what language can de- 
gcribe or thought conceive. My iniquities are gone 



>j6 memoir of 

over my head; they aie increased even to the hea- 
vens ; they are infinite in number, in degree, and ag- 
gravation, and can be equalled only by thy mercies 
which have been new every moment. Thou^^O God, 
hast given me life, and dost still preserve me in ex- 
istence. Thou hast given me faculties which render 
me capable of knowing, serving, loving, worshiping, 
and enjoying thee. Thou hast placed me in this Chris- 
lian land, and given me the knowledge of thee, my- 
.elf, and my duty, while thousands of my fellow-crea- 
tures are left in darkness. Thou hast placed me in 
that situation in life which is most favorable to vir- 
tue, contentment, and happiness, and hast given .me 
parents tender and affectionate, who early devoted me 
to thee, and taught me to lisp thy name, and to know 
thy precepts. Through their means thou hast given 
me opportunities of improving those faculties 1 have 
received from thee, and thus rendering myself more 
fit to serve thee. But abof e all, O my God, thou hast 
given me an interest in thy Son, and in all the bless- 
jugs he has purchased. Thou hast given me the Spi- 
rit of adoption, whereby I am enabled to cry, Abba^ 
Father. Thou hast given me thy precious grace in 
this world, as an earnest of glory in the next. Thou 
hast also loaded me with daily and hourly mercies, 
more than I can number. Thou hast kept me with 
more than parental care. Thou hast preserved me in 
sickness, • protected me f«om dangers, shielded me 
while awake, watched over me in sleep, supported mc 
in trials, strengthened me in weakness, succored me 
in temptations, comforted me in afflictions, and de- 
fended me against mighty and numberless enemies 
rhou hast overvv^hehiierl me with thy mercies : mv 



ElJWAHl" VAYSOy*. 



cup runnetli over. Thy goodness and thy mercy 
have followed me all the days of my life. 

" Yet against all this goodness 1 have rebelled, 
have rewarded thee evil for good ; thy mercies have 
only aggravated my guilt. O my God, what have I 
done ! What madness, v/hat obstinacy, what ingrati- 
iude has possessed me ! My sins have run parallel 
with thy mercies. I have struck and wounded the 
hand that made me, fed me, preserved me. I have 
wasted in sin and folly the life thou gavest me. I 
have perverted those faculties I received from thy 
goodness in dishonoring thee, and in disobeying thy 
commands. I was shapen in sin, and brought forth 
m iniquity. My understanding is darkened and alien- 
ated from the truth ; my will is stubborn and perverse ; 
my affections are corrupted and depraved ; and every 
imagination of the thoughts of my heart has been evil, 
only and continually evil. My carnal mind has been 
eiflbity agamst thee, and has not been in subjection to 
thy righteous and holy law. From this corrupt and 
bitter fountain have proceeded innumerable bitter, pol- 
luting streams. Though I was early taught thy will, 
I neglected to perform it. I have broken all tliy com- 
mands, times without number. My words, thoughts, 
and actions, have been sinful. I have gone astray 
from my youth up. 

" And even after thou didst take pity upon me, when 
1 was cast out, polluted, tp perish in my blood — after 
thou didst receive me, a poor, wretched prodigal, and 
didst cause thy wondrous goodness and mercy to pass 
before me, I have still continued to weary thee v/ith 
my sins, and cause thee to serve with mine iniquities. 
I have broken that solemn covenant by which I bound 

PaysoQ. y 



98 



MEMOIR OF 



myself to be thine. 1 have indulged an evil heart oi 
unbelief, in departing from the living God, and have 
II all things dealt very treacherously. How often 
have I mocked thee with solemn words on a thought- 
less tongue ! How have I neglected thy word, pro- 
faned thine ordinances, broken thy law, and resisted 
thy grace ! How little of a filial temper have I felt to 
thee, my Father ! How little gratitude to thee, blessed 
Savior ! How often have I grieved thee, O Holy Spi- 
rit, by whom I am sealed to the day of redemption ! 
When thou liftest upon me the light of thy counte- 
nance, I grow proud, carnal, and secure; and when 
thou leavest me in darkness, when my own foolish- 
ness perverteth my way, then my proud heart fretteth 
against thee, the Lord. All my duties are polluted 
with innumerable sins, and are as a leprous garment 
before thee. And, after all thou hast done for me, I 
am still encompassed about with innumerable evils. 
Pride, unbelief, selfishness, lust, anger, hatred, malil^, 
revenge, bitterness, slothfulness, vanity, love of the 
world, ignorance, formality, hypocrisy, and, with all 
these, self-conceit, are still the inhabitants, if not the 
lords, of my heart. And, as thou, O Lord, knowest, 
these are not the ten thousandth part of my sins and 
iniquities; so that I am the chief of sinners, and the 
least of all saints. ****** 

" O wretched man that I am ! Who shall deliver 
me from this body of death? Vain, O Lord, thou 
knowest, are my endeavors, and vain is the help oJ 
man. I have ruined myself, and in thee alone, and 
m thy mercy, is my hope. 

" To this mercy, against which I have so often 
sinned, would I flee for refuge, and laying my hand 



EDWARD PAYSON. iJi; 

on my mouthj and my mouth in the dust, cry, Unclean 
unclean ! True, Lord, I have sinned ; but with thee 
there is mercy, with thee there is plenteous redemp- 
tion. Thou, thou art he who blottest out our iniqui- 
ties for thine own sake, and will not remember 
our sins against us. The blood of Christ clean.seth 
from all sin, and to this would I flee for refuge. In 
him do I put my trust; O let me not be ashamed. 
Let*me plead before thee the merits of thy Son, and 
put thee in mind of thy gracious promises, that I may 
be justified. In his name, and as an unworthy mem- 
ber of his mystical body, would I come, and renew 
before thee that covenant which I have broken, and 
bind myself to be thine for ever. And do thou, for 
his eake^ O God^ assist me ; for in thee is my strength. 
" Relying on this strength for support, and confess- 
mg myself guilty of all these and innumerable other 
offences, and that I deserve, in justice, nothing but 
the lowest hell, and renouncing the destructive ways 
of sin, — I do, with my whole heart and soul, in a 
most serious, solemn, and deliberate manner, choose 
and take the Lord Jehovah to be my God and Father, 
cheerfully and joyfully renewing all my past engage- 
ments; and, in humble dependence on his grace, I 
engage to fear him, and cleave to him in love. And 
I do most freely give up myself, my interests, for 
time and for eternity, my soul and body, my friends 
and possessions, and all that I have, to his wise, just, 
and sovereign disposal. Especially do I devote niy- 
seif to him in the service of the ministry, beseeching 
him to place me in that situation in which I shall 
most glorify him. And wiit thou, O most gracious 
and condescending God, accept this offering of thy 



[00 MEMOIR OF 

creature, who can give thee nothing but what he has 
first received. 

" With equal joy and readiness, and in the same 
serious and solemn manner, do I choose and embrace 
the Lord Jesus Christ to be my only Savior. I take 
him in all his offices — as my Priest, to make atonement 
for all my offences — as my Prophet, to guide, teach, 
enlighten and instruct me — as my King, to rule in 
and reign over me. I take him as the great Heatt of 
influences, from whom alone 1 can receive all needed 
supplies of grace and assistance. 

"I do also take the Holy Spirit of all grace and 
consolation to be my Sanctifier, and promise not to 
grieve him, or to slight his warnings. 

" And, O my God, what shall I more say ? what 
can I ask, since I am thine, and thou art mine ; mine, 
tor time ; mine, for eternity ? O my God, I want 
nothing but to be wholly thine. I would plead thy 
nromise for a new heart and a right spirit. O write 
this covenant on my heart, and put thy fear there, 
that I may not depart from thee. May I be made an 
able, faithful, and successful minister of the New 
Testament. May the life and concerns which I have 
now devoted to thee be employed in thy service ; and 
may I, at length, be brought to the full enjoyment of 
thee in glory, through infinite riches of redeeming 
lov2. 

''As a testimony of my sincere and hearty consent 
to this covenant, of my hope and desire to receive the 
blessings of it, and as a swift witness against me if 1 
depart from it; I do now, before God and the ho^y 
3*igels. subscribe with my hand unto the Lord. 

^* Edward Payson. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 101 

*' And may this covenant be ratified in heaven. 
And do thou remember, O my soul, that the vows oi 
God are upon thee. 

" Having drawn up the above covenant, I spread ii 
before the Lord ; and after confession of sins, and 
seeking pardon through the blood of Christ, I did 
solemnly accept it before him as my free act and deed ; 
and embraced Christ in it, as the only ground of my 
hope. I then pleaded for all covenanted blessings, 
and was favored with great fervency and enlargement 
in prayer. An indisposition, which attended me through 
the day, rendered it less profitable than usual ; yet I 
have abundant reason to bless God for the measure of 
assistance I received.' I felt the most longmg, intense, 
and insatiable desires after holiness, and to be em- 
ployed in promoting the divine glgry. The world, 
with its applause, seemed nothing in comparison with 
the approbation of God. Existence seemed worth pos 
sessing only as it could be employed in praising him." 

In this and other places he descends to specifica- 
tions of sins in terms which may be thought applica- 
ble to none but a monster of wickedness ; and yet they 
are the judgment passed on himself by a man ahvaya 
and uMversally respected for the correctness and pu- 
rity of his morals. His " pride " never looked with dis- 
dain upon the meanest fellow-creature; his "malice" 
and " revenge " never inflicted actual injury ; and of 
any outbreakings of the baser and more degrading pas- 
sions he stands unindicted by all except himself. Nor 
were these humiliating confessions, this extraordinary 
self-abasement, made to attract notice and give him- 
self import mce m the eyes of others — one of the very 
worst and most odious forms in which pride operates 



[02 MEINIOIR OF 

— for to liiem no mortal v/as ever privy. They were 
not known to a lellow-creature till since he dropped 
the clods of mortality. They describe what he ap- 
peared to himself to be in the immediate presence of 
the perfectly holy and heart-searching God. Still, 
many will repeat the question — If he alludes to no 
crimes with Avhich every man might not with equal 
propriety charge himself, whence the justice or truth 
of the charges? Here again he shall be his own in- 
terpreter. Let those Avho are oppressed with this dif- 
ficulty carefully read his sermon entitled, Sins esti- 
mated by the Light of Heaven^'^ and they will find a 
full and satisfactory solution. This, and the sermon 
just alluded to, will furnish a key to the true import 
of much of the language which he employs in describ- 
ing the darker and more distressing parts of his expe- 
rience. 

The effects of his severe regimen and night vigils 
en his health had already begun to appear, and were 
somewhat aggravated by a bodily injury which he re- 
ceived about this time. The circumstances are said 
to^have been these : He had accompanied his father 
and another clergyman to an ordination. On their re- 
turn, as he was feasting his mind with such%iedita- 
tions as the scenery and the occasion suggested, they 
outrode him. His horse, being left principally to his 
own guidance, by suddenly leaping a brook, -brought 
his rider to the ground, whose right shoulder was dis- 
located by the shock. A partial faintness succeeded, 
from which he was recovered by bathing his temples 
with water from the stream. Attempting, in this dis- 
nbled condition, to regain the saddle by leaping from 
* Tract. No 40, American Tract Society. 



1 



KDWARD PAYSON. 103 

a neighboring fence, he was precipitated over'tlie 
horse to the ground, and the bone was restored to its 
place by the fall. In after life it was often displaced, 
and sometimes in circumstances not a little embtirrass- 
ing and distressing; and for many months before his 
death, and even before he ceased to appear in the pul- 
pit, that arm hung useless by his side. From this time 
the state of his health is the subject of frequent allu- 
sion, as may be seen from his journal, parts of which, 
for several successive days, are subjoined, bringing 
down his history to the date of his license to preach 
the Gospel : 

" May 2. Was exceedingly weak through the day, 
both in body and mind, and was enabled to do little 
or nothing. Could only wish and sigh. 

" May 3. Communion. Had considerable flow of 
affections, but seemed to want clearness and spiritual- 
ity. In the afternoon was more dead and trifling. So 
far as I can judge from my feelings, have got little 
good by this opportunity. Felt deeply oppressed with 
guilt after meeting, but could not mourn over my sin, 
as I would fain have done, nor could I obtain any 
sense of divine love. But after a short time my com- 
passionate Savior was pleased to melt my soul with a 
look of love, and I felt sweetly humbled and contrite 
for sin. Although I had carelessly let down my watch, 
yet in the evening he was pleased to return, and give 
me the sweetest humbling season I ever enjoyed. I 
never felt so vile, so insignificant, so like nothing, so 
emptied of self. And when I was thus empty, he was 
pleased to fill me with himself; so that I was burnt 
up with most intense love and pantings after holiness. 
Never before h^d I such faith and fervency in prayer. 



104 MKMOIft OF 

I \\^s lis happy as nature, couid sustain, and ecu I J only 
say — Blessed Jesus ! this is thy work. See my happi- 
ness. It proceeds from thee ! This is the fruit of thy 
travair of soul. Renewed my covenant, and ga\'e up 
my whole soul, with all its powers, to God as my Fa- 
tlier, Christ as my Savior, and the Holy Spirit as my 
Sanctifier. Had another sweet season in prayer,* but 
was assaulted by spiritual pride. I see frowns are 
necessary for me. 

^^ May 4. Was less favored this morning than last 
evening ; but had some assistance. Was aided in writ- 
mg, but greatly oppressed Avith pride and vanity, which 
made their attacks upon me in inexpressible shapes, 
while I could do nothing. 

" May 5. Spent this day in the v/oods, in fastings 
and prayer, with a view to obtain mortification of my 
abominable pride and selfishness. Was favored with 
much fervency and enlargement the former part of the 
day, but was afterward much deserted; seemed tc 
make no advances in holiness ; to be of no advantage 
to the world, and unfit to live. 

" May 6. Had some freedom in prayer. Felt very 
feeble, and unfit for study ; but, praying that Christ's 
strength might be made perfect in my weakness, I was 
helped to write more than usual. 

" May 7. Out of order both in body and mind. 
Did little in my study, and had little freedom in prayer. 

'^ May 8. Had some life and fervency this morn- 
ing; but was exercised with wandering thoughts. 
Could do little all day. 

" May 9. Was much perplexed with some business 
with ****, so that I could neither read nor pray, any 
more than I could remove a mountain This W3^ 



EDWARD PAYSON. 105 

made useful to me. I saw by it the weakness of my 
graces, and learned to judge more favorably of those 
Christians who are exposed to the temptations of the 
world. It showed me also my need of divine help 
more clearly than ever. Were I exposed to the same 
temptations, I should lose all sense of divine things 
without greater supports than I ever had. 

" May 10. Was very unwell, and could neither 
eat, read, nor pray. Was excessively melancholy. 

'• May 11. Was still more oppressed with melan- 
choly, and felt even more miserable. ********* 
Was ashamed of my selfishness and ingratitude, in 
despising the blessings God had given me. Remained 
very wretched, and unable to do any thing. In the 
evening had some relief. 

" May 12. Was, if possible, still more gloomy and 
depressed than yesterday. Seemed unfit to preach, 
and even to do any thing. Could only wander about 
from place to place, seeking rest, and finding none. 
In the evening a person arrived from Marlborough, 
inviting me to come and preach four Sabbaths. After 
putting up a short but sincere petition that I might 
not be left to my own guidance, and asking the advice 
of my father, I promised to go. Retired, and cast my 
self upon the Lord for support, with a deep sense of 
my own utter insufficiency. 

" May 13. Having set apart this day for fasting 
and prayer, with reference to entering on the work of 
the mmistry, I sought the divine presence and bless- 
ing, ia which I was much assisted. Renewed cove- 
nant with God, and gave myself up to him for the 
work of the ministry. Was helped to plead witli far 
•nore earnestness than, ever before, and, indeed. witJi 



106 MEMOIR OF 

as much as my nature could support, or was capable 
ot. and this repeatedly during the day. 

" May 14. Was very unwell, and apprehensive oi 
a nervous fever. Could not read the most amusing 
books without weariness and distraction ; and my body 
was so weak that I could exercise but very little. 
Yet, by divine goodness, was preserved in a quiet, 
submissive frame. 

" May 15. Was better, and had some sweetness 
in secret devotion. Went to see an old man who has 
been converted in his old age. Found him full of 
affection, and possessing remarkably clear views of 
God and divine things, though in other respects weak 
and illiterate. Was somewhat refreshed with his 
conversation. — P. M. Forced to make a visit, but 
helped to introduce religious conversation. 

''May 16. Felt very lifeless in the morning; but 
in secret prayer it pleased God to enliven me. In the 
evening was favored with equal, or greater degrees 
of fervency. My soul was suddenly humbled and 
broken for sin. I seemed to be much the least of all 
saints ; and my very soul panted for God and holiness, 
as the hunted hart for the Avater-hrook. Blessed be 
God foj: this day ! 

" May 17. Sabbath, A. M. Very dull and lifeless , 
but in secret prayer the cloud was removed, and I 
found unspeakable delight in drawing near to God, 
and casting myself upon him. Christ appeared incon- 
ceivably precious, and I longed, with most intense 
desire, to devote myself to him, and to be like liim, 
I could not but rejoice with joy unspeakable and full 
of glory, to think that God in Christ was, and would 
be, infinitely and unchangeably glorious and happy 



III Christ 1 beheld such fullness and sufficiency, that 
(lii my late tormenting fears respecting being qualified 
for the ministry, and assisted in it, vanished. In the 
evening was overwhelmed with a view of my remain- 
ing corruptions, and especially of my pride : so that 
I was in a perfect agony, and could scarcely support 
it. I v/as just ready to despair, and give up all future 
striving as vain; but I fled to Christ, and poured out 
all my sorroAvs into his' bosom, and he graciously 
pitied me, and strengthened me with might in my soul. 
I found unspeakable relief in telling him all my sor- 
rows and difficulties. O, he is wonderfully, incon 
ceivably gracious ! 

^^ May 18. Had very little freedom or fervency. 
V¥as perplexed with the scene before me, and could 
sfiect but little. 

" May 19. Went with my father to the Association, 
for the purpose of receiving their approbation to preach 
the Gospel. Was exceedingly fatigued. 

" May 20. Was examined and approbated. Was 
bO weak that I could scarcely stand ; but was helped 
in sorae measure." 



iOS . MEMOIR O*:' 



, CHAPTER VI. 

ifis first efforts as a preacher — His religioits cKj. racier fur thin 

developed. 

Having been regularly introduced and recommended 
to the churches as a preacher, Mr. Payson proceeded, 
the next day, to Marlboroug-h, to fulfill his engagement 
with the people of that place. Change of situation, 
however, did not interrupt his communion with God. 
On the way his mind was engrossed wdth divine 
contemplations, and Avith the duties and responsibili- 
ties of that new relation in v/hich he now stood to the 
church and the world. During the time that inter- 
vened between this and the Sabbath he was not 
without misgivings; as he complains of being "al- 
most discouraged and overwhelmed, in view of his 
unfitness for the ministry ;" and once, of even " wishing 
himself any thing rather than a minister." He " could 
hardly conceive it possible that one so inconceivably 
vile should be a child of God; but was nevertheless 
nelped to cast his burden on the Almighty, and to 
agonize in prayer to be delivered from this body of 
death." The Saturday next preceding his first appear- 
ance in the pulpit, he had " resolved to spend in fasting 
and prayer ;" but when the day arrived his " health 
would not permit." The day on which a man first 
stands forth as the ambassador of God to his fellow- 
men, is an important era in his life ; but it had been 
anticipated with so much concern by Mr. Payson, that 
it seems to have been distinguished by no extraordi- 
nary strength of feelings. His own account of them 
is thus expressed : 



KUWAiiD PAYSOiN. 106 

'* May 24. Sab. Was favored with considerable 
fervency, life, and sense of dependence this mornini,^ 
Endeavored to cast myself wholly on the Lord for 
support. As it was rainy, there were very few people 
at meeting ; and I just got through without stopping. 
Spoke too fast and too low. Was a good deal depress- 
ed after meetmg. In the afternoon did a little better, 
but still bad enough. Was very much fatigued, and 
almost in a fever; but enjoyed some comfort after 
meeting." 

. His public engagements, important as he felt them, 
to be, did not divert his attention from his own heart. 
On the contrary, personal religion continued to be a 
primary concern. Of this, as well as of the varied na- 
ture of his spiritual exercises, there is an accumula- 
tion of evidence : 

" May 28. Enjoyed a very unusual degree of sweet- 
ness and fervor this morning. O, how precious did 
(3hrist appear to my soul ! How I longed to be a pure 
flame of fire in his service, to be all zeal, and love, and 
fervor I With what gratitude did I look up to him, 
saying. Blessed Savior, behold how happy I am ! and 
to thee all my happiness is owing. But for thee, I 
^hould now have been lifting up my eyes, being in tor- 
ments. O what shall I render unto the Lord for all his 
benefits ! In the evening, in secret pnayer, my soul 
was filled with unutterable longings and insatiable 
thirstings after God in Christ, I earnestly desired 
that all mankind might be as happy as I was ; that 
they should all see what a glorious, amiable being 
God IS, that they might love and praise him. Re- 
tired to rest with a clear^ sweet, realizmg apprehen- 



Hi) MEMOIR or 

sion of my Savior's prebence^ and dropped to s^eep m 
this frame. 

'^ May 29. Enjoyed much of the same spiiitual 
sweetness which I felt last evening 5 but was much 
exercised on account of pride, or rather love of ap- 
plause, which was excited by some approbation which, 
I lately he§rd, was bestowed on my preaching. Strove 
with all my might to be delivered from this hateful 
temper, and cried for some time to my Supporter and 
Strength ever to grant me his grace to help. Recalled 
.to mind that I had nothing which I had not received ; 
that I had most wickedly and shamefully wasted and 
neglected to improve my talents ; that applause was 
commonly ill-bestowed ; and that the praise of men 
was of no worth compared with the approbation of 
Crod. By the divine blessing on these and other simi- 
lar considerations, I was helped to overcome it. In 
the evening was much assisted in prayer. Had a 
greater spirit of Avrestling for the conversion of sin- 
ners than I ever had before." 

He is often " discouraged by the little which he ac- 
complishes, and the selfish motives with which that 
little is defiled." He is assailed by " strong tempta- 
tions, which drive him to his knees for assistance ;" 
and by " frequent recurrence of the same temptation," 
which costs him long and severe " struggles, before he 
is favored with complete victory." This is followed 
by '" increased confidence in God, as able to supply all 
his need, and at the same time with a more humbling 
sense of his unfitness for the ministry." And even 
when he is in a " lively frame," during several succes- 
sive days, he is still "astonished at his slow progress 
in religion." Again, "pride and unbelief begin to work 



EDWARD I'AYSON 111 

and render him miserable ;" and for defence agamst 
them he resorts "to prayer, pleading various argu- 
ments for the space of an hour, before he is able to re- 
press pride and repining thoughts." Nor is this t 
extremity of his conflict : he has such " a dreadful vil 
of his heart, that he could scarcely support the sight 
of himself;" while this, "instead of humbling^ only 
distressed him, so that he is at last obliged to desist, 
without, as he can perceive, any answer at all." The 
next day he can cry "Abba, Father!" with all the 
confidence of filial love : 

" June 6. Had many sweet seasons of prayer dunng 
the day, and was assisted in pleading for the presence 
of the Divine Spirit to-morrow. 

" Jzme 8. Had great earnestness in secret prayer. 
Longed to be wholly devoted to God. Thought if I 
could, from this time, do every thing for his glory, I 
would willingly resign every worldly comfort, and be 
the most despised object on the face of the earth. 
Went to a funeral, and was assisted in speaking to 
the mourners, and in prayer. 

"./zme 9. Renewed covenant, and took God for my 
God, and gave myself up to him in sincerity, and with 
more joy than I ever did before. In the afternoon was 
favored with another most sweet and refreshing sea- 
son in secret prayer. Rave seldom, if ever, felt more 
fervency, more hatred of sin, and more longing desires 
after holiness. 

" June 10. The family being mostly absent to-day, i 
resolved to spend it in fasting and prayer for a supply 
of ministerial gifts and Christian graces ; especially 
that I might be made an able, faithful, and successful 
minister of the New Testament. Was assisted botb 



n.2 MEMOIR OF 

last night and this morning, in seeking the divine pre- 
sence and blessing. God graciously heard and an- 
swered me. 1 was favored with great and unusual fer- 

|icy and perseverance in prayer j was enabled to con- 
and mourn over my sins, and to mourn because I 
«?ould not mourn more ; and was assisted in renewing 
*iovenant with God, and in giving myself up to be his 
for ever. Was entirely exhausted and worn out in body 
and mind, before night, by the strong and unutterable 
desires I felt after personal holiness and the success of 
Christ's kingdom. On the whole, it has been a very 
profitable day to my soul, as, by divine goodness, most, 
if not all, my fast days have been." 

Four days after this he experienced a most melan- 
choly reverse, viewing himself as the "most vile, 
loathsome, worthless wretch in existence ; could only 
throw himself prostrate, and utter the cry of the pub- 
lican — ' God, be merciful to me a sinner.' " The cause 
of this distress is unintentionally indicated. He was 
" sick in body and mind." But, 

" As poison oft the force of poison quells," 
so the far more wretched condition, and still more 
melancholy prospects, of a fellow-creature caused 
him to forget his own misery : 

'^ Was called to see a sick man, supposed to be dy 
ii\g\ he was a professor, aged eighty-seven. Fv»und 
him something alarmed, but he gave no satisfactory 
evidence of a change. Stated to him his danger and 
the remedy, but, I fear, to little purpose. Was much 
assisted in preaching. My strength continued, and 
even increased, though quite exhausted at the close. 
Went to see the sick man again. Found him better 
111 body, but worse in mind. 



LIJW'AUD i'ayso:<. 113 

''June 19. Rose in the same state of mind in which 
I lay down. Rode out, and felt some better, so that I 
found some liberty to pray. — P. M. Went with fear 
and trembling to attend a funeral. Was assisted in 
speaking to the mourners : as the multitude Avas very 
great, I was requested to pray out of doors ; and, though 
the situation was new, and I was unwell, I was car- 
ried through. Felt some relief from my load of me- 
lancholy, and was enabled to write. 

" June 20. Set apart this day for fasting and prayer. 
Was unusually assisted in pleading for increase in 
holiness. Felt such intense longings and thirstings 
after more love to God and man, more devotedness to 
God's will, more zeal for his glory, that my body was 
almost overcome. Towards night was enabled to 
plead with greater fervency than ever, so that I trust 
this will prove the most profitable day I have ever 
had. In the evening was greatly assisted in prayer, 
50 that I could scarcely retire to rest. 

" Jwie 21. Went to meeting with raised expecta- 
tions ; but it pleased God to leave me more destitute 
than usual, though I was carried through. When i 
first came out of the pulpit I was not in a very good 
frame ; but before I got half way home, was easy, sa- 
tisfied, and even pleased to be despised, so that God's 
will might be done. Was much more assisted in the 
afternoon. Felt thankful. 

" June 22. Very unusual degrees of fervor this 
morning. Very unwell ail day, and did little in my 
fltudy. In the evening was overwhelmed with a sense 
of my own unworthiness. 

*' June 23. As soon as I awoke this morning my 
nnnrt was filled with most intense love to God and 



1 14 MEMOIK OF 

Christj so that it was even ready to break for tlie long- 
ing desires it had to go forth after God. I was greatly 
assisted in praying that I might be made an instru 
ment of promoting the divine glory in the world. 

'^ June 25. Thinking it would be more convenient 
to keep my w^eek^y fast on this day, sought the divine 
presence and blessing. Felt some warm affections 
towards my Savior at first, but afterwards could nei- 
ther realize my wants, nor pray to have them remov- 
ed. Continued in this frame till towards night, and 
was then favored with a deep sense of my utter vile- 
ness. Was also enabled to plead, even with agony 
of soul, to be freed from the power of a selfish" nature 
Could not think of being any longer subject to it. 

"Jime26. Much favored. Felt insatiable desires 
after holiness, and that I might spend every moment 
of future life to the divine glory. 

" June 29. Faint^ yet pursuing, is a good motto for 
me. Could do nothing in the morning, but in the after- 
noon gave up all hopes of ever doing any thing. Ini- 
quities seemed to prevail against me, and I was ready 
to despair ; but, throwing myself on the Lord Jesus foi 
help, I received strength. In the evening was favored 
with freedom. Felt that I am much more habitually 
affected by religious subjects than I have been former- 
ly; nor are my affections less vehement, or less easily 
excited. 

" July 5. Sabbath. Had some devout feelings and 
desire after assistance this morning, but could not get 
hold of any thing in a very realizing manner. Was 
very much deserted m prayer and sermon, and fell 
much distressed; but in the afternoon was favored 
with ^reat enlargement, both in prayer and sermo^-j 



LDWAHL) TAYrsU-N. li'o 

Felt a strong loie for souls, and for the Lord Jesus. 
Was weak and exhausted ; but, .after resting awhile, 
had a most sweet, refreshing, strengthening season in 
prayer. Never before felt so much of the spirit of the 
Gospel. Felt like a pure flame of love towards God 
and man. Self seemed to be almost swallowed up 
Fek willing to go any where, or be any thing, by 
which God could be glorified and sinners saved. Felt 
my hopes of being useful in the world strengthened. 
O how lovely, how kind, how condescendingly gra- 
cious, did my God appear ! Gave myself up to him 
without reserve, and took him for my only portion. 
Blessed be his name for this season. 

" July 6. Rode out this morning, and found much 
sweetness in continually lifting up my heart to God 
(n fervent ejaculations. In the evening had such a 
v^iew of the difficulties in my way, and of my exceed- 
ing sinfulness, that I was ready to sink ; but my bless- 
ed Savior put forth his hand and caught me. 

" Julij 7. Was harassed with wandering, gloomy 
and distressing imaginations. Could not fix upon a 
text, and was much perplexed what to do. Was over- 
whelmed with melancholy. — P. M. Went to a funeral, 
and was favored with some assistance. Went to make 
a visit ; found good Christian people, a most kind re- 
ception, and profitable conversation." 

Few enjoyrnents were more exquisitely satisfying 
to Mr. Payson than those which he derived from re- 
Ugioas intercourse. In a company of fellow Christians, 
whose feelings would rise responsive to his own when 
the themes of a Savior's love, and of human obliga- 
tion and privilege, were agitated, his soul seemed to 
revel in spiritual delights ; and he was gifted by na- 



116 MEMOIR OF 

ture and grace v/itli the prerogative of infusiiag a ricjh 
portion of his own emotions into the rest of tiie favored 
circle. These interviews are rememDered by many a 
surviving pilgrim, as among the liveliest emblems oi 
that " better countr}'," which he has ceased to antici- 
pate, by actual fruition. It is not without a degree of 
shrinking that we folloAV him in his sudden transition 
from scenes like these into the very depths of distress. 
" Other griefs," he says, '' leave the mind strength to 
grapple with them; but this oppressive melancholy 
cuts the very sinews of the soul, so that it lies pros- 
trate, and cannot exert itself to throw off the load." 

The next day after penning this graphic and une- 
qualled description of his real malady, he is seen in 
the " chariot of Aminadab," his mind moving with 
an angePs speed, and performing the labor of many 
days in one : — " Was favored Avith fervency and free- 
dom in prayer. Was greatly assisted in writing through 
the day, and wrote nearly two sermons. Felt in a com- 
posed, thankful frame all day, and felt the most ardeni 
love for the Lord Jesus, and for all mankind." 

In the mitigated forms of melancholy there is a 
soul-subduing power, which few are able to resist. It 
then loses its repulsive character, and the soul of the 
witness is attracted and melted into sympathy. A 
mind conscious of its misery, yet retaining its balance, 
and surveying its own desolations with unrepining 
submission, presents a spectacle of moral sublimity, 
not surpassed by any thing which falls under human 
observation. This constitutes one of the charms of our 
Savior's character, and much of the value of his ex- 
ample. In this attitude Mr. Payson may be seen m 
some of the following extracts, and very often in the 
course of bis life. 



EDWARD FAY30N. 117 

" July 17. Find that the two principal things in 
fvhich I fail externally, are, the due improvement of 
time and the government of my tongue. I daily lose 
many moments — I might almost say hours — in giving 
way too much to my feelings of gloom anc' discou- 
ragement ; and I say many things which at best are 
unprofitahle. 

" July 19. Sab. Rose very early, worn out in body 
and mind ; but felt sweetly resigned to the divine will, 
and was willing to be assisted as much, and as little, 
as God should see fit. Had some assistance ; but after 
meeting was excessively weak and depressed ; thought 
I would give the world if I never had preached, and 
it seemed as if I never should go into the pulpit again. 

^* July 20. Overwhelmed, sunk, discouraged with 
a sense of sin. All efforts seemed to be in vain. Dis- 
coveries of my vileness, instead of humbling me, as 
might be expected, only excited discouragement and 
unbelief; while the manifestations of God's love only 
make me proud and careless. My wretched soul 
cleaves to the dust ! 

" July 22. O what a dreadful, what an inconceiv- 
able abyss of corruption is my heart ! What an amaz- 
ing degree of pride and vanity, of selfishness and envy, 
does it contain ! 

" July 23. Was excited to feel fretful and peevish 
at two or three trifling circumstances ; but fled fojp re- 
fuge to the throne of grace, and, by praying for myself, 
for the persons with whom I was disposed to be of- 
fended, and especially by meditating on the meekness' 
and gentleness of Christ, was enabled to preserve 
peace and tranquillity of mind. Was much assisted 
in prayer. 



118 MEMOIR OF 

'^ July 24. Was visited by a young student in di 
viiiity, and had some profitable conversation with him. 
Was never able to converse in a clearer manner upoif 
religious subjects. 

" July 25. This being my birth-day, I set it apart 
for solemn fasting and prayer, with thanksgiving. Af- 
ter confessing and mourning over the sins of my past 
life, and contrasting them with God's mercies, and 
offering up praise and thanksgiving for his goodness, 
[ solemnly renewed covenant with God, and, with my 
whole heart, so far as I could judge, gave myself, my 
friends, and all that I have, to be disposed of as he 
should see fit. I felt Vvdlling to live or die, as God 
pleased, and to go among the Indians, or to any part 
of the Avorld, where I could be instrumental in pro- 
moting the glory of God and the happiness of man. 
Felt unusually longing, insatiable, and intense desires? 
after holiness of heart and life, and especially after 
humility. Was never enabled to pray more fervently 
for spiritual blessings — could wrestle and persevere 
therein. Felt an impression that this is the last birth- 
day I shall ever see." 

The next day was the Sabbath, and he was so fai 
spent with its labors, that it was with difficulty he could 
reach his lodgings. The night was passed without 
rest ; and of his increased weakness in the morning 
" S|itan was suffered to take advantage, and fill his 
mind with unutterable anguish." But he ^^ found re- 
lief in prayer, and felt strengthened to go on witis 
• fresh vigor in the Christian course, exclaiming — 1> 
how true it is, that to those who have no mignt fu 
increaseth strength,^^ 

^^July 29. I yesterday read an author on the sut) 



EDWARD FAYSON. 11& 

jeci of human depravity ; and, being perplexed with 
some of his objectionsj prayed to be guided to the truth 
in this doctrine. Was now convinced, beyond a doubt, 
that in me naturally dwelt no good thing. O how vile, 
how loathsome did my heart appear! I was ready to 
think I had never known any thing at all of my own 
character before, and that there were infinite depths 
in my nature that I could not see. In the course of the 
day was favored with still further discoveries of my- 
self, of true holiness, and of Christ, so that I seemed 
never to have known any thing of religion before. 

^' Aug. 3. My blessed Savior, compassionating my 
weakness, was pleased to make me strong in himself, 
and to favor me with a most refreshing season. Never 
felt so desirous to depart and be with Christ, and at 
the same time more willing to live* and undergo all 
hardships for his glory. Desired that my \ife might 
be spent in a close walk M^ith God." 

His " desire to become a missionary '^ revived about 
this time, but did not ripen into a fixed purpose, for 
the plain reason, that he could not determine that such 
was the will of God. He submitted the decision of 
the question to his Master in heaven, praymg " that 
God would do with him as he pleased, in this respect." 

" Aug. 5. W5,s greatly perplexed and distressed, 
yet tried to keep myself in a quiet, waiting fra\ne, but 
found great difficulty in keeping out impatient, mur- 
muring thoughts. Could not determine v.hether my 
6eing thus deserted was to punish me for my sloth- 
fulness and misimprovement of time, or only for the 
trial of my faith and patience. My soul remembered 

* " Nor love thy life, nor hate ; but what thou Jiv'st, 
" Live well ; how long or short, permit to heaven." 



1<J0 M Era OIK OF 

the bitterness and the gall which it had once before 
experienced on a similar occasion, and ' shuddered at 
the idea of a renewal." 

Extracts might be multipliedj exhibiting him as 

sinking in deep waters, where the floods overflow 
him," and then again " surprised with a sudden visit 
from his blessed Lord, full of sweetness to his soul ;" 
his mind at one time so clogged in its operations by 
his burdens, that he " tried in vain to write ;" at an- 
other, so buoyant, that, " though almost confined to his 
oed, he is enabled to write a whole sermon in a day." 
This contrast is no where more strikingly marked 
than by the following entry, after sufiering from 
''melancholy, which overwhelmed him like a thousand 
mountains, so that his soul was crushed under it :" 

'''Aug. 15. Rose in a sweet, tranquil, thankful 
frame, blessing God for the storm of yesterday, and 
the calm to-day. O, how great is his wisdom, how 
great his goodness ! Had faith and freedom in prayer. 
Yesterday I thought God himself could hardly carry 
me through. But to-day — O, how changed !" 

Before this the reader may have expected to learn 
what influence his secret devotions had on the services 
of the sanctuary, also the result of his public labors 
in regard to the people to v/hom he ministered. It is 
almost superfluous to add, that they were not without 
effect. Others " took knowledge of him that he had 
been with Jesus." The solemnity and unction of his 
social prayers; the earnestness and variety of argu- 
ment with which he pleaded at the throne of grace , 
his unyielding importunity for the blessings which he 
sought, — had roused attention, and drawn forth the 
confession that " the Spirit of the holy God was within 



EDWARD PAY30N. 121 

iiim.'' " God must help him, or he could never pray 
so," said an observing man, who had previously 
professed no regard for religion. Herein he doubtless 
expressed the generally-prevailing sentiment, as Mr. 
Payson mentions among his trials, " well-meant, but 
injudicious commendations" — while he renders "all 
the glory to God, who did not suffer him to forget his 
own weakness." 

But besides the general impression produced by his 
preaching, he was instrumental of individual conver- 
sions. More than once he was allowed to record an 
event like the following — " Truly in faithfulness God 
afflicts me. Early this morning a young man came 
to me under deep distress of mind, and gave quite 
satisfactory evidence that he had experienced a real 
change. He said he had received great benefit from 
my preaching. This was a very seasonable cordial to 
my fainting spirits." Such events caused him to 
" retire to his chamber, overflowing with wonder and 
gratitude at God's unmerited goodness to such a mise- 
rable wretch." 

His faithful conversation was also blessed to the 
family with whom he resided ; and the last Sabbath 
on which he officiated at Marlborough, it was his hap- 
piness to propound his host and hostess as candidates 
for admission into the church. Thus early did God 
hofior his ministry, and give him an earnest of the 
power which was to attend the word dispensed by him. 

Enough has been developed to show the secret of 
Dr. Payson's greatness, and of his success. He laid 
hold on the divine strength. Prayer, by which the 
creature communes with God, and obtains grace to 
help in e rery time of need, was eminently the businefi3 



S22 MEMOIR OF 

of his life, and the medium through which he derived 
inexhaustible supplies. It was not the stated morning 
and evening incense alone which he offered ; but that 
he had "much enlargement, and many sweet seasons 
of prayer during the day," is matter of frequent record^ 
and probably of still mere frequent experience. Al- 
most incessantly was he conversant with spiritual and 
eternal things. His conversation was in heaven. He 
also valued and sought the intercessions of others. 
In a letter to his parents, probably the first he wrote 
after he commenced preaching, he says — " I beg you 
to pray for me most earnestly and importunately. I 
seem to be walking on a hair, and hardly dare go down 
to breakfast or dinner, lest I should say or do some- 
thing which may disgrace the ministry, or hurt the 
cause of religion; so that I shall never need your 
prayers more than now." The sensibility to danger, 
here so apparent, though it occasionally subjected him 
to temporary indecision and perplexity, w^as, next to 
the promised support of the Most High, his greatest 
security. 

It will also have been seen that Mr. Payson was 
subject to great extremes of feeling — at one time, 
'^ caught up," with Paul, where he " heard thmgs un- 
utterable ;" at another, sunk to the lowest point of de- 
pression, where existence was a "burden too heavy for 
him,'* Many have imagined his Christian careet to 
have been one of uninterrupted joy and triumph, and 
such will, perhaps, regret any allusion to those sea- 
sons when "his soul was cast down in him;" but to 
feeep these out of sight, would be to conceal a class of 
affections, from which his exercises, language and 
conduct received important modifications. 



EDWARD l^WSON. 123 

In judging of this class of his exercises, it should 
not be forgotten that his health was already under- 
mined ; his system had lost much of its elasticity, and 
encountered a shock, from the effects of which it ne- 
ver afterwards recovered. Besides, he had a consti- 
tutional predisposition to melancholy, which other 
branches of his family are said to have inherited to a 
still more painful degree. His religion, instead of 
being the cause of his gloom, was his only refuge 
from its overwhelming effects. The precious doc- 
trines of grace, according to his own viev/s of them, 
alone kept him from sinking. 

There is one aspect in which all the hardships that 
he imposed on himself — the ruin of his constitution 
by abstinence, night vigils, and extraordinary exer- 
tion, and even all his mental agonies — may be view- 
ed with a feeling of entire reconciliation. All these 
trying processes, to which he subjected his mind, may 
justly be regarded as a series of experiments on him- 
self, designed by Providence for the good of the 
church, indeed of the human race. To him, in the 
exercise of his future ministry, they were incalcula- 
bly valuable. The knowledge acquired by this pain- 
ful experience was not without vast expense to him- 
self; but it constituted one of his most important qua- 
lifications for aiding numerous other souls through the 
labyrinths of error and mental distress. In this way 
he was taught "how to speak a word in season to him 
that is weary " — to be " a guide of the blind, a light to 
them that are in darkness, a teacher of babes." So 
familiar did he become with almost every possible 
iiase of conscience, every form of spiritual trial and 
delusion to which either inquirers or established 



l24 MEMOIR OF 

Christians are exposed, that he could instantly recog- 
nise their symptoms, and apply the needed antidote. 

In all his revolutions of feeling, varied exercises, 
and changing frames, there is discoverable an unva- 
rying simplicity of purpose. The destruction of sin, 
and the extension of the empire of holiness in himseli 
and others, are the objects constantly before him. His 
eye was single, and directed to the glory of God ; and 
he longed for the salvation of men, as the work in 
which the divine glory eminently appears. He com- 
plains frequently of his pride, vanity, and selfishness 
— qualities, doubtless, eminently congenial with his 
unrenewed nature, but which were now evidently 
most unwelcome intruders, and which it was his con- 
stant grief that he could not wholly dislodge. Lei 
those who would convert his full confessions into a 
proof " that he was sinful above all men," be remind- 
ed, that, if they were to watch the motions of thei? 
own hearts with the same unrelenting severity, they 
might find even greater abominations than any oi 
which he complains, holding hitherto undisturbed 
empire over their souls ; and not, as in him, annoy- 
ing, yet conquered passions, which the gracious prin- 
ciple would in the end wholly eradicate. 

On the 18th of August he took " a very alTectionate 
leave of the family by whom he had been so kindly 
entertained," and revisited home, where he spent 
three days ; and then " set out in a violent rain for 
North Andover," Mass. where he had an engagement 
to preach, and " felt some consolation in reflecting 
that he was going on his Father's and Savior's bu- 
siness." The second day he arrived, " wet, wearied, 
and dejected.'' Of his performances on the follow- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 126 

ing Sabbath he says — "I had little assistance in 
preaching, and pleased neither the people nor my- 
self.'^^ He immediately proceeded to the scene of his 
future labors — a field vastly more extensive, and one 
which he was eminently fitted to occupy. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Visits Portland — Ids favorable reception^ and Ordination^ 

On the morning of Monday, August 24th, Mr. Pay- 
son proceeded to Portland; his mind absorbed with 
heavenly meditations on the road, and praying and re- 
newing his covenant with God at his resting-places. 
Stop where he might, he was sure to find or to make 
the place a Bethel ; and while the solemnity of his de- 
votions resembled that of the patriarch's on his way to 
Padan-aram, his faith realized what that patriarch saw 
in vision, and found an open way of communication 
between earth and heaven. Thus he journeyed, 

" Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.'* 

He arrived on the morning of the third day, entered 
upon the appropriate duties of his calling with the 
most exemplary diligence and energy, and the effects 
were almost immediately visible. Such was the atten- 
tion excited by his preaching, that he seems to have 
regarded himself as in great danger of thinking more 
highly of himself than he ought to think, and to have 



126 MExMOIR OF 

brought all his spiritual forces to bear agamst this pro 
pensity. With reference to this, he observed frequent 
seasons of humiliation, and oftener renewed the con- 
secration of himself and his talents to God. It was the 
burden of his secret prayers, that he might be delivered 
from pride, from self-seeking, from preaching himself, 
instead of Christ Jesus the Lord. 

" Se'pt. 6. Heard my performances much commend 
ed ; and, fearing lest I should feel puffed up, I with- 
drew, and prayed earnestly that I might be preserved 
from it. And God was pleased to assist me in a most 
wonderful and unusual manner in pleading, not only 
for that and other mercies, but in renewmg covenant 
with him, and praising him for all his mercies. Never 
felt more gratitude, more humility, more love to God 
and benevolence to man, than at this time. Indulged 
some hopes that God would pour out his Spirit, but 
hardly expected it. Saw that all the mercies I received 
were bestowed for the sake of my Lord Jesus alone ; 
and that in myself I was far m.ore deserving of hell 
than of all that happiness. Could not praise God as I 
wished, but my soul panted, and almost fainted with 
ardor of desire to glorify him, and be wholly devoted 
to his service. 

" Sept. 14. Read Baxter on Pride. Was almost over- 
whelmed to see how much I have in my heart. Could 
hardly refrain from despairing of ever being humble." 

In a letter to his father, written a few days after this, 
he complains of himself in the following strain : 

'■ I almost despair of making any improvement in 
this world. God keeps loading me with one blessing 
on another, but I cannot grow any more grateful. 1 
cannot feel less proud, less selfish, less worldly-mind- 



EDWARD TAYSON. 12> 

sd. O, if God by his Spirit did not prevent me, and 
still in a manner force me to keep, striving almost 
against my will, I should give up in despair. It makes 
no difference — let me labor ever so much, and feel evei 
so lively while alone, the moment I go into the pulpil 
t am as dead and stupid as a post, and have no realiz- 
ing sense of divine things. The meeting-house is the 
grave of every thing good, and the place where cor- 
ruption always gets the mastery. Sometimes it seems 
impossible that it should be so. I set out from home 
30 strong, so raised above the world, with so much 
zeal for God, and so much compassion for poor, pe- 
rishing sinners, that I cannot help hoping it is going 
to be better with me. But the moment I begin it is all 
gone ! When I seem to be much engaged, and the 
people think I am all on fire, I fear that God sees my 
tieart like a mere block of ice. If there are any who 
can look back with pleasure on a life well spent, I can 
hardly hope that I am a Christian, or that I ever shall 
be one ; for never shall I be able to do that. Adieu, 
my dearest parents : do continue to pray for me, for I 
am walking on ice, or, as the prophet says, " in slip- 
pery places in darkness." 

Mr. Payson's situation was at this time truly critical 
and dangerous. His reception as a preacher was flat- 
tering almost beyond example. Not one man in a thou- 
sand can bear human applause uninjured. " Wo unto 
you," said Christ to his disciples, " when all men shall 
speak well of you." The most dreadful part of this wo 
is that which falls upon one's spiritual interests. Mr. 
Payson had scarcely been six weeks in Portland before 
overtures were made to him, by three respective con- 
gregations, to become their teacher; and there v^as also 



i28 MEMOIR OF 

a plan agitated to build him a new meeting-house. Ap- 
plications from neighboring churches, and likewise, 
from abroadj were also frequent. The letters which he 
wrote to his parents, at this period, contain interestm^ 
allusions to his circumstances : 

" Portland, Sept, 12, 1807. 
'^ My dearest Parents, 

" When I came here I could not help indulging a 
secret hope that I should be so favored as to see some 
happy effects resulting from it. I know not, however, 
whether it arose so high as hope ; it was, perhaps, ra- 
ther a wish. Whether this wish will in any degree be 
gratified, is at present uncertain. The people seem to 
rouse themselves up, and stare, and hardly know what 
to make of it. They, however, appear to exhibit less 
enmity and ill will than I expected. Some of the prin- 
cipal men, who are not suspected of being very friend- 
ly to religion, say, as I am informed, that, to be sure, 
my sermons are rather hot, but they are convinced no 
other kind of preaching would ever do any good. Others 
say, it cuts up all their own foundation, and all theii 
hopes of heaven ; but they think it a duty to support 
these doctrines, because they are true. The congrega- 
tion is very solemn and attentive; but I dare not yet 
hope for any lasting effects. Some are displeased, and 
have left the meeting ; but there are three come from 
other meetings for one who goes away. The power of 
novelty, however, is great, and when that is over, I ex- 
pect there will be less attention, and less crowded 
meetings.'* 

****** 

'^ I understand there is quite a revival of religion at 



RDWARD PAYSON. 129 

IN'Hth YariTiLrUthj dbodt a doz<iA miles from this place. 
Tfiere have already been two or three there, xnd they 
seem to be remariiably laA'ored. One memorable in- 
stance, witich has lateiy taken place, I have just heard. 
Three femaiss, the wives of three sea-captains who 
were ail at sea in different parts of the world, were 
deeply impressed, and, after severe convictions, ob- 
tained comfort. Just about the same time all their 
absent husbands were converted at sea. The wives 
meanwhile were anxious for the spiritual welfare of 
their husbands, and the husbands were no less con- ' 
cerned for their wives. Judge what a happy meeting 
they must have had when they found what God had 
done for each other during their separation. The at- 
tention is still increasing, and there have been about 
thirty added to the church." 

" September 19. 
" I have been ill a week of the influenza, which 
attacked me pretty severely. It seems as if it was 
sent to afford a fresh opportunity for displaying the 
unwearied care and kindness of our heavenly Father 
in raising up friends whenever I want them. In this 
case he has provided me a nurse and a mother in the 
woman who presi-des over the family in Mrs. K.'s ab- 
sence. She has been doubting respecting her state, 
and her right to join the church, for some years ; and 
was so thankful because I conversed with her on these 
subjects, that she was ready to kill me with kindness, 
la addition to this, I have been overwhelmed with 
pr<*serves, jellies, &c. from all parts. Some have sent 
them in, from whom I should have little expected it. 
U seems as if God were putting it to trial, whetl^er 

Pavson. Q 



130 MEMOIR OP 

my insensible heart can be wrought upon by mercies. 
I fear the result of the trial will be, that nothing but 
severe judgments will answer. 

. " I sometimes think it strange, that, when God is so 
ready to bestow^ mercies, he does not enable us to re- 
ceive them with more gratitude, and why he seems 
less ready to give us grace to conquer pride and self. 
Pray for me, my dear parents, that I may be enabled 
to conquer them." 

" September 26. 
" I am, and have been for some days, in a great 
d i lemma. Last Monday I had an application to pre ach 
for a new congregation here, which Mr. S. the mis- 
sionary has lately drawn together. They have heard 
me at Mr. K.'s, and intimated that, if I w^ould come, 
they should probably settle me, as one man had offered 
a hundred pounds to the society on that condition, and 
thirty more had offered to subscribe for pews. On 
Tuesday I had an invitation from Westboro' to come 
immediately, and another from Gorham. They have 
also applied to me to come to Dr. Deane's parish, and 
preach for them ; and now, this morning, Mr. Kellogg 
has a letter from Portsmouth, v/ishing me to come 
there immediately. On the other hand, Mr. K. in- 
sists upon it that I ought to stay with him through 
the month of October. There seems to be some at- 
tention excited, and two persons have been convinced/ 
and I hope converted, since I have been here. It is, 
I find, Mr. K.'s plan, if I should prove popular enough, 
to have a new society, and unite it with his ov/n in 
such a manner as to have one parish in two societies, 
and two ministers to preach in each house alternately 



EDWARD PAYSON. lO i 

"• Now, my dear parents, what shall I do ? 1 am so 
much afraid that I shall be left to lean to my own un- 
derstanding, that I have no comfort. I wish to go to 
Portsmouth, because it is on my way home ; but prin- 
cipally because the society there is in a bad state, and 
m great danger of breaking up and going to the Uni- 
versalists. On the other hand, there seems to be a 
door opened for great usefulness here 5 and Providence 
has, in some measure, owned my labors, and the peo- 
ple seem very anxious to have me stay. If one could 
only hear the Spirit as a voice behind him, saying, 
'' This is the way, walk in it," it seems duty would 
be easily discovered. I know that there is no need 
of being uneasy, when we have done the best we can 
to discover the path of duty : but there is so much self- 
seeking in every thing I do, that I cannot be sure I 
have sincerely sought to discover the path of duty. It 
is such a dreadful thing to be left to follow one's own 
guidance. My dear father, do write to me." 

The following sentences from his diary will be re- 
garded as a curiosity by those who are acquainted 
with Dr. Payson's eminence as a ready speaker. 

" Sept. 25. In the evening went to a conference, 
and for the first time expounded extempore. Made out 
poorly." 

His rapidly rising fame, and the flattering attentions 
paid him as a preacher, injurious as they can hardly 
fail to be, did not divert Mr. Payson from the great ob- 
ject of the ministry of reconciliation. If his desire for 
personal holiness was exceeded by any other, it was 
by the desire of the salvation of sinners. 

** Sept. 27. Sab. Was favored with great and un- 
usual assistance both parts of the day, and tlie people 



13-^ iMEMOIR O? 

were remarkably serious and attentive. Carne home 
overwhelmed with a sense of the astonishing good- 
aess of God. Felt grateful, humble, and contrite, and 
was enabled to ascribe all the glory to God. In the 
evening was favored with great faith and fervency in 
prayer. It seemed as if God would deny me nothing, 
and I wrestled for multitudes of souls, and could not 
help hoping there would be some revival here. 

" Sept, 28. Found that my labors have not been 
altogether without effect. Was favored with the great- 
est degree of freedom and fervency in interceding for 
others. I seemed to travail in birth with poor sinners, 
and could not help hoping that God is about to do 
something for his glory and the good of souls. 

" Sept. 29. Was considerably affected with a view 
of the awful condition of sinners, and was favored 
with some freedom in praying for them. I know not 
what to think, but at present there seem to be some 
indications in Providence that this is to be my station 
in the vineyard. I desire to bless God that he scarcely 
suffers me either to hope or fear the event, and gives 
me resignation to whatever he may appoint. 

" Sept. 30. Felt much of a dependent, confiding, 
child-like spirit. God is doing great things for me. 
I never enjoyed such a season before as I have for 
these three days past. My heart overflows with love 
and thankfulness to God, and pity for poor sinners. 

" Oct. 4. Went to meeting with more of a solemn 
frame than usual. Was greatly assisted, and the con- 
gregation was apparently very solemn and devout. 
Was ready to sink, to see how easily the impression 
seemed to wear off. 

'^Oct. 7. Visited tAvo persons under conviction; eon* 



i 



EDWARD PAYSON. 133 

/ersed aud prayed with them. Had a most refreshing 
season in secret prayer. Renewed covenant with God. 
My soul seemed to dilate and expand with happiness. 
All the stores of divine grace were opened, and I took 
freely for myself and others. Was assisted to plead 
for poor sinners. 

" Oct. 8. Was favored with clear displays of the 
divine glory this morning, and was enabled to rejoice 
in God with joy unspeakable. Felt sweetly humbled 
and resigned to every thing which should befall me. 
In the afternoon preached a lecture, and was left dry 
and barren. In the evening preached another, and 
was very greatly assisted. Came home humbled in 
the dust under some stirrings of spiritual pride, which 
I could not repress. Was favored Avith a most refresh- 
ing season in secret prayer. Felt that love which 
casteth out fear, and hung on the bosom of my God 
with inexpressible pleasure. The Scriptures too were 
exceedingly sweet. Had been in some perplexity re- 
specting the path of duty ; but was helped to roll the 
whole burden upon Him. 

" Oct. 9. Was visited by a minister who heard me 
preach last evening, and received many valuable hmts 
from him respecting my feelings in prayer and preach- 
ing. 

" Oct. 11. Never was in suck an agony before in 
wrestling for mercies, especially in behalf of poor souls, 
and for a work of religion in this place. My soul seem- 
ed as if it would leave the body and mount to heaven 
in the most ardent desires for their salvation. Went by 
invitation to spend the evening in an irreligious family ; 
found several assembled, and, to my very great bui 
pleasing surprise, the conversation took a ver^ serious. 



134 MEMOIR OF 

religious turn. Came home, hoping that God was on 
the point of doing something in this place, but was so 
worn out that I had little life in prayer. 

" Oct. 16. Church meeting — a profitable and re- 
freshing time. Some new persons are awakened ; 
Christians are stirred up, and there is every reason to 
hope God is on the point of appearing for us. 

" Oct. 17. Was enabled, in some measure, to mourn 
over my pride and selfishness, unbelief, and hardness 
of heart. Having last evening proposed to the church 
that we should spend an hour this evening in prayer, 
separately, for the outpouring of the Spirit, attempted 
to pray, but feared my motives were selfish. How- 
ever, prayed that God's people might not be ashamed 
on my account. 

" Was informed that the church and congregation 
had given me a unanimous call. I know not what 
Providence intends by this. Went and spread the 
matter before God, and entreated him to overrule all 
things to his own glory. , 

" Oct. 19. Spent the whole day in conversing witli 
persons exercised in their minds. In the evening vi- 
sited and prayed with a number of persons who met 
for that purpose. 

" Oct. 20. Felt something of the constraining influ- 
ence of the love of Christ. For some nights past 
have been laboring in my sleep with poor souls. Felt 
strong in the Lord and in the power of his might. lu 
the afternoon went to visit two persons in distress for 
their sins. In the evening preached a lecture extem- 
pore. Was not much assisted myself, but ^^hat was 
said seemed to come with power. Many were in 
tears, and all seemed stirred up ; so that, though ] 



EDWARD PAYSON. 135 

went crushed down under discouragement, 1 came 
oack rejoicing. 

*' Oct, 22. Began to feel more clear respecting my 
compliance with the call I have received. 

" Oct, 23. Was left to murmur and feel impatient, 
and my proud, unhumbled heart rose against God ; but 
he was graciously pleased to touch my heart, and 
bring me on my knees before him, and thus I obtained 
pardon. In the evening attended a conference, and 
preached. Was very much shut up, but found it was 
a most refreshing season to many of God's people, sc 
that I was astonished to see how God could work by 
the most feeble means. 

" Oct. 24. Went to visit a man almost in despair. 
He talked like a Christian, but was in dreadful dis- 
tress, and rejected all comfort. Prayed with him. 
but in vain. 

" Oct. 25. Visited and prayed with a sick womaa 
Found her and her husband under strong convictions 
IljL the evening was visited by persons under concern 
of mind, and conversed with them. 

" Oct. 27. In the evening attended a conference, 
and preached to a crowded and solemn audience. 
Saw the hand of God evidently appearing in it, and 
came home strengthened, though I had gone much 
cast down. 

" Oct. 28. Felt some gratitude and humility this 
morning. Wondered how God could choose such a 
^^orthless wretch to bestow such favors upon. Dined 
with * * * , a lawyer, and had much religious conver- 
sation with him, with which he seemed much affected. 
In the evening met a number who were under seri- 
OM?, impressions. Conversed and prayed with them 



136 MEMOIR OF 

" Oct. 29. Was gieatly drawn oul m prayer lor » 
continuance of God's presence, and for myself and 
some particular friends. Spent the day in vishiu^ 
a number of persons who were under concern, and 
found that some who had been dear to my heart, and 
who I could hardly hope were under conviction, ap- 
peared to have met with a real change. Was over 
whelmed with wonder, love, and gratitude, at the 
goodness of God; but, as an offset to this, was in- 
formed of some injurious observations, and was, more- 
over, harassed and almost distracted with doubts where 
Providence called me to settle; but was able, at length, 
to cast the burden upon the Lord." 

On the 30th of October he set out on a journey to 
his father's, taking Portsmouth on his way, where he 
preached on the Sabbath, and received a request from 
the people to stay among them, which he felt it his 
duty to decline. He reached home November 3, and 
spent the following day in conversing with his friend : 
" Consulted them respecting my call, and found that 
they were unanimous in advising me to accept the 
call of Mr. Kellogg's congregation. Rejoiced to see 
my path made plain before me." 

" Nov. 6. Parted from my friends with prayer, and 
set out for Portsmouth in a violent storm, which con- 
tinued most of the day. Was harassed with storms 
within, part of the way, bat afterwards was calm. 

" Nov. 8. Was favored with a most sweet, refresh- 
ing season, before meeting, m secret prayer. Preached 
three times, the last to a crowded and solemn assem- 
bly. Was invited to stay and preach on probation, 
Dut was obliged to decline. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 137 

" Nov. 9. Rode to Portland. Was favored on the 
road with very clear manifestations of God's love. 
Felt most ardent emotions of gratitude, with full reso- 
lutions to devote myself to the service of God. Was 
overwhelmed with a sense of his mercies and my own 
unworthiness. 

" Nov. 10. Had a deep sense of the difficulty and 
importance of the gospel ministry, and of my own 
atter insufficiency for it. Was ready to sink under 
it, till in some measure relieved by a view of the ful- 
ness and sufficiency of Christ. Moses and Jeremiah 
were very encouraging examples. 

" Nov. 13. In the evening attended a church con- 
ference and preached. Divine truth, though in an 
humble garb, came with great power, and the hearers 
seemed much affected. 

" Nov. .15. Preached and read my affirmative answer 
to the call. Was favored with liberty, and the people 
seemed to be affected. 

" Nov. 17. Visited a sick man ; found him partly 
deranged, clasping a Bible to his breast, which he 
would not suffer to be taken from him. 

" Nov. 30. Very unwell. From some symptoms 
feel apprehensive that my cough may terminate in a 
consumption ; but the thought is not disagreeable. 
The only thing painful about it is the pain it would 
give my parents. 

" Dec. 1, Had a sleepless, painful night, but, 
through divine goodness, was kept patient, and even 
cheerful. Was very sick in the morning. 

Dec. 3. Still quite unwell, but had a sight of my 
necessities, and was helped to cry out for assistance. — 
P. M. Had a siAieet season in prayer. Could pray sii) 



lSS memoir of 

cerely tliat others might be exalted above me in gifts 
and graces, and that souls might be converted, let who 
would be the instrument. Felt weaned from the world 
and resigned to whatever might befall me. 

" Dec. 4. Extremely weak. Am convinced that 1 
cannot live many years, if many months. Went out 
to see a sick person, and took more cold, 

" Dec. 7. Rose early ; was in a cloudy kind oi 
frame. Visited and prayed with a number of sick 
people. In the evening was favored with a deep view 
of the importance and magnitude of the ministry, and 
^lad much freedom in crying for grace to help. 

" Dec. 9. Though I have less sensible comfort, 
faith seems to be in exercise, and I will still trust in 
God, though he slay me. 

" Dec. 10. Was seized with the symptoms of a fever. 

^^ Dec. 11. Begin to think seriously that my time 
is short. My lungs appear to be deeply affected, and 
<he result may be fatal. 

" Dec. 12. Had a melting season in prayer this 
morning. Felt viler than the vilest. Spent the even- 
mg with my father, who came to attend the ordination. 

" Dec. 14. My body and mind seemed alike weak 
and incapable of exertion. My cough increases, and 
^ids fair to terminate in a consumption. 

"Z>ec. 15. Rose extremely unwell, and continued so 
luring the day. Could do nothing. In the evening 
«;ried to pray, but was soon interrupted by weakness 
and lassitude. 

" Dec. 16. Ordination. Rose very early, and re- 
newed my covenant with God, taking him for my 
portion, and giving myself up to him for the work of 
ilm gospel ministry. Had considerable assistance in 



EDvVARIJ FAVyON. • 131> 

CiiiS; and in seeking ministerial qualifications; but my 
strength failed. Felt in something of a quiet, happy, 
dependent frame during the. public services, especially 
during the ordaining prayer." 

it is peculiarly gratifying to peruse such a record as 
ehis last paragraph contains, of the state of his mind 
on this most solemn and eventful occasion. That a 
mind so highly susceptible, and so frequently borne 
down to the very dust by its overwhelming sense ol 
ministerial responsibility, should be preserved in this 
" quiet, happy, dependent frame," while in the act ot 
assuming the most^ weighty and momentous of all 
trusts ever committed to man — of consummating that 
sacred connection which was to affect the everlasting 
weal or wo of numerous undying souls — can be ascrib- 
ed to nothing but the special favor of God. It should be 
noticed in honor of His faithfulness, who will not de- 
sert his devoted servants in any trymg emergency. In 
anticipation of this crisis, and under the responsibili- 
ties of the labors which were conducting him to it, he 
had habitually cast his burden upon the Lord ; and by 
the Lord was that burden sustained. His mind was 
kept in peace, for it was stayed on God. 

" A man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord di- 
recteth his steps." Mr. Payson went to Portland with 
no expectation, probably, of making that his permanent 
residence, but merely to supply, temporarily, Mr. Kel- 
logg's pulpit. Mr. K. undoubtedly had a further de- 
sign in procuring his assistance, even from the first 
but its accomplishment was suspended on circum- 
stances yet to be developed, and it could not, there- 
fore, be properly disclosed. But when, on experiment 
Ke saw the young preacher's labors so well received 



L40 • MEMOIR OF 

by the people, and so evidently blessed, he spared no 
endeavors to retain his valuable services, which he 
shovi^ed himself willing to do at the expense of any 
reasonable sacrifice. 

The ordination sermon was preached by his vene- 
rable father, founded on 1 Tim. 5 : 22, Lay hands sud- 
denly on no man^ neither he 'partaker of other menh 
sinSj and well illustrated the apostle's " caution against 
introducing persons suddenly into the ministry, and 
the reason with which that caution is enforced." 



CHAPTER VIII. 



His concern for his flock — reverse in Ms temporal prospects-^ 
is taken from his ivork by sickness. 

Mr. Payson had already exhibited an interest in the 
welfare of souls, and a desire for their salvation, so 
great as to seem almost incapable of increase ; but, as 
soon as the pastoral relation was consummated, he re- 
garded those committed to his oversight w4th an ap- 
propriating, an endearing love, which identified their 
interests and happiness with his own. 

" Dec. 17, 1807. Was favored with freedom and as- 
sistance in writing and prayer, and felt a strong love 
for the people of my charge. In the evening attended 
a meeting of those who are under concern, and had 
some assistance. 

" Dec. 18. Felt in a sweet, dependent frame, and 
had liberty to cast myself and parish upon God 



i 



EBWARU PAYSC.N. 141 

*' Dec, 19. Awoke twice, a^ter a day of excessive fa- 
CJigue, drenched in a profuse sweat, and concluded that 
my time was short. 

" Dec. 20. Sabbath. Extremely weak. Felt as if 1 
could not preach. In the afternoon preached an occa- 
sional sermon, and was wonderfully carried through. 
Blessed be God! 

" Dec. 21. Had a sweet season in prayer. My soul 
felt strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. 
I longed to spend and be spent in his service, and won- 
dered at his astonishing goodness to such an unworthy 
wretch. Spent the whole day in visiting, with some 
profit and pleasure. In the evening talked to a num- 
ber of people on the nature of religion. After return- 
ing, found myself much exhausted. Feel convinced 
that I am in a consumption, and may as well die as 
zease my exertions." 

His illness continued severe for several days, so that 
he was directed by his physician to keep within. He 
enjoyed, on the whole, much quietness and resigna- 
tion, but says, " I longed to be abroad among my peo- 
ple." Dec. 26, ten days after his ordination, he expec- 
torated blood, and " viewed it as his death-warrant, 
but felt tolerably calm and resigned." Three days later, 
however, he is found preaching an evening lecture. 

The calamities occasioned by the aggressions of fo- 
reign belligerents, and by the restrictions imposed on 
commerce by our own government, fell at this time 
with peculiar weight upon the inhabitants of Portland. 
The darkest season through which the United States 
have passed since their independence, had now com- 
menced. The distresses of the times are the subject 
of frequent allusion by Mr. Payson in his diary, and 
Are thus described in the following letter to his parents t 



i4:2 MEMOIK OF 

y Portland, Dec. 2S, 1807. 
" When my dear father was here, he observed that 
rny prospects were almost too happy for this world. 
They were so, it appears ; for they are now as unfa- 
vorable, humanly speaking, as they were then flatter- 
ing. The prospect of war has produced here such a 
scene of wretchedness as I never before witnessed. A 
targe number of the most wealthy merchants have al- 
ready failed, and numbers more are daily followmg, 
so that we are threatened with universal bankruptcy. 
Two failures alone have thrown at least three hun- 
dred persons, besides sailors, out of employ ; and you 
may hence conceive, in some measure, the distress 
which the whole number must occasion. The poor- 
house is already full, and hundreds are yet to be pro- 
vided for, who have depended on their own labor for 
daily bread, and who have neither the means of sup- 
porting themselves here, nor of removing into the 
country. Many, who have been brought up in afflu- 
ence, are now dependent on the cold courtesy of credi- 
tors for a protection from the inclemency of the sea- 
son. These things, however, are but the beginning of 
sorrows. As soon as the news of these failures reach 
, every man there, who has a hundred dollars- 
owing to him in Portland, will send down to secure it ; 
and the general stagnation of business is such, that a 
man who is possessed of ten thousand dollars, m real 
or personal estate, may not be able to answer a di- 
mand of five hundred, though it were to save him from 
r|iin. If these times continue, nine tenths of the peo- 
ple here will be scattered to the four winds. All con- 
fidenc-e is lost ; no man will trust his neighbor ; but 
7ery one takes even his brother ' by the throat, s<a|-- 



EDWARD 1 AVSON. 143 

ing, Pay me that thou owest.' But I cannot describe, 
and I doubt whether you can conceive, of the distress 
we are in. 

" And now you will, perhaps, be grieved at this 
sudden blast of all my fine prospects, and cry, ' Poor 
Edward !' But you never had more reason to rejoice 
on my behalf, and to cry, ' Rich Edward !' than now; 
for, blessed be God, my portion does not stand on such 
tottering foundations as to be shaken by these commo- 
tions. My dear parents, my dear sister, do not feel one 
emotion of sorrow on my account, but rather join with 
me in blessing God that he keeps me quiet, resigned, 
and even happy, in the midst of these troubles. I do 
not pretend not to feel them, however. All my world- 
ly hopes are apparently destroyed 5 and many of those 
who are now ready to be turned into the streets are 
the dearest friends I have here ; not to mention the 
distress of the poor, who will, in human probability, 
soon be in a starving condition. In these circumstances 
it is impossible not to feel. Still, if God is pleased to 
afford me the same degree of support which he has 
hitherto, I shall be more happy than ever I was. I 
thought I knew before, that this world was treache- 
rous, and its enjoyments transitory ; but these things 
have taught me this truth so much plainer, and weaned 
me so much the more from creature dependences, that 
I desire to consider them among my chief mercies. It 
has long been my 'prayer, that if God had any worldly 
blessings in store for me, he would be pleased to give 
me grace instead of them, or change them mto spiri- 
tual blessings ; and now he begins to grant my request. 
[ am sorry for H.'s disappointment, and my own ina- 
bility to assist pa' out of biis difficulties, which I once 



r44 MtTMoui OP 

hoped i should be able to do. But I trust tney will be 
sanctifiedj if they are not removed. What a blessed 
portion the believer has in the v^ord of God, if he has 
only a hand given him to lay hold on it ! But too of- 
ten our hands are withered, and heed not the divine 
command to stretch them out. 

" I tremble for our poor country. I fear the decree 
lias gone out against her. My sins have helped to cal) 
down judgments upon her, and I desire to take what 
falls to my share, and bless God that my punishment 
is no heavier, and no more proportioned to my deserts. 
But nothing seems too bad to expect from present ap- 
pearances. If we escape civil war, it will be well. 

" January 5, 1808. 
" I would not finish my letter before, be 
cause I could say nothing favorable respecting my 
health, which was then worse than ever, but, blessed 
be God, seems now unaccountably restored. The tu- 
mult in town has subsided into a dead calm ; the em- 
bargo has put a stop to every thing like business, and 
people have now nothing to do but attend to religion \ 
and we endeavor to give them meetings enough, since 
they have leisure to attend them. Next week we pui 
pose to keep a town fast on account of our distressed 
situation. I am not without hopes that these things 
may be overruled to bring about a more extensive re- 
formation. The attention appears tcJ continue, and we 
hear of new instances of persons under concern. Feel 
no uneasiness respecting mo. The Lord is my Shep- 
herd ; I shall not want. The people are very kind, 
increasingly so. Some of oar young converts have 
lo^X their all, and had their houses stripped ; and it 



lUVVAKD PAY SOW. 145 

does my heart good to see them cheerful ami quieJ 
under it, while others, who have no God, have lost 
their reason, or, worried almost incessantly, are appa- 
rently dying of a broken h^t, or uttering the most 
bitter and distressing complaints. But it is a heart- 
rending sight to see those who have no other portion 
stripped naked of all worldly good. Their gods are 
taken away, and what have they more ?" 

' Jan. 5. I find myself, from day to day, in the situ- 
ation of a poor beggar, with nothing to plead but my 
necessities. In the evening preached to a serious 
-udience, and was greatly encouraged to hope for a 
reformation more general. Was much drawn out in 
prayer, both at meeting and after I came home. 

" Jan. 6. Hope that God is quickening me to run 
the way of his commandments with a more enlarged 
heart. 

" Jan. 10. Preached, and administered the Lord's 
Supper. Felt entirely exhausted. My constitution 
seems to be much broken, and a little labor wears me 
out. 

"Jan. 13. This day was devoted to fasting and 
prayer, by the town, on account of the present gloomy 
appearances. 

" Jan. 14. Hope the strong workings of corruption 
I have experienced will make me more humble, ano 
the gracious pardon I have received, more thankful. 

" Jan. 17. Sab. Was alarmed by cry of fire during 
family prayer. It did considerable damage, but, by 
God's goodness, was got under, though the town wis 
m imminent danger. Was much assisted in seeking 
a divine blessing on all our aff ictions. Had do vaQ^^ 



I4t) MEMOIU Ur 

mg in the foienoon. In the afternoon preached with 
some liberty. 

'^Jan, 22. In the evening preached, and was much 
refreshed and strengthened m my own soul. Found 
the Lord's work is going on. O what shall I rende^. 
unto the Lord for all his benefits ! 

" Jan. 24. Sab. Was favored with a sweet sea- 
son in pleading for the divine presence. Hoped that 
God would make this a day of his power and grace. 
Was greatly assisted. Have lately been favored with 
more love to God, and zeal for Christ, than I used to 
have, and feel more compassion for sinners. 

'• Jan. 25. Seem to have some respite from the 
workings of corruption. Spent the day m visiting my 
people, and found many somewhat exercised. In the 
evening attended a conference with inquire.] s. Found 
some new cases, and had a pleasant evening. 

^^ Jan. 26. Felt eager desires to be wholly con- 
formed to Christ, and to be carried away with the con- 
straining influence of his love. 

" Feb. 4. Was overwhelmed with wonder, shame, 
an'^ confusion, to reflect on the innumerable mercies 
I had received, and the ungrateful returns I had made. 
In the afternoon preached at the poor-house, and 
found some of the inmates much affected." 

Soon after this he was seized with a violent pleu- 
ritic affection, which rendf ^ed speaking a most pain- 
ful and difficult exercise. The pain continued for 
some time, attended by various discouraging symp- 
toms. He did not neglect to call in medical aid ; and 
the prescriptions of physicians were partially blessed 
But the moment he felt a little relieved he would fc- 
%uri»e his labors, " go to a prayer-meeting, take morp 



EDVVAKIJ PAYSUN. • 147 

coid, and come home much worse." Repeatedly dur 
mg this iilnessj Avheii he was necessarily confined to 
his rcomj he enters a notice of this kind — " Spent al- 
most the whole day in conversing with persons who 
were exercised with spiritual trials ;" and every such 
day was one of great fatigue, at the close of which 
" ail his alarming symptoms would return with great 
violence." When his conversation with inquirers was 
not prolonged to weariness, it proved " refreshing 
to his spirits." Though he found it " trying to be laid 
aside as a broken vessel, when the people were will- 
mg to hear," he could still bless God for sweet resig- 
nation to the divine will. " Could not feel a wish re- 
specting the continuance of my life; but had God re- 
ferred the matter to me, I should have referred it back 
again to him. My only wish was — if I lived — to live 
(into the Lord ; and, if I died, to die unto the Lord." 

In the latter part of February his physician found 
it necessary to forbid his preaching for several Sab- 
baths, and was in a measure successful in enforcing 
the prohibition, as his patient does not appear to have 
gone out to any religious meeting for more than a fort- 
night, when he ventured to " attend a conference with 
those under concern, v/here he found several new in 
quirers, and was carried through beyond expectation." 
But the exposure was followed by a dangerous relapse^ 
so that he thought his " health irrecoverably gone." 

" March 26. Had an exceedingly painful night, 
worse than ever, but had some satisfaction in thinking 
of going to be with Christ. In the evening was ex- 
tremely unAvell, and suffered great pain. 

" March 27. Sab. In the morning was very ill , 
^>ul was carried to meeting in the af^ ^rnoon, though I 



148 • MEMOIR OF 

could not preach. Was too weak to have much co.n- 
fort at meetingj arxd came home very low-spirited. 

•' March 28. Am pretty well convinced that my 
disease is mortal. My mind partakes so much of the 
iveakness of my hody, that I can do nothing in reli- 
gion, and can scarcely retrain from peevishness ant! 
fretting. 

''^ March 30. Had a most sAveet and refreshing sea- 
son in secret prayer this morning. Felt more ardent 
love to Christ than I have for some time, and was 
sweetly melted under a sense of my own ingratitude. 
Was resigned to his will respecting me, and was will- 
ing to depart and be with him. 

" April 2. Conversed with some persons who came 
in to see me, respecting means to be taken for the sup 
pression of profanity and Sabbath-breaking. 

" April 3. Sab. Was able to attend meeting and 
preach part of the day. Was favored with some li- 
berty at the sacrament, and had some foretaste of hea- 
ven, and desire to enjoy it. Am much afraid the refor- 
mation is going oif. Was assisted to pray that the 
work might go on, and also in praying for myself, so 
that I hope the Lord has been pleased to strengthen 
me on this occasion. 

" April 4. Had unusual earnestness in prayer this 
morning both for myself and others, and was sweetly 
melted in reading the divine word. Was depressed 
by findmg that the town would do nothing respectmg 
the observance of the Sabbath. Was enabled to pouJ 
out my sorrows and complaints before God with some 
degree of freedom. 

" April 7. This day being our annual fast, I en- 
deavored to humble myself before God for my person- 



EDWARD PAYiSUN. 11^ 

al sinSj as well as our public transgressions, to renew 
covenant with God, and devote myself with new zeal 
to his service. Was likewise assisted in pleading 
with God for more grace, and life, and light, in my 
own soul, and in the souls of my people ; and that the 
reformation which has begun may be carried on glori- 
ously and triumphantly among us. In the morning 
attended meeting, and heard a most excellent sermon 
from Mr. K. In the afternoon preached with some 
degree of assistance. 

" April 8. Had a very uncomfortable night, but 
was sweetly refreshed and strengthened in secret 
prayer this morning. It is long since I have found so 
much of the divine presence. Was much assisted in 
praying for a revival of religion, and cannot but hope 
God will yet bless us still more abundantly. 

•' April 9. Was employed most of the day in vis- 
iting. Was troubled with some who wished to join 
the church without being qualified. 

" April 14. Attended a conference for those undei 
concerji, and was refreshed to see a goodly number, 
and to trace the operations of the divine Spirit upon 
their minds. 

" April 19. O how sweet and refreshing it is lo 
get above the load of sins, sorrows and corruptions 
which oppress us, and taste a little of communion wit>» 
God! 

" April 20, Was strengthened with all might in 
the inner man, and enabled to renew covenant with 
God with great joy and sincerity. 

'^ April 21. I have long been in a lethargy, but I 
aust God is now bringing me out of it. Find great 
and unusual sweetness m the Bible of late, for which 



l50 ' MEMOiK or 

I have long been praying ; and likewise a deeper 
sense of the importance of time. — another blessing foi 
which I have long been seeking. The enemy taking 
advantage of my great weakness, threw me into a 
most sinful frame of mind ; but on application to Him 
who stills the waves, the tumult of my mind was 
stilled, and there was a great calm. 

" April 22. Was favored with some intense hun- 
gerings and thirstings after righteousness. Was led 
to believe, from certain circumstances, that my case 
was almost desperate, but felt most sAveetly resigned. 
My only wish w^as that God might be glorified, either 
by my life or death. 

^^ April 23. Was assisted in prayer through the 
day. My heart ; eemed ready to break with its long- 
ings after holiness. Found unusual sweetness in 
reading the Scriptures. Am much encouraged by the 
Lord's unusual goodness to me, that he is about to 
carry on his work still more gloriously in this place. 

" April 25. Was constrained to feel the truth of 
our Lord's declaration, ' Without me ye can do no- 
thing.' " 

The following paragraphs from letters written dur- 
ing this spring will not be uninteresting : 

♦' Portland, March 28. ' 808. 
" My dearest Mother, 

" The Sabbath after I wrote to Grata, I preached a? 
I expected ; but it proved too much for me, and I have 
not preached since, nor do I expect to till the weath- 
er grows warmer . Meanwhile the attention to reli- 
gion seems to be at a stand, and whether it will not 
wholly subside is more than w^e can tell. T need nol 



EDVVAUD l»AV80N. 15) 

say that this is a trial ; but, blessed be God, he makes 
it bghter than I could have thought possible. It is 
true I have not much sensible or positive comfort: 
but I am kept perfectly quiet and resigned, and can 
hardly find whether I have any will or not. Should 
my health not be perfectly re-established before warm 
weather, I shall probably make a journey home. The 
people are abundantly kind, and suffer me to want for 
nothing which they can supply. Mr. K. is as kind to 
me as the congregation, and though he is almost over- 
whelmed with labor, yet he will not suffer me to ex- 
pose myself in the least. 

" Now, after enumerating all these mercies, you 
will conclude, of course, that I am all wonder and gra- 
titude, and that the constant language of my heart is, 
^ What shall I render unto the Lord for all his bene- 
fits V That I ought to be so, I am very sensible ; but, 
alas, how far from it I am in reality ! I do indeed feel 
some wonder how God can be so good ; such a kind 
of wonder as we feel when thinking of his eternity or 
infinite power ; but as to gratitude, I hardly know by 
experience what it means. I once used to think that I 
did feel grateful, when I had not half the reason for it 
which I now have ; but I have done thinking so. All 
we can do falls so far short of what we owe, that it 
seems little better than mockery to thank him in our 
feeble language, and I can only stand in astonishment 
to see how good he will be notwithstanding all I can 
do to prevent it. O how true it is, that he will have 
mercy on whom he will have mercy ! I can hardly 
help praying sometimes, that he would take away 
til he has bestowed, so that, if I must sin, 1 need not 
sixi against such overwhelming goodness. But it is 



?52 MEMOIR OF 

as natural for him to be good and kind, as it is for lis 
to abuse his goodness ; and sooner shall our wicked 
hearts cease to sin, than he cease to pardon and for- 
give sin. 

* * * * 

" The embargo, humanly speaking, will be detri- 
mental to the morals of the people here. They have 
now nothing to do but saunter about, and of course 
they get into all manner of mischief 5 and I fear they 
will lose all habits of industry and sobriety. How- 
ever, if I have any health, we shall endeavor to mul- 
tiply meetings, and take up as much of their time as 
possible in that way." 

" Portland, April 18, 1808. 
"Yes, my dearest mother, I did think of my friends 
at Rindge, when I apprehended I was about to leave 
them. They were almost, if not altogether, the only 
things that I felt the least regret at the idea of quit- 
ting ; but that regret was alleviated, if not wholly re- 
moved, by the consoling hope that I should soon meet 
them again, to be separated no more. But, my dear 
mother, wh|^ this anxiety 7 If I wished for life, it 
would distress me exceedingly to see you thus anx- 
ious, because I should fear it would lead God to re- 
move from you one for whom you indulge so much 
concern. I shall certainly live as long as I have 
any thing to do for the divine glory ; for " we are im- 
mortal till our work is done ;" and you surely could 
not wish me to live after that is accomplished. Ever 
since I have entertained a comfortable hope of my ac- 
ceptance in the Belov(3d, it has been my constant 
wish that what I had to do might be done speedily ; 



ff,T)VVARD PAYSON. 153 

find if God should see fit to grant this wish, will it 
not be better than if 1 should be a long time in per» 
forming the work allotted, and drag on a wearisome 
life to no purpose ? It was my great consolation, while 
taken off from active service, and laid aside as a bro 
ken vessel and a foot out of joint, that we may glorify 
God as much by patiently suffering, as by actively do- 
ing his will ; and I hope this consolation will be yours, 
should he see fit to appoint me a life of weakness, 
pain and suffering, or remove me first from this state 
of trial. It is a striking proof of our depravity, that 
when God favors us^ with special mercies, he sees it 
necessary to send special afflictions, to teach us our 
dependence and keep us humble. Could I have con- 
tinued suitably humble and thankful under the mer- 
cies I have lately received with respect to my settle- 
ment here, and the out-pourings of the Spirit, he ne- 
ver would- have . frustrated, first, my temporal pros- 
pects, and afterwards, by sickness, as it were cast me 
out of his vineyard, as an unworthy and an unfaithful 
laborer. But I not only deserved, but indispensably 
needed all that has befallen me ; and I desire to bless 
him for these afflictions, by which, when my roots be- 
gan to shoot into and cleave to the earth, he plucked 
them up before they were too deeply and firmly fixed, 
and thus experimentally taught me not to look for or 
expect any happiness beyond that of serving him here 
but to wait for my reward in another world ; a lesson 
of infinite importance, and which I greatly needed. 
But it is a lesson so hard for us, or at least for me, to 
learn, that I well foresee, if I am continued here any 
length of time, it will be necessary for God to impress 
it upon my mind again and again by repeated and 



?.D4 MEMOIR OF 

multiplied disappointments. My disposition is natu- 
rally so ardent, that I can enjoy nothing with nriode- 
ration, so that I must either be totally indifferent tc 
worldly objects, or else love them to sucn a degree 
as to render them idols ; and then, of course, God must 
and will either imbifter or remove them. It is evi- 
dent, therefore, that I must not expect worldly happi- 
ness ; for perfect indifference to any object, or too much 
love for it, are equally incompatible with happiness 
and these are the only two states of which I am ca- 
pable. For this reason I fear ever to enter the mar- 
riage state, for I should most certainly love a wife toe 
much or too little. I know not, however, whether 1 
ought to regret this trait in my character, since, by 
cutting me off from other sources, it does, as it were, 
necessarily drive me to One whom I cannot love oi 
serve too much, and compel me to place all my hopes 
in a future state. 

" Since you complain that I did not tell you what 
my sickness has been, I will now inform you, lest you 
should suppose it worse than it was. It was an in- 
flammation of the lungs and adjoining parts, attended 
for several weeks with extreme debility, sharp pain, 
restlessness, loss of appetite, difficulty of breathing, 
and an inability to converse for any time together. I 
should, I believe, have easily got over it, but I con- 
tinued my labors much too long, hoping I should be 
able to drag along till warm weather, which, I trust- 
ed, would restore me. But after sacrament, when, by 
reason of the length of the services, I was so exhaust- 
ed that I could scarcely sit in my chair, I was obliged 
to go out in a cold, raw evening, to converse and pray 
vvUh a dying sailor, wno had just found out that he 



KDUARU PAYSON. i55 

had a soul to save The next day was a violent storm ^ 
hi wdich I imprudently went out to visit some sick 
persons, and the day following was seized with a sharp 
pleuritic pain in my side. However, as it was lecture 
night, I was obliged to preach, which I got through 
with much pain and some difficulty, but was then con- 
strained to give up. Still I believe my confinement 
would have been much shorter, had not persons con- 
tinued to come and converse with me who v/ere un- 
der concern. I could not find it in my heart to send 
them away, and the temporary exhilaration of spirits, 
which seeing them gave me, pr«vented me from find- 
ing out at first how much talking injured me, so that, 
for a long time, I lost much faster than I gained. But 
the sun seems to be a physician superior to all the 
doctors, and his warm beams, under God, have in a 
good measure restored me. 

* ' Thus have I spent my health — an odious trick 
* In making known how oft I have been sick.' 

But if your patience is wearied, you must ascribe it to 
your own request, without which I should not have 
said a syllable on the subject." 

The " inflammation,'^ he observes in another letter, 
" was brought on by speaking in hot rooms, and then 
going out into the cold evening air." His illness 
proved, on the whole, a serious one ; and he w^as ob- 
liged not only to suspend preaching, but to leave the 
sce^e of his labors, before he could obtain relief. On 
the 27th of April he set out for his father's house, to 
iTy the effect of a journey and a country residence on 
Ltis health. " In crossing a stream, whose bridge had 
been carried away, he was thrown from his horse and 



J 56 MEMOIR OF' 

thoroughly wet, so that he could proceed no farther.' 
The next day, " after riding about ten miles, he was 
seized with the symptoms of a violent fever, and ob- 
liged to stop and take his bed." The third day he pur- 
sued his journey moderately, but " in much -pain and 
weakness, fearing that his lungs had been much in- 
jured by his late accident." Before night of the fourth 
day he " was extremely exhausted." " Find," he 
says, " that a fever comes on at night, and goes off 
with sweats in the morning." The next day was the 
Sabbath, which he spent in Milford, " weak in body 
and mind. After meeting, which he attended both 
parts of the day, had some conversation with a uni- 
versalist, but to little purpose." " May 2. Reached 
home, and was most kindly received. After the flow 
of spirits occasioned by seeing friends was over, found 
nyself much exhausted with my journey." 

For several days after his arrival he grew worse, 
till he " lost all strength and appetite," and was taken 
\yith a " hectic fever," as was then supposed, " at- 
tended with night sweats and some cough. He gave 
. up all hope of recovering, and felt willing to die ; had 
fto murmuring thought." 



CHAPTER IX. 

Resumes Ids pastoral labors— Letters — Review of ihe year. 

Mr. Payson's absence from his people was prolong 
ed to a period of more than two months. During tins 



EDWARD PAYSON. 157 

ime he endured much bodily suffering; but his resig- 
nation, and his demeanor generally, were such as be- 
came a man professing godliness. He obtained no re- 
lief till near the close of this period, when he repaired 
to Boston for medical advice, by which he was encou- 
raged to hope that he might again engage in preach- 
ing the Gospel. His church observed a day of fasting 
and prayer on his account during his absence. He set 
out on his return to them July 4th, not without " gloo- 
my melancholy fears. The work appeared great, the 
obstacles insurmountable, and his strength nothing." 
Most of the information which could be collected 
respecting his circumstances for several succeeding 
months, is contained in letters that were written to 
his parents and sister. 

" Portland^ Wednesday evening^ July 6, 1S08. 
' My dearest Parents, 

" When you see ^here and iDhen this letter is dated, 
you will, I fear, be ready to exclaim, ' Imprudent boy ! 
why will he not learn wisdom by experience V But 
when you hear that no ill consequences have resulted 
from my haste, you will, I hope, pardon me. The truth 
IS, when I got beyond the reach of the attraction of 
Rindge, which was not very soon, Portland began to 
draw with such irresistible force, that I found there 
would be no peace for me till I reached it. So, maugre 
my lame horse, who grew lamer and lamer every hour, 
I pressed on, and arrived here about six- this afternoon. 
How it will be to-morrow I cannot tell ; but at pre- 
sent I am perfectly well, and never was less fatigued 
by a journey in my life Mr. K. is out of town, attend- 



158 MEMOIR OF 

ing an associatioHj and my hoslj with his wife, Is ab- 
sent on a visit ; so as yet I have seen nobody. 

" Thursday morning, 
*^ The crowd of anxious and interesting thoughts 
which engaged my mmd on my return would not suf- 
fer me to rest much last night, and of course I feel 
rather languid this morning. Still, however, I never 
felt less inconvenience from such a journey. Mr. K. 
has just left me. He gives a discouraging account of 
the situation of religion. Several, whose convictions 
appeared to be of the right kind, have apparently lost 
them, and a general coldness seems to be prevailing. 

" Thursday night. 
^' Perhaps you saw lately an account of a man who 
was tried here for murder. He was found guilty, and 
is now in prison. I went this afternoon to visit him, 
and was greatly shocked and afflicted by a view of the 
bolts, chains, and other guards against escape. The 
entrance to his dungeon was by a small square pas- 
sage, through which I could but just crawl by stooping 
double, and it was secured by a very thick door of 
solid iron. It was, however, sufficiently light, sweet, 
and free from dampness. The criminal is a young, 
stout, well-looking man, as far removed as possible 
from the idea one is ready to form of a murderer. He 
said he felt guilty, and self-condemned before God, and 
felt the need of a Savior, and of a new heart, but knew 
not how to procure either of them. But he said this in 
a cold, unfeeling way I shall see him again soon, for 
my own sake, as well as his. It is well calculated to 
make one admire and adore distinguishing grace, which 



fias kept us from the same crimes, to see a man, in the 
flower of life, shut up m a small dungeon, never to go 
out till he goes to a violent and ignominious death. In 
the evening I Avent to our meeting fat those under con- 
cern. This is still kept up, though very few attend, 
and they seem little engaged. 

" Fi'iday. 
" I have been trying the effect of sea-bathing. It was 
not a very favorable time, but I feel better for it, and 
shall repeat it daily. I have spent some time in going 
round among the people. They appear glad to see me ; 
but, alas ! I fear there are no hopes of any further re 
formation at present. Many, whom I left under deep 
concern, have lost all their impressions ; others are 
cold ; Christians seem to be discouraged. Though 1 
expected this, it is almost too much for me to bear. I 
am dispirited and dejected ; my very soul sickens and 
shrinks back from what is before me. Weakened by 
sickness, my mind seems to have lost at once all faith 
and fortitude. I have no assistance in writing. My 
ideas are all confused. I seem to have no power to 
get hold of people's consciences, but, as somebody ex- 
presses it, 'my intellects have got mittens on.' 

" Sunday evening. 
*' I preached to-day, and Telt pretty much as I ex- 
pected. No life, people stupid. I shall get hardened to 
these things soon ; but at present they are distressing 
indeed. But though I am perplexed, I am not utterly 
in despair; though cast down, I am not destroyed. 
Somehow or other, I shall be carried through- As to 
ray healtJi, I have little leisure to think of it amidst the 
more interesting things which oppress me. I believe, 



^60 , MEMOIR OF 

however, I shall suffer but little inconvenience from 
speaking to-day." 

• " Portland, July 16, 1808. 

" My dear Sister, 

" I know not why it was, but I never felt more pain 
at leaving home, since I first began to venture abroad, 
than when I left Rindge for Portland. I rode in a very 
melancholy mood all day, and seldom have I felt more 
unpleasantly. This, you will say, was but an ungrate- 
ful return to my heavenly Father for his goodness ; 
but, though I felt sensible that it was, I could not alter 
the course of my feelings. My mind had become so 
tender by being accustomed to kindness and attention 
that it seemed to shrink from every thing like cold- 
ness, and it was in vain to expect that kindness from 
others which I experienced from parental and. sisterly 
affection at home. The difficulties, too, of the minis- 
try were all before me. Like Peter, I looked only at 
the waves and billows, forgetting the almighty arm 
that was extended for my support ; and consequently 
like him, I sunk in the depths of despondency. Nor is 
the prospect, now I am here, calculated to cheer me. 
Iniquities abound ; the love of many is waxen cold ; 
the enemy seems coming in as a flood ; the Spirit of 
the Lord no longer lifts up a standard against him ; 
and I, what can I do ? What is worst of all, is, thai 
many are ready to think that, because I am returned, 
religion will revive. This sickens and discourages my 
very soul ; for I know assuredly, that, while this is the 
case, my labors will be utterly unsuccessful. . This 
snoAVs, too, that they have not learnt, by my sickness 
A'bat God meant they should learn, and will bring a 



EDWARD PAYSON. 16^ 

blast upon me and my exertions. Still, however, bless- 
ed be God, he does not suffer me utterly to despair. 
That text, " Fear thou not, for I am with thee ; be not 
dismayed, for I am thy God : I will strengthen thee 5 yea, 
I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right 
hand of my righteousness " — never fails to bring relief 
even in the darkest hours. In addition to this, I find some 
relief in conversing with those who were taken into the 
church before I left them, most of whom seem to be 
humble, growing Christians ; so that I have still abun- 
dant reason to be thankful ; but, alas ! I cannot. You, 
my sister, never will know what it is to attempt to go 
through the duties of the ministry without God. I 
stagger along under the burden like those poor travel- 
ers who were cast away in the deserts of Arabia, 
ready every step to sink under it ; but when it seems 
as if I could not take another step, but must lie down 
and die, some spring opens to my view, and I get 
strength and courage to drag along a little farther. — 
But enough of this melancholy strain. My health con- 
tinues to improve rapidly, and I am almost perfectly 
well." 

" Portland^ August 3, 1808. 
'^ My dearest Parents, 

" I had almost resolved net to write again till I re- 
ceived letters from home, which I have been looking 
for with much impatience and some hard thoughts ; 
Vdt, lest you should impute my silence to a wrong 
eause, I will put an end to it for the present, and te.l 
vou that I am gradually growing better, and am, in a 
manner, perfectly well. I preach in all weathers, and 
at all hours, without much, if any, inconvenffence , 

Pavson. \\ 



162 rtiEMoiu OF 

and still gain strength notwithstanding; and the peo- 
ple say that I speak now as loud and strong as evetj 
though I did not when I first came back. I have also 
thrown off my melancholy fits, and am as cheerful as 
ever. The state of religion, however, is not such as 
I could wish. 

" I preached last Sabbath on man's depravity, and 
attempted to show, that, by nature, man is, m. stupid- 
ity and insensibility, a block; in sensuality and sot- 
tishness, a beast ; and in pride, malice, cruelty, and 
treachery, a devil. This set the whole town m an 
uproar, and never was such a racket made about any 
poor sermon ; it is perfectly inconceivable to any who 
have not seen it. But I cannot help hoping, that, 
amidst all this smoke, there may be some latent 
sparks which will burst out into a blaze. We had 
a lecture last evening in the meeling-house, which 
was much more crowded than any Ave ever had be- 
fore. However, our fears are, as yet, much greater 
than our hopes.*' 

The sermon alluded to in this letter is probably one 
which he preached from John, 8 : 44, and which is 
still remembered with lively impression by some of 
the hearers, whose account of its effects amply sus- 
tains his own description. In the course of the fol- 
lowing we-ek there might be heard one man hailing 
another in the street as " brother devil !" This, oom- 
ing to Mr. Payson's ears, so far from being regarded 
as a circumstance of discouragement, inspirea hiia 
with the hope that good would ultimately result irom 
it — a hope which the event justified ; for some ol these 
"brafe spirits" were afterwards humbled at the foa' 



EDWARD l'AY;SU^. (63 

of the cross. His description of the " natural man " 
is given in terms which he repeatedly applies to him- 
self in his private journal ; and his severest expres- 
sions were uttered with the moving tenderness of a 
heart that yearned over the guilt and impending mi- 
sery of his fellow-men. The wounds he inflicted 
were "the wounds of a friend." Those on whom 
his strokes fell with deadliest effect, could not but 
feel that benevolence aimed the blow. 

" August 10. 
•' I have just received your letter, my dear mother 
and will now put an end to mine, which a press ol 
duty had made me lay by. Mr. K. ha3 been called 
to part with a beloved child, which has thrown a 
great deal of business upon my hands. He is going 
a journey soon, and I must finish visiting the people 
before he goes, as I shall have no time afterwards. 
Your letter afforded me some comfort at a time when 
I needed it.-^ We have lost all hopes of any more at- 
tention at present, and I am in some measure recon- 
ciled to it ; for if a revival should take place imme- 
diately after my return, people would not give God 
the glory. The opposition grows more and more bit- 
ter ; every mouth seems to be opened to revile, and 
Christians, instead of supporting me, seem to think 
that it will not do to tell the whole truth, lest the 
world should be too much offended. I was prone to 
trust to Christians, and think that, though all should 
be offended, yet they would not ; but I find it will not 
do to put trust in man, however good he may be. 
Even Christians had much rather hear of their privi- 
loiies, their good estate, and the happiness prepared 



164 MEMOIR OF 

for theiiij than be told plainly how defective they are, 
and urged to greater diligencCj zeal, and fidelity. I 
think sometimes, that all the service I shall do the 
church will be to change them from legal to evan- 
gelical hypocrites; for they have nov^ got their cue, 
and, instead of saying that they do all they can,, and 
nope Christ will do the rest, they are all complaining, 
like Mrs. ********j what dreadful vile creatures they 
are, and smile all the time. 

" However, there are some who make these com- 
plaints in a different manner, and who appear really 
to groan under a body of sin and death. One person, 
who was esteemed by Mr. K. and the whole church, 
and by myself too, not only a Christian, but a very 
eminent one, of whose religion I had not the least 
doubt, and who appeared to be very humble and 
broken-hearted, and, in short, to be every thing we 
could wish, has discovered that she was building on 
the sand. She had been a professor some time, but 
had never heard of or suspected the difference be- 
tween holy and selfish love, and is now fully con- 
vinced that all her love was of the latter kind. As 
she possesses good sense and information, the ac- 
counts she gives of her experiences, while destitute 
of religion, are very profitable, and open new ways 
in which persons may be deceived, of which I had 
scarcely any conception." 

" Portland, September 8, 1808. 
"My dearest Parents, 

" Last Sabbath I preached all day, administered 
the sacrament, catechised the children, and spent the 
evening in conversation; and yet, instead of being 



EDWARD PAY30N. 165 

laid up, as I feared, I am full as w^l, if not letter 
than before. Things still remain pretty much as they 
were. A great many seem to be somewhat alarmed, 
but I see none of those deep convictions of sin which 
I used to see ; it is only the mere workings of natural 
fear. Two persons, however, who had entirely lost 
their convictions, have had them return more strongly 
than ever ; so that we are not entirely deserted. Peo- 
ple seem to be a little better reconciled to the truth, 
and several, who threatened to leave the congrega- 
tion, still remain quiet; but whether their quietness 
proceeds from mere stupidity, or from a conviction of 
the truth, I know not. The church seem to feel the 
general deadness ; and, as to myself, I seem palsied 
to all good, though pride, or selfishness, or habit, stili 
keeps me in motion. I have had far more distressing 
experience of the dreadful depravity of my nature, 
since I left home, than ever before. O the heights 
and depths, the lengths and breadths, of wickedness 
in the depraved heart ! If complaining to man was 
of service, what a torrent of complaint could I poui 
out ! But it will not avail. 

" Sept, 14. 
"Mr. C. a young gentleman of independent fortune, 
is now preaching in the old parish. He has been study- 
ing divinity in Scotland, and preaches the doctrines of 
the Gospel in a clear, distinguishing manner. As his 
sentiments were known before he came, every thing 
was said to take off the effect of his preaching, which 
could be said. They cannot, however, accuse him of 
interested motives in preaching ; and, as he is quite a 
gentleman in his manners, I hope he will lessen the 



166 MEMOIR OF 

prejudices of some of his fasliionable liearers agamst 
the Gospel. 

" We have had three additions to the church, since 
my return, of persons who gave very satisfactory evi- 
dence ; and there are a few other gleanings of our late 
harvest that are not yet gathered in ; but, otherwise, 
we are in a most stupid state. If I now and then feel 
a spark of life^ the moment I go abroad among my peo- 
ple it goes out, and I always come home quite discou- 
raged. I cannot feel thankful as I ought for health 
restored. 

" Oct, 10. 

'Mr. K. comes back this week, and my hard duty is 
over without any ill consequences. I have had some 
relief of late, from Mr. C.'s being here, at the old pa 
rish, and preaching such doctrine as I do." 

In the following letter to his mother is a most vivid 
sketch of the workings of his mind in his hours of dis- 
couragement, as well as of those considerations by 
which he was assisted to rise above it. It will be read 
with thrilling interest :* 

" Portland, Oct. 25, 1S08. 
*' My dearest Mother, 

" I have just received your letter of the 19th, and. 
like all your letters, it came just in the right time, 

*Hi9 letters to his mother can only be correctly understood 
by considering that he had unbounded confidence at once in 
her intelligence and piety, and her intimate acquaintance with 
his own spiritual joys and conflicts ; and addressed her with the 
most perfect familiarity and confidence, in language that well 
conveyed to her his meaning, though perhaps liable to miscoa 
ception by others. . 



EDWARD PAYSON. 167 

when I needed it most. — Vv^hen I was sinking, faint- 
ing under discouragements and difficulties. I feel the 
force of all you say. I know I have every reason m 
the world to feel grateful; but this knowledge only 
renders me more unhappy that I cannot feel it. Gra- 
titude is a plant that my heart will never produce, only 
when Heaven is pleased to place it there ; and whether 
I shall ever exercise one emotion of it again seems 
doubtful. 

" God is showmg me what is in my heart in a ten- 
fold clearer light than ever before ; and though I know 
he does it to humble and prove me, that he may do me 
good in the latter end ; yet, while he permits, my mind 
will be like the troubled sea, which cannot rest, whose 
waters cast up mire and dirt ; and I can no more still 
it than I can still the elements. I know how I ought 
to feel, and I know how wrong it is to feel as I do ; 
but that does not help me to feel otherwise. I know 
that I am every thing that is bad summed up in one, 
and that I deserve, ten thousand times over, the hot- 
est place in hell ; but till God shall be pleased to melt 
my heart by the returning beams of his love, this sight 
of sin only hardens my heart, and sinks it down in 
sullen indolence and despair. I loathe and detest my- 
self for having such a temper, and know that my in- 
ability to restrain it, instead of being any excuse, only 
renders me utterly inexcusable. I know, too, that all 
this is necessary for my good. I know Christ is near 
me, though I cannot perceive him; and that, in his 
own time, which will be the best time, he will pluck 
me out of this terrible deep pit, and set my feet on a 
rock. But this knowledge does not prevent my being 
tossed hither and thither before the blast of tempta- 



lt)8 MEMOIR OF 

tioiij like a leaf before a whirlwind. Meanwhile 1 
have nowhere to look for comfort, either in heaven or 
earth. My prayer seems to be shut out, though in 
reality I know it is not. My people are raving about 
my hard doctrine ; my friends seem to stand aloof, my 
nealth begins to decline, religion decaying, and my 
heart full of sin. While this is the case, what can 
reasoning or arguments avail? Who but He who 
caused light to shine out of darkness, can bring light 
and order out of the darkness and chaos of my soul? 
" Your hopes with respect to Mr. C. are frustrated. 
Notw^ithstanding he aombined almost every advantage, 
such as being independent in property, eloquent, po- 
lished in his manners, &c. &c. he had only thirty ^o?', 
to ninety against him. Mr. R. has a unanimous call 
at Gorham ; but he feels afraid to settle, because he is 
not qualified. I tell him to settle by all means ; for, if 
he waits a J: Jle longer, he never will feel qualified to 
settle at all. If I had waited till this time, I surely 
should never have been a minister. I should give up 
now, but whenever I think of it, something seems to 
say, ' What are you going to give up for ? Supposing 
you are a poor, miserable, blind, weak, stupid worm oi 
the dust, with mountains of opposition before you — is 
that any reason for discouragement? Have you yet 
to learn that God has chosen the weak things of the 
world to confound the mighty, and that, if you had the 
talents of an angel, you could do nothing without hi? 
assistance ? Has he not already helped you beyond all 
you dared ask or thiiik ; and has not he promised to 
help you m future ? What then would you, poor, weak, 
stupid, cowardly sinner, have more? — what do you 
keep murmuring about all the time ? Why don't you 



KDWARD PAYSON. 16^) 

giory in your infirmities, that the power of Christ may 
rest upon you?' To all this I can answer nothing, and 
so I keep dragging on, because I dare not leave off 
without a discharge. 

" We have still a few inquirers, and one or two 
have joined the church every communion, which is 
once a month. The church continue to attend private 
meetings diligently. We know of four old professors 
who have been building on sand, but now, I hope, are 
on Christ 5 but we have still a wretched set. One was 
yesterday found to be intemperate who has been a pro- 
fessor several years. 

" I am not quite so well as I have been, but am as 
well «is when I. left home, and might have been better, 
if I could learn any prudence." 

His filial love suffered no abatement in consequence 
of his growing years and increased cares. How eager 
he was to relieve a father's burdened spirit, will be 
seen in the following letter of condolence : 

" Portland^ November 13, 1808. 
" My dearest Father, 

" Yours of the 1st ia^tant I received yesterday, anc? 
its contents gave me no little uneasiness. I am griev- 
ed that such depravity should be displayed by one so 
ycung,* and that such an addition should be made to 
your cares and sorrows. How I long, how I should re- 
joice, to say something that would comfort you, my 
dear father ; something that would tend to lighten the 
burden of life which you mention ! but, alas ! I am a 
miserable comforter, and cannot even comfort myself. 

* He refers to a young female domestic, who set fire to lus 
father's house. 



170 MExMOIK OF 

I liavL* been preaching to-day on Isaiah, 40 : 1, CoVo- 
fort ye^ &c. on account of some who are afflicted with 
various troubles ; and in trying to comfort them I ob- 
tained the first drop of Q4)nsolation which I have tasted 
for many days ; and I would gladly share it with you 
or rather give you all, if in my power. But I dare no 
presume to point out to you the springs of consolation 
which the Gospel affords, and at which you have often 
drank and been refreshed. But if I were writing to 
another, I would ask, What burden can be heavy to 
one who has Omnipotence for his support ? Is there 
not balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Is 
there any anguish which this balm cannot alleviate ? 
any wound which this Physician cannot heal ? I would 
ask. Can he need comfort who knows that he belongs 
to the friends and people of God ? that his sins are for- 
given, and that his name is written in the Lamb's book 
of life ? Is it not strong consolation, consolation suffi- 
cient to support the soul under tbe severest trials, to 
know that you are washed, justified, and sanctified 
by the blood of the Lord Jesus, and the Spirit of your 
God? that there is laid up for you, in heaven, a crown 
of glory, an inheritance mcorruptible, undefiled, and 
which fadeth not away ? and that neither death, nor 
life, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, 
nor things to come, shall ever be able to separate you 
from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus your 
Lord ? Is it not comfort sufficient to satisfy even the 
boundless desires of an immortal mind, to know that 
you are a temple of the Holy Ghost, a member of 
Christ, and a child of God ? that the blessed angels 
are your guards and attendants ? that the Holy Spirit 
v^ your Assistant and Sanctifier ? the Son of God your 



EDWARD PAYSON. 171 

Fiiend, your Shepherd, your Intercessor, and Head? 
and God himself your Father, your God, and your ex- 
ceeding great reward 1 Is it not enough to know- that 
your salvation standeth sure, and that heaven is as 
certainly yours as if you already stood on Mount 
Zion, singing the praises of redeeming love ? Is it not 
enough to know that all things shall work together for 
your good, through time and eternity? and that he 
who spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for 
us all, will with him also freely give us all things ? 
In some such manner as this I would write to an equal, 
to one whose progress in religion was small, whose 
trials were light, and whose views of divine things 
were partial and confined, like my own. But to you, 
my dear father, I dare not write thus, for you know 
these things already ; and you have doubtless spiritual 
trials, of which I can as yet form no conception, and 
under which, consequently, I knoAV not how even to 
try to comfort you. But is it not some satisfaction to 
reflect, that to you and my mother I shall be indebted, 
under God, for everlasting felicity ; and that, if I am 
made the instrument of doing any good in the world, 
'it will be owing to your prayers, precepts, and exam- 
pie ? My dear father, how many have all your trials, 
and none of your comforts — no God to go to, no reli- 
gion to support them, no hopes of heaven, no divine 
consolations to soothe their sorrows in this valley of 
t°ars ! Do, then, let us persuade you to be happy ; for 
you have been the means of great good and happi- 
Qess to us. 

" I dare not read over what I have written, and I am 
almost afraid to send it ; for I write in a hurry, and 
m^aeh .exhausted, both in body and mind, by the labors 



172 MEMOIR OP 

of the day ; but I write with a most ardent desire to 
give yoQ a moment's pleasure ; and though 1 fear I 
shall not succeed, yet I hope the intention will be ac- 
cepted. I am unfit to write, for it is very late, and 1 
am very sleepy, very much tired, and my head aches ; 
but if I did not write now, I must wait some time, and 
I know not how to wait a single day, without express- 
ing my sorrow for your new troubles, though unable to 
remove them. 

" My health remains nearly the same as when 1 
wrote last. I am not better, and I know not that I 
am worse. I shall not fail to let you know the worst, 
as I promised to do. You need therefore be under no 
apprehensions that I am worse than I represent. The 
state of religion continues much the same, only the 
line seems to be drawing between the friends and the 
enemies of Christ. The word is to some a savor of 
life unto life ; but to many a savor of death unto death. 
Many among us seem to be literally mad upon their 
idols ; but the church seem to be growing in grace. 
There is a society among them, who have two prayer- 
meetings weekly, besides a monthly fast. The young 
converts, as yet, promise fair." 

Mr. Payson's pastoral labors, during the first year, 
though much interrupted by sickness, were neverthe- 
less successful, and, by the blessing of God, issued in 
an accession of twenty-nine members to the church. 
His sermon, at the first anniversary of his ordination, 
was founded on 2 Cor. 2 : 15, 16, in which he illustra- 
ted, in a very lucid and solemn manner, the proposi- 
tions, that, " to those who are saved, the preaching oi 
the Gospel is a savor of life unto life ;" that, " to those 
who perish, it is a savor of death unto death )" and 



EDV.'ARD PAYSON. 173 

ihat " the labors of those who preach it are in both 
cases acceptable to God." In the application of his 
discourse, after recognizing, with much feeling, his or- 
dination vows, and the changes, by death and other- 
mse, which had occurred in the society, he acknow- 
ledges that their conduct to him " has been such as 
not only to afford no cause of complaint, but to merit 
and excite his warmest gratitude, and most earnest 
prayers and endeavors to promote their temporal and 
spiritual welfare. The patience with which you have 
borne with the infirmities occasioned by a long and 
debilitating illness ; the diligence and attention with 
which you have listened to the ministrations of the 
word, both in season and out of season ; and the many 
proofs of kindness and regard, equally unexpected and 
undeserved, which you have displayed, — are too deeply 
impressed on the heart and memory of the speaker ever 
to be forgotten, and will render it no less his pleasure 
and delight, than it is his duty wholly to spend and 
be spent in your service. But merely to hear the mes- 
sages of God attentively, and to treat with kindness 
those who bring them, is not sufficient ; for not the 
hearers, but the doers of the word shall be justified. 

"Permit me, therefore, to ask whether you, my 
friends, have done more than this ? According to the 
measure of ability given me, I have endeavored plain- 
ly to declare unto you the whole counsel of God ; and 
though, through an anxious desire to strip off all dis- 
guise from the truth, arid prevent, so far as possible, 
all error and mistake, the speaker may have expressed 
himself unguardedly, and only irritated where he 
meant to convince, yet still it is the truth which he 
has proclaimed, And we would ask you, most seri- 



174 BiEMOiK or 

ously and alTectionately, whether it has been to your 
souls a savor of life unto life, or of death unto death? 
" Lig»ht as it may appear to us, it is, my friends, a 
dreadful thing to trifle with the laAv and gospel of Je- 
novah. Nor can a greater curse befall a people, than 
to hear his word, if they neglect to perform it. A flood 
of waters, or a deluge of fire, is comparatively a bless- 
mg. There are, doubtless, many such triflers here, 
who fully resolve, at some future time, to repent and 
Delieve the Gospel. But on what are your hopes found- 
ed? Salvation is now more distant from you than 
ever. For years you have been hardening in sm. 
Every sermon you have heard has insensibly rendered 
you worse. You have already heard every motive, ar- 
gument, and consideration v/hich the Scriptures af- 
ford; and heard them in vain. The whole storehouse 
of spiritual medicines has been thrown open for your 
relief, but your moral diseases, instead of being healed, 
have become more inveterate. We can only present to 
you again the same remedies which have already 
proved unsuccessful; for the art of man and the word 
of God aflbrd no other. Humanly speaking, then, il 
is evident you must perish. But though your reco- 
very is thus impossible with man, it is not with God. 
Blessed be his name ! there is yet balm in Gilead, and 
a Physician there who can heal when mortal physi- 
cians fail. But, alas ! you will not apply to him. You 
will not believe you are sick; you will not be persuad- 
ed to seek eternal life You still go on to neglect the 
Gospel; and perhaps this very warning will prove to 
some of you a savor of death unto death. My friends 
how trying is the situation of the ministers of Christ 
if they ha^e any love for their people, or regard foi 



EDWARD PAYSON. l75 

their souls ! They are like a man placed on the brinh 
of a precipice, to warn travelers, that, if they proceed, 
they will inevitably be daslied in pieces. The travel- 
ers arrive, listen to the warning, and then, with a few 
exceptions, hold on their course, and perish before the 
eyes of him who labored in vain to save them. 

" Such, but infinitely more distressing, is our situa- 
tion. We stand at the entrance of the way of life, to 
warn our people that they are in the broad road to de- 
struction, and to urge and entreat them to turn aside 
and be happy. Many of them hear our entreaties with 
some degree of attention and regard. They engage 
our affections by kind offices ; y/q labor with them, tell 
them they are deeply rooted in our hearts and affec- 
tions ; and then, in defiance of all our prayers and 
tears, they hurry away and perish before our eyes, in 
a manner too dreadful to be tonceived. If this be not 
agony, disappointment, and distress, what is? The 
ugonies of a patriot, trembling for his country — of a 
wife, watching an expiring husband — or of a mother, 
trembling for a diseased child — are nothing to those 
which he must feel who knows the worth of an im- 
mortal soul, who considers what it is to be lost, and 
y^et sees his people perishing«before him. 

" O my friends, my dear friends ! how do our spirits 
droop, and our hearts sicken with anguish and despair, 
v/hen we consider, that, notwithstanding all we can 
do, many here present will finally find the Gospel a 
savor of death unto death I and all our exertions will 
answer no other purpose than to increase, beyond con- 
ception, their misery and guilt ! O ye precious, im- 
mortal souls ! ye spirits that will never die ! ye heir^ 
of eternity hear !— and obey, ere it is too late, the joy 



176 MEMOIR OP 

lul sound of the Gospel. O, if there be any avenue to 
conviction, tell us where jt lies. Tell, O tell us, how 
we may draw, or drive, or lead you to Christ. Tell us 
how we may bribe you not to be miserable for ever. 
Almost are we ready to say with the apostle — We 
could even wish ourselves accursed from Christ fo7 
our people, our friends according to the flesh." 



CHAPTER X. 



His dependence on God; its influence on hims^J and church — 
His uniform purpose to know nothing save Jesus Christ 
and Him cribcifled— Illustration — Letters — Resolutions — In- 

■ creased success. 

The preparation of his first anniversary sermon, 
from which some extracts have been taken, was at- 
tended by long-continued and intense private devo- 
tion ; and in preaching it, he " had much assistance, 
and many were in tears." He looked forward through 
the year to come with the same prayerful solemnity 
which distinguished his retrospect of the past. In 
view of his amazing responsibilities, he went for aid 
'^ to the throne of grace ; and " he exclaims^ — " O the 
anspeakable goodness and condescension of God !• — 
did not go in vain." His complaints still hung like 
a clog to him, so that his body could but partially 
serve the ever-active spirit bv which it was animated. 
This calamity was at no time more trying than when 
.t prevented him from preaching his usual Thursday 



EDWARD PAY SON. l?"} 

evening lecture. On one such evening he makes this 
record : 

" Dec, 30. Had a sweet season m prayer this morn- 
ing ; and felt fervent love to my Savior, and desires 
that he might be glorified. Was much assisted in 
writing upon a subject which led me to insist upon 
the constraining power of Christ's love 3 and, blessed 
be God, I was enabled in some measure to feel my 
subject. Was prevented from preaching by the wea- 
ther and the state of my health; which was a great 
disappointment." 

It was Mr. Payson's uniform, if not invariable prac- 
tice, to use a written sermon on one part of every Sab- 
bath; and yet it is worthy of particular observation 
how much he sought and valued divine assistance in 
preaching. His dependence on the ' Spirit's aid was, 
apparently, as real and exclusive as if he had made 
no previous preparation. He was greatly distressed 
when engaged in pronouncing a discourse, unaccom- 
panied with a consciousness of such assistance, and 
proportionately grateful when favored with it. A sin- 
gle extract will exhibit his feelings on this subject: 

•" Sabbath. Preached without the least appa- 
rent assistance. Was so distressed that I left the 
sermon unfinished, and felt as if the people would 
leave the house. Went home, feeling ashamed to 
look any body in the face. Was ready to give up in 
despair , . . . . and had scarcely any hope that I should 
ever again behold the light of God's countenance. 
Yet such is the inconceivable goodness of God to his 
perverse and froward children, that he was pleased, 
even then, to melt my stubborn heart with the dis- 
plays of his love. Felt so overwhelmed with a sense 



"J78 MEMOIR OF 

of his goodness and my own ingratitude, that 1 could 
not look up, or hardly venture to throw myself at his 
feet. My heart was broken within me, to think that 
I should still ungratefully requite such infinite good- 
ness." 

If this reliance on God for help in preaching was 
not peculiar to him, but common — as it probably is 
m a degree — to every evangelical minister, the know- 
ledge of the fact would perhaps weaken, if not re- 
move the prejudice which exists in manv minds 
against any use of "notes" by a preacher. 

His diary^ during this winter, bears the marks of a 
ra|5iidly advancing maturity in the Christian life. Who 
would not emulate the state of mind which is thus 
described ! 

— — " Was favored with clear views of the match- 
less goodness of Christ, and my own vileness. Was 
so overwhelmed and astonished that he should again 
look upon me with favor, that I could scarce believe 
it possible. Seemed to be drawn away from self, and 
to feel more desire that God should be glorified than 
that I should be happy. This is the only heaven I 
aspire to ; and to have such a temper appeared more 
desirable than ten thousand worlds. Felt sweetly 
broken-hearted and grieved to think how I had sin- 
ned against such a Savior, and thought I should be 
willing to undergo any suiferings, if I might nevei 
olTend him again. Longed to see him glorified by 
others ; for I almost despaired of ever glorifying him 
myself." 

And who, that reads the following, and is inform- 
ed that similar records continue to occur at short in- 
*erTals, will any longer wonder that success crowned 



EDWARD rAYtfOI\. I7U 

his labors ? The first extract shows that the duties 
Rrhich he urged on others were first practiced by him- 
self: 

"Jan. 2, 1S09. Rose very early, and enjoyed a 
sweet season in secret prayer. Spent the day in vi- 
siting. In the evening felt the worth of souls lie 
with peculiar weight upon my mind, and was enabled 
to wrestle fervently for divine influence. 

" Jan. 3. Wiis favored this morning with such a 
view of the worth of souls, that I could not rest at 
home, but went out ta visit my people, and stir up the 
members of the church to pray for divine influences. 
Never felt such love for the people of God as this day. 
Seemed williagto wash their feet, or perform the low- 
est oflices, because they belonged to Christ. Longed 
all day to do something for the glory of God and the 
conversion of sinners. Wished for health, that I might 
employ my time for God." 

A heart so intent u^on seeking the salvation of men 
might well be supposed to dictate language like the 
following, when the tenement in which it was lodged 
was too feeble to be removed from its resting-place. 

" Jan. 7. During the past week the word of the 
Lord has been like a fire shut up in my bones. I long 
o preach, but cannot. O that I may be patient and 
esigned !" 

The minister, who furnishes appropriate employ- 
ment for the members of his church, performs one of 
the most useful services connected with human agen- 
cy, and is the least likely to labor in vain and spend 
his strength for naught. A conviction of personal re- 
«ponsibility for the prosperity of religion, deeply fixed 
m the heart of every private Christian — a responsibi- 



ISO MEMCIK UF 

lity which all are but too ready to throw off upon their 
minister — will, if any thing can, render them circum- 
spect, "instant in prayer," and. '^always abounding in 
the work of the Lord." It is one of the best prepara- 
tions for hearing the word with profit : for with it they 
will listen, not to cavil, not to be amused, but for edi- 
fication, and that they may learn " what the Lord 
would have them do." The pastor, who is sustained 
by the daily fervent prayers of his flock, and by their 
frequent united prayers, has a ground for encourage- 
ment and hope that will not fail him. The Spirit will 
not leave that people unvisited, who so appreciate his 
influences as to seek them daily with ardor of desire, 
and to whom their descent would be as welcome and 
as refreshing " as cold waters tp a thirsty soul." ll 
was, therefore, a well-advised step m Mr. Payson, to 
engage the prayers of the church for a blessing on the 
word dispensed by him, and for a general revival of 
religion. The great importance of the duty justified 
his special exertions to secure its performance, and 
both he and they had much reason to rejoice in tlie 
issue. 

" Portland, Jan. 10, 1809. 
" My dearest Mother, 

" I have been for some time endeavoring to estab- 
lish among us -what are called ' Aaron and Hur So- 
cieties,' i, e, little collections of four, five, or more 
persons, to meet before service on Sabba^th morning, 
and spend an hour m praying for a blessing on the 
minister and ordinances. They began new year's day, 
and we seemed to have an immediate answer; for the 
meeting was unusually solemn, and we have reasoa 



B'^WARD PAYSON. IS 1 

CO hope the word was not preached in vain. Our hopes 
of another revival are increasing, as there seems to be 
an unusual spirit of prayer, and several persons have 
lately been awakened. However, God's ways are not 
as our ways, and we may be disappointed. Indeed, 
it seems impossible to me that there should be any 
attention so long as I am here. I am harassed with 
such violent temptations, from morning till night, and 
from night till morning, with scarce a moment's inter- 
mission, that I am utterly weary of life, and ready to 
despair. It seems as if I must one day perish by the 
hands of this accursed Saul, which seeks to destroy 
me. When I have a moment's ease, the word of the 
Lord is like a fire shut up in my bones, and it seems 
as if I must preach, if I die for it, even to stocks and 
stones, if men will not hear; and yet I can only preach 
once on the Sabbath, and am obliged to refrain all the 
week. This sets melancholy to work, and gives the 
adversary great advantage over me. Yet I appear tc 
know it is all right and necessary ; but this knowledge 
does not comfort and strengthen me as it ©ught. Truly 
the righteous scarcely are saved; and we must through 
much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God. Still 
however, externally, my cup runs over with blessing^. 
My people are so kind it makes me utterly ashamed, 
and Mr. K. is like a father to me in every thing. But, 
instead of feeling grateful, and being able to glorify 
God for his goodness, I am so overwhelmed with temp- 
tations that I can do nothing but sit still and tremble 
lest they hurry me into some open sin, which will 
bring dishonor on the cross. O my dearest mother, 
do pity me, and pray for me; for I am sifted like 
wheat.'' 



l82 MEMOIR OF 

The customs ol society often render a minister's 
presence unavoidable on public occasions, or celebra- 
tions of a nature not easily defined, but which are ol 
a mixed character, partly secular and partly religious. 
But Mr. Fayson would never degrade his official cha- 
racter. Wherever he was present, there the ambassa- 
dor of Christ " stood confest." He never would con- 
sent to be the mere amusing companion, or entertain- 
ing speaker. Those whom he addressed, whatever the 
occasion, were reminded that they were probationers 
for eternity. Very pleasing evidence of this has been 
found in some copious remnants of a performance, 
which, in March of this year, he addressed to a Mu- 
sical Society. Who would look for a proof of the ex- 
istence and perfections of God on such an occasion 1 
for a history of the apostacy of angels— of the fall and 
recovery of man — and of the ultimate destination and 
employment of redeemed sinners ? Yet all this, " in 
strains as sweet as angels use," was wrought into an 
address on music. Were it his object to pronounce 
an encomiuA on Music, he might, he observes in the 
introduction, from the ample materials furnished by 
orators, poets, historians, and philosophers of past 
ages, " easily compose a rich and unfading wreath ol 
applause, with which to encircle and adorn her brows." 
But, 

" Without resorting to the hyperbolical expressions 
of poetry, or to the dreams and fables of pagan mytho- 
logy, to the wonders said to be performed by the lyre 
of Amphion and the harp of Orpheus — I might place 
before you the prophet of Jehovah composing his ruf- 
fled spirits by the soothing influence of music, that ke 
mifijht be suitably prepared to receive a messagfe from 



EDWARD PAYSON. 183 

the Lord of Hosts. 1 might present to your view the 
evil spirit, by which jealous and melancholy Saul was 
afflicted, flying, baffled and defeated, from the anima- 
ting and harmonious tones of David's harp. I might 
show you the same David, the defender and avenger 
^f his flock, the champion and bulwark of his country, 
the conqueror of Goliath, the greatest warrior and mo- 
narch of his age, laying down the sword and the scep- 
tre to take up his harp, and exchanging the titles of 
victor and king for the more honorable title of the 

sweet Psalmist of Israel But I appear not 

before you as her advocate; for in that character my 
exertions would be superfluous. She is present to 
speak for herself, and assert her own claims to our 
notice and approbation. You have heard her voice in 
the performances of this evening ; and those of you, 
whom the God of nature has favored with a capacity 
of feeling and understanding her eloquent language, 
will, I trust, acknowledge that she has pleaded her 
own cause with triumphant success ; has given sen- 
sible demonstration that she can speak, not only to 
the ear, but to the heart ; and that she possesses irre- 
sistible power to soothe, delight, and fascinate the 
soul. Nor was it to the senses alone that she spake ; 
but while, in harmonious sounds, she maintained her 
claims and asserted her powers, in a still and small, 
but convincing voice, she addressed herself directly 
to reason and conscience, proclaiming the most so- 
lemn and important truths — truths which perhaps some 
of you did not hear or regard, but which deserve and 
demand our most serious attention. .... With the 
same irresistible evidence as if an angel had spoken 
from heaven, she said, There is a God — and that God 



184 MEMOIR OP 

IS good and benevolent. For, my friends, who but God 
could have tuned the human voice, and given harmony 
to sounds 7 Who, but a good and benevolent Godj 
would nave given us senses capable of perceiving and 
enjoying this harmony ? Who, but such a being, would 
have opened a way through the ear for its passage t^ 
the soul ? Could blind chance have produced these 
wonders of wisdom ? or a malignant being these mi- 
racles of goodness 1 Could they have caused this ad- 
mirable fitness between harmony of sounds and the 
organs of sense by which it is perceived? No. They 
would have either given us no senses, or left them im- 
perfect, or rendered every sound discordant and harsh. 
With the utmost propriety, therefore, may Jehovah 
ask, Who hath made man's mouth, and planted the 
ear? Have not I, the Lord? With the utmost justice, 
also, may he demand of us that all our musical powers 
and faculties should be consecrated to his service, and 
employed in celebrating his praises. To urge you dili- 
gently and cheerfully to perform this pleasing, reason- 
able, and indispensable duty, is the principal object ol 
the speaker. Not, then, as the.advocate of music, but 
as the ambassador of that God whose being and be- 
nevolence music proclaims, do I now address this as- 
sembly, entreating every individual, without delay, to 
adopt and practice the resolution of the royal Psalm- 
ist — / will sing unto the Lord as long as I live ; 1 
will sing praise to my God while I have my heing^ 
Psalm 104: 33. 

lie then carries his hearers back to the origin of the 
world, when " every thing was very good," and " all 
creation harmonized together. All its parts, animate 
and inanimate, like the voices and instruments of a 



EDWARD PAYSON. 185 

well regulated concert, helped to compose a perfect 
and beautiful whole; and so exquisite was the har- 
mony thus produced, that in the whole compass of 
creation not one jarring or discordant note was heard, 

even by the, perfect ear of God himself. The 

blessed angels of light began the universal chorus, 
when the morning stars sang together, and all the 
sons of God shouted for joy.' ^' He describes " the 
music of the spheres" — the part which the heavenly 
bodies performed in the concert— and descends through 
the animate creation, down to the meanest thing that 
hath life : 

" E'en the dumb fish that swam the flood, 
"Leaped up, and meant the praise of God." 

" Of this universal concert man was appointed the 
terrestrial leader, and was furnished with natural and 
moral powers, admirably fitted for this blessed and 
glorious employment. His body, exempt from dis- 
solution, disease, and decay, was like a perfect and 
well-strung instrument, which never gave forth a 
false or uncertain sound, but always answered, with 
exact precision, the wishes of his nobler part, the 
soul. His heart did not then belie his tongue, when 
he sung the praises of his Creator; but all the emo- 
tions felt by the one v/ere expressed by the other, 
from the high notes of ecstatic admiration, thankful- 
ness, and joy, down to the deep tones of the most 
profound veneration and humility. In a word, his 
heart was the throne of celestial love and harmony, 
and his tongue at once the organ of their will and the 
sceptre of their power. 

" We are told in ancient story, of a statue, formed 



l86 MEMOIR OF 

With such wonderful art, that, whenever it was visit- 
ed by the rays of the rising sun, it gave forth, in ho 
nor of that luminary, the most melodious and ravish- 
ing sounds. In like manner man was originally so 
constituted, by skill divine, that, whenever he con- 
templated the rays of wisdom, power, and goodness^ 
emanating from the great Sun of the moral system, 
the ardent emotions of his soul spontaneously bursl 
forth in the most pure and exalted strairfs of adoration 
and praise. Such was the world, such was man at 
the creation. Even in the eye of the Creator all was 
good 5 for, wherever he turned, he saw only his own 
image, and heard nothing but his own praises. Love 
beamed from every countenance ; harmony reigned 
in every breast, and flowed mellifluous from every 
tongue ; and the grand chorus of praise, begun by rap- 
tured seraphs round the throne, and heard from hea- 
ven to earth, was re-echoed back from earth to hea- 
ven ; and this blissful sound, loud as the archangel's 
trump, and sweet as the melody of his golden harp, 
rapidly spread, and was received from world to world, 
and floated in gently-undulating waves, even to the 
farthest bounds of creation." 

To this primeval harmony he exhibits the lamenta- 
ble contrast which followed, when sin " untuned the 
tongues of angels, and changed their blissful songs of 
praise into the groans of wretchedness, the execra- 
tions of malignity, the blasphemies of impiety, and 
the ravings of despair. Storms and tempests, earth- 
q[uakes and convulsions, fire from above and deluges 
from beneath, which destroyed the order of the natu- 
ral world, proved that its baleful infl.uence had reach- 
ed our earth, and afforded a faint emblem of the jars 



EDWARD PAYSON. 187 

md disorders which sin had introduced into the mo- 
ral system. Man's corporeal part, that lyre of a thou- 
sand strings, tuned by the finger of God himself, des- 
tined to last as long as the soul, and to be her instru- 
ment in offering up eternal praise, was, at one blow, 
shattered, unstrung, and almost irreparably ruined. 
His soul, all whose powers and faculties, like the 
chords of an ^olian harp, once harmoniously vibra- 
ted to every breath of the divine Spirit, and ever re- 
turned a sympathizing sound to the tones of kind- 
ness and love from a fellow-being, now became silent, 
and insensible to melody, or produced only the jarring 
and discordant notes of envy, malice, hatred, and re- 
venge. The mouth, filled with cursing and bitter- 
ness, was set against the heavens ; the tongue was 
inflamed with the fire of hell. Every voice, instead 
of uniting in the song of ' Glory to God in the highest,' 
was now at variance with the voices around it, and, 
m barbarous and dissonant strains, sung praise to it- 
self, or was employed in muttermg sullen murmurs 
against the Most High — in venting slanders against 
fellow-creatures — in celebrating and deifying some 
worthless idol, or in singing the triumphs of intem- 
perance, dissipation and excess. The noise of vio- 
lence and cruelty was heard mingled witli the boast- 
ing of the oppressor, and the cry of the oppressed, and 
the complaints of the wretched ; while the shouts of 
embattled hosts, the crash of arms, the brazen clangor 
of trumpets, the shrieks of the wounded, the groans of 
the dying, and all the horrid din of war, together with 
the wailings of those whom it had rendered widows 
and orphans, overwhelmed and drowned every sound 
of benevolence, praise, and love. Such is the jargon 



188 MEMOIR OF 

which sin has introduced — such the discord which, 
from every quarter of our globe, has long ascended up 
into the ears of the Lord of hosts." 

He next adverts to the mission of Jesus Christ, fol- 
iov^ed by the descent of the Holy Spirit, to restore 
harmony, when " those benevolent beings, who cele- 
brated the birth-day of creation, joined with tenfold 
transports in singing glory to God in the highest, that 
there was again on earth peace and good-w^ill to men, 
and that the vacancy which sin had occasioned among 
the choirs and armies of heaven would soon be filled 
by individuals selected from the human race, and 
taught to sing the song of the Lamb, by tlie mfluences 
of the Spirit of harmony himself. To teach mankind 
this sacred song, and thus prepare them to fill the 
places and perform the offices of those angels who 
kept not their first estate, is the great object of God 
in the preservation of the world, in its various revo- 
lutions, and in all the dispensations of his providence 
and grace ; while to learn it, comprises our duty here, 
as to sing it v\rill constitute our employment and hap- 
piness hereafter. This song, however, which St. 
John heard sung upon Mount Zion by the one hun- 
dred and forty and four thousand, can be taught by 
none but the Spirit of God." — He then urges the im- 
portance of piety in singers, especially such as lead 
in this part of worship, and enforces the duty of pa- 
rents to cultivate musical talents in their cliildrep 
a Were this duty duly performed, from proper mo 
ti.ves, w^e should soon see a sight which was perhapsi 
never seen on earth — a v/hole assembly employed in 
singing praise to God. But, as this pleasing sight is 
probably reserved for the celestial world, let the lead- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 186 

ers in this delightful part of religious worship remem- ' 
bor, that if holiness becomes God's house for ever — if 
it is required that those who bear the vessels of the 
Lord should be holy — much more is it required of 
those who are the mouth of his people in singing his 
praise." In a solemn application he carries his hear- 
ers forward to the time when " every tongue in the as- 
sembly will be employed in praising or blaspheming — 
every individual be an angel or a demon." 

There is a luxuriance in his style, at the time of 
writing this address, which was considerably chas- 
tened in later years. Taken as a whole, the perform 
ance, while it was in perfect unison with the occasion, 
was admirably adapted to promote the great object 
which was always uppermost in his mind, and may 
serve as a specimen of his talent for making every oc- 
casion speak with force to the consciences of men. 

Bodily infirmity continued still to cramp and repress 
his energies, and he had already " been assured by his 
physician that his complaints were mortal." 

" April 26. Was excessively weak, so that I could 
do nothing to any purpose. Longed to lay my feeble 
body in the grave, where the wicked cease from trou- 
bling, and the weary are at rest ; not that I was weary 
of God's service, if I could serve him with more 
strength and sincerity ; but my mind sunk under the 
weakness of my body." 

"Portland, May 11, 1809. 

" The Spirit seems still to accompany the word 

imong us, and the attention to religion is rather in- 
creasing. Several new^ instances of conviction have 
occurred lately, which now bid fair to be abiding, * * ^ 



190 MEMOIR OF 

" We have, this year, twenty tithingmen^ instead of 
ten last year, and none the year before ; and are in a 
fair way to have the town reformed, at least externally. 
Several of the most conspicuous leaders in the race of 
pleasure and fashion have lately become more serious, 
and we are hoping their example will be followed by 
others. The grand jury, also, begin to perform their 
duty, in shutting up tippling shops and bad houses. 
We are, therefore, encouraged to hope that God, by 
thus removing some of our external spots and pollu- 
tions, is preparing the way for an inward, real refor- 
mation. There seems, also, to be a hearing ear ; our 
meetings on the Sabbath are unusually crowded, and 
the church seems to be unusually humbled under a 
sense of their deficiencies. The state of my health 
still continues a clog upon me ; but it is a great mercy, 
and I cannot find it in my heart to pray for its re- 
moval." 

" June 5, 1809. 
" My dearest Mother, 

" You judged right with respect to my anxiety to 
hear from home ; for after the first of your letters, giv- 
ing an account of my father's illness, arrived, I could 
scarcely rest till the arrival of the other ; and had it 
not been for an approaching ordination, and some pro- 
mising appearances among my people, I should, ere 
this, have been at home. I must confess that I am 
surprised, as well as grieved, that father should per- 
sist in preaching, when it is so clearly and indispen- 
sably his duty to desist ; especially after the admoni- 
tions he has given me on that subject. He would see 
and allow, with respect to any other person in the 



EDWARD PAYSON. 193 

same situation, that it was wrong to preach. Perhaps 
my language may appear almost disrespectful ; but on 
this subject I am too nearly interested to use the cold 
Janguage of strict propriety. I cannot be silent ; ana 
?houid the consequences which I fear, result from his 
preaching, it would ever be with me a subject of bitter 
regret that I had not done all in my power to prevent 
it. He must desist. It is a duty which he owes him- 
self, his family, his people, and his God, to desist ; for 
preaching now will be his death ; and his family and 
people will repent too late, if they do not prevail upon 
him not to preach again until he is better. Mark my 
words — for I will have nothing to reproach myself 
with, be the consequences what they may. If I were 
at home, he should walk over my body before he could 
get into the pulpit. Excuse me, my dear mother, and 
plead with him to pardon my boldness ; but I am dis- 
tressed with the bare apprehension of what the con- 
sequence may be. 

" June 7. 
• " My health continues to mend, though slowly. I 
get over the fatigue of preaching much sooner than I 
did, and my food and sleep nourish and refresh me, 
which has not been the case till lately. The religious^ 
attention appears rather to increase than diminish ; but 
though it is pleasant to see inquirers, yet the constant 
anxiety which they occasion lest they should go back 
is exceedingly painful, and wears upon nature. I know 
it is wrong thus to take Christ's work out of his hands, 
and to perplex myself respecting events over which 1 
have no control ; but as yet I cannot wholly refrain, 
though the fault, like most other faults, carries its own 
punishment with it. I am at present, unless greatly 



192 MEMOIR or 

deceived, in the worst part of the Christian race. My 
people love me, but I cannot enjoy their kindness, lest^ 
instead of rendering me thankful, it should only feed 
pride. I can take no pleasure in any success that at- 
tends my labors, for similar reasons. I am surrounded 
with blessings more than I should have dared to hope 
for; but this accursed sin turns them all to poison and 
t)itterness. Were it not for this, how happy might I 
oe ! But, blessed be God, this shows me more and 
oaore clearly what an evil and bitter thing it is to for- 
sake the Lord of hosts." 

" Portland^ August 1, 1809. 
" My dear Sister, 

" My time is so much engrossed by parochial affairs^ 
that, till this moment, I have had no leisure to write, 
and must now steal time from other things which re- 
quire my attention. You can have no conception, un- 
less you were present, how my time is taken up. 
Every moment is mortgaged before it arrives, and not- 
withstanding all my exertions, the business seems to 
grow upon my hands; so that I am ready to sit down 
in despair and do nothing. If every day was as long as 
ten, there would be ample employment for every hour. 
I find scarcely any time to read or study, and am con- 
strained to go into the pulpit with discourses so undi- 
gested that my pride is continually mortified ; and 
though it lies groaning and bleeding under continual 
wounds, it will not be persuaded to give up the ghost. 
However, so long as God is pleased to carry on his 
work with such discourses, I have no right to com- 
plain or be discouraged ; since, the feebler the means, 
ihQ more he is glorified. And I hope that, some time 



E D WARD P XY SON. 1 9 o 

K Other, I shall learn to be willing to be counted a 
fool, that all the glory may redound to his wisdom. 
But this is a hard lesson to learn. To be willing to be 
nothing, to rejoice to be nothing, that God may be all 
in all ; to glory in infirmities, that the power of Christ 
may rest upon us — this is the temper which I pine and 
hunger after ; but, alas !' it appears at a distance so 
great, that I despair of ever reaching any where near 
it in tljis world. If we could put God entirely in the 
piace of self, consider his will as our will, his honor 
as our honor, his happiness as our happiness, his inte- 
rest as our interest, and pursue it accordingly, how 
happy should we be ! And how happy sha)I we be in 
that wo]dd where this will be tlie case, and where the 
very stump of that Dagon, self, will not be permitted 
to remain in our hearts, as the rival of our blessed Re- 
deemer I O, to be holy as God is holy — this is to be 
happy, accordmg to our measure, as God is happy. 
Strive then, my dear, dear sister, strive, wrestle, pray, 
long and pant after holiness. If I cannot hi" holy my- 
self, yet I long to see others holy. If I carvno*, love and 
praise the ever-blessed Redeemer, it is almost heaven 
sufficient to see him loved and praised by others. If 
we could render to him according to his benefits ! — but 
we cannot, we cannot ; we must be content to be, as 
it were, crushed to all eternity under an insupportable 
weight of goodness ; for even the disposition to praise 
him for favors already received, is a new favor, which 
still adds to the mighty debt 5 and the faster he ena- 
bles us to render back what we receive, so much the 
faster do our obligations increase. And yet, instead of 
praising him, we are constantly sinning. I hope«it is 
aot so bad with others, but, with respect to myself 

Payson. \^ 



iM MEMOIR OF 

there seems to be constant strife between him and me, 
whether I shall exceed in provoking, or he in pardon* 
mg j.whether I shall succeed in destroying myself by 
my own madness and folly against his will, or he suc- 
ceed in saving me in spite of myself. But in this strife 
he still conquers, and will conquer. I have done every 
thing to provoke him to leave me ; but he will not be 
provoked. He will still return to humble me, and 
shame me ; and I am ready to call on the rocks and 
mountains to fall on me, and hide me from the tender, 
expostulating, heart-breaking, soul-subduing glances 
of his eye, which fill me with such shame and confu- 
sion, that it seems as if I could more easily endure the 
lightnings of his indignation. Were all his people like 
me, and were justice done upon them, surely they 
would be sentenced to some hell more dreadful than 
that which is prepared for others. 

" We have still considerable attention to religion 
The number of inquirers is upwards of forty, ancJ 
many more are serious. We had hoped for hundreds, 
ere this ; but God keeps us waiting, and praying, an(3 
still gives a spirit of prayer." 

" Portland, Sept. 22, 1809. 

*My dearest Mother, 

" The attention to religion still continues. Las\ 
communion we admitted eleven to the church, and 
next Sabbath we shall admit twelve more. The ap 
petite for hearing seems insatiable, and our assem 
blies are more crowded than ever. Many have lately 
joined us. However, the Gospel proves a savor ol 
death unto death as well as of life unto life. Manv 



EDWARD PAY30N. I9fi 

seem to be awfully hardened, and many severe re- 
flections are cast upon religion and its professors. 

" After telling you that religion thus flouriskes 
among us, I am ashamed to complain ; for what rea- 
son of complaint can a minister have, while he sees 
the cause of Christ triumphant ? Nor do I complain 
of any thing except myself. Every earthly thing is 
imbittered to me, and the enjoyments of religion are 
kept far above my reach. I am overwhelmed by one 
wave of temptation after another. My bodily powers 
are kept in such a continual state of exhaustion, and 
my nerves are so weak, that mole-hills appear to be 
mountains, and I am ready to stumble at a straw ; and 
when imaginary evils disappear, I find real perplexi 
ties and difficulties, which weigh me down in the 
dust. I know, indeed, that all these things are ne 
cessary ; and when I am left in my own possession, 1 
would not wish to have my burthen lightened. At 
times, too, I am ' holpen with a little help ;' so that, 
though cast down, I am not utterly destroyed. But 
how desperate, how inconceivable must be the wick- 
edness of that heart which draws down such suffer- 
ings from the hand of the compassionate Savior, and 
requires such painful remedies to heal it." 

" Portland^ Nov. 1, 1809. 
^'My dear Sister, 

" It is no small disappointment to me, and I flatter 
myself that it will be some disappointment to you, 
that I am under the necessity of sending this inani- 
mate scroll to see and inquire after you, instead of 
coming myself, as I expected, and partly promised. 
But my health does not absolutely require a journey 



IV6 MExMOIR OF 

this season; and my engagements are such, thai 1 
know not how to be absent a single day. In the first 
place, the situation of the congregation requires my 
presence. The people still have a hearing ear, but 
there is more opposition, more attempts to mislead 
young converts, and turn aside inquirers, than for- 
merly ; and therefore I wish to be with them. Be- 
sides, the neighboring ministers are stirred up to more 
diligence and attention. They have lately adopted 
the custom of keeping days of fasting and prayer, and 
inviting in a number of preachers ; and I have some 
I'ngagements of this kind just now, which I am un- 
willing to leave. We have already had three days of 
this kind in three of the neighboring towns, and hope 
to extend it through the whole association. We are 
just establishing a Bible Society also, and this em- 
ploys considerable time at present ; so that, with these 
and other things which require attention, I am too 
much engaged to leave home ; and I trust you will 
not suspect my -affection diminishes, because I) at this 
time, prefer duty to pleasure. 

" My hopes respecting — increase. He 

tells his people some solemn truths ; and a lawyer 
from ******j who was formerly acquainted with him, 
say* he is spoilt, and that, though he used to be a 
good rational preacher, he is in a fair way to become 
an enthusiast. What a glorious instance of sovereign 
mercy it would be, should God bless that people with 
a faithful minister ! 

" The cause of evangelical religion is certainly 
gaining ground in this eastern country. Mr. J. of B. 
on whom the liberal party placed great reliance, has 
Jately come out full on the side of orthodoxy. Presi- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 191 

dent A. was thought to bs^ wavering, but he is now 
quite decided ; and if Mr. does not disap- 
point our hopes, I think the **** **** will lose all 
hopes of liberalizing the District of Maine. Violent 
and systematic attempts, however, are making here in 
opposition to truth. Pamphlets are circulated to prove 
that all the hard texts in the Bible refer to primitive 
times ; and the new Socinian translation of the New 
Testament threatens to produce mischief; but, while 
the enemy comes m as a flood, the Spirit of the Lord 
is lifting up a standard against him. Within two 
years five orthodox ministers have been settled, or are 
about settling in this association, which includes the 
county of Cumberland, and many others preach very 
different doctrine from what they formerly did." 

His afflictive melancholy had now become compa- 
ratively harmless ; for, though it did not cease to dis- 
tress him, its tyrannical power was broken, and it much 
less frequently impeded his mental efforts. There is 
one allusion, however, to this mode of its operation, 
which is peculiarly characteristic : — " Was employed 
in vain attempts to prepare for lecture. Did nothing 
all day but learn the old lesson over again, that with- 
out Christ I can do nothing. Were I not the dullest 
of all scholars, I might surely spare my heavenly Fa- 
ther the trouble of teaching me this lesson again." 

In his frequent seasons of illness, and his multiplied 
public engagements, he saw cause of danger that his 
private devotions would suffer interruption or abate- 
ment. To gua5:d against such an evil appears to have 
been one object of the following resolutions, which 
were adopted, or renewed, near the close of this 
7ear : 



198 



MEMOIR OF 



" 1. I will, on no pretence whatever, omit roa. 
ing the Scriptures, with prayer, morning and evening, 

"2. When practicable, I will spend one day in 
every week, in fasting and prayer. 

" 3. I will allow but six hours for sleep. 

"4. I will endeavor to redeem the time, by being 
diligent and fervent in business. 

" 5. I will live more to the glory of God than I have 
done. 

" 6. I will, every evening, review my conduct 
through the day, and see how far I have fuliiiled these 
resolutions." 

To the peculiar trials which distinguished this year, 
the merciful Redeemer provided an antidote in the 
spiritual blessings which he bestowed. Under the la- 
bors of his servant, sinners were converted, and the 
church was increased by an addition of forty-four 
members. 



CHAPTER XL 



Permanency and strength of maternal injliience — Correspond- 
ence — Beatli-hed anguish^ how alleviated — Disgraceful inci- 
dent — Price of popularity — Reasons of former P'ials deve- 
loped — Letters, d^c. 

The reader is not to infer that the subject of this nar- 
rative ceased to " give himself convmually unto pray- 
er," because the daily-recorded testimony of the fact, 
to which appeal has so oftei> been made, is less fre 



EDWARD PAYSON. 199 

quently introduced. This was an employment of 
vvliich he seems never to have grown weary, and 
which there are no indications that he ever relaxed. 
He " dwelt in the secret place of the Most High, and 
ahode under the shadow of the Almighty." His accu- 
mulated burden of 3ares and sorrows he every day 
brought with him to the throne of grace, and retired 
thence relieved from its pressure, or strengthened to 
sustain it. 

" Dec, 29. Was enabled to agonize in prayer for 
myself and people, and to make intercession with un- 
alterable groanings. My heart and flesh cried out for 
the living God. Felt very strong hope that God was 
ibout to work wonders among us." 

How well his mother understood his character — how 
sagacious she was in her aims at his heart, always suc- 
cessful in touching the chord that would be sure to vi- 
brate — in a word, how assiduous and valuable a com- 
forter she was — is apparent from his answers to her 
letters : 

" Portland, Feb, 3, 1810. 
'' My dear Mother, 

" I do 'bless Heaven' if I am made ' the joy of my 
parents' heart,' and esteem it one of the greatest mer- 
cies for which I have reason to be thankful. Just be- 
fore I received the letter which contained this consol- 
mg assurance, I was wondering what such a poor, 
miserable, worthless wretch was ever made for, and 

why I should be preserved n existence But, 

ifl can afford any joy to my parents, or to any one 
else, I think I am willing to live, let my trials be ever 
«;o great; and I bless God, and thank you for sending 



200 MEMOIR CTF 

me that letter just at the right time. It proved a very 
seasonable and refreshing cordial to a fainting spirit. 
But methinks I hear you ask — ' Why do you talk of 
fainting, when you have so much reason to rejoice 
and praise God for his goodness V I famt because J 
find no heart, in the midst of all his goodness, to praise 
him for it. I faint because, while I feed others, I am 
left to pine in hunger, and am parched with thirst. In 
proportion as my labors are blessed to others, my sor- 
rows and sins increase ; and, though I am assisted in 
keeping the vineyard of others, my own runs to waste. 
I cannot think that any one but a minister knows any 
thing of a minister's trials ; and I believe Paul had a 
peculiar reference to them when he said — ' If in this 
life only we have hope, we are of all men most mise- 
rable.' 

* * * * 

" The attention to religion continues among us, and 
has much increased within a few weeks. It seems to 
be spreading more among the men. There are some 
favorable appearances in the neighboring towns. Last 
week, and the week before, and this week, I have at- 
tended fasts, in different places, which have been ob- 
served with prayer for a revival of religion, and am 
engaged to attend another next week. 

" I preached yesterday on our Savior's words to hi?, 
disciples — * All power is given to me in heaven and 
in earth.' What an animating assurance to his peo- 
ple, when they have a strong faith to take hold of itI'V 

'^ Feb, 8. Was favored with great fervor and free- 
dom at the throne of grace this morning. Longed oiily 
to be employed as an instrument of glorifying Christ, 
a?id was willing to drink of his cup, and to be bap- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 201 

tizecl with .lis baptism, if I might have a double por- 
tion of his Spirit. In the afternoon and evening at- 
tended conferences, and was grievously disappointed 
to find no new inquirers." 

" April 17, 1810. 
" My dearest Mother, 

" I have just received your affectionate letter, and 
thank you naost sincerely for the maternal love which 
breathes in every line. God grant that I may be made 
worthy of all the proofs of parental affection with 
which I am mercifully favored. If I derive any plea- 
sure from the success with which our gracious Mas- 
ter is pleased to crown my labors in the ministry, it, 
in a great mea:sure, arises from the happiness which I 
know this success gives my friends at home. Next to 
glorifying God, by doing good to mankind, it is my 
chief desire to be made the means of promoting your 
happiness. 

" My situatibn is now as agreeable as I ever expect 
It will be on earth ; and I shall not be in a hurry to 
change it. I now hear none but religious conversa- 
tion ; every day seems like a Sabbath, and we have a 
little image of heaven upon earth. You will, I know, 
join with me in blessing our bounteous Benefactor foi 
this fresh instance of his goodness. 

"Irejoice, most sincerely rejoice with you, and es- 
pecially with my dear father, in the hopeful appear- 
ances which attend his labors. He has long been go- 
ing forth weeping, bearing precious seed. I hope he 
will now be enabled to come again rejoicing, bringing 
with him the sheaves of an abundant harvest, I still 



g02 MERIOIR OF 

feel exceedingly anxious respecting his liealth, bva 
must leave it with God. 

" My own health continues very much the same— 
rather better of late, if any different. I do not expecl 
it will be restored till the attention to religion ceases : 
for it does not answer for me to have too many bless- 
mgs at once. 

"We are still favored with the presence of thi 
Spirit of grace, though in a less degree than formerly 
Appearances, however, begin again to look more en- 
couraging. The young converts who have made a 
profession, with a very few exceptions, bid fair to do 
honor to the cause. Some of them, especially, advance 
very rapidly ; and the mouths of opposers, who seel; 
occasion to blaspheme, are stopped. The congrega- 
tion, and especially the church, continue affectionate 
as ever. In short, I am a wonder to myself, and car: 
scarcely believe what I daily see of the goodness of 
God. You will naturally conclude, hov^^ever, that in- 
ward trials will not be wanting where outward com- 
forts are so multiplied. I thought, long since, that I had 
endured every thing horrible and dreadful that wa? 
ever felt, heard of, or. conceived ; but I find that the 
depths of Satan, and of a heart desperately wicked, are 
not so easily fathomed. These unfathomable depths, 
however, only serve to show me more clearly the m- 
finite heights and depths of Christ's love ; and I know 
that he who delivered me out of the paw of the lion 
and the bear, will deliver me from every foe, however 
gigantic. It is but a moment, my mother, and we 
shall be singing the song of redeeming love together 
before the throne. Yes ; our salvation is nearer thar 
when we believed. Every moment it comes hasten- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 203 

ing orij and to-morrow it will be here. Yes ; to-mor- 
row we shall oe as the angels of God. O for patience 
to wait for the glory which will be revealed, and to 
endure the previous light afflictions, which continue 
byt for a moment I" 

The affectionate minister has joys peculiar to him- 
jelf, or rather, to his office ; and the same may be said 
of his trials. He is the father of his flock so far as 
the relation supposes a community of feeling in their 
fiappiness and misery. Inconsiderate transgressors 
know little of the anguish which they bring upon the 
pastor who Avarns and entreats them to seek " the good 
and right way ;'' and they undervalue his counsels 
and his prayers, till roused by some affecting provi- 
dence, or brought down to the very gate of death, and 
then there is nothing on earth which they so much 
covet. The case mentioned below is perhaps a marked 
one ; and yet what faithful minister could not name 
instances which form no distant parallels to this. 

" May 12. Was permitted to draw near to God 
with joy and confidence. O how astonishing is his 
goodness ! A little while since I thought it impossi- 
ble I should ever be delivered from the grasp of sin. 
But he has brought me up from the horrible pit and 
miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and put a new 
:?ong into my mouth, even j raise unto his name. Had 
scarcely fallen asleep when I was called up to visit a 
dying woman. Found her in all the agonies of de- 
spair ; and her dreadful shrieks pierced my very soul, 
and almost curdled my blood with horror. Prayed, in 
an agony of spirit, that God would snatch her as 3 
brand from the burning. After prayer she was mor€ 



^04 MEBIOIR OF 

quietj and sunk mto an imperfect sleep. Came awa> 
broken down with a load of anguish. 

''Alay 13. Sabbath. Rose languid, and exhausted 
m body and mind. The shrieks of the dying woman 
rang in my ears incessantly. Between meetings was 
called to visit her again. Found her composed and 
happy, rejoicing in the Lord, and apparently resigned 
to live or die. On examination found reason to believe 
that she was really reconciled to God, and yet could 
hardly believe it. Could scarcely look upon it as an 
answer to prayer, and still knew not how to avoid 
considering it as such. 

^' May 17. Was much enlivened to-day by hearing 
that a remarkable spirit of prayer was poured out last 
evening at meeting. Could not but hope that the 
Lord was about to take the work into his own hands. 
In the evening attended the conference for inquirers. 
Was still more encouraged by hearing that the Spirit 
was again remarkably present at a prayer-meeting oi 
the church this evening. Felt almost confident that 
the Lord was about to make bare his arm in a wonder- 
ful manner. Was so much animated and enlivened by 
this hope, that I could scarcely recover sufficient tran- 
quillity of mind to pray that my hopes might not be 
disappointed. 

" May 24. Was excessively feeble all day. In the 
afternoon and evening attended the conference for in- 
quirers, but found only one. Was at first discouraged, 
but afterwards reflected that it is God's method to bring 
IS lev before he raises us." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 205 

'' Friday eve^ June i5. 
" My dearest Mother, 

" I arrired here this afternoon after an agreeable 
ride, and found a house of mourning waiting for me. 
The young lady I mentioned died last Wednesday 
rnornmg. The grief of the family, and my own feel- 
ings, you can better conceive than I describe. The 
pious members, however, are Avonderfully supported, 
so that they are an astonishment to themselves. The 
funeral is to be to-morrow, having been delayed one 
day for my return. 

" Pray for me. — My friends at home are much en- 
deared to me by their kindness during my late visit. 
[ always feel vexed at myself, after coming away, that 
I did not say more on that subject, and seem more sen- 
sible of their goodness while I was with them. But, 
soniehow or other, it is contrary to my nature to tel] 
people how much I love and thank them." 

" Jidy 19, 1810. 

" Grief has a wonderful efficacy, as you ob 

serve, in softening the heart; and suffering binds us 
to fellow- sufferers ; so that I cannot tell what may be 
the event. 

'^ I have much new cause for gratitude smce I Ink 
home. The minister at , a smooth, liberal preach- 
er, has been long intemperate, and lately fell from liis 
horse into a slough, on his way to meeting. He was, 
on this, dismissed ; and, as he was not the first bad 
minister this people had been cursed with, they have 
contracted a strong prejudice against the clergy. 
They, however, wrote to me to come and preach fc$ 
the^u one Sabbath, if I could; and I accordingly went. 



206 MEMOIR OF 

I was treated with great kindness, had a very crowd- 
ed, attentive, and solemn assembly ; and from letters 
since received in town, it appears that not a few were 
deeply affected and convinced of sin. They are exceed 
ingly desirous that I should come again ; and unless 
they succeed in getting a candidate soon, I shall go 
They are determined to have none come who are not 
orthodox. If I had health and strength, I might apparent- 
ly do much good by thus preaching in different places." 

The youthful reader, especially if he be a candidate 
for the ministry, will do well to pause over the follow- 
ing instructive paragraph: 

'' As you suspect, popularity costs me dear ; and, did 
It not afford me the means of being more extensively 
useful, I should heartily pray to be delivered from it, 
as the 'greatest of all curses. Since the novelty has 
worn off, it affords me no pleasure ; and yet I am con 
tinuaily wishing for more, though it feeds nothing but 
pride. If we had no pride, I believe applause would 
give us no pleasure. But no one can conceive how 
dearly it is purchased ; what unspeakably dreadful 
temptations, buffetings, and v/orkings of depravity are 
necessary to counteract the pernicious effects of this 
poison. It is, indeed, the first and last prayer Avhicli I 
wish my friends to offer up for me, that I may be kept 
humble ; and if your too great and undeserved affec- 
tion for me will exert itself in this way — that is, in 
praying for me — it may preserve yciir gourd from the 
blast and the worm. 

" Mr. R. remains very much the same. His physi- 
cians give but faint hppes of his recovery. Why am 
not I cut down, and he spared? O, I am tired of re- 
reivino: innumerable mercies without ijratitude and 



EDWARD PA.YSON. 207 

of committing lun timer able sms without suitable sor- 
row, .... That word rest grows exceedingly sweet 
to me. O, ^ when shall I fly away, and be at rest V 

" The work still goes on. Dr. 's church tave, 

in some measure, caught the flame, and compelled 
their ministers, reluctantly, I believe, to set up confer- 
ences. They have said so much against evening meeU 
ings, that it is hard now to set them up. But they are 
obliged to do it ; and, to use the language of the world, 
the town is in danger of growing madder than ever." 

Henceforward the reader will revert to the dark 
shades in the history of this beloved man with more 
complacency, and cease to look even upon his seasons 
of heart-rending spiritual anguish as worse than blank 
portions of existence. He suffered not for himself 
alone ; the church of the Redeemer was indirectly, yet 
largely benefited by what he endured, and many of her 
members were, probably, prevented from making ship- 
wreck of faith, and sinking into irrecorerable despon- 
dency, in consequence of having fc^ a guide and coun- 
sellor one who had narrowly escaped a similar catas- 
trophe. The amount of suffering which his own men- 
tal agony was thus the occasion of preventing, will not 
be known till the great day. But, long before he ex- 
changed his armor for the victor's crown, he could ap- 
propriate the language of Paul — / now rejoice zn my 
sufferings for you^ and Jill up that which is behind 
of the afflictions of Christ in my fleshy for his body^s 
sake J which is the church. 

" Portland, Aug, 8, 1810. 
My dearest Sister, 
" I have nothing interesting to write, and my splits 



2CS MEMOIR OF 

are so complete y jaded and exhausted, that they wiU 
Dot bear the fatigue of invention. I cannot spiritualize, 
nor moralize, but must confine myself to dull sana- 
tion j^and, what is still worse, have nothing to narrate. 
I have, indeed, one piece of good news, though you 
have, probably, heard of it ere this. Mr. R. is better, 
and there are great hopes of his recovery. His com- 
plaints, I believe, are precisely similar to mine. 

" We go on here pretty much as usual. Satan is ex- 
tremely busy with Christians, and a large proportion 
of our church have been, and still are, exercised with 
the most dreadful and distressing temptations. I now 
understand the reason of my dreadful trials at Marl- 
borough. Had it not been for them I should have been 
still more unfit for my present situation than I am at 
present. Often should I be utterly at a loss what to 
say or think, had not a wise and gracious Master 
foreseen what I should need, and taken measures 
accordingly. 

^' He has been pleased, of late, to bless my endea- 
vors to comfort his tempted and distressed people with 
wonderful success. I often stand astonished at it my- 
self, and seem to look upon it as a greater honor and fa 
vor than even to be owned in the conversion of sinners. 
If I can be permitted to do this, I seem willing to stay 
and suffer every thing which he sees fit to lay upon me. 
But I tremble at what may be the consequence. Those 
who find my endeavors blessed to comfort them, of 
eourse, grow more and more affectionate ; and I feai 
lest they prove guilty of creature-idolatry, and thus pro- 
voke God to v/ither their gourd. I have warned them oi 
ihe danger of this in private, and have, at last, openly 
preached against it ; but God does not seem to bless it to 



EDWARD PAYSCN. W9 

their conviction, and I fear we shall both smart for it. 
He is a jealous God, and if his people put a servant in 
his place, wo be to the poor creature who is thus set 
up against him. Pray for me, therefore, and pray for 
my people. When I ask them to pray for me, they 
only smile, and reply, that I need not their prayers, 
[n short, we are all young here, and have little expe- 
rience ; and if God does not prevent, we shall rush 
mto all manner of extravagance. 

"Since I wrote last I have been to preach at a 
place near this, where they have been stupid almost 
to a proverb. But I hear now that prayer-meetings are 
established ; the minister is roused ; and many are ear- 
nestly inquiring what they shall do. 

" Another minister, who lives about miles from 

this, has lately rode into town, v/eek after week, to 
attend our lectures. He told his people, that, though 
he had to hire a horse, yet he was always amply re- 
paid. He has been very lax, but a great alteration 
has taken place in his preaching and conduct, and 
there is considerable attention excited among his 

people. 

" After all this, you will not wonder to hear that I 
am borne down with heavy burdens; pressed out of 
strength above measure, so as, at times, to despair 
even of life. All this is necessary, absolutely neces- 
sary, and I desire to consider it as a mercy ; but it is 
hard very hard to bear. If any one asks to be made 
a successful minister, he knows not what he asks ; 
and it becomes him to consider whether he can drink 
deeply of Christ's bitter cup, and be baptized with his 
baptism. If we could learn, indeed, to give all the 
^lory to God, and keep only th^ sin and imperfections 



810 MEMOIR OF 

to ourselves, we might be spared these trials. And 
one would think this easy enough. One would think, 
that Jonah could hardly be proud of his success among 
the Ninevites ; and we have, if possible, less reason to 
be proud than he. But pride will live and thrive 
without reason, and in despite of every reason to the 
contrary." 

" Portland, Sept. 20, 1810. 
" My dear Sister, 

" I thank you most sincerely for your letter, which 
I have just received ; but I do not thank you at all for 
the reason which you assign for not writing more fre- 
quently. It seems, forsooth, that I am so w^onderfully 
wise and good that you dare not write me. My dear 
sister, this is little better than downright mockery — 
not that I suspect you of a design to mock me, but 
your commendations, however sincere, are cutting, 
and I beg of you to wound me no more with them. 
Go and congratulate a wretch on the rack upon the 
happiness which he enjoys ; tell a beggar of his riches, 
an illiterate peasant of his learning, or a deformed 
cripple of his strength and beauty ; but mock not a 
vile, stupid sinner, ready to sink under an almost in- 
supportable w'eight of guilt and iniquity, with com- 
mendations of his goodness, or a blind, ignorant crea- 
ture with compliments upon his wisdom and know- 
ledge. You are ready, perhaps, to look upon my situ- 
ation as enviable ; but if you knew what I suffer in ? 
single day, you would fall down on your knees and 
bless God that you are not a minister. Not that I con- 
sider it as a small favor to be placed in this sacred of- 
fice, and honored with some degree of acceptance and 



RDWARD Pi. VSOJN. 211 

success. I know it is a post which an angel might 
envy, and I can never, to all eternity, praise God suf- 
ficiently for putting me into it, and supporting me un- 
der the pressure of its duties. I would not part with the 
privilege of preaching Christ crucified to perishing sin- 
ners, and of administering to the consolation of God's 
afflicted people, to be made monarch of the world. But 
O the agonies, the unutterable, the inconceivable ago- 
nies which must be endured by those who attempt, with 
such a heart as mine, to perform this work ! I shud- 
der with horror to think of the scenes through which 1 
have been obliged to pass, and shrink back from those 
through which I must yet pass before I reach the 
rest prepared for the people of God. It is, however, 
some comfort, that the time when I shall quit this 
scene of trial cannot be far distant. Nature cannot 
long hold out under what I endure ; and I trust that, 
ere many years, I shall be safe in the grave, where the 
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. 
If, meanwhile, I may be preserved from insanity, and 
from wounding the cause of Christ by falling into 
open wickedness, it is perhaps more than I have any 
reason to expect. It is a dreadful thought, that no 
Christian on earth, however holy, humble, and watch- 
ful he may at present be, has any security against fall- 
ing into open sin before he dies. As to resolving that 
he will not thus fall, it avails nothing. As well might a 
stene resolve not to fall when the power which upheld 
it is removed. You will perhaps say, We may hope 
that God will uphold us for the sake of his cause. So 
David might have hoped. It seemed very important 
that he should be preserved — and yet how he fell! 
And what reason, then, have I to hope that I shall not 



'^12 MEMOIR OF 

fall? And if I should, it would injure the cause ol 
religion infinitely more than all my labors will ever 
ddvance it." 

The following letter is without date, but cannot be 
materially out of its place : 

•^ My health remains much the same. I have en- 
joyed more in religion since my last journey to Rindge 
than during my whole ministry before. My distress- 
ing exercises have vanished — I sometimes hope, never 
to return ; and my thoughts are so unusually drawn 
upward, that I cannot avoid concluding that my stay 
on earth is to be but short. My church are, many ol 
them, of the same opinion. They tell me they are cer- 
tain that I shall not continue with them long. Some- 
times I am tempted to wish that my expectations may 
soon be realized. At others, I wish to stay a little 
longer, and tell sinners what a precious Savior Jesus 
is. But the Lord's will be done. Welcome life, wel- 
come death, welcome any thing from his hand. The 
vvorld — O what a bubble — what a trifle it is ! Friends 
are nothing, fame is nothing, health is nothing, life is 
nothing ; Jesus, Jesus is all ! O what will it be to 
spend an eternity in seeing and praising Jesus ! to see 
him as he is, to be satisfied with his likeness ! O, I 
long, I pant, I faint with desire to be singing. Worthy 
is the Lamb — to be extolling the riches of sovereign 
grace — to be casting the crown at the feet of Christ ! 
And why may we not do all this on earth ? My dear- 
est sister, we may do it, if it is not our own fault. 
Pause a moment, and try to conceive how they feel, 
and what they are this moment doing m heaven. 
Pause aiu^ rtPent till you hear their songs, and feej 



EDWARD PAYSON. 213 

your heart glow with their love. Then shout aloud, 
' Worthy is the Lamb ; for thou wast slain, and hast 
redeemed me by thy blood. Worthy is the Lamb, who 
was slain, to receive glory, and blessing, and honor 
and power !' But I must desist. 

'' Remember me most affectionately to our dear pa- 
rents ; and I hope that they and you are willing that 
I should go to heaven first." 

''Portland, Dec, 10, 1810. 
" My dearest Mother, 

" Since my return it has pleased my adorable Sa- 
vior, in his sovereign mercy, to give me clearer and 
more transporting views of himself than I have ever 
before enjoyed ; and I have no leisure or thoughts to 
bestow on any thing else. He has brought me up out 
of the horrible pit, where I have so long been sinking, 
and put a new song in my mouth ; and O that all crea- 
tion would join with me in singing his praises ! I have 
sometimes heard of spells and charms to excite iQj'e, 
and have wished for them, when a boy, that I might 
cause others to love me. But how much more do I 
now wish for some charm which should lead men to 
love the Savior ! What would I not give for the power 
to make sinners love him — for the faculty of describ- 
ing his beauties and glories in such a manner as to 
excite warmer affections towards him in the hearts of 
Christians ! Could I paint a true likeness of him, 
me thinks I should rejoice to hold it up to the view 
and admiration of all creation, and be hid behind it 
for ever. It would be heaven enough to hear him 
praised and adored, though no one should know or 
eare about insignificant me. But I cannot paint him; 



214 MEMOIR OF 

I cannot describe him; I cannot make others lo^e hiin 
nay, I cannot love him a thousandth part so much a? 
I ought myself. I faint, I sink under the weight of 
infinite, insupportable obligations. O for an angel's 
tongue ! — O for the tongues of ten thousand angels to 
sound his praises ! I would fam do something foi 
him, but I can do nothing. I cannot even attempt to 
do any thing without his grace ; and the more I am 
enabled to do in his service, so much the more is the 
load of obligation increased. O that God, who alone 
is able, would glorify his Son ! This, at present, is 
all my salvation, and all my desire, that Christ may be 
glorified. For this reason I long and pray for a revival. 
I long that the blessed Jesus should receive some 
more suitable returns for his wondrous love to our ruin- 
ed race. We are hoping that this will be the cas^e here 
I hope the church begin to awake and pray more ear- 
nestly than ever, and that we shall yet see hundreds 
here praising the ever-blessed Redeemer. It seems 
of no consequence what becomes of me. It seems of 
no consequence what becomes of sinners, compara- 
tively speaking. But O, it is of infinite consequence 
that Christ should be glorified. My dearest mother,* 
do strive to love him more than ever. Do strive to 
make others xove him. O, if it was not for a hope of 
doing something for his glory, ho^'" could we be con 
tent to live a single hour absent rom his presence 
above ! 

"1 shall not wonder if you think me mad. I hav 
been mad, and am just beginning to see my madness 
O how little zeal, how little love have I manifested 
How madly have I misimproved my time and talents 
sow wretchedly neglected the all-important work t 



EDWARD PAV'SON. 215 

/7hich I am called ! how ungrateful.^ requited the 
oest of Saviors ! How often have I called his love 
and faithfulness in question, at the very time he was 
taking the best possible measures to promote my hap- 
piness ! Now he returns to humble me, and shame me 
for my felly and ingratitude. O, I know not how to 
bear tliis astonishing, overwhelming goodness! Me- 
thinks I could bear his anger — but his love cuts me 
to the heart. O that I may be dumb, and not open 
my mouth any more, since he is pacified towards me 
for all that I have done ! O that, for the remainder of 
life, I could hear of nothing, think of nothing, speak 
of nothing but the wonders of his person, his charac- 
ter, and redeeming love ! But, unless he prevents it, 
I shall wander again, and act over, not only once, but 
often, all my past sins. It seems now infinitely bet- 
ter to die, than to be guilty of this ; but he knows, and 
will do what is best." 

" Dec. 16. Sabbath. This day completes three 
years since my ordination. What a miserable, un- 
profitable servant have I been ! In the afternoon 
preached with much difficulty, from Ezekiel, 33 : 7-9. 
Was much affected, and my hearers appeared scarcely 
less so. Came home excessively fatigued, but re- 
joicing in God." 

This year farty-two souls were gathered into the 

2hOTch. 



216 MfiMom OP 



CHAPTER XII. 



Holy aspirations — Gratitude to the Savior — Multiplied labors 
— Novel family scene — Danger averted — '' Curious frame^' 
— Flattery deprecated — His marriage —Becomes sole pasto? 
of the church — Retrospect of the year, 

" Dec. 17, 1810. I now commence the fourth year 
of my ministry. Whether I shall live to finish it God 
only knows. O that it may be spent to better purpose 
than those which are passed ! 

" Dec. 29. Felt the blessed effects of casting ail my 
cares upon Him who careth for me. In family pray- 
er was most unusually drawn out towards God, and 
felt as much like an inhabitant of heaven as I evei 
expect to feel here. All earthly objects were swal- 
lowed up ; self appeared to be nothing, and God to be 
all in all. Felt as if my time on earth would be short. 
I was in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to de- 
part and be with Christ, and yet wishing to stay, that 
I might tell others what a precious Savior he is. But 
the Lord's, will be done. Welcome any thing which 
he pleases to send. 

" Dec. 31. Spent the day in visiting. In the even- 
ing met a number of Christian friends, and had a 
sweet season in conversing upon heaven. Our hearts 
seemed to burn within us, and it was a little foretaste 
of heaven !" 

These quotations furnish pretty fair specimens oi 
uis religious feelings for several months, exc pting 



EDWARD PAYSON. 217 

those intervals when he was greatly reduced and dis- 
heartened by sickness. On emerging from the dark 
ness of such a season, he writes : 

^^ Jan. lOj 1811. This morning God was pleased 
to return and lift me out of the dust. The great com- 
forts with which I was favored some time since, ren- 
deied me.proud and I needed a season of darkness 
to numble me. Had much freedom and some bro- 
kenness of heart this morning in secret and family 
prayer, and some ability to plead with God not to for- 
sake us. O how sovereign and free is his grace !" 

Under the same date he writes to his mother : 

" Last Sabbath was communion with us. I preached 
from Zech. 3 : 2 — Is not this a brand plucked out oj 
the fire? What a just and striking description of 
every redeemed sinner ! and what a glorious idea does 
it afford us of the work of redemption ! To snatch a 
smoking brand from eternal burnings, and plant it 
among the stars in the firmament of heaven, there to 
shine like the sun for ever — O what a glorious work 
is this ! a work worthy of God ! a work which none 
but God could perform. Such a brand am I — a brand 
yet smoking with the half-extinguished fires of sin ; a 
brand scorched and blackened by the flames of hell. 
What then do I owe to Him who entered the furnace 
of divine wrath that he might bring me out ! who spread 
himself over me as a shield from that fiery storm which 
would have set me forth an example, like Sodom, suf- 
fering the vengeance of eternal fire. 

" I have no heart to speak or write about any thing 
but Jesus ; and yet I have little patience to write about 
him in our miserably defective language. O for a lan- 
guage suitable to speak his nraises, and describe his 



818 MEMOIR OP 

glory and beauty ! But they cannot be described — they 
cannot be conceived; for 'no man knoweth the Son 
but the Father.' What a Avonderful idea does that text 
give us of the Son ! Saints in heaven do not know him 
perfectly ; even the angels do not. None but the Father 
is able to comprehend all his excellence. Yet various, 
great, unsearchable, infinite, as are all his excellences, 
they are all ours ; our Savior, our Head, ' our flesh 
and our bone.' . O, v^onder ! — how passing wonder is 
this! Methinks, if I could borrow, for a moment, the 
archangel's trump, and make heaven, earth and hell 
resound with ' Worthy is the Lamb that was slain !' I 
could contentedly drop into nothing. But no — I should 
wish to live, and make them -resound with his name 
through eternity. What a transporting thought — to 
spend an eternity in exalting God and the Lamb ; in 
beholding their glory, and hearing them extolled by all 
creatures ! — this is heaven indeed. To be swallowed 
up and lost in God ; to have our spirits embraced, wrap- 
ped up in his all-infoldmg Spirit; to forget otirselves, 
and -think only of him ; to lose, in a manner, our own 
separate existence, and exist' only in him; to have his 
glory all in all to us ; this is, indeed, a far more exceed- 
ing and eternal weight of glory." 

About a month later, he gives this account of their 
spiritual prospects : — " Our hopes of increasing atten- 
tion begin to revive again. Some recent instances of 
conviction have taKen place, and we have about thirty 
very serious inquirers. The church, too, are more 
roused, and we have as yet had no scandals among us 
for the world to take hold of. I cannot but hope that 
God designs to raise up a church here which will 
sbine bright, and be like a city set on a hill. Satan 



EDWARD PAYSON. 219 

taffets them sorely ; but the more he buffets them, the 
faster they grow. I hope yet, if God pleases, to see 

• seated with us at the communion-table. It 

would, I doubt not, rejoice your very heart." 

Some idea of the variety and amount of his labors 
may be collected from a single sentence, which is in- 
cidentally introduced into a letter dated February 17 • 
' I preach, or do what is, at least, as laborious, six 
nights in a week, besides talking incessantly a con- 
siderable part of every day." It is not improbable that 
to his private intercourse, not less than his public ad- 
dresses, the rapid prosperity of religion is to be as- 
cribed. His inventive genius seemed to delight in find- 
ing out as many v/ays as possible by which a reli- 
gious influence might be brought to bear upon those 
to whom he had access. Take the following domestic 
scene as an illustration : it is unquestionably the off- 
spring of his own pious ingenuity ; for it bears as infal- 
lible marks of its parentage as the description of it 
does of his pen : 

" I will give you a little sketch of our family 

way of living, that you may adopt it if you please. In 
ihe first place, we have agreed, that, if either of us says 
a word which tends in the least to the discredit of any 
person, the rest shall admonish the offender ; and this 
has entirely banished evil-speaking from among us. In 
the next place we are careful, especially in the early 
part of the day, as at breakfast, to converse on nothing 
which is inconsistent with maintaining a prayerful 
frame. Christians, I believe, generally think they do 
pretty well if they pray twice a day ; but I see not why 
we are not just as much commanded to pray without 



22C MEMOIR OF 

ceasingj as to pray at all. We sometimes, however, al- 
low our mmds a little relaxation at dmner, by con- 
versing on other subjects than those which are strictly 
religious. At the beginning of evening, before the can- 
dles are brought in, if I am at home, which is not very 
often the case, we all sit down, and take a little toui 
up to heaven, and see what they are doing there. We 
try to figure to ourselves how they feel, and how we 
shall feel, and what we shall do ; and often, while we 
are trying to imagine how they feel, our own feelings 
become more heavenly ; and sometimes God is pleased 
to open to us a door in heaven, so that we get a glimpse 
of what is transacting there — and this fills us so full 
of impatience, that we can scarcely wait till death 
comes to carry us home. If we cannot get together be- 
fore tea for this purpose, we take a little time after 
prayers, before separating for the night ; and I assure 
you it forms an excellent preparative for sweet sleep 
But enough of this at present j if you like it, I will teL 
vou more by and by." 

" Feb. 1811. 

" We have been in great danger from fire. It 

was truly of the Lord's mercies, that we were not 
consumed, with a considerable part of the town. 
Just as the water began to fail, and all hopes were 
over, the fire abated. I was so much fatigued by 
over exertion in removing our things, that I was mi- 
serably unwejl for a fortnight, but am now recovered. 
Some acknowledge the goodness of God in sparing 
the town ; but others are dreadfully hardened. One 
poor creature, as soon as the fire was extinguished^ 
«ried out, ' Well, we have got it out, but no thanks 



EDWARD PAYSON. 221 

lo Payson, nor God neither.' Another, after meet- 
ng, the ensuing Sabbath, observed, that he ' did not 
like this giving all the glory to God ; but that man 
ought to have at least some part of the glory of put- 
ting out the fire.' This is, indeed, the natural lan- 
guage of every heart, but few like to express it so 
openly. 

" I fear that religion is on the decline among us 
There is still, however, considerable attention, and 
we have had a few remarkable instances of conver- 



'' March 1. Had a most violent headache, and was 
almost distracted ; yet was obliged to preach in the 
evening. Found many more present than I expected, 
and was unusually assisted, and the people were very 
solemn. Most gladly will I glory iYi my infirmities, 
that the power of Christ may rest upon me ; for when 
I am weak, then am I strong." 

" Portland, March 25, ISll. 
''My Dear Mother, 

"Satan rages most violently agamst Christ^s 

sheep, and I am almost constantly employed in trying 
to counsel and comfort them under their manifold 
temptations. However, the more he rages, the faster 
they grow ; though I have had serious fears respecting 
some of them, that they would lose life, or reason, or 
both I now find why my gracious Master has suffer- 
ed me to be so grievously tormented in times past. 
How miserably qualified should I otherwise have been 
to speaJc a word in season to them that are weary ! — 
Still T, I, T ! nothinor but Ps — seven in half a iisgt 



222 MEMOIR OF 

Well, 1 don't care — I am writing to my mother^ and 
I know she loves to hear about /; so I will proceed, 
and tell her about a half-sleeping, half-waking dream 
I had the other morning. If it does her as much good 
as it did me, it won't be paper lost. 

" After a curious kind of frame in sleep, I waked 
myself up with exclaiming — ' Lord, why is it that thou 
art never weary of heaping favors on ungrateful, per- 
verse, stubborn wretches, who render thee only evil 
for good V In a moment he seemed to reply as pow- 
erfully as if he had spoken with an audible voice — 
' Because I am never weary of gratifying my dear 
Son, and showing the greatness of my love to him. 
Till I am weary of him, and cease to love him, I shall 
never be weary of heaping favors on his friends, how- 
ever unworthy.'— These words, it is true, contain no- 
thing more than an obvious truth ; but they conveyed 
more to my mind than all the books I ever read. If 
you meditate upon them, perhaps they may convey 
something to yours. What strong confidence are they' 
suited to inspire, if we realize their full import ! How 
will they encourage us to ask and expect great things, 
notwithstanding our inexpressible unworthiness ! Ne- 
ver before did the scheme of redemption, and the great 
mystery of God manifest in the flesh, appear so great 
and glorious. While meditating upon it, I was won- 
derfully struck with a reason which never occurred to 
me before, why God permitted Adam to fall. Had he 
stood, all his posterity would have been happy. He 
would, therefore, in one sense, have been their Sa- 
vior; and while they were enjoying the happiness of 
heaven, they Avould have exclaimed, ' For all this we 
are indebted to our first parent.' This would have 



EDWARD J^AYSOiN. 223 

been too great an honor for any finite being. It would 
have tempted Adam to pride, and us to idolatry. The 
honor, therefore, was reserved for God's own Son, the 
second Adam. But perhaps this has occurred to you 
before ; so I will not enlarge. 

" Mr. R. is still in miserable health. He will take 
a journey in the spring. If that does not help him, 
we shall think him irrecoverable. I fear he is too 
good to stay long on earfh. 

* + * * 

" You must not, certainly, my deai mother, say one 
word which even looks like an intimation that you 
think me advancing in grace. I cannot bear it. Eve- 
ry body here, whether friends or enemies, are con- 
spiring to ruin me. Satan and my own heart, of 
course, will lend a hand ; and if you join too, I fear 
all the cold water which Christ can throw upon my 
pride will not prevent it from breaking out into a de- 
structive flame. As certainly as any body flatters and 
caresses me, my Father has to whip me for it ; and an 
^ unspeakable mercy it is that he condescends to do it. 
I can, it is true, easily muster a hundred good reasons 
why I should not be proud ; but pride won't mind rea- 
son, nor any thing else but a good drubbing. Even at 
this moment I feel it tingling in my fingers' ends, and 
seeking to guide my pen." 

-' April 4. Spent the forenoon in writing. In iha 
afternoon attended the inquiry meeting, and was re- 
freshed by seeing a number of new inquirers. The 
Spirit of God seemed to be present. In the evening 
attended another, and found one who had obtaine^d 



224 MEMOIR OF 

comfort. Came home exceedingly fatigued, but rc^ 
joicing in God. 

" April 5. Had some sense of my own weakness, 
and some longing desires that God would meet with 
us. Had a most solemn, joyful, and refreshing sea- 
son, and trust it was highly profitable to the church, 
but was myself exceedingly overcome. 

" April 6. Was exceedingly happy all day. En- 
joyed the peace of God, which passeth understanding. 

" April 8. Miserably weak, both in body and mind, 
and exceedingly wretched most of the day. The light 
of my soul was withdrawn from me. O what a mi- 
serable wretch am I when Christ is absent ! It is, 
however, necessary that he should sometimes with- 
draw ; and I was enabled to realize that it was love 
which induced him to hide his face, and I submitted 
to it without one murmuring thought." 

On the eighth of May Mr. Payson was married to 
Ann Louisa Shipman, of New Haven, Connecticut , 
a woman of kindred piety, and whose energy and firm 
ness of character, connected with other estimable ac- 
complishments, proved his best earthly support, and 
an abiding check upon his constitutional tendency to 
depression. Female affection and ingenuity could not 
have been better directed, or more signally honored 
and rewarded. In the acquisition of such a " help 
meet," he justly considered himself as " having ob- 
tained favor of the Lord." 

The fact that the peace and welfare of so many, as 
well as his own usefulness, are materially affected by 
t'le character of a pastor's wife, deserves the consi- 
d gration of all who are still in a situation to profit by 
\i A chapter might be compiled from Mr. Payson\s 



EDWARD PAYSON. 225 

letters, wliich would be of great use to the clerical can- 
didate for wedlock, who was anxious to know the best 
method of conducting the preliminary intercourse : 
but the favored object of his conjugal attachment still 
survives, and her right to the early avowals and pre- 
cious testimonials of his faithful love is sole and ex- 
clusive. Still, an instructive exhibition of his views 
and of his practice may be made, without any indeli- 
cate infringement of this right. 

He wholly avoided those " entangling alliances," in 
early youth, which have doomed many a man either 
to take to his bosom one whom, though once his equal, 
he had so far outstripped in the career of mental im- 
provement as to produce a most mortifying disparity, 
and preclude the hope of ever finding in his wife a 
companion fitted for rational intercourse ; or else to 
desert the confi.ding female whose affections he had 
gained — an alternative too base for an honorable- 
minded man to adopt. Mr. Payson's circumspection 
is the more remarkable, when his ardent temperament 
is considered ; and yet, as early as 1805, the following 
sober views are expressed in a letter to his sister : 

" When I was at home I thought you appeared ra- 
ther apprehensive that I should form some connection, 
which, to say the least, would be no help to my reli- 
gious pursuits. But you may lay aside this fear. I 
have seen so much of my own proneness to turn aside, 
that it is, and I hope ever will be my resolution, not 
to fetter myself with any voluntary inducements to 
stray. Besides, I think no precept in the Bible is 
plainer than that which forbias us to yoke together 
with unbelievers. However, I think it probable enough 
that this resolution may be the occasion of my conti- 

Payson. J 5 



226 MEMOIR OF 

nuing unmarried ; but I am not at all anxious about ix.'^ 
Aoout the time of his forming an acquaintance wuh 
Mrs. P. he thus wrote to his mother, whom, like a 
dutiful son, he had previously consulted : 

" Exeter^ Wednesday evening. 
"My dearest Mother, 

" As I know the deep interest you take in every 
thing which concerns your son, I will go no farther be- 
fore I inform you of the result of the business on which 
we conversed while I was at home. I cannot, indeed, 
go into particulars ; but it may be some gratification 
to you to know, that the business is concluded on, 
and nothing remains but ^:s. the wedding day. On this 
point alone we differed. * * * 

" And now, my dearest mother, you must permit me 
to exult over you a little. When I used to talk of 
getting a wife without losing any time about it, you 
laughed at the idea, and thought it preposterous, im- 
practicable, and absurd. But you see, that, without 
going a mile purposely out of my way, or losmg a 
single hour, I have found, or rather Providence ha§ 
found for me, a person who bids fairer to render me 
happy than any other woman I have seen. It is true, 
many things may yet intervene to prevent the con- 
templated connection ; but, humanly speaking, it will 
take place. And if it does not, I trust that I shaJl 
be resigned, and feel satisfied that it is for the best. 
* * * At present, God seems to have made my way 
prosperous ; and I am more than ever persuaded that 
the best way to succeed in any of our temporal con 
cerns is to cast them upon him — have nothing to do 
with them — and devote our?elves entirely to the a^^ 



EDWARD PAYSCN. 227 

rancement of his cause. True, he only can excite ua 
to adopt this course ; but when he does, it is an almost 
infallible symptom of success." * 

His mother must have held a pen of lare and vari- 
ous powers — as piquant in satire as it was judicious in 
counsel and soothing m consolation. She might have 
thought him affectedly singular in his notions of ma- 
trimony, and directed her strokes accordingly. At any 
rate, he is seen smarting under her castigation, in the 
following letter, which, by the way, is a very serious 
one, and discloses a heart alive to the danger of being 
diverted, by creature attachments, from the Lord of his 
affections : 

" I am sorry you are never pleased with me 

when I write on a certain subject. I fear this letter 
will appear as little pleasing as any of its predeces- 
sors. Since I wrote last, I have made another visit to 

A^ . Circumstances, which I could not foresee, ren 

dered it indispensably necessary. I took care not to be 
absent either on a Sabbath or lecture day ; yet I felt 
very guilty m appropriating so much of my Master's 
time to my own use. A voice seemed continually 
sounding in my ears — ' What dost thou here, Elijah V 
Had it not been for this, I verily believe Louisa and I 
should have taken a trip to Rindge. * * * But the 
idea of forming new ties to bind myself to the world, 
IS dreadful. I thought, at the time, that I sincerely 
sought divine direction ; but I have since been afraid 
LiBt I did not. However, I know that the Lord reigns, 
Hnd that he will take care of his glory ; and this is 
enough for me. As to my happiness here, it is no- 
tlimg. I neither expect any happiness, nor wish foi 
any, separate from that which arises from serving and 



228 MEMOIR OF 

enjoying God. It is but a day, an hour, a moment, and 
all will be over. 

" But, my dearest mother, how could you write 

as you did respecting the views and feelings v/hich 
my letter expressed? It was cruel to banter me so; at 
least, if any other person, of as long standing in reli- 
gion as you, had written in such a manner, I should 
have been sure she was bantering me, and ridiculing 
my weakness. I shall be afraid to express my feelings 
again ; and, indeed, I did not intend to do it then, but 
they ran away with me before I was aware. You talk 
of my heights and depths — Yes, I am deep, indeed, in 
guilt, and my iniquities are high as the heavens. These 
are all the heights and depths of which I know any 
thing. Compared with old Christians, I am but a babe 
of yesterday; and joys, which to them would appear 
things of course, are sufficient to make my weak head 
run round. It was for this reason I thought my letter 
must appear a foolish rhapsody. Butl will not say 
another word on the subject, lest you should suppose 
I am aping humility." 

The considerations by which he defended, himself 
against the fear of possible disappointment, which some 
communication of his cautious parent was adapted 
to excite, are striking and full of interest. To esti- 
mate aright his indifference as to the developments 
of the future, it should be remembered that ihe negotia- 
tion had already proceeded too far to render an honor- 
able retreat optional with him. The pledge " for bet- 
ter or for worse " had been virtually interchanged ; and 
the result, whether fruition or disappointment, he was 
determined should subserve his spiritual welfare : 



edward payson. 229 

" My dearest Mother, 

" I am very sorry you think me so heterodox 

111 my notions respecting matrimony ; but I cannot al- 
ter them. * * * Have I not the best possible se- 
curity that all things shall work together for my good 1 
I shall certainly have a good wife, and be very happy 
with her, if God sees best ; but if he sees a bad wife is 
a necessary trial for me, who am I, that I should object 7 
I should certainly feel very easy about my present wel- 
fare, did it depend entirely on your good wishes to ren- 
der me happy. How much more reason, then, have I 
to be easy, since it depends on my Father and Savior ! 
If I wanted just such a world as this for my own pri- 
vate accommodation, methinks I could go and ask it 
of my Savior, just as freely as I would ask him for a 
straw. He who refused not his own blood, surely 
would not refuse me* such a trifle as a world, which 
he could make with a word, if he saw that it was real- 
ly necessary to my happiness. Why, then, should I 
feel the least possible anxiety about a wife ? or waste 
my Master's time in seeking one ?" 

A few short extracts will be sufficient to show the 
lature and manner of his intercourse with the friend 
to whom he was affianced : 

-" After all, we shall be just as much to each 

other as our Maker pleases. He can, and I trust will, 
render us as happy as it is best we should be in this 
life, and make us a blessing to each other. With his 
permission, I purpose to observe Friday, Dec. 7th, as a 
day of prayer for his blessing upon our union, should 
he permit it to take place. I trust your prayers will 
as'3end with mine. 



230 MEMOIR OP 

* * * * 

" I was delighted with what you wrote respecting 
our precious and adorable Savior. You cannot find a 
quicker and surer way to my heart, than by praising 
and loving him. * * * He is worthy, he is preciou? 
indeed. To the power, the majesty, the glory of God, 
he unites the gentleness, the tenderness, the sympa- 
thy of a friend and brother. This is just such a Sa- 
vior as we need. 

* * * * 

" I arrived last evening much fatigued. My joui- 
ney, though quickly performed, was not unattended 
with danger. Owing to the weakness of the harness 
or the carelessness of the driver, the horses ran away 
with us no less than three times, and were stopped 
only for want of power to proceed. For some minutes 
we expected every instant to bedashed in pieces, and 
my fellow-passengers were not a little frightened ; but 
I knew that my heavenly Father held the reins, and 
felt unusually happy. 

"It is a sufficient answer to your admonitions 

respecting my health, to say that it has rather improi 
ed than otherwise the year past ; and shall I, then, dis- 
trust the power and goodness of God, and endeavor, 
by diminishing my labors, to lay up a stock of health 
for a future period, which, after all, I may never live 
to see? 

* * * * 

"I have suffered every conceivable kind of spiritual 
distress myself, and have seen too much of the good 
effects of it to be much grieved when I see others suf- 
fering the same. I know that Christ is with them in 
the furnace, and will bring them forth as gold; and 



tDWARD PAY SON. 231 

therefore, though I sympathize with them, I am rather 

pleased than sorry to see them distressed 

I have long considered a growing acquaintance with 
the desperate wickedness and surpassing deceitfulness 
of the heart as almost the only mark of a real Chris- 
tian which Satan cannot counterfeit." 

From a union formed on such principles, the hap- 
piest results were to be expected. That gracious Be- 
ing whose blessing they had supplicated, more than 
answered their requests. On taking possession of the 
habitation prepared for their reception, they entered 
on their new condition as a separate family, with spe- 
cial acknowledgments of God. " In the evening," 
says the diary, " had a meeting by way of dedicating 
our house. It was a very solemn, melting season. 
Afterwards, was greatly favored in secret prayer. 
Knew not how to give over praying, the employment 
was so sweet. Could scarcely ask any thing for my- 
self, but only that God might be glorified." — He lost 
no time in making his mother a partaker of his joy . 

"My dearest Mother, 

" I must tell you how happy I am ; happy, not be- 
cause I have one of the best of wives ; not because I 
live in the midst of a grateful and affectionate people; 
not because I am surrounded by an abundance of the 
good things of this life ; but because I enjoy God in 
all these things. 

"We went to house-keeping yesterday. I felt in 
some measure as I wished to feel on such an occa- 
sion. It was a blessed evening,. and this has been a 
olessed morning. My dearest mother, I must let my 
heart have vent. All my days / have grieved, pro- 



232 MEMOIR OF 

vokedj and dishonored God, and he has done nothing 
but heap favors, and pardons, and honors upon me. O 
it affects me to thmk of his goodness ! O that all the 
ViTorid knew how vile I have been, and how good he 
has been m return. Could Christians knoAv his deal- 
ings with such a wretch, they would surely never^ 
never distrust him again. And yet I, who do know 
it, shall distrust him again. I shall again grieve and 
provoke him, as in times past, and perhaps be left to 
bring a reproach upon religion. I never felt myself to 
be so much in danger as at this moment. I am happy 
in my own soul — happy in my external circumstances ; 
but I rejoice with trembling. I dare not resolve that 
I will not suffer myself to be led away or lifted up. 
T dare not say, that, by to-morrow, I shall not feel stu- 
pid and ungrateful as a block; or even full of rage and 
enmity as a devil. But I never felt more able to hang 
upon Christ and trust him to keep me up. He knows, 
I trust, it is my earnest desire to be stripped of all my 
blessings, and left utterly destitute, rather than be 
drawn by them away from him. 

''My people have been wonderfully kind. As soon 
as we got into our house, they sent us two cart-loads 
of provisions, &c. &c. including every article, how- 
ever trifling, which could be wanted in a family. This 
was kind in them, but still more kind in my heavenly 
Father. O may I never forget, that, whoever may be 
the stream, He is the Fountain. 

" And now, my dearest mother, what more shall 1 
say '? You have nothing to wish for, nothing to pray 
for, as it respects your happy son, but that he may not 
be rendered slothful, or vain, or proud, by prosperity , 
that his love and zeal for his divine Master may in 



• • * EDAVARD PAYSON. <J33 

'Tease with his mercieS; and that he may be prepared 
for a day of adversity ,• for such a day must come. 
Well, let it come, if God so pleases. Welcome any 
thing that he sees fit to send. 

" Notwithstanding your fears, I do not yet love my 
parents one whit less than before. It almost doubles 
my happmess to think of their sharing it." 

On his birth-day next following this event, he 
writes: — "The past year has been one of the most 
important of my life. I have seen much, very much 
of the goodness of God, and of my own vileness. I 
nave formed a connection which will have an influence 
lasting as eternity, and I have reason to hope that the 
divine blessing has attended it." 

Two letters will here be introduced, whose dates 
would assign them a later place, but which are con- 
nected with the paragraphs just quoted, by the domes- 
tic nature of their contents. The second is from his 
mother, congratulating him upon the birth of his first- 
born, and must supply the place of his own reflections 
on that event ; for at that time his diary is silent, and 
the letter which, bore the tidings to his parents has 
not been preserved. 

" Portland, Jan. 20, 1812. 
'^ My dearest Mother, 

" Were you with us to-day you V\rould see a strange 
mixture of joy and grief among us. Your letter to 
Grata, especially that part of it which relates to my 
brothers, gave us as much joy as we can ever expect 
to feel in one day, while inhabitants of this changing 
world. It made our hearts leap within us to hear oi 
poor Eben. or rather rich Eben, as I hope we may 



234 MEMOIR OF ♦ 

HOW call him. But — there must always be a hiU^ till 
we get to heaven — the same mail that brought this 
welcome inielligence brought a letter from New Ha- 
ven, informing us of the death of Louisa's brothei 
Henry. She is, of course, in great affliction, for she 
had little if any evidence that he was prepared for thi? 
event. I begin now to find, for the first time, that bv 
doubling myself I have doubled my sorrows, and ren 
dered myself a broader mark for the arrows of misfor- 
tune. However, I am content to meet with a few de- 
ductions from the happiness which wedlock affords. 
I should otherwise be almost too happy for my spirit- 
ual welfare. I am fully of your opinion, that marriage 
is a wonderfully wise and gracious institution, and . 
shows, in a striking point of light, the goodness of our 
heavenly Father. I am also convinced, that, when 
properly managed, it is no less favorable to religion. 
You will think that I write like a new-married man ; 
and will, probably enough, conclude, that, in a few 
years, I shall feel differently. It is very possible that 
1 may ; but hitherto my happiness has been continually 
increasing. We are much more attached to each other 
than we were at first, and dally see new cause to ad- 
mire the wisdom and goodness of Him who fitted us 
for each other, and brought us together. I have, I may 
almost say, more temporal mercies than I wish for^ 
and they are continually increasing ; they come with- 
out asking; but neither by asking, nor in any other 
way, am I equally conscious of obtaining those spirit- 
ual blessings which I wish for, and which seem indis 
pensably necessary. However, I do not flatter myself 
that my present happiness will continue long. Per- 
haps a few weeks will deprive me of her whose soci- 



* EDWAKU PAY90N. 235 

ety constitutes so large a share of it. God's Avill be 
done. I trust that he has, in some measure, prepared 
me for such an event. I have viewed it in every pos- 
sible point of light; and, so far as I can judge, feel 
willing — yes, blessed be his name ! — perfectly willing 
that he should do what he will with his own. * * * * 
We shall have your prayers, I doubt not. O how much 
am I already indebted to them ! 

" I cannot close without adverting again to the bless- 
ed change you mention in our family. Give my love to 
E. Charge H. and P. to strive as well as seek; to re- 
pent and pray — and not to pray first in order to repent 
afterwards. And urge Eliza to follow the example of 
her brothers, and remember her Creator in the days 
of her youth." 

''March 27,1812, 
*'My ever dear Son, 

" Your last was, indeed, fraught with precious tid- 
mgs ; and we are now to view you and your dear 
Louisa as sustaining a new and very important rela- 
tion in life. May gracious Heaven look with benignity 
upon this dear object of your mutual affections, and 
realize your best wishes in its behalf. Precious babe ! 
already do I clasp it in my affections, and implore the 
Dlessing of Heaven upon it. Great is the fatigue, the 
sare, the anxiety of rearing a family ; but if it is per- 
formed aright it is a blessed work. You have yet to 
learn how difficult the task, and how much patience, 
prudence, and grace is requisite to qualify us to be 
faithful to the sacred trust deposited in our keeping. 
Yet, for your encouragement, and as a debt of grati- 
;ude due to our most gracious Parent, I freely acknow- 



83G MEMOIR or 

tedge myself amply compensated for all 1 have evei 
suffered or done for my Edward. Alas ! I have heen 
exceedingly deficient in my duty to my children ; bul 
with what ineffable goodness has God pardoned my 
unfaithfulness, and noticed every sincere attempt to 
discharge, in any measure, the important duties of a 
mother, and, in some instances, done more for them 
than I ever thought or asked. May He enable you tc 
receive this little one from his gracious hands, and, as 
he requires, bring it up for him. You were very kind to 
write me so soon ; it was a proof of affection for which 
my heart thanks you—but we are looking impatiently 
for another letter. 

"Your good father* put on one of his best smiles, 
upon hearing he was a grandfather. ' Ah !' he says, 
' what is it ? a son, or a daughter V with other inqui- 
ries. He smiled when he read — ' babe made the house 
ring;' and observed, you would not want for music of 

*The father of Mr. Payson, though he appears less promi- 
nent in this Memoir than his mother, was, nevertheless, deserv- 
edly ranked among the first men in New-Hampshire. Indeed, 
he stood high in the confidence of the religious public through- 
out New-England ; and his counsel and active exertions were 
much employed in promoting the general interests of litera- 
ture and religion. In furtherance of these, he made several 
long journeys on horseback; once or twice as far as Philadel- 
phia, on business for Dartmouth College, of which he was one 
of the Trustees. He was also a member of the American Board 
of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, as was his spn after 
him. His various public engagements, in addition to his pasto 
ral duties, so engrossed his time, that the family correspondence 
devolved almost entirely on Mrs. Payson, who held " the pen oi 
a ready writer." It was unavoidable, therefore, that in a me- 
moir, made up in part of epistolary correspondence, the mother 
should occupy the more conspicuous place. 



EDWARD PAYSOi\. 257 

^hat kind, he supposed. lie is in very good health, and 
now attending a conference in a remote part of the 
^own. * * * * 

" May you he guided safely amidst the innumerable 
snares which await our every step, and your path, like 
the rising light, shine more and more unto the perfect 
day. Thus prays 

'' Your affectionate Mother." 

In December, 1811, the senior pastor's relation to 
the church was dissolved, and the sole care of the con- 
gregation devolved on him. Such an event seldom fails 
to divert the attention of a people from the important 
concern of personal religion. But such does not ap- 
pear to have been the effect in the present case, to any 
very lamentable extent — the accession to the church 
this year being thirty-nine, and the subsequent year 
considerably greater than any preceding. He closed 
the labors of this year with a most seasonable dis- 
course from 2 Cor. 4 : 13, We also believe^ and there- 
fore speak; in which he attempted to state the prin- 
cipal doctrines which Paul professed to believe — to 
show that he did actually believe them — that he had 
sufficient reasons to believe them — and that this belief 
necessarily led him to preach and conduct in the man- 
ner he did. The sermon is a happy exemplification of 
ministerial address and of ministerial faithfulness. He 
could not have taken a more unexceptionable method 
of presenting his own views, than by exhibiting what 
Paul believed and taught ; nor more completely have 
justified the earnestness with which he pressed them 
upon his hearers, than by bringing into view the mo- 
mentous interests which they involve. To those who 



^38 MEMOISv OP 

are familiar with the epistles of Paul, it is hardly ne- 
cessary to say that his sketch asserts the fall of man, 
and the consequent universal depravity of the human 
race ; and the other doctrines peculiar to the Christian 
system, which necessarily result from this, respecting 
the personal glories and mediatorial offices of Christ, 
and the way of a sinner's justification and acceptance 
with God. It was a popular and useful defence of 
evangelical doctrines, and of ministerial zeal, and was 
applied to the auditory with 'pungent force. 

His diary during this year authorizes some infer- 
ences besides that of his spirituality and devotion to 
his work. A few short extracts of each kind will form 
an appropriate conclusion to the chapter : 

" July 17. Heard much to-day of the rage of op 
posers ; found others much discouraged by it. Was 
driven by it to the throne of grace, and there found 
unusual enlargement in pleading for the effusion of the 
Spirit. Never felt more drawn out in prayer for this, 
and could not help hoping that he would espouse our 
cause. Was deeply affected with the sovereign good- 
ness of God. 

" Aug. O what a privilege it would be to have 
strength to labor all the time for God ! 

" Sept, 24, 25. Was called up at midnight by some 
mischievous person, and sent off to see a person said 
to be dying. . . . Found it a serious joke to me, for I 
took cold, and was sick several days. 

" Se'pt. 29. Had a most refreshing season this morn- 
ing in prayer. Felt most intense hatred of sin, and 
desired to be free from its power. 

" Oct. 5. Have been abundantly convinced to-day 
that it is not a vain ihmoj to call upon God. Was res 



EDWARD TAYSON. 239 

markabiy assisted in preparing for to-morrow. In the 
evening was favored with an uncommonly precious 
season in prayer. O how different does every thing 
appear when God is present ! He is indeed all in all 
to me. 

" Oct. 8. Enjoyed a most delightful season in prayer. 
Had such strong confidence in God, from a view of his 
willingness to give, that I felt ready to ask and expect 
every thing in his power to bestow. Knew not how 
to stop, till I was utterly exhausted. 

" Oct. 10. Had some different views of Christ and 
heaven from any I ever before enjoyed, so that I felt 
the fullest assurance of salvation, and wished to be 
saved, that I might praise and love God perfectly. 

" Oct. 22. Was enabled to cast all my cares on the 
Lord, and felt lightened. Never did the Bible seem 
so sweet, never did the light of God's countenance 
seem so exquisitely precious as now ; nor did I ever 
more need it. 

" Oct. 24. In the course of the day saw an Indian. 
Was instantly struck and much affected with a sense 
of his wretched condition. Never had such feelings 
before. In the evening had great freedom in praying 
for poor savages and others who are destitute of the 
light of the Gospel. 

" Nov. 7. Felt a little revived. Set up a little 
prayer meeting in my family for a revival, and had 
some liberty. 

" Nov. 28. Had a most refreshing and delightful 
season in prayer this morning. Felt something of the 
life and power of religion through the day. In the 
evening preached, . . . and was uncommonly assisted, 
and the ])eople appeared much affected. Felt much 



^40 . MEMOIR OF 

gratitude to God for his assistance, and much encou 
raged respecting a revival." 



CHAPTER XIIL 

Forms oj prayer — Thoughts on public prayer — His shicertt'p 
a grand means of his success. 

" You would greatly oblige me by loaning me a copy 
of your prayer to-day," said a distinguished lady to Dr. 
PaysoUj as he was retiring from the house of worship 
on a memorable occasion. She was surprised on being 
told that it had vanished with the breath which gave 
it utterance. This lady was not an attendant on his 
ministry, but had come at this time with the expec- 
tation of seeing La Fayette in the assembly, and, in 
common with many others, was filled with admiration 
of the intercessory part of the exercises, as differing 
from all she had ever heard, in richness and appro- 
priateness of matter, as well as in fervor of utterance. 
Few, it is believed, ever heard him for the first time, 
even in the family or on the most common occasion, 
without experiencing kindred emotions. The wonder 
too, was enhanced, rather than diminished, by every 
repetition of the exercise. To those wbose devotions 
he led for twenty years, in the sanctuary, in the prayer- 
meetmg, by the sick bed, at festivals and funerals, 
every prayer seemed to have all the freshness of ori- 
ginality. His resources for this duty appeared to be 
absolutely inexhaustible. There was something in his 



EDWARD PAY. -JON'. 24 J 

prayers powerful to arrest and fix attention — something 
which seized and absorbed the faculties of the soul, 
and separated it, for the time being at least, from its 
connections with " this present evil world." The full, 
deep, reverent, flexible, suppliant tones of his voice, as 
far removed from the cant of the fanatic as they w^ere 
from the levity of the witling, contributed something 
to the effect of his public devotions. 

The question has been asked by more than one dis- 
tinguished minister since Dr. Payson's deatli, whether 
he left behind him any written forms of prayer. So 
far from this, it is believed he never wrote a praijer. 
There are, indeed, interspersed throughout his private 
writings and sermons, numerous ejaculations and sup- 
plicatory paragraphs ; but nothing intended exclusively 
as a prayer. His " Confession and Form of Covenant," 
in a preceding chapter, bears the nearest resemblance 
to a prayer of any thing which has been discovered 
fiom his pen, and will give a better idea than any de- 
scription, of the leading impression which his prayers 
produced on the hearers, namely, the infinite disparity 
Vi^hich exists between God and the creature, at the same 
'ime that it brings to view numerous particulars in 
which this contrast may be seen. " God is in heaven, 
and we upon earth," was the great truth which stood 
forth with distinguished prominence in his invocations, 
confessions, pleadings, intercessions, and ascriptions. 
' GTod is in this place," was a truth not less vividly 
impressed on the minds of his auditors when he poured 
out his soul in prayer. They saw, they felt that he 
pleaded with a present God. His prayers conformed, 
with singular felicity, to his own definition of the ex- 
•s'vcise, which makes it "a kind of devout poetry, the 

Pay son. 15 



2-12 MEMOIR OF 

whole subject matter of which is furnished by the heart , 
and the understanding is only allowed to shape and 
arrange the effusions of the heart in the manner best 
adapted to honor the Being to whom prayer is address- 
ed, and to excite and direct the devotional feelings oi 
his worshipers." 

But a thousand forms of his prayers even, could 
never teach another to pray like him. He neitlier found 
for himself, nor could he mark out for others, a " royal 
road" to the throne of grace; and the "gift of prayer," 
for which he was so eminent, was not attained withoul 
corresponding efforts on his part. It was by his daily 
retired practice, that he became so skillful and prevail- 
ing a pleader with his God. There can be no doubt 
on this point. His journal, through several successive 
years, records repeated seasons of prayer for almost" 
every day, together with the state of his affections, and 
the exercise or want of those graces which constitute 
the "spirit of supplication." It requires much of a 
devotional spirit even to read these perpetually recur- 
ring descriptions of his " wrestling in prayer," of his 
" near access to the mercy-seat," as well as of those 
difficulties which sometimes barred his approach ; for, 
to an undevout mind, they would present nothing but 
a wearisome, disgusting, endless monotony. When 
the inventive character of his mind is considered, its 
exquisite delight in every thing that was original, these 
records exhibit the most infallible evidence of his love 
for devotion. His continuing instant in prayer^ be 
is circumstances what they might, is the most no- 
ticeable fact in his history, and points out the duty of 
all who would rival his eminency. There is no magic 
about it. ' The arrow that would pierce the cloud*^ 



EDWARD PAYSON. <i'l3 

must go from the nerved arm and the bent bow." But 
if prayer, to be successful, must be ardent, so must it 
be not fitful, but habitual. 

If, however, he has not left a form, he has, happily, 
left some thoughts on public prayer, which will be ol 
greater value, especially to ministers of the Gospel 5 
and as in his practice he illustrated his own instiuc- 
tions, a stranger to him may obtain from them a bet- 
ter knowledge of his manner than from any descrip- 
tion of it by another hand. 

'^ What are the principal excellences which 
should be cultivated, and the defects which 
should be avoided, by ministers of the gospel, 
in the performance of their public devotional 
exercises? 

'•' The excellence of any performance consists m 
its being adapted to answer the end for which it is 
designed. So far as it is not adapted to answer that 
end, it must be considered defective. The design of 
public prayer, considered as a part of ministerial duty, 
is to honor the Being to whom it is addressed, and to 
excite and direct the devotional feelings of his wor- 
shipers. These two objects, though distinct, are in- 
separably connected, and are to be attained by the 
same means ; for it will ever be found, that that mode 
of performing the duty cf public prayer which is best 
adapted to promote the honor of God, is best calcu- 
lated to excite and direct the devotional feelings ol 
the hearers. That our devotional performances may 
secure the attainment of these united objects, they 
must be the echo of a fervently pious heart, guided by 



244 MEMOIR OF 

^ judicious and enlightened mind, to the ?oice of God, 
as uttered in his works and his word. An expression 
of the psalmist will illustrate my meaning: — 'When 
lliou saidst, Seek ye my face, my heart said unto thee, 
Thy face, Lord, will I seek.' In a similar manner 
should our public addresses to God be the echo of his 
language to us. Our adorations and ascriptions o[ 
praise should thus respond to what he has revealed 
of his natural and moral perfections ; our confessions, 
to the charges which he has preferred against us, and 
to the punishments with which he threatens us ; our 
petitions and intercessions, to his commands, his pro- 
mises, and the description he has given of our own 
wants, and those of our fellow-creatures; and our 
tlianksgivings, to the favors which he has bestowed 
on ourselves, our countrymen, and our race. When 
our devotional performances thus echo back the voice 
of God, we cannot fail to promote both his glory and 
the edification of our people. We then follow a guide 
which cannot mislead us ; we express the very feel- 
ings which his language to us is designed and calcu- 
lated to excite ; we set our seal to the truth of his de- 
clarations, say Amen to all that he has seen fit to re- 
veal to us, and teach our hearers to do the same. 
Thus, while we avoid the too common fault of preach 
ing in prayer, our prayers will preach, and prove no 
less instructive than our sermons. We shall at the 
same time excite them to pray, and teach them how 
to pray. While we speak as the mouth of our people 
to God, we shall, in an indirect, but most impressive 
manner, be the mouth of God to our people, and set 
before them their duty, as it respects both faith and 
practice, in a way least calculated to offend, and in 



EDWARD PAY SON. 245 

those solemn moments when the exhibition of truth. 
IS most likely to affect them. 

" If the preceding remarks be just, it will be easy to 
infer from them what are the principal faults which 
should be avoided by us in leading the devotions ol 
our hearers. 

'* In the first place, I conceive that our devotional 
performances are too often the language of the under- 
standing, rather than of the heart. It has been ob- 
served that they should be the echo of a fervently- 
pious heart, guided by an enlightened understanding, 
to the voice of God. It is not, perhaps, uncandid 
to remark, that our expressions in public prayer are 
not always guided by an enlightened understanding; 
but still less frequently, probably, are they the echo 
of a fervently -pious heart to the voice of God. They 
loo often consist almost entirely of passages of Scrip- 
lure — not always judiciously chosen or well arranged 
— and common-place phrases, which have been trans- 
mitted down for ages, from one generation of minis- 
ters to another, selected and put together just as we 
would compose a sermon or essay, while the heart is 
allowed no share in the performance ; so that we may 
more properly be said to make a prayer^ than to pray. 
The consequence is, that our devotional performances 
are too often cold and spiritless : as the heart did not 
assist in composing, it disdains to aid in uttering them. 
They have almost as much of a form as if we made 
use of a liturgy ; while the peculiar excellences of a 
liturgy are wanting. Our hearers soon become fami- 
liarized to our expressions, and not unfrequently learn 
to anticipate them; and, though they may possibly 
be instructed their devotional feelings are not excited 



246 MEMOIR OP 

'' That public prayer may produce its proper anid 
designed effects upon their hearts, it should be, if 1 
may so express it, a kind of devout poetry. As in 
poetry, so in prayer, the whole subject matter should 
be furnished by the heart; and the understanding 
should be allowed only to shape and arrange the ef- 
fusions of the heart in the manner best adapted to an- 
swer the end designed. From the fullness of a heart 
overflowing with holy affections, as from a copious 
fountain, we should pour forth a torrent of pious, 
humble, and ardently-affectionate feelings ; while our 
understandings only shape the channel, and teach the 
gushing streams of devotion where to flow, and when 
to stop. In such a prayer every pious heart among 
our hearers will join. They will hear a voice and 
utterance given to their own feelings. They will 
hear their own desires and emotions expressed more 
fully and perspicuously than they could express them 
themselves. Their hearts will spring forward to meet 
and unite with the heart of the speaker. The well of 
water which our Savior assures us is in all who drink 
of his Spirit, will rise and burst its way through the 
rubbish of worldly cares and affections which too 
often choke it ; and the stream of devotion from many 
hearts will unite and How on m one broad tide to the 
throne of Jehovah; while, with one mind and one 
mouth, minister and people glorify God. Such was 
the prayer of Ezra, and such its effects : — ' And Ezra 
blessed the Lord, the great God. And all the people 
answered, Amen, amen, with lifting up of their hands ; 
and they bowed their heads, and Vs^orshiped the Lord 
with their faces toward the ground.' 

" Lsadin^i^ the devotion of our people in this man- 



F.UWAIID I'AVSON. 247 

ner will preserve us from another fault, less importam 
indeed, but not less common than that which has just 
been mentioned, and which, in part, is occasioned by 
It. It consists in uttering the different parts of prayer 
in the same tone. When our prayers are the language 
of the understanding only, this will always be done ; 
but not so when they flow from the heart. No person 
need oe informed, that, in our intercourse with each 
other, a different modification of the voice is employed 
to express every different emotion of the heart. No 
one would expect to hear a. condemned malefactor 
plead for his life and return thanks for a pardon in 
the same tone. And why is it not equally unnatural 
for sinful beings, condemned to eternal death, to 
plead for pardon and return thanks for its bestowal in 
the same tone ? Yet how often is this done ! How 
often do we hear prayers flow on, from the commence- 
ment to the close, in the same uniform tone, with 
scarcely a perceptible inflection of the voice ! Yet no 
two things can differ more widely than the feelings 
which are expressed in different parts of the same 
prayer. Surely, then, a corresponding difference ought 
to be perceived in the modifications of the voice. In 
every other public expression of our feelings such a 
diflference is expected and required. The effect of the 
most eloquent composition would be greatly impaired, 
not to say wholly destroyed, by a delivery perfectly 
monotonous. The effects of the same cause upon de- 
votional performances will be similar. Where no 
fervency of feeling is indicated, it will usually be 
found that none is excited; and, since one principal 
design of public prayer is to excite the devotional feel- 
ings of the hearers, it is evident that a fault which so 



248 MEMOIR OF 

powerfully tends to defeat this design cannot be a fault 
of trifling consequence. I am however aware thai in 
attempting to avoid this fault, the exercise of great 
care and of much judgment and good taste is requi- 
site to preserve us from an affected or theatrical maii- 
ner, which is a fault much more to be deprecated. 
Still I conceive that when we feel as we ought, we 
shall find no difficulty or danger in this respect. Our 
hearts will then, without any effort on our part^ insen- 
sibly teach us to express its emotions in a correspond- 
ing tone, and in the manner best adapted to excite si- 
milar feelings in the breasts of our hearers. But il 
our devotional feelings are habitually languid, if our 
hearts do not teach our lips, it is perhaps advisable to 
aim at nothing beyond a monotonous solemnity, rather 
than, by affecting what we do not feel, to incur the 
certain displeasure of our Master, and the probable 
contempt of our most judicious hearers. If we have 
no thoughts or feelings that glow, it is worse than use- 
less to affect ^ words that burn.' 

" Another fault, which is not unfrequently found in 
our devotional performances, I know not how to de- 
scribe better than by saying that it consists in praying 
more like an awakened but still impenitent sinner, or 
more as such a character might be supposed to pray, 
than like a real Christian. Different causes probably 
tend to the adoption of this method. Some are appa- 
rently led to it by doubts respecting their own charae- 
t3r. They often suspect that they are not truly pious, 
and therefore they fear to utter the language of a pious 
heart. Others seem to adopt it in consequence of false 
humility. They fear it would be thought indicative ol 
pride should they use expressions which intimate that 



KDWWKU fAYaON. 24b 

they thmk themselves to be the real disciples of Christ, 
A ihird class probably adopt this mettiod with a view 
to offer prayers in which awakened, but still impeni- 
tent sinners may join. But whatever may be the mo- 
tives which lead to the adoption of such a method, it 
is, I conceive, a fault which ought to be avoided. It is, 
mdeed, a common, and, with some limitation, a just 
remark, that a minister is the mouth of his people to 
God. It is, however, of the pious part of his congrega- 
tion only that he is the mouth. His prayer, then, should 
be the echo, not of an impenitent, but of a pious heart 
to the voice of God. He should pray with those who 
are pious, and for those who are not so. Instead ol 
praying that himself and those who unite with him 
may exercise the feelings of a Christian, he should ex 
plicitly express those feelings. This is necessary for 
his own sake, if he be truly pious ; for, if he be so, he 
cannot sincerely utter the language of an impenitent 
heart. It is necessary for the sake of his pious hear- 
ers ; for, while he is attempting to form a prayer in 
which all may join, he will utter many expressions in 
which they cannot unite. It is also necessary even for 
the sake of his impenitent hearers ; for it is highly im- 
portant for them to be convinced that they do not, and, 
with their present feelings, cannot pray ; and nothing 
will tend more effectually to convince them of this im- 
portant truth, than listening to prayers in which truly 
pious feelings and holy exercises are distinctly ex- 
pressed. For similar reasons it is desirable that we 
should not always pray in a manner suited only to in- 
experienced, weak, or declining Christians. Instead of 
descending to their standard, we must endeavor to raise 
them to ours. If we wish our people to feel dissatisfied 



250 MEMOIR OP 

with their present attainments, and to beccme emi 
nent Christians, we must accustom them to^hear the 
devotional language of eminent Christians, by uttering 
such language in our prayers, if, indeed, we can do it 
without uttering what we do not feel. As an eagle 
tempts her young to soar higher than they would dare 
to do were they not encouraged by her example, so the 
minister of Christ should, occasionally at least, allure 
his people to the higher region of devotion, by taking 
a bolder flight than usual, and uttering the language of 
strong faith, ardent love, unshaken confidence, assured 
hope, and rapturous gratitude, admiration, and joy. 
Some of his hearers can, probably at all times, follow 
him, and many others who at first tremble and hesi- 
tate — many who would scarcely dare adopt the same 
language in their closets, will gradually catch the sa- 
cred flame — their hearts will burn within them. While 
their pastor leads the w^ay, they will mount up as on ea- 
gles' wings towards heaven, and return from the house 
of prayer, not cold and languid as they entered, but 
glowing with the fires of devotion. In this, as well as 
in other respects, it will m some measure be ' like peo- 
ple, like priest.' If we thus strike the golden harp of 
devotion, we shall soon find our pious hearers able to 
accompany us through its whole compass of sound, 
fiom the low notes of humble, penitential sorrow, up 
to the high, heart-thrilling tones of rapturous joy, ad- 
miration, love, and praise, which are in union with 
the harps of the redeemed before the throne. 

^' Another fault, sometimes found in devotional pei' 
formances which are otherwise unexceptionable, is the 
want of sufficient particularity. Indeed, most of oui 
public prayers are too general. They bring so much 



EDWARD PAYSON. 251 

into view, that nothing is seen distinctly. It is well 
known, that, if we except sublime and terrible objects, 
noihmg affects the mind, unless it be clearly and dis- 
tinctly perceived. If the most admired descriptive po- 
ems, and those which produce the greatest efiect upon 
our feelings, be carefully examined, it will be found 
that they derive their power to affect us almost entire- 
ly from a minute and striking description of a few ju- 
diciously-selected particulars. It is the same with our 
devotional performances. We may praise God, or con- 
fess sin, or pray for mercy, or return thanks for divine 
favor, in a general way, without being ourselves af- 
fected, and without exciting the affections of our hear- 
ears. But when Ave descend to particulars, the effect 
is different. The mind receives, drop after drop, till it 
is full. We should, therefore, aim at as great a degree 
of particularity as the time allotted us and the variety 
of topics on which we must touch will allow. Espe- 
cially is it important that we enter deeply and parti- 
cularly into every part of Christian experience, and 
lay open all the minute ramifications and almost im- 
perceptible workings of the pious heart m its various 
situations, and thus show our hearers to themselves in 
every point of view. In a word, our public prayers 
should resemble, as nearly as propriety will allow, the 
breathings of an humble, judicious, and fervently pious 
Christian in his private devotions. The prayer of the 
pulpit differs too much — it should differ as little as pos- 
sible — from the prayer of the closet. A neglect in this 
particular often renders our performances uninterest- 
ing and unacceptable to those whom we should most 
desire to gratify, 

" Such, I conceive, are the principal defects which 



252 MEMOIK OP 

aie most frequently foand in our devotional perform- 
ances. It is obvious that they are all occasioned, either 
wholly or in part, by a languid state of devotional feci- 
mg5 and that the only effectual remedy is to be sought 
in the diligent cultivation of a frame of temper ha])i» 
tually devout. That a minister may lead the devotions 
of his people in the most suitable and edifying mr.n- 
ner, it seems indispensable that he should possess a 
mind deeply imbued with divine truth ; a mind, into 
the very frame and texture of which the doctrines of 
revelation are wrought ; and a heart thoroughly broken 
and humbled for sin, and tremblingly alive to the voice 
of God, and ever glowing with celestial fire. He, who, 
with such a mind and such a heart, lives much in his 
closet, praying, as the apostle expresses it, in the Holy 
Ghost, and habitually imploring his assistance to help 
his infirmities, will always lead the devotions of his 
people in a judicious, edifying, and acceptable man- 
ner ; nor will he need the aid of a precomposed form. 
In his prayers, as well as in his sermons, he will con- 
stantly bring out of his treasury things new and old. 
But if our hearts will not pray, or teach us in what 
manner to cry to our heavenly Father and Redeemer, 
our understandings must ; and we must either com- 
pose or borrow forms for that purpose. How far, in 
this case, we can be considered as called to the work 
of the ministry, or fitted for it, is not for me to say ; 
but surely he who can contemplate the wonders oi 
creation, and yet find nothing to say to his Maker — still 
more he who can meditate on the mysteries of redeem- 
mg love, and behold the glory of God in the face oi 
Jesus Christ, without feeling praises ready to burst 
spontaneously from his lios, has some reason to feai 



GDWAilD PAYSON. 263 

ihat be possesses little of the spirit of heaven, and that 
he has never learned that new song, which none can 
learn but those who are redeemed from the earth ; for, 
with reference to this subject, it may be emphatically 
said, in the words of inspiration, ^ the heart of the wise 
teacheth his mouth, and addeth learning to his lips.' " 

Such public prayers as he offered were singularly 
adapted to affect the mind of an assembly and prepare 
them for the reception of religious truths, besides being 
the appointed means of obtaining the influences of the 
Holy Spirit "to render the word eifectu-alto salvation." 

To his ardent and persevering prayers must no 
doubt be ascribed, in a great measure, his distinguished 
and almost uninterrupted success ; and, next to these, 
the undoubted sincerity of his belief in the truths 
which he inculcated. His language, his conversation, 
and whole deportment, were such as brought home 
and fastened on the minds of his hearers the convic- 
tion that he believed^ and therefore spoke. So im- 
portant did he regard such a conviction in the attend- 
ants on the ministry, that he made it the topic of an 
able address to his clerical brethren ; and indeed, had 
his description of a "good minister of Jesus Christ' 
been drawn by another hand, his familiar acquaintan- 
ces might well have supposed that himself sat for the 
picture. Though he drew crowds around him, there 
was nothing of stage effect either in his personal ap- 
pearance or in his eloquence — no imposing attitudes 
or gestures — no extremes of intonation — no affectation 
of tears. It was simple nature, sanctified by grace, 
uttering the deep convictions of the heart, and plead- 
ing with fellow-sinners to become reconciled to God 
It was the eloquence of truth spoken in love. The 



254 MEMOIR OF 

words seemed to come from*his mouth encompassed 
by that glowing atmosphere in which they left the 
heart, and to brand their very impression in every heart 
on which they fell. Often did his clear exhibitions of 
truth, and his full and plain exposures of the obliquities 
of men, prove the occasion of bitter and outrageous 
feelings in the bosoms of many ; but rarely, indeed, 
could the individual be found who ventured to express 
a doubt of his honesty and sincerity. He was always 
m earnest, and " commended himself to every man's 
conscience in the sight of God." 



CHAPTER XIV. 

The pastor inaction — Methods of exciting, sustaining and ex- 
tending a due interest in religious concerns — Preaching, adj- 
ministration of ordinances, church fast, conference, inquiry 
meetings. 

Although most of the preceding chapter, if changed 
from the didactic form to that of narration, would, fur 
the extent to which it reaches, present a true history 
of its author, yet there are other details from his own 
pen, interspersed throughout his familiar correspond- 
ence, which w411 be found scarcely less instructive, 
and at the same time exhibit a fuller developemeni 
of the nature, extent and variety of his pastoral labors 
We shall commence our extrao'ts with a letter written 
in 1812 to a young clergyman, then recently setded 
in the ministry, who had sought his instruction and 



EDWARD PAY SON. 255 

advice on t e subject of pastoral duties. It has al- 
ready been stated that Mr. Pay son was now the sole 
pastor of the church ; and it was in this year that thir- 
ty-ane of its members were separated from it, and, by 
a distinct organization, constituted the " Chapel Con- 
gregational Church in Portland," over which Mr. Kel- 
logg was placed as pastor. The vacancy hereby cre- 
ated was more than filled — forty-eight persons being 
added to the church Avithin the same year. It was dis- 
tinguished beyond former years for "the fruits of the 
Spirit." 

"Dear Brother, 

" Your letter requesting ' information and advice ' 
has just reached me. I rejoice in the circumstances 
that led to such a request. I rejoice still more that 
you feel ' ignorant, and inexperienced, and inadequate 
to the charge which has devolved upon you.' We 
must feel so, or we shall meet with little success. 

" I can however assure you, for your encourage- 
ment, that you cannot possibly be more i^rnorant and 
inexperienced than I was at the time oi my settle- 
ment, I knew just nothing at all of my business ; but 
I knew a little, O how little! of my own ignorance. 
This led me to pray almost incessantly ; and, some- 
how or other, I have, as I trust, been preserved from 
fatal mistakes, and not suffered to ruin either myseli 
or my people, as I sometimes feared that I should. 
He who has thus guided me, and thousands of others 
equally foolish, will, I trust, guide you. The best ad- 
vice I can give^you is, to look to Him. This I doubt 
not you do ; but you cannot do it too much. If wt 
would do much for God. we must ask much of God 



256 * MEMOIR OF 

we must be men of prayer 5 we must, almost literally 
pray without ceasing. You have doubtless met with 
Luther's remark— " Three things make a divine- 
prayer, meditation, and temptation." My dear bro 
iher, I cannot insist on this too much. Prayer is the 
first thing, the second thing, and the third thing neces 
sary for a minister, especially in seasons of revival 
The longer you live in the ministry the more deeply 
I am persuaded, you will be convinced of this. Pray 
then, my dear brother, pray, pray, pray. Read the 
account of Solomon's choice, 1 Kings, 3 : 5-15. If, 
like him, you choose wisdom, and pray for it, it will 
be yours. 

" The next thing in importance is, as I conceive, 
that your church should be excited to pray for the in- 
fluences of the divine Spirit ; and that they should 
frequently meet for this purpose. For, though private 
prayer may be as effectual, it does not so directly tend 
to honor God as that which is more public. God con- 
verts sinners for his own glory, and he will have all 
the glory of their conversion. Nothing tends more 
directly to give him the glory than social prayer. In 
that duty we explicitly acknowledge, not only to him, 
but to our fellow-creatures, that nothing but the influ- 
ences of his Spirit can render any means effectual, 
and that we are entirely dependent for those influences 
on his sovereign will. In a word, we acknowledge 
that in the conversion of sinners he is all, and we are 
nothing. 

" With respect to those who are awakened, I con- 
ceive it is our duty to act as fellow-workers with the 
divine Spirit ; to insist principally on those truths or 
which he first convinces them ; and to endeavor, both 



blDWARD FAY SON. 257 

by oui preaching and conversation, to bring them to 
the same point to which he aims to bring them. This 
point is complete self-despair and hope in Christ. The 
former is a pre-requisite to the latter. I therefore aim, 
in the first place, to increase their convictions of sins, 
especially of the great, damning sin of unbelief. If they 
Ask, What shall we do? I never dare give them any 
other' answer than that given by Christ and his apos- 
des: 'Repent, and believe the Gospel.' I insist 
much on the character of God ; the strictness, extent, 
and spirituality of his law ; the various artifices, de- 
ceptions, and excuses of the heart ; the false hopes of 
sinners and hypocrites ; the nature of true and false 
conversion ; and the great danger of being deceived. 
I also frequently warn them of the dreadful conse- 
quences of delaying repentance, grieving the Spirit, 
losing their convictions, or resting on false hopes, like 
the stony-ground hearers. I labor especially to con- 
vince them that all the difficulties which oppose their 
salvation lie in their own hearts — that Christ is will- 
ing to save them — but they are unwilling to be saved 
in his way, and are therefore without excuse. This 
is a very important point. I have seen none go back 
who appeared to be truly convinced of this. In addi- 
tion to this, I say much of the glory, beauty, and suf- 
ficiency of Christ, and of the perfect freeness of the 
blessings which he offers, and endeavor to show them 
the horrid pride, ingratitude, &c. of neglecting to ac- 
cept of them. These are some of the principal subjects 
on which I preach to inquirers. You will easily deter- 
mine what are the most proper texts from which to 
explain and enforce them. 

^ With respect to our inquiry meetings, I can only 

Ptyson. 2Y 



25S MEMOIR OF 

tell you that we have them once a week ; afternoj^ns 
for femalesj erenings for males. It h difficult to per* 
suade them to converse as freely as might be wished. 
You will find, however, as your experience increases, 
that it is not essential that they should say much. A 
single sentence will often give you a clue to their cha- 
racter and feelings. If you wish them to converse 
with you with freedom, you must visit them at home. 
Your greatest danger will be in comforting them too 
soon. All comfort is dangerous till they surrender 
unconditionally to the sovereign grace of God. It is 
much safer to err on the other side." 

The extract which follows describes the origin of 
a meeting that was long continued and signally 
blessed: 

" Nov. 14, 1814. 
" Three weeks since I preached to the young, from 
the words of Christ when twelve years old — ' I must 
be about my Father's business.' At the close of the 
sermon I invited all the young men who were fully 
determined to engage immediately in, their Father's 
work to meet me in the evening, and at the same 
time told them I was not confident that any of them 
would come. However, about forty attended. Aftei 
stating to them the difficulties and temptations they 
would meet with, and the sacrifices they must make 
in a religious course, I advised them to consider of il 
a fortnight ; and, if they still resolved to persevere, to 
meet me again. About thirty came the second even- 
ing ; and, though I cannot calculate upon all, or even 
the major part of them, becoming Christians, yet I 
hope some of them will.'' 



EDWARD PAYSOIN. 259 

Two or three limes during his ministry he adopted 
what would be generally regarded as bold measures , 
and they Avould have been absolutely rash and inju- 
rious, had they not originated in a sincere and gloAvmg 
zeal for God and the eternal welfare of men. It would 
be hazardous for another to imitate him herein^ without 
some portion of his spirit. Yet who, that estimates 
the worth of the soul, will dare to censure his conduct, 
or say that the importance of the object was not at least 
commensurate with his zeal ? 

'' Feb. 21, 1S15. 
"We have a great revival commencing. We have 
been expecting it some time ; and a few wee s since, 
at the close of a suitable sermon, I informed the con- 
gregation that I believed God was about to bless us, 
and told them that the quarterly fast of the church was 
at hand, and that, if they would consent to unite with 
the church in the fast, we -would meet in the meeting- 
house, instead of the conference-room, where we usu- 
ally assemble on such occasions. At the same time 
I invited those v/ho were willing to meet the church 
to signify it by rising. About two-thirds of the con- 
gregation instantly rose. It was a most solemn scene. 
The church, to whom the measure was altogether un- 
expected, Avere almost overwhelmed with various emo- 
tions, and scarcely knew whether to be glad or sorry, 
to hope or fear. You may well suppose that the inter- 
val between the Sabbath and the fast was a trying 
season to me. I felt that I had completely committed 
myself — that my all was at stake — that, if a blessing 
did not attend the measure, every mcnith would be opejs 
to condemn it ; and it seemed as if I could hardly sur- 



260 MEMOIR OF 

7ive a disappointment. I should nut hav e taken such 
a step, had I not believed I had sufficient reason for 
trusting that God would bear me out in it ; and I thought 
if he did not bear me out^ I never should again know 
what to expect— never should feel confidence to pray. 
I expected severe trials, but had few fears of the event. 
The trials came, but they did not come in the way that 
I expected, and therefore I was surprised and overcome 
by them. The day of the fast was the most dreadful 
day of my life — the day in which I had most dreadful 
proofs of more than diabolical depravity of heart. The 
meeting-house was full, but things did not go on in the 
manner I had hoped and expected. I thought all was 
lost ; and I now wonder that I lived through it — that 
a broken heart, as Mr. Newton says disappointed pride 
and madness are called, was not the consequence. 
For some days I saw and heard nothing encouraging, 
and my distress was unabated ; but at the next inquiry 
meeting I found more than sixty inquirers. This num- 
ber, within a week, was considerably increased, and 
eight or ten have obtained comfort. The prospect is 
now more encouraging than it has been since my set- 
tlement." 

Below is an incidental mention of the multiplicity 
of his labors, from which may be inferred the despatch 
with which he habitually^ executed his appropriate 
work: 

" May 21, 1816. 

" My avocations were never so numerous. I have 

two sermons which I wish, if possible, to prepare for 

the press, but fear I never shall find time. I have also 

three ordination sermons to preach within two months, 



EDWARD PAYSON. 261 

sermons before two missionary societies within the 
same time, and on the second Sabbath in July I have 
an engagement to preach in Portsmouth, before the 
managers of the Female Asylum. Besides this, I 
preach four sermons and attend two inquiry meetings 
weekly, &c. &c. Judge then whether I am not worn 
out, and whether I do not need your prayers more than 
ever. As to a revival, my wishes for it are not, can- 
not be too strong, if they are disinterested, and not 
selfish. Though I am wearing myself out, it is, T some- 
tim.es fear, rather in the service of self than in the ser- 
vice of God ; and this reflection imbitters every thing 
I do. It would be heaven to labor for God, but it is 
misery to labor for one's self. As to the slang you 
heard about a revelation, I need not tell you that there 
IS no truth in it. However, I hope the Lord has some 
people yet to be gathered in here. We have admitted 
thirty-three since the year came in, and nine stand 
propounded ; the number of inquirers about one hun- 
dred, and slowly increasing." 

''April 13, 1820. 
''We have some encouraging appearances, as we 
have often had before, but nothing decisive. Last 
Sabbath I invited the male part of the congregation 
who were willing to be considered inquirers after re 
ligion, to meet me in the evening. Between thirty 
and forty attended, but I fear that very few of them are 
deeply impressed. We have about the same numbet 
of females who are in a similar state ; and it seems, 
as it has for a long time, that if God would work a lit- 
tle more powerfully, there would be a great revival. 
But I desire lo wait." 



262 MEMOIR UF 

^'August 6, 1821. 

" As lo my desires for a revival, I have not, and 
never had the least doubt that they are exceedingly 
corrupt and sinful. A thousand wrong motives have 
conspired to excite them. Still I do not believe that 
my desires were ever half so strong as they ought to 
be ; nor do I see how a minister can help being in a 
' constant fever ' in such a town as this, where his 
Master is dishonored and souls are destroyed in so 
many ways. You can scarcely conceive how many 
things occur, almost daily, to distress and crush me 
All these are nothing when my Master is with me : 
but when he is absent, I am of all men most mise 
rable. But now he is with me, and I am happy. 

" We have just set up a meeting on a nev/ plan. 
Notes to this effect are put into a box at the door: — 
^ A member of this church desires prayers for the con- 
version of a husband, a child, a parent,' &c. as the 
case may be. These notes are then read, and pray- 
ers are offered. We have had but one meeting ; the 
evening was rainy, but nearly forty notes were given 
in, and it was the most solemn meeting we have had 
for a long time. Among the notes were two from 
persons who think they were deceived when they 
made a profession of religion, desiring prayers that 
they may be truly converted. The church has also 
had a day of thanksgiving lately, to acknowledge 
what God has done for us, and it was a comfortable 
season. These things give me some encouragement ; 
but we have been so often disappointed, that I scarcely 
dare to hope." 

^. letter to a young clergyman, written soon after 



EDWARD PAYSON. 203 

the preceding extract, contains a still more complete 
sketch of his labors at this time. It has been exten- 
sively copied by the religious periodicals of the coun- 
try, and by one has been objected to, as exalting hu- 
man efforts in place of t-he grace of God. If his lan- 
guage is susceptible of such a construction, it most 
unhappily misrepresents his judgment and his heart.- 
For, though he was " abundant in labors,*' no man 
ever ascribed less efficiency to means, or felt more 
entirely his. exclusive dependence upon the Holy 
Spirit. 

" Portland, Aug. 17, 1821. 
' My dear Brother, 

" I have just jreceived your kind letter, and hope it 
has done me some good. I thank you for it, though 
the perusal of it has given me much pain. It is evi- 
dent that you think far more favorably of me than I 
deserve ; and your applying to me for advice shames 
and mortifies me exceedingly. But I dare not say 
what I feel on this subject, lest you should think me 
humble, which is far enough from being the case. 
Besides, you wish me to write respecting myself and 
my labors, and this, is the very subject on which I am 
most unwilling to write, because I find it most dan- 
gerous. It affords an opportunity for gratifying an 
accursed spirit of self-seeking, v/hich has ever been 
my bane and torment, and which insinuates itself into 
every thing I say or do. I know not that I have evei 
spoken of myself without furnishing cause for sorrow 
and shame. Hov/, then, can I write as you request 
me to do ? or what can I say that will be of any ser- 
vice to you 7 But you will reply that God can bless 



264 MEMOIR OF 

the feeblest means. True ; and therefore I will write 
ihough I foresee that I shall smart for it. 

You ask for a general view of my pastoral labors, 
method of preaching, &c. &c. Since the failure ol 
my health, I preach but three sermons in a week— 
tw^o on the Sabbath, and one on Thursday evening, 
I3n that evening and Sabbath morning I preach with- 
out notes, but generally form a skeleton of my sermon. 
I should like to write more, but my health will not 
permit ; and I find that when any good is done, it is 
my extempore sermons which do it. I am afraid of 
producing a faith which stands not in the . power of 
God, but in the wisdom of men, and therefore make 
as little use as possible of human arguments, but con- 
fine myself to a plain, simple exhitition of divine 
truth. The sword of the Spirit will not wound if it 
has a scabbard on it. I also aim to preach the truths 
of the Gospel in a practical and experimental, rather 
than a dry and speculative manner. In preaching to 
professing Christians, I endeavor to rouse and hum- 
ble, rather than to comfort them; for, if they can be 
kept humble, comfort will follow of course. Besides, 
I do not suppose that Christians need as much conso- 
lation now as they did in the primitive ages, when ex- 
posed to persecution. 

" Our church is divided into seven districts 3 the 
members of each district meet for prayer and conver- 
sation once a month, and the brethren residing in each 
district are a standing committee of the church for 
that district, to supply the wants of the poor, and bring 
before the church, in due form, any case of discipline 
which may occur.— We have a monthly meeting of 
all tlie brethren for business, a church conference 



EDWARD PAYSON. 26[' 

e^ery Tuesday evening, a prayer meeting on Friday 
evening, a monthly prayer meeting for the Sabbath 
schools, and the monthly union concert for prayer. 
We have also an inquiry meeting for males, on Sab- 
bath evening, and for females, on Friday afternoon. 

" As to method in the division of time, I have none ;- 
but live altogether extempore. This is partly ovinng to 
the wretched state of my health, which deprives me 
of at least three days in every week, and partly to con- 
tinual interruptions from visiters, whom I must see. I 
knew not how to bear this, till I met with the follow- 
ing maxim of an eminent minister : ' The man who 
wants me is the man I want,'' 

" My rule, in regard to visiting, is to visit as much 
as time and health will permit. I make none but pas- 
toral visits. I gave my people to understand, when I 
was settled, that they must never invite me to dine or 
sup when they did not wish to have the conversation 
turn wholly on religious subjects. This has saved me 
much time and trouble. 

" The books which I have found most useful to me 
are Edwards's works, Brainerd's Life, Newton's Let- 
ters, Owen's Treatise on Indwelling Sin, Mortification 
of Sin in Believers, and the 130th Psalm, and Thomas 
a Kempis's Imitation of Christ, translated by Payne — 
for Stanhope's translation I think not so good. If you 
have not seen Thomas a Kempis, I beg you to procure 
it. Some things you will not like 5 but, for spirituality 
and weanedness from the world, I knoAv of nothing 
equal to it. Perhaps I ought to include in the above 
list, Baxter's Reformed Pastor, and Saints' Rest. 

" It would require a volume to detail the experi- 
ments I have made, and the means I have used for a 



266 MEMOIR OF 

revival^ of religion ; and, after it was written, it would 
not be worth reading. I will, hov/ever, just mention 
what we are doing now. We have established a prayer 
meeting on the following plan: — Members of the 
church, and others, if they think proper, present notes 
requesting prayers for the conversion of any friend or 
relative for whom they feel anxious. No names are 
mentioned. The notes are placed in a small box by 
the door, and afterwards handed to me to be read. We 
have had two meetings. They were uncommonly so- 
lemn, and many of the notes were very affecting. One 
was, ^ A female stranger desires your 'prayers for 
her conversion? Another, ' One of the congrega- 
tion desires your prayers for the conversion of her 
husband and herself? Several were from old profes- 
sors, who fear that they have been deceived; and p 
great number from husbands, wives, and parents, de- 
siring prayers for their partners, children, &c. When 
we came to spread all these cases before God as the 
only Giver of good things, the scene was awfully so- 

r lemn and affecting. 

* * * * 

" I think with you, that the management of a revi- 
val is a very difficult thing. It is, I believe, a subject 
as yet but very imperfectly understood. At least, I 
know but very little of it. 

" I think I can conceive, in some measure, of the in- 
convenience you experience m consequence of the great 
extent of your congregation. It must be exceedingly 
difficult to collect your church together as often as you 
would wish, and to perform ministerial duties. A mi- 
nister, however, who Jias but a small people, is re- 
quired to do all that he can, and you are required tc 



EDWARD PAYSON. 267 

5.0 no more. Still it is exceedingly painful to see many 
things -which need to be done, but which we cannot 
find time or strength to do. My congregation, as weL 
as my heart, very much resembles the garden of the 
sluggard ; and, w^hat is worse, I find that most of my 
desires for the melioration of both proceed either from 
pride, or vanity, or indolence. I look at the weeds which , 
overspread my garden, and breathe out an earnest wish 
that they were eradicated. But why 1 What prompts 
the wish ? It may be that I may walk out and say to 
myself, ' In what fine order is my garden kept !' This 
is pride. Or it may be that my neighbors may look 
over the wall and say, ''How finely your garden flou- 
rishes 1' This is vanity. Or I may wish for the de- 
struction of the weeds because I am weary of pulling 
them up. This is indolence. Yet from such sources, I 
fear, do most of my desires for personal holiness and 
for the progress of religion among my people proceed. 
I hope and trust it is otherv^rise with you. 

" As I write with perfect freedom, I will take the 
liberty to mention one thing more, which, if I always 
attended to it, would, I believe, be highly beneficial. 
The disciples, we read, ' returned to Jesus, and told 
him all things, both what ihey had done and whiit 
they had taught.' I think that if we would, every even- 
ing, come to our Master's feet and tell him where we 
have been, what we have done, what we have saidj 
and what were the motives by which we have been 
actuated, it would have a salutary effect upon our 
whole conduct. While reading over each day's page 
of life with the consciousness that He was reading ii 
with us, w^should detect many errors and defects 
which would otherwise pass unnoticed. Pardon this 
hint. I trust vou do not need it. 



26S MEMOIR 0^" 

*^ I have written a long letter, and yet, I fear, saiJ 
nothing which will be of the smallest service to you 
But you must, as our kind Master does, take the will 
for the deed. May he fill you with the Holy Ghosl 
and with faith, and make you instrumental of adding 
much people to the Lord. So prays your sincere 
friend." 

He was particularly observant of current events, 
and careful to make them all subservient to the great 
purposes of his ministry. By these his exhortations 
were often enforced ; and hence some of the severest 
reproofs which he administered were drawn. At the 
close of public worship, one Sabb&th, he gave notice 
that the different churches in the town would observe 
the following Wednesday as a day of fasting and 
prayer for divine influences : and after mentioning 
that religious exercises would be attended in the morn 
mgj afternoon, and evening, he observed : " Should 
any be disposed to ask, with the Pharisees of old, ' To 
what purpose is this waste of time V I would remind 
them of the attention lately bestowed on an earthly 
benefactor. One united, earnest request was made to 
him that he would visit this country, for which, in 
times of trial, he had sacrificed ease and domestic 
comfort, and hazarded his life and treasure. He ac- 
ceded to the invitation of a grateful people ; he has 
visited you. You spared neither time nor expense to 
give him an honorable reception. And have you not, 
my friends, a Heavenly Benefactor, from whom you 
receive every good and perfect gift ? a Savior, who 
has given his life to redeem you from everlasting bon- 
dage and misery? When will one hearty, united 
request arise from this place, that our God and Re- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 269 

dee/aer will visit us? And should he come, would 
he be welcomed as was the benefactor just alhidedto? 
It is true that, in one sense, God is ever present ; but 
he can be with us in such a manner that his presence 
will hefelty and the effects of it made visible. And 
the effects of his absence, too, may be seen, while no 
cheering rays of his life-giving Spirit are imparted. 
And shall we grudge a day, to be devoted to special 
entreaty that he would come in the chariot of his sal 
vation, from conquering to conquer? that he would 
make us glad with the light of his countenance ? Was 
one day too short for all the acknoAvledgments which 
we were desirous to make to our nation's friend? and 
is it too long to be devoted to him who is the Re- 
deemer of the world, from whom cometh our salva- 
tion, and whose favor is immortal life ?" 

Among his various methods of drawing attention to 
the subject of religion, and impressing the mind with 
its importance, the following is, perhaps, worthy of 
preservation, for the practical hint which it conveys : 

" Once, in the course of my ministry, I made an 
analysis of all the sermons which I had preached to 
my people for six months, and embodied it in one ser- 
mon and preached it to them. They Avere astonished, 
and I was astonished, at the amount of truth which 
had been presented to them, and, to human appear- 
ance, with very little effect." How descriptive of his 
constant solicitude, and of the various exertions to 
which it prompted him, are the lines of the poet : 

** And as a bird each fond endearment tries 
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies 
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, 
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way." 



270 MEMOIR OF 

It would be matter for lamentation if the p eceding 
statements of insulated facts should be so interpreted 
as to convey to strangers an impression altogether er- 
roneous respecting Dr. Payson's general manner of 
exercising the ministry. He was a stanch friend to 
the "good old way," and generally adhered to it in 
the discharge of ministerial duties : his deviations were 
circumstantial. He differed from others in the zeal 
and earnestness with which he prosecuted the ordinary 
routine of clerical services, more than in the novelty 
and extravagance of his measures. The new aspect 
which his congregation assumed, in consequence oi 
the blessing of God upon his faithful and zealous la- 
bors, required meetings and exercises of a specific cha- 
racter, and, of course, some addition to their number. 
To render these in the highest degree subservient to 
the spiritual good of his charge was his uniform aim, 
in the pursuit of which he made the most felicitous 
use of every providential event and every noticeable 
fact in the circumstances of his people, as a means of 
enforcing truths and duties of immediate and indispen- 
sable importance. It should be remembered, too, that 
he Avas the established pastor, that he stood high in 
the affections and confidence of his people, who had 
witnessed the rapid growth of his extraordinary piety 
for a period of eight or ten years, without having dis- 
covered a single circumstance to discredit its reality 
or strength. They knew him to be a man of great sim- 
plicity of purpose ; and whatever might be their judg- 
ment of particular acts, they were sure he watched foi 
their souls as one that must give account; and was 
not accustomed to " say a word to sinners, except when 
he had a broken heart himself,'- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 271 

The feelings which prompted and sustained his 
restless activity for the glory of God and the salvation 
of men very frequently disclose themselves in hia 
correspondence and diary : 

'' December 26, 1821. 

" 1 do not think you understand my feelings about 
a revival. Unless I am very much deceived, I have 
no controversy with God respecting it. But ought a 
minister to feel easy while his people are perishing 
and Christians are dishonoring their Master? Did 
not Paul feel great heaviness and continual sorrow of 
heart for his countrymen ? All the joy and gratitude 
he felt in view of what God had done for him and by 
him could not remove that sorrow. And the prophet 
v/ould weep day and night for the daughter of his 
people. Instead of feeling less, it seems to me that I 
ought to feel more, and to have no rest. But I do not 
murmur at God's dealings. I only wonder that he 
ever did any thing for me or by me ; and that he has 
not, long since, cast me out of his vineyard. As to 
the bed-ridden female you mention, I see nothing very 
wonderful in her rejoicing and gratitude. Well may 
she rejoice and be grateful when she is filled full of 
divine consolation. She has outward trials, it is true : 
but what are they when Christ is present? Who 
wants candles when he has the sun? Give me her 
consolations and I will sing as loud as she does. And 
let her have my showers of fiery darts and my other 
trials, and, unless I am much mistaken, she will groan 
as much as I do. I have seen very young Christiana 
terribly afflicted by bodily pain and sickness for months 
together, and all the timefullof joy and thankfulness, 



272 MEMOIR OF 

and 1 have seen the same persons afterwards, when 
they were surrounded by temporal mercies, show very 
little of either. Things seem to be a little on the mend- 
ing hand ; and the church are again beginning to hope 
for a revival. Last Sabbath was an uncommonly so- 
lemn day." 

^'August 20, 1823. 

" It has been, and still is, a season of spiritual dead* 
ness among us. I have preached so plainly, especially 
to the church, that 1 feared they would not bear it, 
and that we should come to an open rupture. How- 
ever, they have borne it very well, and there seems 
now to be more of a disposition among them to make 
exertion ; but it is impossible to say what the result 
will be. 

" If you have not written to lately, it would be 

well to cheer him with a letter. Poor man ! he seems 
to be just entering on Newton's second stage, the cha- 
racteristic of which, you recollect, is conflict. How- 
ever, I trust he will be carried safely through. I wish, 
with all my heart, that Satan would fight against the 
peace of some of our church more than he does ; but 
he is too cunning to do that. He sees that they are 
slumbering, and he will take care not to wake them 
You can scarcelv form an idea how soporific the air of 
a sea-port is, nor oi the irresistible force with which 
the world assails Christians in such a place as this. 
The moment they step out of doors it rushes in at 
their eyes and ears, in ten thousand shapes ; so that, 
unless their hearts are pre-occupied with better things, 
they are filled with it in a moment. By turns 1 
expostulate, and plead, and warn, and threaten, and 
weep, and pray, and sometimes almost scold, but all 



EDWARD PAYSON. 273 

in vam. The world drags away its victims, and laughs 
my feeble efforts to scorn." 

" December 5, 1823. 

"A few weeks since I set up a Bible class for young 
persons over, fourteen years of age. About two hun- 
dred and fifty attend, and some of them appear inte- 
rested ; but none are awakened as yet. However, God 
must have some chosen ones among the rising genera- 
tion, and he will, sooner or later, bring them in ; but 
I fear that all, or nearly all, who have passed the me- 
ridian of life-—! mean in my congregation — are given 
over to final hardness of heart." 

. ^^ January 31, 1824. 

" Yesterday was our quarterly f^ist, and I pursued 
a new method. I first confessed my own sins to the 
church, asked their forgiveness, and then requested 
them to unite with me in praying that God would for- 
give me, and ordain me afresh as their pastor. I then 
having, as I hope, cast the beam out of my own eye, 
proceeded to take the mote out of the eye of my breth- 
ren. I first called upon the deacons to follow my 
example, if they thought proper, by confessing their 
sins, and appointing one of their number to lead in 
prayer, that they might be forgiven. A similar call 
was then made upon the brethren, and, after that, upon 
the sisters, for whom I acted as mouth. A great deal 
was said which I cannot write, but for want of which 
you will not fully understand our method of proceed- 
ing, nor all the reasons of it. It must suffice to say, 
*hat we attempted to obey, on a large scale, the ex» 
aortation of James — ' Confess your faults one to ano- 

.Payson. 18 



274 MEMOIR OF 

ther, and pray for one another, that ye may be heakd. 
I cannot but hope that it will prove to have been Ji 
profitable season, and that a blessing will follow it.' 

''May 2,1825, 
" 1 returned last week on Wednesday, preached a 
preparatory lecture on Thursday, attended the church 
quarterly fast on Friday, prepared for the Sabbath on 
Saturday, and yesterday preached twice and adminis- 
tered the Lord's supper. The consequence is that 1 
am only half alive this morning. L. and a young lady 
who boards with us were very much affected by the 
address to youth at the table. They wept all the last 
evening, and appeared very solemn this morning ; but 
L. has so often been affected in a similar manner that 
I dare not promise myself much from present appear- 
ances. It is, however, evident that the Holy Spirit is 
constantly striving with her ; she is never perfectly at 
ease ; and I cannot but hope she will, ere long, become 
a subject of grace. 

" In a religious view, things remain with us very 
much as they have been, though I think the church, 
or some of them at least, are becoming more alive than 
they were. — I have lately had some delightful medita- 
tions on the priesthood of Christ. I was led to them 
by thinking how a penitent Israelite must have regard- 
ed his high priest. We may consider such a man as 
saying — ' I am a miserable, polluted sinner ; I cannot 
enter the holy place where God dwells, but am kept 
at a distance. I cannot burn incense acceptably, cannoi 
be permitted even to offer my own sacrifice. But I have 
a high priest, appointed and consecrated by God, who 
is permitted to approach him on my behalf. He carries 



EDWARD PAYBON. 275 

my name, or the name of my tribe on his breast-plate. 
He offers sacrifice for me ; he burns incense for me j 
he enters the holy place and sprinkles atoning blood 
for me. In him I am accepted, and in him will I glory 
Take away my high priest, and you take away my all : 
but while I have him, while he is accepted in my be- 
half, I will exult and rejoice.' And with how much 
more reason may the Christian triumph and glory in 
his great High Priest, and rejoice that he is 'accepted 
in the Beloved.' I do not mention these thoughts ai* 
any thing new, but as thoughts which have been pe- 
culiarly sweet and precious to me of late. Yet, alas ' 
I am continually seeking to be my own high priest, \q 
find something in myself for the sake of which I may 
be accepted, at least in part. How happy are you, my 
dear mother, to have gotten almost through this weari- 
some, terrible conflict! Your trials and sufferings are al- 
most ended, and the blessed fruit of them is all to come.' 
These extracts furnish specimens of his zeal, and 
his various methods of exerting himself for the promo- 
tion of religion. His labors were never suspended, un- 
less physical debility rendered the prosecution of them 
impossible. His religion was not intermittent. With 
him time was a precious talent, and he "paid no mo- 
ment but in purchase of its worth." He would noi 
willingly suffer, an hour to pass away without some 
effort for the recovery of lost sinners. Whatever werf 
the declension of those around him* his ardor in reli- 
gion and his exertions for its advancement suffered no 
visible abatement. On the contrary, the darkest times 
were those in which he was eminently "jealous for 
the Lord of hosts," a living witness to the power of 
divine grace, and a living reproof to such as ' had gone 



276 MEMOIR OF 

away backward." When he saw his fellow-men in- 
different to their own salvation — Avhen he saw " reign- 
ing crime and hastening death" — it was "a spectacle 
which made" his heart ache and "his eyes weep." 
He expostulated, he warned, he entreated, he mourned 
in secret j)laces, he "ran between the dead and the 
living," and earnestly interceded with God to interpose 
for their salvation. He could " not hold his peace, nor 
take rest," when Zion was in affliction, and " none com- 
ing to the solemn feast." As it respects the progress of 
the Redeemer's cause, he seemed always to glow with 
vhe spirit and feelings which most are accustomed to 
regard as a privilege peculiar to a time of general re- 
vival. These feelings must have been subject to some 
inequalities even in him ; but they seem never to have 
sunk to a point which was not above the standard of 
attainment with ordinary men in their most favored 
seasons. He was, indeed, often discouraged with re- 
spect to himself and his ow^n personal prospects 5 but, 
if he ever suffered any declension in zeal for the glory 
of God in the salvation of others, it was of such tem- 
porary duration as to produce no perceptible effect on 
his use of means. If there was a time, during his 
whole ministry, when he was not ardently desirous, 
and, to the extent of his ability, actively laborious for 
the conversion of sinners, the fact was not observable 
by his people, nor even by his most intimate friends. 
He loved his work : when not exhausted by fatigue, 
or depressed by illness, he was specially fond of the 
exercise of preaching — so much so, that he considered 
it no favor for a way-faring brother to offer to supply 
his place gratuitously on a Sabbath. He felt, to use 
his own comparison, about as much obligation for 



EDWARD PA\30N. ?.ll 

such an offer, as he should to a man for proposing to 
eat up a good dinner prepared for himself when he 
was half-starved. In preparing for the pulpit, it was 
his invariable object to introduce so much of the grand 
truths of the Gospel into every discourse, that a person 
who had never heard a sermon before, and should ne- 
ver hear another, might learn from it what was essen- 
tial to salvation. While his sermons generally bore 
this uniform feature, they were endlessly various in 
other respects. He seldom selected a text without 
reference to the known circumstances of his church 
and congregation ; and so wakeful and diligent was 
he " to know the state of his flock," that he scarcely 
ever failed in the adaptation of his subject. So dex- 
terously did he wield the sword of the Spirit, and so 
fully and accurately discern and expose ' the thoughts 
and intents of the heart," that, to this day, there are 
those who believe that their particular sins had been 
reported to him, and that his discourses were adapted 
to their own individual case. 

But, among all his services in the house of God, 
none, perhaps, were more . signally blessed than his 
exercises at the communion-table. Uniformly, this 
ordinance was, in a high degree, refreshing to his 
own spirit. Hither he delighted to come and quench 
his thirst for the water of life. Here he met the Sa- 
vior, " who bore our sins in his own body on the tree," 
and who, "having himself suffered, being tempted, 
knoweth how to succor them that are tempted." To 
him the cmcified Son of God had incomparable at- 
tractions. He saw in Christ that kind, sympathizing 
all-powerful High Priest who was suited to the wants 
of which he felt so deeply conscious. And he always 



278 MEMOIR OF 

came to this sacred feast with a soul full oi lenvier- 
ness, and dwelt on the love of a suftering Savior with 
a pathos that was irresistible. Here, in an unrivallea 
degree, his "heart indited good matter, and his tongue 
was the pen of a ready writer." "Jesus Christ was, 
mdeedj set forth crucified before the eyes " of the ad- 
miring communicants. His person, attributes, and 
offices, as the Redeemer of our lost race ; his marvel- 
lous compassion in dying to atone for our sins ; his 
intercession at the right hand of the Father ; the glo- 
ries and terrors of his second coming — were so dis- 
tinctly and affectingly exhibited, as to excite the cor- 
responding emotions in all hearts which were not 
harder than the nether millstone. Those who could 
sympathize with the administrator, while contemplat- 
ing Christ as Mediator, by whom we have access to 
God, and redemption through his blood, even the for 
giveness of our sins according to the riches of his 
grace," felt that in sinning against Christ they had 
wounded their best, tenderest, almighty Friend. And 
O how hateful was sin made to appear ! how loath- 
some ! how heartily was it renounced ! how fervently 
Its future commission deprecated ! and then tlie re 
newed and unreserved dedication of soul and body to 
God, as a living, holy, acceptable, and reasonable sa- 
crifice I " How sweet and awful was the place," while 
sealing their vows, and Christ his pardons, with the 
consecrated symbols of his body and blood ! How 
precious was the communion of saints with Jesus, 
and with one another! — To hundreds have these sa- 
bred scenes been earnests of the heavenly inheritance. 
And the interest which he gave to the occasion by his 
spirituality, |iis knowledge of the heart, of the Savior, 



EDVVARL PAYSO:S 279 

and of the mysteries of redemptiorij exhibited in his 
appropriate and impressive appeals, usually detained 
a great number who were not communicants ; and 
what they heard and witnessed was not unfrequently 
the means of conviction. 

This, too, was his chosen occasion to impress on 
the young a sense of their obligations to devote them- 
selves to their God and Redeemer ; and a more suita- 
ble one could not have been selected. There are 
many who will remember it with everlasting grati- 
tude. When it is recollected how much there is in 
this scene to render instructions impressive on the 
minds of youth, might not ministers generally take a 
valuable hint from his practice ? 

The church fasts and conferences, when conducted 
by the pastor, were, next to those of the communion, 
the m.03t humble, melting, edifying, and instructive 
seasons which his highly favored flock enjoyed. Here 
he employed his faith, his imagination, and the vari- 
ous resources of his richly furnished mind to show 
them their actual condition, and urge them forward in 
their Christian course. So distinctly and clearly could 
he illustrate the different degrees of Christian attain- 
ment, and mark the different shades and varieties of 
religious experience in all its gradations, from the 
babe to the perfect man in Christ Jesus, that it would 
seem every Christian present must have known his 
precise rank. A specimen of his manner, as near as 
can be recollected, may be thus stated : ' 

" Suppose professors of religion to be ranged in dii* 
ferent concentric circles around Christ, as their com- 
mon centre. Some value the presence of their Savior 
so highly, that they cannot bear to be at any remove 



2SU MEMOIR OF 

from him. Even their work they will bring up, and ucj 
it in the light of his countenance ; and, while engaged 
m it, wi-1 be seen constantly raising their eyes to him, 
as if fearful of losing one beam of his light. Others, 
who, to be sure, would not be content to live out of hi< 
presence, are yet less wholly absorbed by it than these, 
and may be seen a little farther oft', engaged here and 
there in their various callings, their eyes generally 
upon their work, but often looking up for the light 
which they love. A third class, beyond these, but yet 
within the life-giving rays, mcludes a doubtful multi- 
tude, many of whom are so much engaged in their 
worldly schemes, that they may be seen standing side- 
ways to Christ, looking mostly the other way, and 
only now and then turning their faces towards the 
light. And yet farther out, amongst the last scattered 
rays, so distant that it is often doubtful whether they 
come at all within their influence, is a mixed assem- 
blage of busy ones, some with their backs wholly turn- 
ed upon the sun, and most of them so careful and 
troubled about their many things as to spare but little 
time for their Savior. 

" The reason why the men of the world think so 
little of Christ, is, they do not look at him. Their 
backs being turned to the sun, they can see only their 
own shadows ; and are, therefore, wholly taken up 
with themselves. While the true disciple, looking 
only upward, sees nothing but his Savior, and learns 
to forget himself." 

" The growth of grace in the heart may be compared 
to the process of polishing metals. First, you have a 
dark, opaque substance, neither possessing nor reflect- 
ing light. ' Presently, as the polisher plies his work^ 



EDWARD TAYSON. 281 

• 

you will see liere and there a spark darting out ; then 
a strong light ; till, by and by, it sends back a perfect 
image of the sun w^ch shines upon it. So the work 
of grace, if begun in our hearts, must be gradually and 
continually going on ; and it will not be completed till 
the image of God can be seen perfectly reflected in us." 
At a church fast, in the time of a revival, he men- 
tioned, as dangers to be guarded against, and as causes 
of the suspension of divine influences, 

1. " Christians, in times of refreshing from the pre- 
sence of the Lord, are apt to be so much taken up in 
conversing and laboring with sinners, that, from con- 
cern for the souls of others, they neglect their own spi- 
ritual interests. This may do very well for a time, but 
in the end will be productive of much evil. I do not 
mean to dissuade you from laboring for thq good of 
others, but to warn you to take care of your own souls. 

2. " Christians are in danger, when a revival has 
continued for some time, of praying less for its con- 
tinuance, and of being less thankful for it. They seem 
to take it for granted that it will go on as a matter of 
course ; their prayers grow less frequent and fervent, 
and their gratitude less lively, until at length a case 
of conversion, which would at first have electrified 
the whole church, produces scarcely any sensation at 
all. Now, when this is the case, a revival will certain- 
ly cease ; for God never continues to bestow spiritual 
favors where they are not felt to be such. 

3. " Another reason why revivals do not contmue 
longer, is, that there is so much animal excitement 
mixed with them. It is a law of our nature, that the 
duration of merely animal feelings should be in inverse 
proportion to their strength. These are no part of spi- 



i:{82 MEMOIR OP 

rituality and holiness ; for the more holy we are, the 
less we shall have of them. Our Savior had none of 
these feelings. Strive to repress a«iimal feeling, and to 
be more purely spiritual." 

" We read that Nadab and Abihu, on the day of their 
consecration to the priesthood, instead of taking holy 
fire with v/hich to burn incense, took strange, that is, 
common fire, and were punished by immediate death 
for their presumption. To us this may appear a slight 
offence. We may think one fire equally good with ano- 
ther. But our God is a jealous God, and we must 
make our offerings in the manner he has commanded, 
and with a right spirit, or they will be an offence in 
his sight, and he will not accept them." 

Mr. Payson was never more happy than when guid 
ing inquirers to " the Lamb of God, who taketh away 
the sins of the world." Some of the " similitudes" by 
which he endeavored to illustrate the nature of expe- 
rimental religion, and assist inquirers in judging of 
the character of their own exercises, have been pre- 
served in the memory of several of his later converts, 
and will not be unwelcome to any class of readers. 
They do not profess to be reported in precisely his 
language, and on this account due allowance must 
be made. Much of their original force and apposite- 
ness is doubtless lost. 

" Suppose a number of persons standing by a river's 
side. .They are invited to drink of its waters, but they 
are not thirsty, and therefore do not desire them. At 
length their thirst is excited, and they look round 
for a vessel with which to take up some water. But 
their vessels are all filled with some worthless thing, 
which they are as yet unwilling to part with. But, as 



EDWARD PAYSON. 2SS 

their thirst incf-. 'ases, they become willing to relin- 
quish what they had thought of so much value, and 
finally emptying -heir vessels of this rubbish, and re- 
ceiving the watei, they quench their thirst. Thus it 
is with sinners : Jasus Christ invites them to come 1:0 
him, the Fountain of living waters. But they decline * 
his invitations — their hearts being filled with the trea- 
sures of earth. They do not thirst for Christ till God 
takes away the love of this world and its vanities, and 
the Holy Spirit fills them with desire to come to him. 
Then they hunger and thirst after righteousness, and 
are prepared to receive Christ." • 

" Were a man suddenly precipitated into the sea, and, 
after making ineffectual struggles to save himself, to 
give up all for lost — should he at this crisis perceive a 
boat approaching, and a friendly hand extended for his 
rescue, he would, at first, scarcely credit his senses, or 
realize that he was safe ; his joy would be so great, 
and his gratitude to his preserver so ardent. But after 
the first transports had subsided he would feel more 
real pleasure in contemplating the vessel, in admiring 
the wisdom apparent in its construction, and its ad- 
mirable adaptedness for saving from death ail who 
were in his late situation, than he would when he 
viewed it merely as the means of saving his own life. 
So the sinner, v/hen first he tmds himself rescued from 
destruction, is full of love to Christ for his peculiar 
and unmerited mercy to himself. But as he increases 
m knowledge and Christian attainments, has clearer 
views of the character of God and the wisdom and 
grace which appear in the plan of redemption, his love 
has less and less of selfishness." 

" Suppose two persons equally desirous to gain 



,^84 MEIMOIR OF 

jrour affections — one far distant, and not expecting ta 
see you for a long time ; the other always present 
with youj and at liberty to use all means to win your 
love, able to flatter and gratify you m a thousand ways. 
*Btill you prefer the absent one ; and that you may keep 
him in remembrance, you often retire by yourself to 
think of his love to you, and view again and again the 
mementos of his affection, to read his letters, and pour 
out your heart in return. Such is now your case; 
the world is always before you, to flatter, promise, and 
please. But if you really prefer to love God, you will 
fix youp thoughts on him, often retire for meditation 
and prayer, and recount the pleasant gifts of his pro 
vidence, and especially his infinite mercy to your soul ; 
you will read frequently his holy word, which is the 
letter he has sent you as really as if it were directed 
to you by name." 

" Religion is the golden chain which God lets down 
from heaven, with a link for every person in this room 
inviting each to take hold, that you may be drawn b]f 
It to himself. You can readily perceive how disa- 
greeable it would be to be linked to one whom you 
disliked, and drawn by him whithersoever he wills ; 
but you would gladly be drawn and guided in every 
thing by the person whom you ardently loved. There 
is this difference between the Christian and the sin- 
ner. However reluctant and full of hatred, still the 
sinner is controlled by God ; the Christian is equally 
in his hands, but is drawn by the cords of love." 

"It has been frequently wished by Christians, that 
there were some rule laid down in the Bible, fixing 
the proportion of their property which they ought tc 
contribute to religious uses. This is as if a child 



EDWARD PAYSON. 285 

should go to his father and say, ' Father, how many 
times in the day must I come to" you with some testi- 
monial of my love ? how often will it be necessary 
to show my affection for you?' — The father would 
of course reply, ^ Just as often as your feelings prompt 
you, my child, and no oftener.' Just so Christ says 
to his people : ' Look at me, and see what I have done 
and suffered for you, and then give me just what you 
•hink I deserve. I do not wish any thing forced.' -' 

" Once I dreamed of being transported to heaven, 
and being surprised to find myself so calm and tran- 
quil in the midst of my happiness, inquired the cause. 
The reply was — When you were on earth, you re- 
sembled a bottle but partly filled with water, which 
was agitated by the least motion ; now you are like 
the same bottle filled to the brim, which cannot be 
disturbed." 

" Christ said to Mary, Fear not ; I know that you 
seek Jesus. If ye really seek Jesus, he says the same 
to you. Fear not — death, sorrow, sickness, any thing. 
If they are thus blessed who seek Jesus, what must 
those be Avho have found him ?" 

To an inquirer who complained that the difficulties 
in his way increased rather than diminished, he said, 
"You might bind a bird with a soft silken cord, and 
while he remains still he will not be sensible of his 
confinement ; but as soon as he attempts to fly he will 
feel the cord that confines him ; and the greater his 
desire and his efforts to escape, the more sensible will 
he be of his bondage. So the sinner may long be a 
slave to his sins, and never be aware of it till he rises 
to go to Christ." 

" Every person has some object which he loves su- 



^86 MEMOIR OP 

premely ; and in every unrenewed man that object is 
self. Suppose, for illustration, that you have an image 
which is in reality extremely ugly, but which you 
thmk beautiful, and you spend all your time in polish- 
ing and adorning it. At length, however, you begin 
to see something of its deformity, but endeavor to con- 
ceal it from others, and if possible from yourself, by 
painting and dressing it. * Notwithstanding all your 
efforts, it grows more and more ugly, till at last, in 
despair of amending it yourself, you pray that God 
would make it more lovely. It is evident in this case 
that your prayers would not proceed from love to God, 
but from love to your idol ; and therefore there would 
be no goodness in them. Suppose that during all this 
time a person was entreating you to look at a beau- 
tiful diamond statue, v/hich you refused to do ; until, 
wearied with useless efforts to make your image ap- 
pear more beautiful, you turn and look at the statue. 
Immediately you see your idol in all its native defor- 
mity ; you cast it aside, and begin to admire and extol 
the statue. This idol represents self, and every un- 
renewed person admires and loves it supremely. 
When his conscience is awakened to see something 
of his sinfulness, he first endeavors to make himself 
better; and it is long before he finds that he cannot 
change his own heart. When he finds that notwith- 
standing all his endeavors his heart seems to grow 
worse and worse, he prays to God for help. It is not 
from love to God, or because God has commanded it, 
that he prays ; but because he is unwilling to see him- 
self so sinful ; so that his prayers arise merely from 
pride and selfishness. But if he will only turn and 
looli to Christ, he sees his sins in a new light, and no 



EDWARD PAYSON. 287 

longer loves himself supremely 5 all his affections are 
transferred to Christ. He then prays to be made bet- 
ter, not to gratify his pride, but because he sees some- 
thing of the beauty of holiness, and longs to resemble 
his divine Master." 

'' Suppose one man owes another a thousand pounds, 
but he is unable to pay the debt, and denies that he 
owes it. His creditor being a very compassionate man, 
says to him, ' I do not wish for your money, and as 
soon as you will own the debt to be a just one, I will 
release you from your obligation; but I cannot do it 
before, for that would be in fact acknowledging that 
I am in the wrong.' The poor man refuses to confess 
that he owes the money, and is in consequence sent 
to prison. After remaining there for a time, he sends 
his creditor v/ord that he will allow that he owes him 
a hundred 'pounds. But that will not do. After 
another interval he says he will allow that he owes 
hoo hundred pounds; and thus he keeps gradually' 
giving up a little more, until he gets to nine hundred ; 
there he stops a long while. At length finding there 
is no other way of escape, he acknowledges the whole 
debt, and is released. Still it would be free, unmerited 
kmdness m the creditor, and the poor man would have 
no right to say, ' I partly deserved it, because I owned 
the debt ;' for he ought to have done that whether he 
was liberated or not. Just in this manner we have 
created God. When he comes and charges us with 
havmg broken his law, we deny it ; we will allow per- 
aaps that we deserve a slight punishment, but not all 
which God has threatened. But if we are ever to be 
saved, God comes and as it were .^jhuts us up in pri- 
son ; that is, he awakens our consciences and sends his 



288 MEMOIR OF 

Spirit to convince us of sin. Thus we every day see 
more and more of the desperate wickedness of oui 
hearts, until we are ready to allow that we have de- 
served eternal condemnation. As soon as we ac- 
knowledge this, God is ready to pardon us ; but it is 
evident that we do not deserve pardon, that he is not 
under the least obligation to bestow it, and that all 
who are saved, are saved through free, unmerited 
grace." 

" One excuse which awakened sinners are accus- 
tomed to alledge in their own defence is, that they wish 
to love God and to have new hearts, but cannot. They 
do indeed wish to be saved, but they are not willing 
to be saved in God's way ; that is, they are not willing 
to accept salvation as a free gift. They would do any 
thing to buy it, but will not take it without money and 
without price. Suppose that you were very sick, and 
were told by the physician that there was but one 
medicine in the world which could save your life, and 
that this was exceedingly precious. You were also 
told that there was but one person in the world who 
had any of this in his possession ; and that, although 
he was willing to give it to those who asked, he would 
on no account sell any. Suppose this person to be one 
whom you had treated with great neglect and con- 
tempt, injured in every possible way. How exceed- 
ingly unwilling would you be to send to him for the 
medicine as a gift ! You would rather purchase it at 
the expense of your whole fortune. You would defer 
sanding as long as possible, and when you found that 
you were daily growing worse, and nothing else could 
save you, you would be obliged, however reluctantly, 
to send and ask for some. Just so unwilling are sin 



EDWAKU PAYSUN. 289 

aers to apply to God for salvation as a free gift ; and 
ihey will not do it until they find themselves perishing, 
and that there is no other hope for them." 

'' The young convert, in judging of the reality of his 
conversion, generally lays much stress upon having a 
great deal of joy ; and regards that as a very decisive 
proof that he is a disciple of Christ. But this is one 
of the most fallacious proofs, and no dependence 
ought to be placed on it. " It is not desirable at first 
to have full assurance of our salvation, for our love is 
then weak; and some degree of fear is likewise ne- 
cessary to keep us near to Christ." 

" Suppose a child accidentally falls into a pit, and 
when some person comes to help him out, instead oi 
thankfully accepting the offer, he says, ^No; I will 
not have you to help me out; I wish some one else to 
assist me.' He is told by his father that he shall not 
be assisted by any other person. Yet he still prefers 
remaining in the pit to accepting that person's offer. 
Does it not indicate strong aversion to him ? Yet it is 
precisely thus that the sinner treats Christ. He is 
exposed to danger, from which none but Christ can 
deliver him. Yet rather than accept his assistance, 
he tries every other method again and again ; and 
when he finds all his efforts unsuccessful, he practi- 
cally says, 'I had rather perish than be saved by 
Christ.' How justly might the Savior take him at 
his word, and leave him to perkh !" 

" The manner in which people obtain a false hope 
IS generally this : they first believe that God is recon- 
ciled to them, and then are reconciled to him on that 
account ; but if they thought that God was still dis 

pleased with, and determined to punish them, they 
Pay soil. ig 



290 MEMOIR OF 

would find their enmity to him revive. On the con 
trary, the Christian is reconciled because he sees tlie 
holiness of the law which he has broken, and God's 
justice in punishing him; he takes part with God 
against himself, cordially submits to him, and this 
when he expects condemnation. He is reconciled, 
because he is pleased with the character of God ; the 
false convert^ because he hopes God is pleased with 
him." 

" It is morally impossible for God to pardon sinners 
without repentance. The moment he should do it, 
he would cease to be a perfectly holy being ; of course 
all the songs of heaven would stop, and all the happi- 
ness of the universe be dried up. In his conduct he 
is governed by a regard to the good of the whole. If 
a sovereign, out of false pity to criminals, should par- 
don them indiscriminately, he would thus destroy the 
happiness of all his faithful subjects, and introduce 
misery and confusion into his kingdom. But infinitely 
worse consequences would ensue, if God should ne- 
glect to punish those who transgress his law. His 
vast dominions would become one universal scene of 
anarchy and confusion ; happiness would be banished 
for ever; and miseiy, in its most aggravated forms, 
would prevail throughout the universe. Yet all this 
the sinner would think ought to be endured, rather 
than that he should be obliged to repent of his sins." 

" Young converts generally suppose that it is their 
strong faith which enables them to go to God and ask 
to be forgiven, without much fear or hesitation ; hut 
faith has less to do with it than they imagine. It is 
because they see little of their own sinfulness and 
God's hatred of sin. If they had clear views of these 



EDWAltIi PAYyON. 2iil 

truths; they would find their weak faith very insuffi- 
cient to induce them to go to Christ. Suppose a man, 
who had never seen fire, and who knew its effects only 
by report, should be told that at a certain distant pe- 
riod he would be obliged to pass through a fire. He 
s told also that there is but one kind of garment that 
can protect him from its influence. A person gives 
him this robe, and although it appears to him very thin 
and flimsy, yet he feels very well satisfied with it be- 
fore he has seen the fire. But when the destined 
time arrives, and he sees the fire blazing out and con- 
suming every thing within its reach, his confidence 
fails. At first, a small degree of faith enables the 
Christian to go to God ; but as he advances in the 
Knowledge of his own heart and God's hatred of sin, 
his faith must also be increased, to enable him to ap- 
proach his heavenly Father with confidence." 

" The young convert may be compared to a child 
whom his father is leading over a rugged and uneven 
path. After proceeding for some time without much 
difliculty, he forgets that it has been owing to his fa- 
ther's assistance — begins to think that he may now 
venture to walk by himself, and consequently falls. 
Humbled and dejected, he then feels his own weak- 
ness, and clings to his father for support. Soon, how- 
ever, elated with his progress, he again forgets the 
kind hand which sustains him, fancies he needs no 
more assistance, ^nd again falls. This process is re- 
peated a thousand times in the course of the Chris- 
tian's experience, till he learns, at length, that his 
own strength is perfect weakness, and that he must 
depend solely on his heavenly Father." 

"To assist you in estimating the criminality of sin 



1492 Mi-MOIK OF 

suppose that you had committed the first sm — that 
before you were born, such a thing had never been 
Iieard or thought of, but that all beings had united in 
loving and serving God, till all at once you started 
u]) and began to disobey his commands. What a com- 
motion would be excited ! Instantly the news would 
spread through heaven and earth with inconceivable 
rapidity, and all ranks and orders of beings would join 
in exclaiming, ^ It cannot be ! Where is the wretch 
who would dare to disobey Jehovah V Suppose, then^ 
that you Were obliged to come forward and stand in 
the view of the assembled universe of myriads of sin- 
less beings, who all regarded you with feelings of asto- 
nishment, horror, detestation, too strong for utterance 
How inexpressibly dreadful would sin appear in this 
point of view ! And yet it is in reality just as dread- 
ful and as criminal to sin now, as if no sin had ever 
been committed by another." 

" The difference between true and false religion 
may be thus illustrated. Suppose a king visits two 
families of his subjects. The members of one. think it 
great condescension in him to visit them ; they show 
him every possible mark of affection and respect, and 
they are filled with regret and unhappiness at his de- 
parture. The other family have no real love for him ; 
and though self-interest prompts them to show him 
every external mark of respect, yet it is constrained^ 
and they are glad when he departs. T^ow, if this king 
could read the heart, and saw that their services were 
msincere, he could not of course be pleased ; and the 
more assiduous they were in their attentions, ii 
prompted wholly by self-interest, the more would he 
be disgusted. In the same manner, when God, by his 



EbWARD PAY90N. 2^'3 

Spirit, visits the true Christian, it fills him with joy 
and gladness ; his presence is life; and when he hides 
his face, nothing can afford pleasure or satisfaction. 
But when thoughts of God enter the mind of the sin- 
ner, he feels uneasy, and tries to get rid of them. He 
may, from selfish motives, affect to seek God ; but his 
heart is not in it, and he longs after the pleasures ol 
the world. This is the way in which all awakened, 
yet impenitent sinners, seek God ; and yet they are 
displeased because he will not accept such heartless 
services." 

" We are apt to feel as if, by our prayers, we laid 
God under obligation- to save us; as if our feeble, im- 
perfect services were ' profitable to him.' Suppose a 
poor beggar should say of some rich nobleman, ' He 
is under great obligations to me, and when asked 
' Why?' should answer, 41 have been every day, for 
a great many years, and told him a long story of my 
wants, and asked him to help me.' You can see how 
absurd this appears ; and yet it is precisely similar to 
our conduct ; except indeed that ours is much more 
absurd, because the disparity between God and us is 
infinitely greater than can exist between any two 
mortals." 

" When sinners have been awakened to see theii 
guilt and danger, and are invited to come to Christ 
and be saved, they frequently make such excuses as 
these — ^ I cannot believe that the invitations of the 
Gospel were intended for such sinners as I am ; I am 
afraid I do not feel right, and that Christ will not re- 
ceive me.' Suppose a table set in the street, and 
loaded with all kiads of food; and that a herald is sent 
to make proclamation that all who wish m^y come 



294 MEMOIR OF 

and partake freely. A poor man comes, and stands 
looking very wishfully at the table ; and, when he is 
asked why he does not eat, replies — O, I am afraid 
the mvitation is not meant for me; I am not fit." 
Again he is assured that the invitation is intended for 
all those who are hungry, and that no other qualifica- 
tion is necessary. Still he objects — ' But I am afraid 1 
am not hungry enough.' In the same way do sinners 
deprive themselves, by their own folly, of those bless- 
ings which are freely offered them by their Creator." 

" Suppose the rebellious subjects of a very wise and 
good king condemned to death. The king has a son, 
who, from compassion to these poor wretches, offers 
to make satisfaction to his father for their crimes, il 
he will pardon them. The king consents on one con- 
dition. He places his son at the door of his palace, 
and makes proclamation, tlf^t every one who comes to 
him for pardon, and is led in by his son, shall be for- 
given for his sake. One of the culprits comes, and, 
rejecting the proffered hand of the prince, rushes to 
the throne himself. Can this man expect mercy? 
Thus God has provided a Mediator, and commanded 
all to approach in his name ; and none can expect to 
be received who do not come to God in this appointed 
way." 

" One mark of a true convert is, that he continues 
to repent of his sins after he hopes that they are par- 
doned. All that the hypocrite desires is salvation 
from punishment ; and when he thinks this end se- 
cui'ed he feels no concern respecting his sins. But 
the true Christian desires to be saved from sin ; and 
his hatred of sin, and repentance for it,, increase in 
proportion as his assurance of heaven increases. Ano- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 295 

lliermark is, thai all disposition to make excuses is 
taken away. The repentant sinner feels willing to lie 
at God's feet and confess his sins, without even wish- 
ing to excuse them." 

"It evinces more depravity not to repent of a sm, 
than it does to commit it at first. A good man may be 
hurried away by temptation to commit a sin, but he 
will invariably repent of it afterwards. To deny, as 
Peter did, is bad ; but not to weep bitterly, as he did, 
when we have denied, is worse." 

" We may have the form of godliness without the 
power ; but it is impossible to have the power without 
the form." 

" The promises in the Bible to prayer are not made 
to one act, but to the continued habit of prayer." 



CHAPTER XV. 



TVie mme subject — Bible class — Pastoral visits — Social par- 
ties — Special and casual interviews — Charm of his conver- 
sation- — Singiilar rencounter — Whence his competency — His 
publications. 

If there is a spectacle on earth peculiarly animating 
to the thoughtful Christian who waits and prays for 
the salvation of God, it is the faithful, affectionate pas- 
tor, with the Bible in his hand, surrounded by the chil- 
dren and youth of his congregation, and leading them 
into " green pastures, and beside the still waters." It 
cannot be witnessed without a thrill of unusual de- 



296 MEMOIR OF 

light and anticipations of the most cheering character. 
There may be more of immediate personal enjoyment 
in the communion of saints, and in that foretaste of an 
eternal feast which is granted to the redeemed of the 
Lord, when, gathered around the sacramental board, 
they glory in the cross, and celebrate the love of Him 
who died on it, and their faith anticipates the hour when 
they " shall see Him as he is," and come to the hea- 
venly Zion and commence their everlasting song. But 
the same principle which causes "joy in heaven over 
one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and 
nine just persons who need no repentance," is emi- 
nently a principle of benevolence, which is gratified 
with every prospect of increase to the " great multi- 
tude whom no man can number ;" and it is called into 
action, and operates with no ordinary effect, in view of 
a collection of youth grouped around their beloved 
spiritual teacher, engaged in investigating the truths 
of the Bible and ascertaining the duties which it en- 
joins. It is a sight full of hope and promise. It is not 
presumption to expect from it the choicest spiritual 
fruits which a minister is ever permitted to reap. It 
is among this class of his charge that he may emi- 
nently " sow in hope." The promises of God autho- 
rize him to expetjt extensive and glorious results. It 
was upon the youth that Mr. Payson expended some 
of his best exertions; and these labors brought him a 
'' harvest of golden sheaves." 

His heart was drawn towards the rismg generation, 
and meditated various expedients for advancing their 
welfare. He does indeed record and lament, among 
his deficiencies, the neglect of special efforts for thei: 
msffuction and salvation. But, compared with whal 



EDWARD PAYSON. 297 

had been the ordinary standard of ministerial practice 
he abounded in works of this description. Though 
from the first he did not fail to give them appropriate 
mstruction, yet it was not till the latter years oi kis 
ministry that the interesting group who periodically 
gathered around him took the designation of BihU 
class; and at that time his manner underwent ?t 
slight modification. The subjoined specimens were 
furnished by young persons to whom they were 
blessed: 

" A. way-faring man stops at a tavern, and, to be- 
guile the tirae of his stay there, looks round for some 
book. He sees perhaps a newspaper, an almanac, and 
the Bible ; but chooses to pore' over either of the for- 
mer in preference to the word of God, thinking it hard 
ly possible to be amused or interested in that. Even 
a Christian will sometimes do thus. This is as if a 
man should be introduced into an apartment, in one 
division of which were Jesus Christ and his apostles, 
and in the other the most dissolute and frivolous com- 
pany 5 and, on being invited by tvie Savior to sit with 
them and enjoy their company, should refuse, and seat 
himself with the others. Would not this be a most 
gross insult to the Savior? and do you not equally un- 
dervalue and refuse his company when you thus ne- 
glect and despise his holy word — through which he 
^•.onverses with you, and invites you near to himself— 
and choose some foolish production instead of it ?" 

" God holds out to you, as it were, a thread no 
stronger than a spider's web, and says — " Take hold 
of this thread ; I will increase its strength day by day 
until it becomes the line of salvation to you. So it is 
with the Uttle interest you feel in the Bible class, II 



2^98 MEMOIR OF 

you cherish this, if you reflect upon what you read 
and hear, and daily pray to be made wise by these in» 
structions, God will increase your interest to its con- 
summation, till you become perfect ones in Christ 
Jesus. But if you lose your hold on this thread, you 
are lost." 

The following paragraph illustrates his manner of 
stating the argument, and its application — the subject 
before the class being the evidence from the light of 
nature that there is a God : 

" Suppose, my young friends, that, in traveling 
through a wilderness, a spacious garden should burst 
upon your view, in the midst of which is a splendid 
palace. Upon entering it you perceive, in every apart- 
ment, proofs of the agency of some living person, 
though you see no one. Complicated machinery is 
moving, and various operations are carried on ; but 
still the agent who produces these effects is invisible. 
"Would you be the less convinced that they were pro- 
duced by some intelligent agent? And if you should 
be told that the palace came there by chance, and 
that all the movements you witnessed were caused by 
no power whatever, you would regard him who should 
tell you thus, either as a fool or a liar. Now, you have 
the same proof of the existence of God in his works, 
that you would have in the case I have supposed, of 
the existence and presence of some invisible agent ; 
and it is just as unreasonable to doubt of his existence, 
as it would be to doubt whether the palace had been 
built by any person, or was only the work of chance. 
Suppose you were informed, by a writing on the wallj 
that the palace was inhabited or haunted by spirits 
who were constantly watching your conduct, and who 



EDWARD PAYcON. 29^ 

had power to punish you, if it displeased them ; and 
that you were also informed at the same time of the 
course of conduct which it would he necessary to pur- 
sue in order to obtain their approbation. How careful 
would you be to observe the rules, and how fearful o: 
displeasing these powerful spirits! And if you were 
further informed that these were the spirits of your 
deceased parents, and that they were able to hear, if 
you addressed them — how delightful it would be to go 
and tell them of your wants and sorrows, and feel sure 
that they listened to you with sympathy and compas- 
sion ! — I tell you, my young friends, this world is 
haunted, if I may so express it — haunted by the Eter- 
nal Spirit. He has given you rules by which to regu- 
late your conduct, and is able to punish every devia- 
tion from them. And can you recollect that such a 
Being is constantly noticing your conduct, and still 
persist in disobeying his commands 7 God is also your 
Heavenly Father ; and why can you not go to him, as 
such, with the same confidence which you would ex- 
ercise in an earthly parent ?" 

In explanation of the command to glorify God : — " It 
may seem strange and presumptuous to speak of such 
poor, sinful, worthless beings as we are, as glorifying, 
or as capable of glorifying God. But the perfect Chris- 
tian may be compared to a perfect mirror, which, 
though dark and opaque of itself, being placed before 
the sun, reflects his whole image, and may be said to 
increase his glory, by increasing and scattering his 
light. In this view we may regard heaven, where God 
is perfectly glorified in his saints, as the firmament 
studded with ten thousand times ten thousand, and 
thousands of thousands of mirrors, every one of them 



300 MEMOIR OF 

reflecting a perfect image of God, the Sun in the centre, 
and filling the universe with the blaze of his glory." 

" Whenever you feel any thing within you, my dear 
young friends, urging you to attend to religion, it is 
the Spirit of God ; and if you refuse to comply, you 
will grieve him away. Suppose God should let down 
from heaven a number of very fine cords, and if any 
person should take hold of one, it would continue tc 
grow larger and stronger, till at length he is drawn by 
it into heaven. Great care would be necessary, espe- 
cially at first, not to break it; for if once broken, it 
might never be renewed. How careful should we ex- 
pect the person to be, to whom one of these cords was 
extended, not to break it, to avoid all violence, and 
follow wherever it led him ! Just so anxiously ought 
you to cherish the good impressions which are pro- 
duced on your minds by the Spirit of God ; for if you 
once grieve him he may never return." 

" Suppose a man builds a temple with one seat in 
It very high and much ornamented, and another very 
far below it. You ask him for whom those seats are 
designed, and he replies — 'Why, the most elevated 
one is for me, and the one below it is for God.' Now, 
in this case you can all see the horrible absurdity and 
impiety of such conduct ; and yet each of you who 
continues impenitent is doing this. You have given 
yourselves the first place in your affections ; you have, 
thought more of yourselves than of God, and' have 
done more to please yourselves than to please God ; 
in short, you have, in every thing, preferred yourselves 
before him." 

" Suppose there was a book in which the whole of 
your life was recorded, each page of which containe<i 



EDWARD PAYSON. 301 

the events of a day. At the beginning was written, 
* This is the life of a rational, immortal, accountable 
creature, placed in this world to prepare for eternity.' 
Then commences a long catalogue of sins ; every page 
is successively covered with blots. Besides all these, 
there are the sins of omission, or duties neglected, 
which swell to a still greater amount. There are 
more than fifty commands binding upon you every 
moment; such as, to repent, to believe, to love Christ, 
to watch, pray, &c. none of which you perform. Thus 
you commit, to say the least, fifty sins in a moment. 
Add to these the first mentioned class of transgres- 
sions, and O what an amount of guilt does the record 
of each day present ! At the bottom of every page it 
is written — Did this person live to God to-day ? No. 
Did he feel any gratitude for mercies ? No. Did he 
obey any of God's commands 1 No. Did he perform 
any part of the work for which he was created ? No." 
One of his most acceptable methods of communicat- 
mg instruction* and exciting a religious interest, was 
by visits to the families of his parishioners ; and, 
though he speaks of himself as living extempore, they 
will cheerfully give him credit for system in this branch 
of duty. It was a custom which he commenced almost 
simultaneously with his ministry, to give notice from 
the pulpit that the families in a particular district, or 
street, might expect him at a given time in the course 
of the following week, and to request, that, if consist- 
ent with their engagements, they would all be at home; « 
lie wished to see the family together. Accordingly, 
\vh«n he entered a house, he usually found all in rea- 
diness for his reception, and could proceed without 
the loss of a moment to deliver his messa^ren The 



302 MEMOIR OP 

time he spent in a family did not usually exceed 
twpTxty or thirty minutes; but was completely filled 
up with religious conversation and prayer. He could 
say much in a short time, and never failed to " divide 
a portion to every member " capable of receiving it. 
His "ofte-*i infirmities" compelled him to relinquish 
this practice, and, for some years before his death, to 
limit his visits principally to houses of affliction. But 
these, in a congregation comprising thousands of souls, 
were necessarily very numerous. 

He did not decline occasional invitations to evening 
parties, as he had given his people to understand that 
he desired none to send for him who did not wish him 
to come as a minister of Christ. In this character, 
however, he was usually a welcome guest ; for, though 
he was invariably serious and faithful, he was neither 
abrupt nor forbidding in his manner of bringing for- 
ward religious topics. The divine Model he had so 
diligently studied taught him how to avail himself of 
passing observations and occurrences to introduce and 
enforce man's obligation to attend to his highest inte- 
rests. He always seized the right moment to bring 
forwara and urge his Master's claims ; and when he 
had obtained the ground, he was certain not to yield 
it— indeed, none could wish to dispossess him. The 
subject which he so naturally and easily introduced 
ne would expatiate upon and illustrate, and long hold 
the listening company in fixed and solemn attention. 
Here were witnessed some of the most en apturing 
and powerful strains of his sacred eloquence. A visit- 
mg party whose conversation was conducted by him, 
Had all the advantages of a religious meeting in the 
article of instruction, and fell scarcely short m solem 



EDWARD PAYSON. 303 

hity. To liim it was often as laborious as a public 
lecture, as it regards both preparation and the exercise 
of speaking. He usually commenced and closed the 
interview by prayer. 

It is obvious how much such a manner of conduct- 
ing social visits niust tend to cultivate and cherish a 
religious spirit in society. Every one has observed that, 
as they are often conducted, a single visit supplies mat- 
ter for a month's gossip and scandal — evils which in- 
fect not only the individuals who were present, but 
their families and associates. But social intercourse, 
conducted on Christian principles, precludes these and 
similar evils, besides effecting positive good. The 
party separate with salutary impressions upon their 
minds, and carry more or less of a holy savor into 
their respective families. Religion becomes the sub - 
ject of domestic conversation, which is rendered more 
intelligent and profitable by the very means which too 
frequently operate as a disqualification for the duty. 
In truth, no finite mind can trace all the happy conse- 
quences which flow from the habit of associating reli- 
gion with all the intercourse and occurrences of life. 

That it was a leading object with him to introducti 
and extend this habit among his people, appears from 
almost every act of his official life. It accounts, in 
part, for his remarkable circumspection, and unfailing 
care to set an example, in his OAvn person, of doing 
all things to the glory of God. It was not without re- 
ference to this, probably, that he dedicated his own 
private dwelling to God ; or rather, that, when he did 
this, he called in some of his neighbors to participate 
m the solemnities ; and it was not without its influ- 
ence. He was called, in his turn, to officiate on similar 



304 MEMOIR OF 

occasions foi them. A scen^ of this kind is still re« 
collected with lively interest by the members of a nu- 
merous family. In his prayer he anticipated almos 
erery possible circumstance in their future history with 
♦hat reverent particularity in which he was, perhaps, 
unrivalled 3 and in such select, appropriate, and vivid 
expressions, as gave the very walls of the habitation a 
tongue that has not since ceased to speak. The tliought 
that it is a consecrated house, is suited to check all 
tendencies to sinful levity. One of the events antici- 
pated in the prayer has already taken place ; and the 
children of the family, who now are all members of 
the visible church, could tell with what comforting 
and sustaining power it was brought home to their 
hearts while surrounding the triumphant death-bed of 
an invaluable mother. 

From the most casual interview with him, the Chris- 
tian could not separate without being instructed, hum- 
bled, and revived ; nor the impenitent sinner without 
a topic for reflection — perhaps an arrow in his heart. 
He exemplified one of his own remarks — '' Our un- 
converted friends should feel that our whole deport- 
ment, and even our very silence, declares that we ear- 
nestly seek their salvation." 

A circumstance which gave to his company one ol 
Its most attractive charms, was his great condescen- 
sion and affability, which entirely relieved the interlo- 
cutors of all embarrassment. No matter how awkward- 
ly or defectively they expressed their difficulties, or 
proposed their queries — it was enough for him that he 
knew their meaning. He took no advantage of these 
defects, to mortify them and show off his own supe- 
riority ; he never asked them to repeat and ^ define 



EDWARD PAYSON. 305 

precisely -what tney wanted"— a chilling practice with 
some affectedly wise and accurate men, which must 
effectually silence the weak and illiterate, and cut off 
from them all hope of nnprovement : he took this labor 
upon himself. If he perceived them in danger of em- 
barrassment, he would interpose and help them out. 
The most broken and imperfect expressions were suf- 
ficient to indicate to him the exact wants and feelings 
of the speaker. So truly was this the case, that his 
knowledge of others' thoughts would appear to a wit- 
ness almost intuitive ; and he Avas equally prompt to 
apply the appropriate counsel. It was from ignorance 
of his power of perception, in this respect, that some 
have spoken of his inquiry meetings, during the latter 
half of his mmistry, as more properly entitled to the 
appellation of lectures, or meetings for exhortation. 
But his remarks were as really predicated on the known 
states of mmd m the assembly, as they ever are in any 
inquiry meeting, however conducted. The truth is, be- 
sides watching the individual characters of his charge 
for years, he had so thoroughly studied the moral and 
spiritual nature of man, in connection with the Scrip- 
tures, that he could distinguish the symptoms which 
indicate the state of the heart, with as much readiness 
and certainty as the most skillful physician can those 
of bodily disease. 

It was not to man in one attitude or situation only 
that he could adapt himself, but to men in all situa- 
tions, and of every variety of rank and character, and 
every degree of intellectual culture. A bereaved hus- 
band in another town, to whom he was known only 
by report, but whose wife's obsequies he providential- 
ly attended, inquired, some time after the funeral, if 

Payson. 20 



306 MEMOIR OF 

M*. Payson had married a second wife — infeiring, from 
his prayer, that he knew, experimentally, the feehnga 
inseparable from a state of widowhood. 

The following imperfectly described rencounter 
with a lawyer of Portland, who ranked high for wealth, 
and was very fluent withall, will serve to show Mr. 
Payson's insight into character, and his power to mould 
it to what form he pleased. 

A lady, who was the common friend of Mrs. Payson 
and the lawyer's wife, was sojourning in the family ol 
the latter. After the females of the respective families 
had interchanged several " calls," Mrs. was de- 
sirous of receiving a formal visit from Mrs. Payson ; 
but to effect this Mr. Payson must also be invited; 
and how to prevail with her husband to tender an in- 
vitation was the great difficulty. He had been accus- 
tomed to associate experimental religion with mean- 
ness, and of course felt or affected great contempt for 
Mr. Payson, as if it were impossible for a man of his 
religion to be also a man of talents. He knew by re- 
port something of Mr. Payson's practice on such occa- 
sions, and dreading to have his house the scene of what 
appeared to him a gloomy interview, resisted his wife's 
proposal as long as he could and retain the character 
of a gentleman. When he gave his consent, it was 
with the positive determination that Mr. Payson should 
not converse on religion, nor ask a blessing over his 
food, nor offer a prayer in his house. He collected his 
forces and made his preparation m conformity with 
this purpose, and when the appointed day arrived, re- 
ceived his guests very pleasantly, and entered at once 
into animated conversation, determined, by obtruding 
his own favorite topics, to forestall the divine. It was 



EDWARD PAYSON, 30"? 

not long before the latter discovered his object, and 
summoned together his powers to defeat it. He plied 
them with that skill and address for which he was re- 
markable j still, for some time victory inclined to nei- 
ther side, or to both alternately. The lawyer not long 
before had returned from Washington city, where he 
had spent several weeks on business at the supreme 
court of the United States. Mr. Payson instituted 
some inquiries respecting sundry personages there, 
and among others, the chaplain of the house of repre- 
sentatives. The counselor had heard him perform 
the devotional services in that assembly. " How did 
you like him ?" " Not at all 5 he appeared to have 
more regard to those around him than he did to his 
Maker." Mr. Payson was very happy to see him re- 
cognise the distinction between praying to God and 
praying to be heard of men, and let fall a series of 
weighty observations on prayer, passing into a strain 
of remark which, without taking the form, had all the 
effect on the lawyer's conscience of a personal appli- 
cation. From a topic so unwelcome he strove to divert 
the conversation, and every few minutes would start 
something as wide from it as the east is from the west. 
But, as often as he wandered, his guest would dexte- 
rously and without violence bring him back ; and as 
often as he was brought back he would wander again. 
A.t length the trying moment which was to turn the 
scale arrived. The time for the evening repast had 
eome ; a servant had entered with the tea and its ac- 
companiments ; the master of the feast became unu- 
sually eloquent, resoived to engross the conversation, 
to hear no question or reply, to allow no interval for 
" grace," and to give no indication by the eye, the hand, 



30B M&MOIR OF 

or the lips, that he expected or -wished for such a ser-' 
vice. Just as the distribution was on the very point o 
commencing, Mr. Payson interposed the question — 
" What writer has said the devil invented the fashion 
of carrying round tea, to prevent a blessing being 
asked ?" Our host felt himself " cornered ;" but ma- 
king a virtue of necessity, promptly replied — " I don't 
know what writer it is ; but if you please, we will foil 
the devil tljis time: Will you ask a blessing, sir?' 
A blessing of course was asked, and he brooked as 
well as he could this first certain defeat, still resolved 
not to sustain another by the offering of thanks on 
closing the repast. But in this too he was disappoint- 
ed. By some well-timed sentiment of his reverend 
guest he was brought into such a dilemma that he 
could not, without absolute rudeness, decline asking 
him to return thanks. And thus he contested every 
inch of his ground till the visit terminated. But at 
every stage the minister proved too much for the law- 
yer. He sustained his character as a minister of reli- 
gion, and gained his point in every thing; and that- 
too, with so admirable a tact, in a way so natural and 
unconstrained, and with such respectful deference tc 
his host, that the latter could not be displeased, except 
with himself. Mr. Payson not only acknowledged God 
on the reception of food, but read the Scriptures and 
prayed before separating from the family — and did it, 
too, at the request of the master, though this request 
was made, in every successive instance, in violation ot 
a fixed purpose. The chagrin of this disappointment 
however, eventually became the occasion of his great- 
est joy. His mind was never entirely at ease till he 
found peace in believing. Often did he revert with 



EDWARD PAYSON. 309 

aevout thankfulness to God, to the visit which had oc- 
casioned his mortification; and ever after regarded 
with, more than common veneration and respect the 
servant of God virhom he had once despised, and was 
glad to receive his ministrations in exchange for those 
on which he had formerly attended. 

His knowledge was not, as many have supposed, 
limited chiefly to theology. He was familiar, beyond 
what is common, with the whole circle of the sciences 
— so much so, that eminent men of the different pro- 
fessions, who have incidentally met with him with- 
out knowing who he was, have, for the first half hour 
of their conversation, mistaken him for one of their 
own class. By physicians he has been thought a 
physician, and a lawyer by lawyers ; and even the 
experienced senator has found him an invincible 
antagonist on ground which his profession merely 
would not require him to assume. 

He never ceased to add to his stock of knowledge; 
and his intelligent manner of conversing, on any topic 
whatever^ would excite less of wonder, if the amount 
of his reading were known. He was a subscriber for 
Rees's Cyclopedia, and read the numbers generally 
throughout as they successively issued from the press. 

He has been reputed a great novel reader ; but this 
report, as it would be naturally understood, misrepre- 
sents him. He expended little money or time on 
books of this class after having turned his attention 
to the ministry. He knew something of every ficti- 
tious work which was introduced into the place; but 
this knowledge was gained perhaps in an hour's 
time, in «ome retired corner of a book-store which 
was kept by one of his congregation. He had good 



310 MEMOIR OF 

reasons fur knowing Avhat kind of books circulated 
among his people, and especially if any of them were 
immoral in their tendency. If he read them on his 
own account, it was for mere relaxation, from which 
his vigorous and well-balanced mind derived strength 
and freshness for more solid pursuits. 

His own views of a proper course of reading to be 
pursued by a Christian were once given extempore in 
conversation, from which it will be seen that novels 
have, at most, but a very dubious place : 

" It may be proper, and perhaps advantageous, for a 
Christian to read sparingly works of taste. History 
he ought to read, and biography. Some knowledge 
of the philosophy of the mind is desirable, and may 
be obtained without very great expense of time. 
Church history, and a knowledge of ancient Eastern 
customs, will be very useful. Every kind of know- 
ledge which expands, strengthens, and adorns the 
mind, may be properly sought by the Christian, and 
ought to be sought by every Christian who has leisure 
and opportunity for reading. Our aim in seeking it 
should be to qualify ourselves to serve and glorify 
God more effectually, and to increase our power of 
being useful to our fellow-creatures. It is an old re- 
mark, that ' knowledge is power.' To increase our 
knowledge, then, is to increase our power of doing 
good. Highly as I prize such writers as Fenelon 
Kempis, &c. I am convinced we may study them, not 
perhaps too much, but too exclusively. We may 
study them to the exclusion of other writers, whose 
works demand our attention ; and we may be so in- 
tent upon watching our feelings, as to forget to watch 
our i^fords and actions. As some are content with a 



EDWARD PAYSJN. 31! 

religion which is all hodjj so others may aim at a re- 
ligion which is all soul; but religion has a body as 
well as a soul. If some think it sufficient to cleanse 
ihe outside of the cup, others may be so much occu- 
pied in cleansing it within, as to forget that it has an 
outside. Both deserve attention." 

The press, which is with some their principal 
means of usefulness, was very little employed by Mr. 
Payson. He cherished a very low estimate of his 
owm qualities as a writer, and could rarely be persuad- 
ed to submit a production for publication. To a re- 
quest from a maternal association in Boston for the 
copy of a sermon of a specified character, he replied — 
" It would gratify me exceedingly to comply with the 
request. There is no honor, no favor that God can 
bestow, which I should prize more highly than that 
of doing good with my pen — of leaving something 
behind me to speak for Christ when I am silent in 
dust. But this honor He, who distributes his gifts to 
every man as he will, does not see fit to grant me. 
My sermons will not bear perusal. I must resign the 
privilege of doing good with the pen to those who are 
more able." He certainly undervalued himself as a 
writer, or else the Christian public have widely erred in 
their estimation of the very few publications to which 
during his life time he consented. His discourse, " The 
Bible above all price," delivered before the Bible So- 
ciety of Maine, in 1814, was the first which he suf- 
fered to go to the press ; and the myriads of copies 
which have been put in circulation show in what 
manner it is appreciated. And yet, while correcting 
the press, he says of it — " It seemed so flat, I would 
have given any thing to recall it from the press," 



312 MEMOIR OP 

The success of this sermon is a good comment Ji\ 
the secret history of its origin : 

''May 2, 1814. Mond. Was sc much exhaus ed 
that I could scarcely move. Made a few visits. Tried 
to write ; but felt that I could as soon make a world as 
write a sermon for Thursday, without special divine 
assistance. 

" May 3. Was employed all the forenoon in pre 
paring a sermon to be preached before the Bible Soci 
ety. Felt that I was utterly incapable of it, and that, 
if I was enabled to write one, the glory would not be 
mine. Prayed for assistance with a strong hope oi 
obtaining it. Made a few visits. 

" May 4. Was employed upon my sermon, and 
was favored with considerable assistance. Felt, 1 
hope, some thankfulness. But all my prayers for as- 
sistance, as well as my thankfulness for it, are so mix- 
ed with selfishness that they are worse than nothing. 
In the afternoon attended the funeral of my oldest dea- 
con. Wished to be suitably affected, and to see others so. 
Found a large concourse of people assembled ; made 
a few observations to them, but was much straitened. 

''May 5. Completed my sermon. Felt much dis- 
satisfied with it. Prayed that it might be blessed *to 
convey more to the minds of others than it did to my 
own. In the evening preached ; a most oppressive air, 
and I spoke with difficulty. Concluded, from observa- 
tions made after meeting, thai the sermon might have 
done some good ; if so, to God belongs all the glory^ 
and to Him may I ba enabled to ascribe it." 

" Portland, May 24, 1814. 
" Not long after you receive this, you may expect a 



EDWARD PAYSON. 31^ 

letter in print ; that is to say, a discourse, which I have 
been compelled, sadly against my will, to give into 
the hands of the printer. It is a discourse lately de- 
livered befare the Bible Society. Fifteen hundred 
copies were subscribed for, and a promise made that 
the profits should go to purchase Bibles. Finding that 
the profits would be • sufficient to purchase at least 
one hundred and fifty Bibles, I could not in conscience 
refuse. So, as soon as it comes from the press, which 
will be in a very few days, you will probably receive 
jne. Do, my dear- parents, pray, pray earnestly for 
the poor orphan, that it may do good in the world. I 
have never been assisted to pray so much for any one 
sermon as this ; and that encouraged me to let it see 
the light. If it never does any other good, it will be 
the means of giving the Bible to many v/ho would 
otherwise remain without it." 

A very excellent Thanksgiving Sermon was also 
given to the public in 1820, for a similar reason, viz. 
a promise, which was amply fulfilled, that it should be 
made to produce something for missionary purposes. 

His " Address to Seamen "* was the next in order 
of his publications. The author shows that he knew 
his object, and the way in which he could best accom- 
plish it. He was not writing an oration for the alum- 
ni of a college, nor an article for a Quarterly Review, 
nor a " pretty discourse " for a fashionable auditory 
but an address to seamen. He had enjoyed more 
than common advantages for studying the character 
of this class of his fellow-men, and understood theii 
YOoabularv almost as well as themselves — so well 

* Tract No. 140. 



314 MEMOIR OP 

that an experienced sea-captain was able to detect, in 
the whole address, but a single nautical temi whose 
application involved a misconception of its use. Its 
popularity, from the very first, has been unrivalled by 
any thing of its kind. Copies of it have been multi- 
plied to an extent past computation. It has been 
translated into some of the languages of the old world, 
and pretty extensively circulated on the coasts of the 
Mediterranean, from the press at Malta. And, if re- 
port be true, some divines of the mother country have 
not thought it disgraceful to claim a parental relation 
to it. Still it was no labored production ; it was hap- 
pily conceived, but the author does not appear to have 
laid himself out to produce any thing very extraordi- 
nary. It was thrown oiT almost at a sitting, and at a 
time when he was " encompassed with infirmities," 
and heavily pressed by other labors. This is evident 
from his private record : 

'' Oct. 22, 23, 1821. Very unwell these two days. 
Could do nothing, though I have four sermons to pre- 
pare this week. Was, for a moment, tempted to mur- 
mur ; but the recollection of God's past kindness and 
faithfulness prevented me, and caused faith to revive. 

Oct. 24. Was better to-day, and wrote almost the 
whole of an address to seamen, to be delivered Sab- 
bath evening. Felt some degree of gratitude, and re- 
solved never to refuse to improve any opportunity of 
doing good because I seemed not to have time for it. 

" Oct. 25. Was furnished with a suitable text and 
sermon for this evening v/ithout much labor. How 
graciously and wisely does God deal with me ! How 
much I ought to love and trust him ! Tried to preach 
my sermon to myself Went to the house of God in 



EDWARD PAY^SON 315 

much such a frame as 1 should wish to go ; but had 
no assistance in preaching, and got through with diffi- 
culty. But felt satisfied that it should be so, and was 
enabled to rejoice in the Lord." 

His mother once told a friend that he said to her, 
" God deals with me just as men do with an unruly 
horse ; they take off the fetters for just so long as they 
wish to use him, and J;hen put them on again. I have 
gone to my Thursday evening lecture, feeling that I 
could not, and that I was such a sinner that I ought 
not to say a word ; and expecting, after the introduc- 
tory exercises, to rise, give this information, and dis- 
miss the assembly : but, before the close of the second 
singing, a subject has opened to me, and filled my 
heart, so that all I had to do was to contract it within 
the limits of an hour." 

" Oct. 26. Was assisted to-day in writing, and had 
a precious season in prayer. 

" Oct. 27. Sick to-day — a violent head-ache, with 
some fever. Did not see how I could complete my 
preparation for to-morrow, but felt satisfied and easy. 
Saw it was best I should have some rebuff; took cou- 
rage from it, and hope that God meant to bless my 
labors to-morrow. In the evening wrote considerable, 
notwithstanding my head-ache; and, after I retired 
was almost painfully happy, rejoicing in God with joy 
unspeakable and full of glory. 

" Oct. 28. Sab. Some better this morning. Fin- 
ished a sermon for the afternoon, on increasing in the 
knowledge of God. Was almost insupportably happy, 
■and could hardly refrain from shouting aloud for joy. 
Was assisted in praying for others ; yet had no assist- 
ance in public prayer or preaching. In the evening 



316 MEMOIR OF 

preached to seamen — an overflowing house; aisles 
and pulpit stairs full, and hundreds went away who 
could not get in. Was enabled to go through tolerably. 
As soon as I came down was beset so importunately 
for a copy for the press that I could not refuse." 

Portland, Nov. 25, 1821. 

^' My Address to Seamen is published, and I shall 
send you one with this. They have printed nine thou- 
sand copies ; three thousand in the sermon form, and 
six thousand in the form of a tract. They mean to send 
them to every sea-port in the United States. I know 
you will pray that a blessing may go with it. It pro- 
duced a great effect upon seamen and others for a time ; 
but I do not know that any have been really awakened 
by it. One hundred and forty sailors applied the next 
day for Bibles, most of whom paid for them. I could 
not but wonder to see God work by it. I had only ten 
days' notice, and during that time had to prepare and 
preach six sermons, besides the Address, and another 
sermon which I did not preach." 

^* December 26. 

^'If I do not feel thankful for any other favor which 
God gives me, I do feel some gratitude when he ena- 
ples me to do any thing which gives pleasure to the 
heart of my mother. If you were dead, one half the 
gratification I feel when 1 publish any thing which is 
well received, would be gone. I should also lose one 
half of my hopes that any thing I publish will do good j 
for I build my hopes very much on your prayers for a 
blessing. I suppose you or H. sent me the Keene pa- 
per, which contains my Address. It has been published 



EDWARD PAYSON. 317 

'fli tAVu Other papers, and in a Baptist Magazine at Bos- 
ton : and I have just received a letter from Professor 

P.'s lady, at , in behalf of a number of ladies 

there^ who wish to publish a large edition in the form 
of a tract. I have requested our church to pray that a 
blessing may go with it, and I doubt not you will con- 
tinu3 to pray. If it does any good, it will be owing 
to prayer." 

His other publication was a sermon, preached be- 
fore the '"' Marine Bible Society of Boston," entitled 
" The Oracles of God," — a much more labored pro- 
duction than either of his other published discourses ; 
and yet, for some cause, it has been far less popular. 
Besides these, he furnished one or two manuscript 
sermons for the National Preacher, which appeared 
soon after his decease. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

^is exertions without the hounds of his parish — Influence on 
his ministerial associates; in resuscitating and edifying 
other churches — Visits " The Springs " — Effect of his exam- 
ple^ conversation^ and prayers on other visiters — Excursions 
in behalf of charitable societies — Translation of ministers — 
He is invited to Boston and New- York. 

It is not easy to estimate the usefulness of a man 
m public life, whose numerous relations bring him 
mto contact with his fellow-men in a great variety of 
circumstances. A minister of the Gospel, especially 



318 MEMOIR OF 

at this day, is not an insulated individual, wlnose mflu 
ence is limited by parochial bounds. His presence, 
counsel, example, prayers, give shape, tone, direction 
energy to public institutions for enlightening the hu- 
man species, alleviating its sufferings, and extending 
the empire of holiness. It is, indeed, no slight honor 
to be permitted to feed and build up a single branch 
of the church of God. To see the number of believers 
multiplied, and converted sinners joining themselves 
to the people of God, as the fruit of his labors, is an 
adequate rev^ard for the pastor's most arduous toils, 
and for all the solicitude with which his anxious bo- 
som is afflicted. And yet the increase and edification 
of his own particular charge may be only a small part 
of the good which is to be traced, more or less directly, 
to his instrumentality. The many hundreds to whom 
Mr. Payson's labors were blessed in the place of his 
residence, and whom it was his happiness to welcome 
to the church under his special supervision, are only 
a part, and may be found a small part of the gems 
which will embellish his crown of rejoicing in the day 
of the Lord. To ascertain the whole amount of his 
usefulness, we must know the nature and degree of 
his influence upon his fellow-laborers in the ministry 
— the effect of his occasional labors in different and 
distant parts of the country — his agency in raising the 
tone of piety in all the churches which could be reach- 
ed by his influence, the results of his powerful plead- 
ings in behalf of religious and charitable enterprises, 
of his counsel in ecclesiastical concerns, and as one 
of the guardians of the principal seminary of learning 
in Maine — ail, in short, that flowed from his conscien- 
tious and ever-watchful regard, wherever he was, and 



EDWARD PAYSON. 319 

wuh whomsoever he met, to the apostolical precept — 
" Consider one another, to provoke unto love and to 
good works." 

His presence m the ministerial association to which 
he belonged, though often prevented by the frequent 
recurrence of his agonizing " head-ache," and by du- 
ties at home which he could not dispense with, v/as 
highly valued by his brethren. He was a strong ad- 
vocate for devoting the first part of the time occupied 
by such meetings to social prayer. Prayer was his 
own preparation for every duty ; and he felt it to be 
equally important that it should be a common prepa- 
ration for a social duty. Whq^ on a council for the 
ordination of a minister, he was always on the watch 
for some interval of time to be consecrated to united 
prayer, with particular reference to the occasion and 
its consequences. In ministers' meetings, whether the 
immediate object were mutual edification, or a solution 
were requested of cases of conscience, and other diffi- 
culties which often arise in the discharge of the sacred 
office, or trying cases of discipline were presented for 
advisement, he was always ready to speak in his turn 
and always spoke to the purpose. A topic seldom 
passed him without fresh elucidation. Any proposi- 
tion which bore the least trace of a tmie-serving policy 
or mere worldly wisdom, he would instantly discoun- 
tenance. The writer has known him to do this, a* 
once and effectually, by a very few words of his own, 
pointed with one of Witherspoon's " Characteristics.^ 

He occasionally performed services for other con 
gregations, of most auspicious bearing on the cause 
of religion i services which thousands have regrettea 
that his health and engagements v/culd not permii ^ 



320 MEMOIR OF 

mm to repeat. The nature of the services alluded It 
will be seen by an extract : 

'^■Portland, Jan, 7, 1814. 
^^ My dear Mother, 

" Not long after your return I went to , a town 

about forty miles from this, on a week's missionary 
excursion. They are in a wretched state — have had 
no settled minister for seven years. The only minis- 
ter they ever had, proved an intemperate man. He is 
still living in the place, and does all he can to preju 
dice the people against the Gospel and all who preach 
it. Before I proceed I jnust take a little shame to my- 
self, that God's goodness may appear more conspicu- 
ous. I commenced my ride by going to G. to obtain 
Mr. H. to preach for me during my absence. The 
next morning it stormed violently ; then I began to re- 
pent of my undertaking. However, I was ashamed to 
go back.; so on I went in the storm. I was tolerably 
good-natured the first part of the day, but the storm 
and the road grew worse and worse. First it was all 
mire and clay, then nothing but hills and stones. 1 
began to grow cross. Every bad jolt made me worse, 
till I felt as bad as Jonah did, and was ready to say 
with him — ' I do well to be angry.' Being in this 
^rame, I concluded, of course, that I should do no good, 
wished myself at home a thousand times, and more 
than half resolved that I would never have any thing 
to do with a missionary tour again. However, I ar- 
rived safe, and began my labors, and soon found that I 
was not laboring alone. I cannot go into particulars. 
BufEce it to say, that in no place, not even in Port^ 
landj have I ever seen so much of God's power dis- 



EDWARD I'AYbUN. 3Jil 

played, in the same space of time, as during the six 

days I spent in . I preached six times, and made 

between forty and fifty family visits. Many were 
awakened — almost all were solemn. One old man of 
seventy, among the wealthiest in the place, who has 
always been against doing any thing towards the set- 
tlement of a minister, was very deeply impressed, and 
has promised to give three hundred dollars towards a 
fund. T wo others will give three hundred more each. 
I was obliged to return home on account of church 
fast and communion; but they have sent for me to 
come up again, and next v/eek, Providence permit- 
ting, I shall go. Thus was I shamed and confounded 
by God's goodness. But this is not all. I. came home 
thoroughly drenched by the shower of divine influen- 
ces Avhich began to fall at , and soon found that 

the cloud had foUov^red me and was beginning to pour 
itself down upon my people. Instead of a fast, we ap- 
pointed a season of thanksgiving. A blessing seemed 
to follow it. I then invited the young men to come to 
my house on Sabbath evening for religious purposes. 
The church thought none would come. I expected 
twenty at most. The first evening, forty came ; the 
second, sixty ; and the third, seventy. This was last 
Sabbath. Six stopped, after the rest were dismissed, 
to converse more particularly respecting divine things. 
About thirty persons are known to be seriously m- 
qiiring, and there is every appearance that the work 
is spreading. Meanwhile I am so ashamed, so re- 
joiced, and so astonished to see what God is domg. 
that I can scarcely get an hour's sleep." 

No account of his second visit has been preserved. 
The hopes, however, which had been excited by his 

Pavpon. 21 



322 MEMOIR OF 

first, were not disappointed. The change which then 
commenced, prevailed, and was permanent. In the 
following spring, a candidate who had completed his 
preparation for the ministry under Mr. Pay son's in- 
struction, visited the place, and during his first week 
*• found ten persons who entertained a hope, and heard 
of others ; and in sixteen families whom he visited, 
more or less were inquiring, and. in some instances, 
whole families. Religion Avas almost exclusively the 
topic of conversation, and all appeared solemn. The 
subscriptions to a fund for the support of a minister 
amounted to three or four thousand dollars." This 
young preacher soon became the minister of the place, 
where he still remains, a useful laborer in the vine- 
yard of Christ. Such were the results of one short 
missionary excursion. 

About three years later, by particular request, he 
spent a week in another town, where some religious 
attention had commenced. It was a season of great 
solemnity. At his suggestion the church assembled 
and renewed their covenant, whose bonds for a long 
time had been but little felt. Their pastor led the 
way by acknowledging his deficiencies, and then im- 
ploring forgiveness and strength for time to come, re- 
newed his engagements to the Lord and to his people 
His wife followed his example, and was succeeded by 
the members of the church. During this visit Mr. 
Payson preached thirteen sermons, besides attending 
ihe less public meetings and conversing with inquirers 
and the impenitent ; and yet he was scarcely sensible 
of fatigue till he left the spot. He "was so happy 
that he thought he might have exerted himself till ne 
expired, without knowing that be needed rest.'' Or 



EDWAKD PAY SON. Ii23 

S^e persons, the fruits of this revival, who were pro- 
ponnded to the church at one time, four were ahove 
seventy years of age. 

A service not very dissimilar in kind he once per 
formed for several churches in his own neighborhood, 
as one of a committee of the Cumberland conference, 
much to their acceptance, and, it is hoped, to their spi- 
ritual advantage. 

During his public life Mr. Payson made severai 
Journeys to the springs at Ballston and Saratoga, for 
the recovery of his wasted health. The mixed charac- 
ters collected together at this place of fashionable re- 
sort, found him the judicious and earnest advocate of 
his Master's cause. Here he was no less bent on the 
ruling purpose of his heart than when at home among 
his own favorite flock. A visiter from another state, 
who took lodgings in the same house with himself, 
and preserved some of his remarks and topics of dis- 
course, testifies that it was Mr. Payson's usual prac- 
tice, in the evening, to read the Scriptures at a stated 
hour, and offer prayer, which was attended by most of 
the family and boarders, and to spend a half hour 
after prayer in religious conversation with all who 
were disposed to remain. He always found many 
v/illing to hear, and the number continually increased. 
He observed to the visiter above alluded to, that ihe 
time spent at the springs would not appear so much 
like a blank if he should be permitted to do any thing 
for tha cause of Christ. This privilege was granted 
him ; for many left that boarding-house with dee]) re- 
ligious impressions, produced through his instrumen- 
tality. One young man who had resolved on finding 
aew lodgings, because there was ''so much praying'^ 



324 MEMOIR OP 

where he was, became the subject of deep conviction 
the very evening he expressed such a determination. 
The gentleman on v/hose authority these facts are 
stated, observes of his prayers — " They contain a 
gresit deal of instruction as well as devotion. He has 
a happy faculty of making his prayers preachP Yet, 
while his conversation and prayers were so impressive 
and so full of instruction to others, he mourns over his 
own dullness, as though "the waters had washed every 
idea out of his head, and every feeling out of his heart." 

The events alluded to in the foregoing paragraph, oc- 
curred in 1815. Of the impression produced by a sub- 
sequent visit, some idea may be formed from the fol- 
lowing letter addressed to the compiler: 

" On his way to Niagara, Dr. Payson called at 

my house, purposing to rest awhile and try the benefit 
of the waters. I had heard much of this excellent man, 
but never saw him till this time ; and the impression 
lie made on my mind at this first interview will not 
soon be forgotten. I was struck with the perfect sim- 
plicity and great dignity of his manners. His counte- 
nance was ' care-worn,' and he had the appearance of 
one sinking under the bad of human infirmities, and 
sighing for rest. 

* * * * 

" Speaking of his trials on one occasion, he observed 
to me — ' I have needed, all along, to be under the dis- 
cipline of Heaven ; for nothing else could have kept 
me humble, and saved me from perdition. I have ever 
been prone to depart from God, and have been kept 
only by a constant effort of his love. It seems to me, il 
God had not continually held the rod over me, and 
Dedired ud my way, I should have escaped from his 



KDVVAKD FAYcOIN. 32fi 

hands, and been forever separated from his love.' 1 
expected, in answer to my inquiries, to hear of the vic- 
tories of his faith ; but he spoke only of the v^rondeifu) 
power of God which had kept hirn, and of his love to 
one so unworthy and perverse. He spoke of his ' fierce 
temptations,' and how he had been delivered by the mere 
mercy of God, and wondered that God should concern 
himself about such a Avorm, and that he did not leave 
him to be torn and devoured by Satan. In all my con- 
versations with him, I never heard him utter a word 
that bordered on boasting, or savored of pride ; but he 
seemed to have a surprising sense of his own unwor- 
thiness, and of the amazing love of God in making him- 
self known to him, and giving him a hope in his mercy. 
" Among the virtues of his character, that of humi- 
lity appeared eminently beautiful and lovely, and 
shone in his whole deportment. In prayer, his soul 
lay low before God. He frequently took part in family 
devotion, and here he excelled all the men I ever 
heard. He carried us up and placed us all in the di- 
vine presence ; and when he spread forth his hands to 
God, heaven seemed to come down to earth, and the 
glory of the Lord shone around our tabernacle. He 
knew our wants, and he expressed them in language 
simple and affecting. He knew our miseries, and he 
told them all in such tones of tenderness and sympa- 
thy as made us feel that a friend was pleading our 
cause. While this holy man has talked with God. and 
seemed to be overshadowed with the divine glory, 1 
have sometimes thought I could imagine what must 
have been the ecstacy of Peter when surrounded with 
the glories of the transfiguration scene. At these so- 
cmn seasons, when our brother has been pouring oui 



32b MEMOIR OF 

his heart m deep complaints of sin, and in fervent pe- 
titions for mercy, it has seemed as though the cloud 
of the divine presence covered the household, and the 
divine Majesty was very near us. 

'^ In the bosom of a private family Dr. Payson hoped 
to escape notice, and find rest from the vexations of com- 
pany. But he could not be long concealed ; his retreat 
was soon discovered, and visiters thronged to see him. 

" Our domestic circle was often' enlivened by the 
presence and the conversation of Dr. Payson. The 
children were not unnoticed by him, but shared large- 
ly in his attentions ; and he seemed to take delight in 
sharing the toils of the nursery. Often would he take 
the child from the arms of its mother and carry it for 
hours together, and sing some little air to divert it. 
His conversations were, for the most part, of a reli- 
gious cast, and the strains of the mourning prophet suit- 
ed him best. Yet now and then would he dwell on the 
sublime and animating themes of religion ; and when 
ne began on an exalted strain, he was surpassingly 
eloquent and instructive. He would seize hold of some 
thought, and pursue it until it expanded and glowed 
under the splendor of his imagery. On one occasion 
he spoke of the probable condition of the soul of the 
believer when dying. At this awful period, when gasp- 
ing in the agonies of death, and apparently insensible 
to every thing around him, he supposed the world to 
be wholly shut out ; and in this condition, while friends 
stand around and tremble to think of the unknown 
agonies he may be enduring, he supposes the light of 
God's countenance is pouring in upon the soul, ren- 
ering him insensible to all his pains, and the sou) is 
struggling and panting to escape from the crumbling 



KDWARD PAYSON. 327 

r,3nement, and be at rest in the bosoin of God. I can 
only give you the idea ; it is impossible to reach his 
description. He seemed to dwell in a spiritual world, 
and to be most conversant with spiritual objects. This 
he manifested ' by pureness, by knowledge, by love un- 
feigned.' He talked about death as we would talk about 
going from one place to another ; and, if any might 
adopt the language of Watts, much more might he • 

* Receive my clay, thou treasurer of death ; 
I will no more demand my tongue 
Till the gross organ, well refined. 

Shall trace the boundless flights of an unfettered mind, 
And raise an equal song.' 

" I add no more; only that the visit of Dr. Pay son at 
my house left this impression upon our minds — not to 
he forgetful to entertain strangers ; for thereby some 
have entertained angels unawares. S. W. W.' 

A short p'-:e!-)age from a letter of condolence, ad- 
diessed to Mrs. Payson by a friend in Connecticut, 
will probably express the common sentiment of the 
many thousands who have listened to him whether for 
a few moments only or for hours : 

" I remember with most deep and interesting im- 
pression, my last interview with your beloved and ever 
to be lamented husband. It was during a delightful 
ride of five or six miles, on the borders of Farmington 
river. Never had I heard such discourse from the lips 
of man — never had such an interview with a mortal. 
Even then he seemed like a pure spirit from another 
world. Such words of wisdom ! and such heavenly 
affections ! I cannot efface the impression from my 
taind." 



32S MEMOIR OF 

The compiler has taken much pams to procure troiii 
companions of his journey some of the striking ohser- 
vations which were drawn from him by the natural 
scenery that he witnessed, by the various characters 
with whom he met, and the circumstances in which, 
at different times, he found himself. But his attempts, 
even with those from whom he had the greatest rea- 
son to expect full and satisfactory replies, have been 
utterly fruitless. The general impression produced by 
his occasional conversation has been very strong and 
deep, and the effect powerful and abiding ; but no one 
has ventured to report particulars. The words, and, of 
course, the precise sentiments, with numerous circum- 
stances which rendered them peculiarly seasonable, 
" like apples of gold in pictures of silver," are lost be- 
yond recovery, while their effect remains. The im 
pulse which he gave to other minds still keeps them 
in action, and is still transmitted from mixvd to mind, 
while it is impossible for them to tell how this impulse 
was first imparted. The pleasure and the bj^nefit re- 
main, though the exciting cause has disappeared. So 
absorbed have persons been with the effect, as to lose 
all distinct recollection of the means employed in pro- 
ducing it. This corresponds with the writer's expe- 
rience. At the first visit which he ever received from 
Dr. Pay son, some allusion was made to the opinion 
which prevails among Christians in common life, that 
ministers are in a situation peculiarly favorable to re- 
ligious enjoyment, because their profession leads theiri 
to be incessantly conversant with divine truth. " This," 
said Mr. Payson, " is just as if a hungry man, on en- 
tering the kitchen of a large victualling-house, and in- 
haling the savory odor of the various dishes of rich 



EDWAllD PAYSON. 3^^^ 

ibodj hot from the fire and the oven, with which the 
busy laborers were loading the tables, should exclaim, 
What a blessed time these cooks have !" During the 
interview he uttered enough to make a valuable pam- 
phlet ; and yet this one comparison is all that can be 
related with even tolerable justice to him. 

He had repeated applications from the directors ot 
the principal charitable societies of the country to 
take journeys and collect funds for their respective 
operations. Of the first of these applications he says- • 
*' I dislike begging, and therefore thought I must go ; 
but the hopes of a revival pulled me back." He, how- 
ever, soon after " made a beginning by visiting a fev/ 
towns, the result of which did not encourage him to 
proceed. He was brouglit into circumstances which 
rendered it necessary to preach ten times in eight 
days ;" which, added to the fatigue of riding a great 
distance, proved too much for his strength, and com- 
pelled him to relinquish the undertaking. 

In the early part of 1819 he made a tour, confined 
chiefly to Essex county, Mass. in behalf of the Ame- 
rican Education Society. His success in collectmg 
money, though as great, probably, as his employers 
Had any reason to anticipate, did not equal his own 
wishes. It was no slight trial, '' after preaching tiii 
he was half dead, to find only a few dollars contribu- 
ted, and then be obliged to retire, and lie awake, 
brooding over his ill success half the night." His 
actual receipts, however, constituted but a small part 
of the advantage which the society realized as the 
consequence of his excursion. By such an advo- 
cate its objects, and its claims were favorably made 
known to the community- auxiliary societies were- 



330 MEMOIR OF 

formed, and promises obtained from mdividuals oi 
large donations. The amoxmt of good which he ac- 
complished on this journey cannot be estimated by 
dollars and cents. To obtain money was with him, 
now and at all times, a very subordinate object. It was 
his great desire to exert an influence favorable to the 
spiritual welfare of ministers and churches whom he 
visited. " I labored as directly as I dared, to per 
suade all the ministers where I went to expect a re- 
vival, and talked to them in my way about Christ." 
His unusual manner of conversing attracted attention, 
and opened to his brethren new ways of awakening 
mterest in the subject of Christ and his salvation. 
His prayers produced the same impression which 
they always had on strangers. An aged minister no 
ticed the same quality in his prayers, as did the lay 
visiter at the Springs. He remarked, after hearing 
them, that prayer might be made as instructive as 
preaching; and wrote to a son in the ministry to 
have Mr. Payson preach for him by all means, and 
especially to pray, 

Mr. Pay son's excursions from time to time, for the 
benefit of his health, were the means of making him 
personally known in Several of our southern cities, as 
well as in New England and New-York, and conse- 
quently of extending that pious influence, which he 
ever exerted, to the farthest boundaries of our land. 

There is nothing more true in theory, than that a 
minister is the common property of the church at 
large, rather than of any particular portion of it, and 
that she has a right to his services in that place which 
will afford the widest scope for the effectual and use- 
ful employment of his peculiar talents and qualifica 



EDWARD PAYSOiN. 331 

tions. But various causes render the principle one 
of most difficult application. Some unhappy conse- 
quences, perhaps, never fail to follow the transfer of a 
minister from one church to another ; and no slight 
probability of increased usefulness can justify such 
removal. In order that such a change may bring any 
gain to the church general, a minister must do much 
more good in his new situation than he did in that 
which he left ; for it will require much to balance the 
certain evils inseparable from his removal. When a 
pastor is established in the affections and confidence 
of his flock, and is laboring with more than ordinary 
zeal and success, any interference from abroad must 
be regarded as a hazardous experiment. There may 
be much of selfishness in the refusal of a people tu 
give up their minister; but certainly not more than 
there is in those who wish to obtain his services at 
their expense, and by whose solicitations their feel- 
ings are put to the trial. Else, why does the choice 
of rich churches never fall upon any but ministers of 
established popularity, or distinguished for their suc- 
cess ; while many others, equal, perhaps superior, in 
moral and intellectual worth, are placed over church- 
es by whom their merits are not appreciated, and who 
only need a change of situation to take a rank among 
the most useful of Christ's ministers ? The '' call" of 
a church to the pastor of a sister church may be the 
call of God, and it may be the result of caprice, al 
partiality, of pride, or other selfish passions. Those 
calls are most entitled to consideration, which these 
feelings have the least concern in producing. The 
guardians 'of our public seminaries may be supposed, 
from their situation, to have no private feelings or 



332 MEMO IK OF 

partialities to gratify by their appointments. In or- 
dinary cases they can have little inducement to act 
for any other than the general good; and that will 
be a dark day for our land, when these institutions, 
the nurseries of learning and religion, whence her 
future pillars are to be obtained, shall be denied their 
claim to the most valuable men whom the church 
can furnish. 

Much disquiet is often produced in a congregation by 
the reported intentions and informal proposals of other 
congregations to "get away their minister," even when 
this imprudent agitation of the subject does not issue 
in a formal invitation. The second church in Portland 
had much experience of this species of trial. When 
Park-street Church, in Boston, was left vacant by the 
removal of Dr. Griffin, Mr. Payson's charge had un- 
pleasant apprehensions of losing their beloved pastor. 
It is in allusion to this time that he says in a letter — 
" We have been kept in a fever here all this winter, by 
perpetual alarms from Boston. Because I do not re- 
fuse before I am asked, and exclaim loudl} against 
going, some of my people suspect I wish to go. ... I 
wish ' Boston folks ' would be content with being 
' full of notions ' themselves, and not fill other people's 
heads with them." It must greatly endear his memory 
10 his surviving flock to learn from another letter what 
were his secret feelings in relation to this matter : — 
" My people — I never knew before how much they 
loved' me. I am amazed to see what an interest God 
has given me in the affections of his people, and even 
of sinners. It v(rould seem like tearing off limbs to 
leave them. Indeed I see not how it is possible, hu- 
!ii?i.rly speaking, to get away f'-om them. I have not 



EBWARD PAYSON. 333 

yet been put to the trial. No application has yet been 
made from B. though much has been said about it 
[t is very doubtful whether any will be made. I fee. 
very easy al)out it myself, but the church are in great 
tribulation. Ever since it was first talked of, I have 
taken special care to avoid every thing which might 
tend, either directly or indirectly, to bring it about. If 
it comes, it shall be none of my seeking*." 

Several years after this he did, with the full consent 
of his people^ take up a temporary residence m Boston, 
and during the few weeks which he spent there, preach- 
ed to crowded assemblies, and not without apparent 
effect. Though the work which his friends there laid 
out for him was too much for his strength, he was 
wearied with solicitations and entreaties to visit and 
preach in the neighboring towns ; so anxious were 
those who had once heard him to secure for their friends 
and neighbors a participation in the same privilege, 
and so confident were their hopes that he would be 
the instrument of awakening a general concern for 
the soul, wherever he should address to men the mes- 
sage with which he was intrusted. 

In 1825, at the organization of the new churck xn 
Hanover-street, he was invited to take the pastoral 
charge of it. He referred the ca-ll to his own church, 
who decided unanimously that he ought not to ac- 
cept it — a decision to which he cheerfully acceded. 

In January, 1826, he received a unanimous call from 
the church in Cedar-street, (now in Duane- street,) 
NeAV-York, to become their pastor. This call ]vi 
promptly, fully, and unequivocally declined. The 
motives by which he was actuated may be seen from 
t. letter to his mother, written a few days afterwards 



334 MEMOIR OP 

" Portland, Jan. 25, 1826. 

*'My deak Mother^ 

" Before you receive this, you will probably have 
heard tha-f I have returned a negative answer to the 
invitation from the Cedar-street church. After refus- 
ing to accept the call from Boston, I could not do 
otherwise. If I had gone to either place, I must have 
gone to Boston ; for I think the prospect of usefulness 
there is greater, all things considered, tkan at New- 
York. Besides, I never would consent to become the 
pastor of any church whose members had not heard 
me preach, and become personally acquainted with 
me. I have not the least doubt, that, had I complied 
with the Cedar-street invitation, the first emotions of 
the congregation, on hearing me, would have been 
those of bitter disappointment and regret. It is 
true that a removal to New-York, were 1 fit for the 
place, would, on many accounts, have been very gra- 
tifying. I felt no small inclination to go. I should 
like exceedingly to be near you and my other rela- 
tions. I should also like a milder climate than this, 
and I have little doubt that it would, be beneficial to 
my health. But a removal would be death to my re 
putation in this part of the country ] I mean my Chris- 
tian reputation ; and what is far worse, it would bring 
great reproach upon religion. At present, myjssiarst 
enemies, and the worst enemies of religion, seem dis- 
posed to allow that I am sincere, upright, and im in- 
fluenced by those motives which govern worldly- 
minded men. But had I gone to Boston, and much 
more, should I now go to New- York, they would ai 
once triumphantly exclaim, ' Ah ! they are all alike 



EDWARD PAYSON. 335 

all governed by worldly motives; tney preach against 
the love of money and the love of applause, but they 
will gratify either of those passions when a fair op- 
portunity offers.' Now I had much rather die than 
give them an occasion thus to speak reproachfully. 
[t would be overthrowing all which I have been la- 
boring to build up. Indeed I can see no reason why 
God should suffer these repeated invitations to be 
sent to me, unless it be to give me an opportunity 
to show the world that all ministers are not ac- 
tuated by mercenary or ambitious views. I have al- 
ready some reason to believe that my refusal to ac- 
cept the two calls has done more to convince the ene- 
mies of religion that there is a reality in it, than a 
thousand sermons would have done. However this 
may be, I have done what I thought to be duty. If I 
ever felt desirous to know the will of God, and will- 
ing to obey it, it has been in reference to these two 
cases. Could I have had reason to believe that it 
was his will, I would very gladly have gone either to 
Boston or to New-York. But at present I believe 
that it was his will that I should remain where I auL 
Not that I am of any use here ; but though . I can do 
no good, I would if possible avoid doing harm." 

But little more than a month elapsed before the in- 
vitation of the Cedar-street church was repeated. Some 
changes in his circumstances led him to deliberate foi 
a time, whether this second invitation might not be 
the call of Providence. He considered the obstacles 
which had opposed his removal as diminished. The 
church in Hanover-street, supposing that he might 
Viossibly be deterred from complying with this invita* 



336 MEMOIR OF 

tion by the fact that he had so recently clecliiied a call 
from them, passed a resolve with a view to remove 
any difficulties which that circumstance might have 
thrown i-^ his way, and wrote a letter urging him to 
act just as he should if he had never received an invi- 
tation from them. This amounted very nearly to the 
expression of an opinion that it was his duty to go. He 
was evidently much perplexed. On the one hand, he 
feared "doing wrong, and offending God by running 
before he was sent." 'On the other hand, the circum- 
stances attending his reception of the call ''induced 
him to believe that it might possibly be the call of 
God; and he could not again decline it until he had 
taken time for prayer and deliberation." "I have am- 
ple reason," he writes to the commissioners who ten- 
dered the invitation, " to believe that God placed me 
in my present situation ; and J must therefore be con- 
vinced that he calls me away, before I can consent to 
leave it. That he does call me away, I am not yet 
convinced ; though I admit it to be possible." 

After having been long agitated by the perplexing 
question, it was at length referred to a council mutu- 
ally chosen by himself and his church. To the coun- 
cil it proved almost as tedious and trying as it had to 
him. They were reluctant to decide against his re- 
moval, thinking it possible that a change of climate 
and situation, together with the diminished necessity 
of study, might recruit the wasted energies of his 
body, and prolong, for the benefit of the church, his 
most valuable and useful life. On the other hand, they 
found difficulties in the way of recommending his re- 
moval which they were not able to surmount, the 
principal of which was his want of a full and dt ,idetl 



EDWARD PAYSON. 337 

conviction of personal duty m the case. TJiey could 
therefore, only advise, that, if such should be his con- 
viction, and he should make it knoAvn to his church, 
they would consent to part with him. 

To this state his mind had nearly approached, when 
its progress towards conviction was arrested, and its 
purpose changed by increased illness. Symptoms of 
pulmonary affection, added to his other maladies, ex- 
cited apprehensions that his labors on earth were 
nearly terminated — apprehensions which, alas ! proved 
to be but too well founded. In May following, by the 
advice of friends and physicians, he tried very tho 
roughly the experiment of riding on horseback, by 
making a journey through the interior of Maine, New- 
Hampshire, Massachusetts, and Connecticut, to New- 
York city, and thence to the Springs, where his mind 
was disturbed by a third application to take the charge 
of Cedar-street church, accompanied with most press- 
ing letters and messages from clergymen and others. 
Though this was declined without much hesitation, 
yet, in the excitable state of his nerves and his uni- 
versal weakness of body, it was injurious to his wel- 
fare, and, combined with other causes, prevented his 
deriving any benefit from his journey and an absence 
of two months. 

" The peculiar trials of mind," writes the clergyman 
with whom he lodged, " which he had passed through, 
in consequence of the invitations he received to New- 
Vork and Boston, well nigh broke him down, as he 
expressed it, and greatly aggravated his complaints 
and sufferings ; and he had hoped to experience no 
more trouble from this quarter. But no sooner was it 
. known in New-York tl^at he was at the Springs, than 

Pay?on 2? 



338 MEMOIR OY 

fresh overtures were sent to him.— ^ I wonder,' said he, 
that this people will thus pursue a dying man. I can- 
not help them or myselt.'— I have no doubt, from va- 
rious expressions of his, that the great efforts made to 
effec: his translation to a new field of labor, proved toe 
much for his weak frame, and hastened his dissolution." 
The language ascribed to Mr. Payson, in the pre- 
ceding extract, is descriptive of his own weakness, 
and expresses his settled conviction of the desperate 
condition of his health, and not any intended censure 
of the people wnu were so perseveringly solicitous to 
secure his services. He could fully appreciate their 
motives. But they knew not how delicate and sus 
ceptible were his feelings ; nor did they know how 
nearly exhausted in him were the springs of^ life. 
Doubtless their wishes had so far affected their judg- 
ment, as to create the confident expectation that a re- 
moval to a new field of action would be the means of 
restoring and establishing his health. But it was al- 
ready gone past recovery. 

In 1821 he was requested by persons having some 
control in the appomtment, to say whether he would 
accept a professorship in the Theological Seminary at 
Andover, if elected to the office. But he refused " at 
once, and positively, on the score of not possessing the 
requisite qualifications. Had I been suitably qualified. 
I am not certain that I should not have thought it my 
duty to go." 



EDWAUU i^AYSON ^ii'J 

CHAPTER XVII. 

XjeUers to peisons in various circumstances and states of mUid, 

Though Mr. Payson was eminently felicitous ia 
Adapting his public discourses to the wants and cha- 
racters of a promiscuous assembly, he was, if possible, 
still more so, in suiting his counsels, instructions, and 
appeals, to the cases of individuals. But these d>^ 
tates of his sanctified understanding and ardently at 
fectionate heart are mostly lost ; and their place can 
be supplied only by a selection from his letters, Avrit 
ten to persons variously situated and affected — which 
though both mteresting and instructive, are far inferi- 
or in imagery, appositeness, and effect, to his viva voce 
instructions. 

To his mother under affliction of spirit : 

" My dearest Mother, 

" Never did I more ardently wish to impart consola 
tion, and never did I feel so utterly powerless to do it. 
You say yourself, that neither reason nor religion can 
restrain your tormenting imagination. What encou- 
ragement, then, have I to attempt to comfort you under 
the evils it occasions ? I wish I could communicate 
to you the feelings which have rendered me happy for 
some weeks past. I will mention the texts which oc- 
casioned them ; texts on which I have preached late- 
ly. Perhaps the great Comforter may apply them to 
you. If so, you will little need any consolation which 
I can give. The first is Isaiah, 26 : 20. The time of 
uur continuance on earth is but a moment ; nay, it is 
but a little moment. Suppose, then, the worst. Sup- 



340 MEMOIR OP 

pose that all the evils which imagination can paint 
sliould come upon you. They will endure only for a 
little momeiit ; and, while this little moment is pass- 
ing oiway, you may run and hide in the chambers ot 
protection which God has provided for his people, till 
the mansions preparing for them above are ready for 
their reception. O then, my dear mother, glory in 
these afflictions, which endure but for a moment, a lit- 
tle moment. O, how near, how very near is eternity ! 
It is even at the door ! 

" New-year's Sabbath I preached on this text, ' As 
the Lord liveth, there is but a sten between me and 
death.' One inference was, there is but a step be- 
tween Christians and heaven. So it has seemed to 
me almost ever since. Another text, which I have 
preached on lately, and which has been much blessed 
to me, is Rev. 21 : 23. 'And the city had no need ol 
the sun,' &c. O how unutterably glorious did hea- 
ven appear! It is glory: it is a weight of glory; 
an exceeding weight of glory ; a far more exceed- 
ing weight of glory ; afar more exceeding and eter- 
nal weight of glory. O how shall we bear such 
a weight of glory as this ! How shall we wait with 
patience till we arrive at it ! O, it seems too much, 
too boundless, too overwhelming to think of. Come 
afflictions ; come troubles ; come trials, temptations, 
distresses of every kind and degree ; make our path 
through life as painful, as wearisome as you can ; still 
if heaven is at the end of it, we will smile at all you 
can do. My dear mother, break away ; O that God 
would enable 3^ou to break away from all your cares 
and sorrows, and fly, rise, soar up to the New Jerusa- 
lem. See its diamond walls, its golden streets, its 



EDWARD PAYSON. 341 

pearly gates, its shining inhabitants, all in a blaze 
with reflected light and glory, the light of God, the 
glory of the Lamb ! Say with David, Toward this 
city I will go in the strength of the Lord God ; I will 
make mention of thy righteousness, even of thine only. 
My mother, what a righteousness is this ! The righ- 
teousness of God ! A righteousness as much better 
than that of Adam, nay, than that of angels, as God 
is better than his creatures. Since, then, my dear mo- 
ther, you have such a heaven before you ; such a righ- 
teousness to entitle you to heaven ; and such blessed 
chambers to hide in, during the little moment which 
separates you from heaven — dry up your tears, banish 
your anxieties, leave sorrow and sighing to those who 
have no such blessings in store or reversion, and sing, 
sing, as Noah sat secure in the ark, and sang ^ the 
grace that steered him through.' 

* * * * * 
" I would urge my dear fa the? to be more careful of 
himself, if I thought it would do any good ; but it will 
not. The nearer he gets to his sun, his centre, the end 
of his course, the faster he will fly, and you cannot 
stop him. Catch hold of him, and fly with him, and 
I will come panting after as fast as I can." 

To a kinsman, in an important crisis of his reli- 
gious experience : 

" In your present situation, and for some time 

to come, your greatest difficulty will be to maintain 
the daily performance of closet duties. On your main- 
taining that part, the fate of the whole battle will turn. 
This your great adversary well knows. Fe knows 
that if he can beat you out of the closet he shall have 



342 MEMOIR OF 

you in his own power. You will be in the situatio^i 
of an army cut off from supplies and re-enforcements, 
and w^il be obliged either to capitulate or to surrendei 
at discretion. He will, therefore, leave no means un- 
tried to drive or draw you from the closet. And it will 
be bard work to maintain that post against him and 
your own heart. Sometimes he will probably assail 
you with more violence when you attempt to read oi 
pray than at any other time, and thus try to persuade 
you that prayer is rather injurious than beneficial. At 
other times he will withdraw and lie quiet, lest, if he 
should distress you with his temptation, you might 
be driven to the throne of grace for help. If he can 
prevail upon us to be careless and stupid he will rare- 
ly distress us. He will not disturb a false peace, be- 
cause it is a peace of which he is the author. But il 
he cannot succeed in lulling us asleep, he will do all 
in his power to distress us. And when he is permit- 
ted to do this, and the Holy Spirit withdraws his sen- 
sible aid and consolations; when, though we cry and 
shout,. God seems to shut out our prayers — it is by no 
means easy to be constant in secret duties. Indeed, it 
is always most difficult to attend to them when they 
are most necessary. But never mind. Your Lord and 
Master is looking on. He notices, he accepts, and he 
will reward every struggle. Besides, in the Christian 
warfare, to maintain the conflict is to gain the victory. 
The promise is made to him that endures to the end. 
The object of our spiritual adversaries, then, is to pre- 
vent us from enduring to the end. If they fail of ef* 
tecting this object they are defeated. Every day in 
which you are preserved from going back they, sustain 
a defeat And if, by praying yesterday, you gained 



SDWAaf; PAYSON. 34 3 

strength enough to pray to-day ; and if, by praying to- 
day, you gain strength enough to pray again to-mor- 
row, you have cause for thankfulness. If the food 
which you take every day nourishes you for one day, 
you are satisfied. You do not expect that the food you 
ate yesterday will nourish you to-day. Do not com- 
plain, then, if you find it necessary to ask every day 
for fresh supplies of spiritual nourishment ; and do not 
think your prayers are unanswered, so long as you are 
enabled to struggle on, even though it should be with 
pain and difficulty. Every day I see more clearly how 
great a mercy it is to be kept from open sin and from 
complete apostasy. If you are thus kept, be thankful 
for it." 

To a gentleman in a neighboring state, whose hos- 
pitality he had enjoyed while on a journey for hi« 
health, and Avho has since yielded to the expostula- 
tions of his revered friend, and is now numbered with 
the people of God : 

" The unvarying kindness and hospitality with 
which I was treated while at your house, has left an 
impression upon my mind, and laid me under obliga- 
tions which, I trust, will never be forgotten. In addi- 
tion to this, the apparent interest with which you lis- 
tened to remarks on religious subjects, and your re- 
quest that I would write to you and pray for you, have 
led me to feel a more than ordinary concern for your 
future welfare. It is this which induces me to write — 
yet I must confess that I write with trembling. The 
numerous instances in which I have seen religious im- 
pressions fade away, lead me to fear that, ere this, the 
subject may have ceased to appear interesting to you, 



344 M^RMom OF 

and that you will not thank me for troubling you with 
this letter. But I will, for the present, hope bettei 
things, and, under the influence of such a hope, will 
venture to write. Yet what shall I say, ignorant as 1 
am of the present state of your mind, and, of course, 
equally ignorant of what it requires ? I have been ini* 
ploring that omniscient Being, who is perfectly ac- 
quainted with it, to guide my pen, and lead me to 
v/rite something which may prove ' a word in season.' 
Should he grant me this, it would be a favor indeed. 

" Perhaps I ought to address you as a Christian. 
Perhaps you have, ere this, become a cordial, decided 
disciple of Jesus Christ. I am not entirely without 
hope that this is the case. Few things could give me 
more pleasure than to be assured that it is so. If it is, 
you will need no exhortations from me to pursue a 
course which you have already found to be ' ways of 
pleasantness and paths of peace.' If it is, you have 
already ' tasted and seen that the Lord is good ;' you 
know his goodness, not speculatively, or by report 
merely, but experimentally ; and you can address the 
Savior in the language of Peter — ' I believe and am 
sure that thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.' 
But, if this is not the case, if your mind remains in the 
same state in which I left it, the following hints may 
possibly prove serviceable : 

" God, as a wise Being, employs means and instru 
nents suited to the work which he designs to perform. 
Ho never employs powerful means or dignified agents 
to effect a work which might as well be effected by 
• weak means and feeble agents. He would not employ 
an angel to do the work of a man ; he would not send 
his onlv Son to perform works which did not trans- 



EDWARD FAYSON. 345 

cend the powers of an angel. Hence we may infer, 
that, if men or angels could have effected the work oi 
man's redemption, God would not have employed his 
own Son to effect it ; and, if that Son could have ef- 
fected it in any easier way than by dying on the cross, 
he would never have consented to die in that manner 
Consider then, my dear Sir, how great a work this 
must have been. To create ihe world cost Jesus Christ 
but six days ; but to redeem the world cost him thirty- 
three years, spent in poverty and labor, and the shed- 
ding of his own blood. How great, then, must have 
been the evils from which he did all this to redeem us ! 
How terrible must be the situation of sinners, since 
lie suffered so much to rescue them from it ! From the 
dignity of the Physician and the costliness of the re- 
medy we may learn how dangerous, how desperate 
was the disease. Only let a man say, with firm con- 
viction — ' My situation was so dangerous, so hopeless, 
that nothing less than the incarnation and death of 
God's eternal Son could save me from it,' and he will 
scarcely remain at rest until he has secured salvation. 
He will not, cannot rest in a situation so dangerous. 
" But these facts and inferences, obvious as they 
are, we are prone to overlook. There is a species of 
religion which appears to us much more rational and 
agreeable than the doctrines of the cross. It is, indeed, 
little better than deism ; for Christ has almost no place 
in it. It may, therefore," be useful to attend to such 
passages as these : — ' All men should honor the Son, 
even as they honor the Father :' — ' He that honoreth 
not the Son, honoreth not the Father:'—' He that de- 
nietii the Son, hath not the Father.' Christ says — ' No 
man cometh to the Father but by me :'— ' In him dwells 



1146 MEMOIR OF 

all the falliiess of t\e Godhead bodily.' Now, if all the 
fullness of the Godhead dwells in Christ, no man can 
obtain any portion of that fullness without applying to 
Christ. In a word, Christ's language is — -^ Without me 
ve can do nothing.' Never, then, shall we do any thing 
successfully in religion, unless we apply for and ob- 
tain this assistance. We must begin with Christ. He 
IS the Author and Finisher of our faith. 

" I have written at random, and in the dark respect- 
ing your present feelings. I can scarcely hone tha( 
these broken limts will be of any service. But they 
will, at least, serve as a proof that I have not forgotten 
your kindness, and that I feel an interest in your wel- 
fare. This interest is deeper than you are, perhaps, 
aware. It would gratify me much to hear from you 
and still more to hear that you are ' rejoicing in the 
truth.' Be pleased to remember me respectfully and 

affectionately to Mrs. . I have not forgotten hei 

kindness. Our journey, after we left you, was tolera- 
bly pleasant, but of little service to my health. * '* 
Msiy we all meet in heaven, is the frequent prayer ol 

'' Yours sincerely." 

To a distant lady, in whose piety he had full con- 
fidence, but who was much discouraged respecting 
herself: 

'' My dear Mrs. 

" What a task you have imposed on me ! You re- 
quire me to write you a letter which shall make yci 
feel, and yet you tell me that the Bible, the letter 
which God himself has sent to you from heaven, doeij 
not make you feel. If I believed this to be the case 



EDWARD PAYSON. 34? 

could I write with any hope of success? Could 1 
hope to affect a heart which a message from heaven 
does not affect? But I do not, cannot believe that 
this mes-sage has failed to affect you. Your letter to 
Mrs. P. contains proof that it has not. In that letter 
you say — ^ I hate myself while I write.' But hatred of 
one's self, or self-abhorrence, is one of the constitu- 
ent parts of true repentance. No one but the real 
penitent, no one who is not a Christian, hates him- 
self. He who abhors himself, sees and feels it to be 
right that God should abhor him. He can accordingly 
take part with God against himself— justify God while 
he reproaches and condemns himself. And he who 
can do this is prepared to embrace the Gospel, to re- 
ceive it as glad tidings of great joy. Are you not then, 
my dear madam, proved to be a Christian out of your 
own mouth? If you do not choose to yield to proof 
from that source, let me request you to come with me 
to the mount of transfiguration. We may, like the 
disciples, feel emotions of fear as we enter the bright 
cloud which overshadows it, but we have no reason 
to entertain such emotions. Now contemplate Him 
who stood on the summit in the midat of this bright 
cloud. See his countenance shining like the sun, and 
his raiment white as the light. See all the fullness of 
the Godhead dwelling in him, diffusing itself around. 
Hear the awful voice of the eternal Father, proclaim- 
ing — ' This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well 
pleased ; hear ye him.' Recollect all that you have 
heard and read of the Being before you. Think of his 
power to save, of his willingness to save, of his de- 
light in saving sinners. And now, what does your 
heart say to all this ? What reply does it make when 



318 MEMOIR OF 

/ 

the Savior, turning upon you a look full of invitation, 
benevolence, and compassion, says to you — Fear not, 
Mary, to approach me ; I am come to seek and to save 
that which was lost : shall 1 save thee 7 Wilt thou 
consent to have me for thy Savior upon my own terms ? 
Wilt thou believe that I am disposed to look with an eye 
of pity on thy struggles against sin, and to assist thee in 
overcoming it ? Wilt thou believe that I can bear with 
thee, forgive thee, have patience with thee, and never 
be weary of instructing thee, reclaiming thee, and 
leading thee forward in the way to heaven ? And 
now, my dear madam, let me ask once more, What re- 
ply does your heart make to this language ? Does it not 
say, with Peter — ' Lord, it is good to be here ' — it is 
good to sit at thy feet, and hear thy word , I believe, 
I am sure that thou art the Christ, the Son of the liv- 
ing God? — If this is the language of your heart, he 
does, in effect, say to you — ' Blessed art thou, Mary- 
Ann; for flesh and blood have not revealed this unto 
thee, but my Father who is in heaven.' Blessed art 
thou, for thou hast chosen the good part, and it shall 
never be taken from thee. But perhaps you will say — 
for you have to dispute against yourself — ' I believe 
nothing, feel nothing of* all this.' Let me then make 
another trial. St. Paul, speaking of ancient believers, 
says — 'If they had been mindful of the country whence 
they came out, they might have had opportunity to re- 
turn thither ; but they desired another country, even a 
heavenly ; wherefore God is not ashamed to be called 
their God.' Now permit me to apply this passage to 
your case. If you are mindful of the world, if you 
wish to return to that careless, sinful state of con- 
formity to it from which you are professedly com(^ 



EDWARD PAYSON 349 

out, you have opportunity to return to it ; there is no- 
thing to prevent you. But can you say that you wish 
to return? Can you deny that you desire a better 
country, even a xieavenly ? If you do desire it, if you 
have no wish to return to the service of sin, then God 
IS not ashamed to be called your God ; and if he is no 
ashamed to be called your God, then you ought not to 
be afraid to call him so ; but ought to approach him 
with confidence, crying, ' My Father ! my God 1' " 

The following letter of condolence to his bereaved 
parents contains some reminiscences of a most valua- 
ble woman, which ought to be preserved, and which 
will be gladly recognised by great numbers, to whom 
she was endeared by " the good works and alms-deeds 
which she did :" 

''May 4., 1818. 
" My dear afflicted Parents, 

" You will probably hear from poor brother Rand 
before you receive this letter, that you have one child 
less on earth to comfort you in the decline of life ; that 
dear, dear Grata has gone before you to heaven. I 
cannot hope to console you ; but I do hope that your 
surviving children will feel bound to do every thing in 
their poAver to make up your loss, by increased filial 
affection and concern for your happiness. I cannot 
mourn for Grata. How much suffering of body and 
mind has she escaped by her early departure ! But 1 
mourn for poor brother Rand, for his motherless chil- 
dren, and for you. It would be some consolation to 
you, could you know how much she was beloved, how 
greatly her loss is lamented, how much good she did, 
and how loudly she is praised by all who knew her 



350 MiJMOIR OP 

I doubt not that hundreds mourn for her, and feel hei 
loss almost or quite as much as do her relatives. Mr. 
H., who preached her funeral sermon, gave her a most 
exalted character ; and a young lady who resided a 
few weeks in Mr. Rand's family, speaks of her eveiy 
where as the most fa.ultless person with whom she 
was ever acquainted. 

" Many, many prayers have been offered up, both 
here and at Gorham, that you may be supported and 
comforted when the tidings reach you ; and I hope and 
trust they will be answered. Thanks be to God that 
you are loved and blessed by many who never saw 
you, on account of your children. Mr. Rand feels 
great hopes that her loss will be blessed to his church 
and people ; and that she will do more good in her 
death, than she has done m her life ; and from what T 
saw at the funeral, I cannot but indulge similar hopes. 
You will wish to know how he bears the loss ; but I 
can hardly tell. When I saw him he had been in a 
state of confusion, and surrounded by his mourning 
people from the moment of her death ; so that, as he 
more than once observed, he could scarcely realize 
that she was dead, or tell how he felt. The worst is 
yet to come ; but I doubt not he will be supported. I 
hope, too, that her loss will do me some good. The 
suddenness of her departure makes the other world ap- 
pear very near ; and she seems as much, and eveh 
more alive, than she did before. I preached with re 
ference to the subject yesterday; and could not bu* 
aope that her death might be blessed to some of mj 
people, or at least to some of the church." 

To two of his flock, w^ho, in their absence froin 
home, were to receive with this letter the a^ict- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 351 

mg intelligence of the death of their onlv child : 
"My dear brother and sister in Christ, and now 
brother and sister in affliction, the letters which ac- 
company this will inform you why I write. I see and 
share in the poignant grief which those letters occa- 
sion ; nor would I rudely interrupt it. I will sit down 
and weep with you in silence for a while 5 and when 
*he first gush of wounded affection is past ; when the 
tribute which nature demands, and which religion 
does not forbid, has been paid to the memory of your 
dear departed babe, I will attempt to whisper a word 
of consolation. May the ' God of all consolation ' 
make it such. .Were I writing to parents who know 
nothing of religion, I should indeed despair of afford- 
ing you any consolation. My task would be difficult 
indeed, nor should I know what to say. I could only 
tell them of a God whom they had never known, of a 
Savior witJj whom they had formed no acq-uaintance, 
of a Comforter whose consoling power they had never 
experienced, of a Bible from whose rich treasures 
they had never been taught to derive support. But in 
writing to you, my only difficulty is of a very different 
kind. It consists in selecting from the innumerable 
topics of consolation contained in the Scriptures, those 
which are best adapted to your peculiar situation. Sot 
numerous are they, that I know not which to mention] 
or which to omit. May God guide my choice and di- 
rect my pen. It is needless, in writing to Christian 
parents, to you^ to enlarge on the common topics of 
consolation. I need not tell you who has done this — 
who it is that gives and takes away. I need not tell 
you, that * whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and 
scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.' I need not 



352 MEMOIR OF 

tell you of the great duties of resignation and sabmis 
sion, for you have long been learning them in a pain 
ful but salutary school. And need I tell you that h^. 
who inflicts your sufferings, knows their number ant! 
weight, knows all the pain you feel, and sympathizes 
with you even as you once sympathized v/ith your dear 
babe ; for as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord 
pitieth them that fea? him. O think of this ; the pity, 
the parental pity, of a God. Who w^ould not willing- 
ly be aflli ;ted to be thus pitied ! Go then, my dear 
l)rothrr pnd sister, and lean with sweet confiding love 
apon ^he bosom of this pitying, sympathizing Friend ; 
.here deposit all your sorrows, and hear him saying, 
The cup which / give you, my children, will you not 
drink it ? Remember he knows all its bitterness. He 
.himself mentions the grief of parents mourning for a 
first-born and only child as exceedingly great. Re- 
member, too, that taking thisbitter cup with cheerful- 
ness from your Father's hand, will be considered by 
him as an unequivocal token of your filial affection. 
Now I know that thou lovest me,' said he to Abra- 
ham, ' seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine 
only son from me.' It requires the same kind of 
grace, if not the same degree of grace, to resign a 
child willingly to God, as to sacrifice it on the akar j 
and if you are enabled thus to resign your babe, God 
will say to you, Now I know that ye love me, seeing 
ye withheld not your child, your only child, from me. 
If at times, when ' all the parent rises in your bo- 
soms,' these consolations should prove insufticient to 
quiet your sorrows, think on what is the situation and 
employment of your dear departed child. She is doubt- 
less praising God ) and, next to the gift of Christ, shf 



EDWARD PAYSON. 353 

probably praises him for giving her parents who prayed 
for her and dedicated her to God. She now knows all 
that you did for her, and loves and thanks you for it, 
and will love and thank you for ever ; for though na- 
tural ties are dissolved by death, yet those spiritual 
ties which unite you and your child will last long as 
eternity. She has performed all the work and done 
all the good for which she was sent to us, and thus 
fulfilled the end of her earthly existence ; and if you 
have been the means of bringing into being a little im- 
mortal, who had just lighted on these shores and then 
took her flight to heaven, you have reason to be thank- 
ful ; for it is an honor and a favor. Neither your exist- 
ence nor your union have been in vain, since you have 
oeen the instruments of adding one more blest voice to 
the choirs above. But I must close. May God bless 
you, support and restore you to us in safety, is the prayer 
of your affectionate friend and pastor, 

"Edward Payson." 

A letter of counsel to a candidate for tKe ministry : 
*My dear Brother, 

*'I rejoice to learn that you are in part released 
from the bondage in which you have been so long 
held. Jhat you are released, I infer, first, from the 
fact that you are preaching ; and secondly, from your 
having written me a letter. But what a request does 
your letter contain ! — That I should write to you sys- 
tematically ! /, who never did any thing systemati- 
cally in my life, but have always lived extempore ! If 
r write to you, it must be in the same way. It will be 
the easiest thing in the world to give you plenty o\ 

Payswa OQ 



354 MEMOIR OF 

good advice. All the difficulty will be 'o malie you 
follow it. If you are like me, you will never learn 
any thing to any purpose till it is beaten into you by 
painful experience ; and even then you will probably 
forget it in a tenth part of the time which it took you 
to learn it. However, I will tell you one thing which 
experience has tauight me. If you will believe it on 
my word, it will save you some suffermg. If not, you 
must learn it, as I did, under the scourge. 

" Some time since I took up a little work, purport- 
ing to be the lives of sundry characters as related by 
themselves. Two of those characters agreed in re- 
marking that they were never happy until they ceas- 
ed striving to be great men. This remark struck me, 
as you know the most simple remarks will strike us, 
v/hen Heaven pleases. It occurred to me at once, 
that most of my sins and sufferings were occasioned 
by an unwillingness to be the nothing which I am^ 
and by consequent struggles to be something. I saw 
that if I would but cease struggling, and consent to 
be any thing or nothing, just as God pleases, I might 
be happy. You will think it strange that I mention 
this as a new discovery. In one sense it was not new; 
I had known it for years. But I now saw it in a new 
light. My heart saw it, and consented to it; and I 
am comparatively happy. My dear brother, if you 
can give up all desire to be great, and feel heartily 
willing to be nothing, you will be happy too. You 
must not even wish to be a great Christian ; that is, 
you must not wish to make great attainments in reli 
gion, for the sake of knowing that you have made,.oi 
for the sake of having others think that you have 
made them. Very true and very good, von will say. 



EDWARD FAYSOr^. 355 

though somewhat trite ; but how am I to bring myself 
to sucli a state ? Let me ask in reply, why you are 
not troubled when you see one man receive military 
and another masonic honors ? Why are you not un- 
happy, because you cannot be a colonel, a general, or 
a most worshipful grand high priest ? Because, you 
answer, 1 have no desire for these titles or distinc- 
tions^. And why do you not desire them 7 Simply 
because you are not running a race in competition 
with those who obtain them. You stand aside ana 
say, Let those who wish for these things have them. 
N ow if you can in a similar manner give up all com 
petition with respect to other objects ; if you can stand 
aside from the race which too many ministers are run- 
ning, and say from your heart, ' Let those who choose 
to engage in such a race divide the prize ; let one mi- 
nister run away with the money, and another with the 
esteem, and a third with the applause, &c. &c.; I have 
£omething else to do, a different race to run ; be God's 
approbation the only prize for which I run ; let me ob- 
tain that, and it is enough ;' — I say, if you can from 
the heart adopt this language, you will find most af 
your difficulties and sufferings vanish. But it is hard to 
say this. It is almost impossible to persuade any man 
to renounce the race without cutting off his feet, or at 
least fettering him. This God has done for me ; this 
he has been doing for you. And you will one day, if 
you do not now, bless him for all your sufferings, as I 
do for mine. I have not suffered one pang too much. 
God was never more kind than when I thought him 
most unkind j never more faithful than Avhen I was 
ready to say. His faithfulness has failed. Let him 
fetter you then, if he pleases. Consent that he should 



356 — MEMOIR OP . 

cut off your feet, if he pleases. Any thing is a blesp- 
ing' which prevents us from running the fatal race 
which we are so prone to run ; which first convinces 
us that we are nothing, and then makes us willing to 
be so." 

To an aged mother, suffering great anxiety on ac- 
count of the disheartened and comfortless condition ol 
her son : 

" You give yours-elf too much trouble about P. After 
you have prayed for him as you have done, and com- 
mitted him to God, should you not cease to feel anxious 
respecting him. 7 The command, ' Be careful for tzo- 
thing^^ is unlimited ; and so is the expression, ' casting 
all your care upon him.' If we cast our burdens upon 
another, can they continue to press upon us ? If we 
bring them away with us from the throne of grace, it 
is evident we do not leave them there. With respect 
to myself, I have made this one test of my prayers. 
If, after committing any thing to God, I can like Han- 
nah come away, and have my conscience no more sad, 
my heart no more pained or anxious, I look upon it as 
one proof that I prayed in faith; but if I bring away 
my burden, I conclude that faith was not in exercisi? 
If God has any work for P. to do, he will cause him. to 
do it. He made him as he made every thing else, for his 
own glory, and he will cause his glory to be promoted by 
him. Of course I should not urge this as a reason for 
neglecting to counsel or pray for him ; but as a reason 
why, w^hen we have performed these duties, we should 
be free from all care and anxiety respecting the event. 
The case of Cowper, which you feared would do me 
hurt, did me much good. It led me to such reflections 



EDWARD PAYSON 357 

Rs thcsei— If God could, without injury to nimself or 
his cause, suffer such a mind as tJiat of Cowper to rus« 
ill inaction, to be fettered by nervous difficulties and 
temptations, or to be uselessly employed for ten years 
together in translating a pagan poet, is it any wonder 
that he should leave my little mind to be fettered and 
crippled, and my time to pass away in a useless man- 
ner 1 After all, I am treated more favorably than he 
was ; and I desire to be thankful thai it is no worse with 
me. You may make similar reflections respecting P.'s 
case. Should God leave him in his present state all 
his days, it would be nothing new in the history of his 
dealings with his people. And you will allow that he 
has a right to do it, and that he will not do it unless it 
is for the best. Where, then, is any reason for anxiety 1 
I should like indeed to have God make use of me to do 
great things ; and you would like to have him employ 
P. to do great things ; but if he chooses to leave us 
both crippled and useless, we must submit." 

To the Rev, Daniel Temple, missionary to Western Asia • 

" Portland, Oct 13, 1822. 
"My df.ai? Erotker, 

'' I dare not decline the correspondence which you 
propose. The common rules of civility, to say nothing 
of Christian affection, forbid it. Yet I do not engage 
m such a correspondence without reluctance. I feel 
none of the confidence which you express, that it will 
prove beneficial to you. Did your sphere of action re- 
semble mine, it is barely possible that I might suggest 
some hints which would be useful. But the situation 
of a missionary in Palestine differs so widely from that 



358 MEMOIR OF 

of a minister in a Christian country, that no advice 
which I can give would afford you any assistance. And 
the distance between us increases my unwillingness 
to write. Almost any thing in the form of a letter 
might answer, were it to be sent only a few miles ; 
but a letter which is to cross the seas, which is to go 
to Palestine, ought surely to contain something worth 
reading. Even gold and silver are almost too bulky 
to be sent so far. Such a letter should resemble bank 
notes, or bills of exchange. But such a letter I have 
no hopes of writing. The faculty of condensing much 
in a small compass, is one of the many faculties which 
I do not possess. However, I will write. May he 
who knows in what circumstances this letter will find 
you, guide me to write something which may prove a 
' word in season.' 

" One of the principal results of the little experience 
which I have had as a Christian minister, is a convic- 
tion that religion consists very much in giving God 
that place in our views and feelings which he actually 
fills in the universe. We know that in the universe 
he is all in all. So far as he is constantly all in all to 
us, so far as Ave comply with the Psalmist's charge to 
his soul, ' My soul, wait thou only upon God ;' so far, 
I apprehend, have we advanced towards perfection,, 
It is comparatively easy to wait upon God ; but to 
wait upon him only — to feel, so far as our strength^ 
happiness, and useftMness are concerned, as if all crea- 
tures and second causes were annihilated, and we 
were alone in the universe with God. is, I suspect, a 
difficult and rare attainment. At least, I am sure it 
is one which I am very far from having made. In 
proportion as we n^ake this attainment we shall find 



EDWARD PAYSON. 35S 

every thing easy ; for we shall becomej emphatically, 
men of prayer 5 and we may say of prayer as Solomon 
says of money, that it answereth all things. I have 
often thought that every minister, and especially every 
missionary, ought frequently to read, or at least cali 
to mind Foster's Essay on the Epithet Romantic. If 
you have not his Essays at hand, you may perhaps 
recollect some of his concluding remarks. After show- 
ing that it is highly romantic to expect extraordinary 
success from ordinary means, he adds to this effect — 
^ The individual who should solemnly resolve to try 
the best and last possible efficacy of prayer, and unal- 
terably determine that heaven should not withhold a 
single influence which the utmost effort of persevering 
prayer could bring down, would probably find himself 
becoming a much more successful agent in his little 
sphere.' Very few missionaries since the apostles 
probably, have tried the experiment. He vv^ho shall 
make the first trial, will, I believe, effect v/onders. 
May you, my dear brother, be that happy man. No- 
thing that I could write, nothing which an angel could 
write, would be necessary to him who should make 
this trial. I trust that you will find our Master is as 
really present in Palestine as he was in the days of 
his flesh ; that you will sometimes enjoy his presence 
in the very places in which it was formerly enjoyed 
by the apostles. We read that on one occasion they 
' returned to Jesus, and told him all things, both what 
they had done, and what they had taught.' If we 
were, m like manner, to come to his feet every even- 
ing, and tell him where we have been, what we have 
done, what we have said, and what were bur emotions 
through the day ; we should, I believe, find it both 



360 MEMOIR OF 

pleasant and profitable. Perhaps he would say to us, 
as he did to them, Come apart, and rest with me 
awhile. May he often mvite you to rest awhile with 
nim, to refresh you when faint and weary, and, aftei 
a long life of usefulness, take you to rest with him for 
ever in Ms own heaven. 

" I write no religious intelligence, for you will have 
it in the Recorder. I may however mention that the 
ministers in this state agreed to observe the first day 
of the present year as a day of fasting and prayer. In 
consequence, we have had more revivals in the state 
this year than in any former year, though none of 
them has been very extensive. About forty have been 
added to our church. We long to have good news 
from Palestine ; but are aware that we must wait and 
pray long, before we can expect to hear much. 

" I commend you to God, my dear brother, and send 
this letter merely as a proof of Christian affection." 

To a ministering brother at a distance, whose labors 
were suspended by sickness : 

" I thank you for your letter, though, in consequence 
of the unfavorable information which it communicated 
respectmg your health, it gave me quite as much pain 
as pleasure. I had hoped to hear a better account of 
you. But why do I say hoped ? or what business have 
I to talk of hoping or fearing, when God is ordering 
every thing in infinite wisdom and mercy ? The fact 
is, I usually find it much easier to acquiesce in my 
own afflictions than in those of my friends ; for I can 
see that afflictions are absolutely necessary for me, 
but do not see with equal clearness that they are ne- 
cessary for them. But if I do not see it, God does, o? 



EDWARD PAYSCN. J56l 

he would not afflict them. As you are in his hands, 
you will be well the moment that he sees it best you 
snould be so ; and why should I wish you to be well 
any sooner? However, I should be glad to hear that 
the time is arrived, and thai you are able to resume 
your labors. If you are not, and are inquiring of your 
Master what he would have you do, his answer is, 
' Lie down at my feet and be quiet, till I give you 
strength to get up and work.' But he knows we had 
rather labor than suffer ; and that we had rather labor 
and suffer too, than be laid aside ; and therefore he 
sometimes lays us aside for awhile, in order to try us 
with what is most disagreeable. Besides, no man is 
fit to rise up and labor, until he is made willing to lie 
still and suffer as long as his Master pleases. But I 
had almost forgot that I am writing a letter, and not a 
sermon. This is the less to be wondered at, because 
I laid aside a sermon to scribble to you. I will try to 
be less forgetful in future. 

" The revival which you predicted is not arrived ; 
and, what is worse, we see no signs of its approach, 
unless increasing deadness is a sign. At the last union 
prayer-meeting I proposed that all the churches should 
unite in observing a day of fasting and prayer, and 
assemble in the morning at one meeting-house, in the 
afternoon at another, and in the evening at a third. 
No objection was made ; but it was thought best to 
appoint a committee to consult each church in form. 
If they agree to the j)roposal, as I think they will, we 
shall appoint some day next week, and have notice 
given from the pulpits on the preceding Sabbatn. 
* * * * 

" I hope the good people of B., C, &c. have become 



362 MEMOIR OF 

luiet again, since La Fayette's departure. When win 
the Savior be invited to visit us, and be welcomed as 
he v^as ? Not^ I am afraid, in ray day, nor yours. 

" I have nothing more to say, except that my health 
IS in the best state possible ; and yet it is very bad. 1 
leave you to solve the riddle, if it is one, at your leisure. 
When you have nothing better to do, write to me, and 
tell me that you are the better for having been sick " 

To a kinsman under spiritual trials : 

' My dear Brother, 

" I have just received your doleful epistle, and 
though parochial cares press upon me — having just re 
turned from a journey — I must snatch a moment to 
answer it. Would to God I could write something 
which would prove serviceable, but I fear I shall not. 
However, I will make the attempt, and may God 
bless it. You have no reason to suppose that there is 
any thing peculiar or discouraging in your present situ- 
ation. God is dealing with you as he did with Heze- 
kiah when he left him, to try him, that he ' might 
know all that was in his heart.' If you have ever read 
Mr. Newton's description of grace in the blade, in the 
ear, and in the full corn, you will recollect that he 
mentions ' desire,' as the characteristic of the first stage, 
and 'conflict' as that of the second. If I understand 
your letter, you have entered on the stage of conflict^ 
and must now expect more distressing proofs of the 
desperate wickedness of your heart than you had be- 
fore experienced. In another letter Mr. Newton says 
'I believe God never gives his people much of a vie- 
torv over the world til] he has left them to fee] how 



EDWARD PAYSON. 363 

great is its power over them.' This remark, I have no 
doubtj is true ; and God, I trust, is now preparing you 
for a victory over the world, by showing you more of 
Its strength and your own weakness. Besides, I have 
no doubt that your present trials are occasioned, in 
part, by the state of your health. But, however this 
may be, let me assure you, that so long as sin is seen, 
hated, resisted 5 so long as we groan under it, and 
struggle against it, it shall not harm us. Do not, then, 
yield to discouragement ; do not neglect the means of 
grace, as you will sometimes be strongly tempted to 
do; do not cease struggling, because your struggles 
seem to avail nothing; but continue, like Gideon, 
though '■ faint, yet pursuing.' Could I tell you what 
bitter proofs I have had of my desperate, desperate de- 
pravity — how often I have been brought to my wits' 
end — how often I should have chosen strangling and 
death rather than life, and how I have been carried 
through all, it would, I think, afford you some encou- 
ragement. But perhaps you will say, ' If I could feel 
distressed, if I were not so stupid in this situation, it 
would encourage me.' And how, let me ask, are you 
to learn that your heart is like the nether mill-stone, 
except by being left for a time to feel that nothing can 
either melt or move it ? I do not, of course, mean to 
justify or excuse this hardness of heart. It is a most 
abominable and detestable evil, and I should be very 
8orry to say any thing which should lead you to think 
lightly of it ; still, if our hearts are hard and wicked 
m a far greater degree than we ever conceived of, it 
Is surely best that we should know it 5 else, how 
should we ever be duly grateful to our great Physi* 
Clan for healing us? Heal you he will, my dear bro- 



364 MEMOIR OF 

Iher^ I doubt not; but he will first make you know 
how sickj how mortally sick you- are. In consequence, 
you will think more highly than ever of his kindness, 
faithfulness, and skill; you will love much, because, 
much has been forgiven you ; and you will be bettei 
prepared to join in the song of ' Worthy is the Lamb.' 
I must again, hoAvever, beseech you not to let sin turn 
these precious truths to poison, by tempting you to 
think lightly of sin ; and not by any means be driven 
from attempting to read, watch, meditate, and pray. 
In your present situation, this li the great danger. 
You will be strongly tempted to despondency and un- 
belief, and when these evils prevail, you will be 
tempted to neglect the means of grace as useless, or 
as means which you cannot use aright. -Resist this 
temptation, and all will be well." 

Filial and fraternal duty happily recognised: 

My DEAR Mother, 

" I should sooner have answered your last, had 1 
not expected ere this to see you. But the stage dis- 
appointed me. I had engaged a place in it, and sat 
ap all night waiting for it, but it did not come. Thus, 
no doubt for some wise reasons, my visit to you was 
prevented. I had two particular reasons for wishing to 
come. One was, to talk with P. He is certainly 
wrong ; he is entangled in a snare of Satan ; he can 
pray, and he must pray ; he has no excuse. His un- 
willingness to have you press him on the subject is 
wrong. I know all about it. I have been in the same 
snare myself. Whatever P. may now think, he will, 
<50oner or later, be convinced that the grand difficulty 
[jps, not in his nerves, but in his heart, I hope he will 



EDWARD PAYSON. 365 

not pretend that his constitution is more shattered, or 
his health worse than mine. But I have never seen 
the time 1/hen I could not pray, if my heart was right' 
Let him not think, however, that I mean to censure 
him harshly. I have been too guilty myself to allow 
of this. -But I do beseech him, if he has any regard to 
his happiness here or hereafter, not to let Satan per- 
suade him that he is unable to pray. There have been 
many seasons in which I could pray only while walk- 
ing my study, and, even then, only in short, vehement 
ejaculations. If I knelt down, my head was so con- 
fused that I could do nothing. Let him resolve that 
tie will spend some time every day in prayer, if he can 
do nothing more than cry, ' Lord, pity me ! Lord, help 
me !' He is ruined if he does not. 

"The other reason why I wished to see you, was 
to know what your plans and wishes are respecting 
your place of residence when H. moves. I thought 
that you might perhaps feel unwilling to move so far 
as New-York. I hope it is needless to tell my. dear 
mother that if she chooses to make her home with us. 
we will do all in our power to make her home comfort- 
able. I hope she will consult nothing but her own incli- 
nations. If her children can do any thing to make the 
remainder of her days comfortable, I trust they all 
have a full disposition to do it. She has only to say 
the word, and we will place her where she thinks she 
will be most comfortable. 

" You will be glad to hear that, for a few weeks, I 
have enjoyed some respite from my sufferings. I ob- 
served the last anniversary of my ordination, and the 
first day of the present year, as days of fasting and 
prayer ; and though I could do little more than groan 



366 MEMOIR OF 

and sighj a blessing has followed. I have suffered 
none too much. Not one pang could have been spared. 
Should I suffer hereafter, do not let it distress you. It 
is all necessary ; all will be well at last." 

Trembling Christians directed to the source of joy 
and strength : 

" Many of the church have been so much distressed 
that I thought it necessary to comfort them if possible, 
and on Sabbath morning preached from 1 Sam. 12 • 
20-24, ^ Fear not ; ye have done all this wickedness,' 
&c. My design was to show trembling, desponding 
Christians, that, notwithstanding all their great wick- 
edness, they ought still to follow God with confidence 
and increasing diligence ; and that, if they would do 
this, they need not despond or despair when "God 
shows them what is in their hearts. Meditate on the 
passage, if you please ; and I hope it may encourage 
you as much as it did the church. I have preached 
mor^ respecting Christ of late than ever ; and am more 
and more convinced that the knowledge of Christ cru- 
cified is the one thing needful, the grand source of 
peace, and joy, and growth in grace. Count all things 
loss for the excellency of this knowledge, and pray 
For it more than for any thing else, and you will find 
it to be so." 

To a brother who shrunk from his duty through de- 
pression of mind and an erroneous opinion of his own 
qualifications for the ministry. Lest any should use 
the authority of Dr. Payson's name to urge men to as- 
?.mne the sacred office without the requisite qualifica- 
tions, it ought to be stated that the person addressed 



EDWARD FAYSON. 367 

in the following letter, besides possessing decided 
piety, had passed through a regular course of prepara- 
tory studies at a theological seminary : 

'' My dear Brother, 

"Your letter found nie more than ordinarily hur- 
ried ; but I feel it to be so important that you should 
be licensed this fall, that I must snatch a moment to 
answer it. Your feelings, as you describe them, are 
just like mine, only less aggravated by long continu- 
ance. I mention this that you may pay more regard 
to my advice. I am as certain that it is best for you 
to take license immediately, as I can be of any thing. 
Rely upon it, that if you delay, your difficulties will 
increase, and you will feel more and more as if it was 
impossible to preach. Your only safety lies in placing 
yourself in circumstances which will make exertion 
necessary, and which will secure divine assistance. 
Never mind your infirmities. You have nothing to do 
with them. Your business is to trust, and go forward. 
If you wait till the sea becomes land, you will never 
walk on it. You must leave the ship, and, like Peter, 
set your feet upon the waves, and you will find them 
marble. Christ is a good Master. He wont suffer you 
to sink; and you will at length glory in your infirmi- 
ties. I would not give up the precious proofs which 
I have received, in consequence of my weakness, of 
his power, faithfulness, and love, for all the comforts 
of good health. But be assured, that, if you remain 
as you are, Satan will weave a net round you which 
you wi 11 never break. Every mental and'religious ef 
fort wil I become more difficult and painful ; your mind- 
mil be like the body of a rickety child ; you will live 



368 MEMOIR OP 

a burden to yourself and fnands, and die without tne 
consolation of having been made useful. This would 
infallibly have been my fate, had I not been thrust into 
the ministry before I well knew what I w^s about. 
Yet you see I have somehow or other been carried 
along, and so will you be.. Do not then, my dear, 
dear brother, stand hesitating. A feeble, nervous man 
must not deliberate, but act ; for his deliberation will 
not be worth a straw, but his activity may be, and 
probably will be, useful both to himself and others. 

" When Christ told his disciples to feed the multi- 
tude with five loaves, they did not hesitate and say, 
Lord, let us first see the bread multiplied ; if we be- 
gin, and have not enough, we shall be put to shame — 
but they distributed what they had, and it increased in 
the distribution. So you will find it. You must^ 
therefore, go forward. There is no reason why you 
should not. * If you delay, indolence will steal upon 
you, and bind you in chains which you will never 
break. 

" I charge you then, before God and the Lord Jesus 
Christ, to be up and doing. There are fifty places in 
this state where the most unconnected things which 
your lips could utter would do good, and be well re- 
ceived. You have no conception by what apparently 
feeble means God often works wonders. Let the next 
tidings I hear from you be, that you have crossed the 
Rubicon ; or rather let me see you here forthwith in 
the character of a preacher. 

" My health is as usual, but my Master is more than 
usually kind. At my request the church lately had a 
' special meeting to pray for me. God has heard them 
wonde'rfully. and my cup runs over." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 389 

Prudential advice on the preservation of health, ad- 
dressed to a student in divinity : 

'My dear Brother, 

" I am very so/ry to learn that your health is not 
better, but rather worse than when I was at R. 
Should it not have improved before you receive this, 
I beg you will attend to it without delay ; attend to it 
as your first and chief duty ; for such be assured it is. 
' A merciful man is merciful to his beast ;' and you 
must be merciful to your beast, or, as Mr. M. would 
say, to your ' animal.' Remember that it is your Mas- 
ter's property ; and he will no more thank you for 
driving it to death, than an earthly master would 
thank a servant for riding a valuble horse to death, 
under pretence of zeal for his interest. The truth is, 
I am afraid Satan has jumped on to the saddle, and 
when he is there in the guise of an angel of light, he 
whips and spurs at a most unmerciful rate, as every 
joint in my poor broken-winded animal can testify 
from woful experience. He has temptations for the 
conscience, as Mr. Newton well observes ; and when 
other temptations fail, he makes great use of them. 
Many a poor creature has he ridden to death, by 
using his conscience as a spur ; and you must not be 
ignorant, nor act as if you were ignorant of his de- 
vices. Remember Mr, Brainerd's remark, that diver- 
sions rightly managed, increased rather than dimi- 
nished his spiritugility. I now feel that I am never 
serving our Master more acceptably than when for 
his sake I am using means to preserve my health and 
lengthen my life ; and you must feel in a similar man- 
aer. if you mean to do him much service in the world. 

Pavson. 24 



370 MEMOIR OF 

He knows what you would do for him if you could 
He knows that your spirit is willing, when your flesh 
IS weak. Do not think less favorably of him than you 
would of a judicious, affectionate father. Do not thinK 
that he requires you to labor, when such a father would 
enjoin rest or relaxation. Ride, then, or go a fishing, 
or employ yourself in any way which will exercise the 
body gently, without wearying the mind. Above all, 
make trial of the shower bath. You can easily fix up 
something which will answer the purpose. Try it 
first, about ten o'clock in the morning, when the wea- 
ther is warm ; and if you feel a glow after it, it does 
you good ; but if it occasions chilliness, you must ra- 
ther try a warm bath. My dear brother, do attend im- 
mediately to these hints, for much depends upon it." 

To two young sisters, the children of distant friends : 

" I wish to show you that I feel a deep interest 

in your eternal welfare, and am willing to do any thing 
in my power to promote it. There is a circumstance 
related in the book of Judges, respecting the early part 
of Samson's life, which suggests some thoughts that 
may perhaps be useful to you. We are there told that 
* the child grew, and that the Lord blessed him-, and 
that the Spirit of the Lord began to move him at 
times.' I have no doubt that, in a little different sense, 
the Spirit of God begins very early to move, at times, 
upon the minds of children and young persons ; espe- 
cially of those who, like Samson, have pious parents, 
and have been, like him, dedicated to God. He has 
thus, I believe, at times moved upon your minds. 
Have you not reason to suppose that he has 1 Have 



EDWARD PAYSON. 371 

you not sometimes had serious thoughts aud feelings 
arise in your minds without any apparent cause? 
Have you not found something within you which urged 
upon you the necessity of prayer, of remembering.your 
Creator, and of preparing for death ? My dear young 
friends, that something was the Spirit of God moving 
upon your minds. Whenever such thoughts and feel- 
ings rise without any external cause, you may be cer- 
tain that He is near you. Have you not also found 
that religious instruction affects you very differently 
at different times? Sometimes, perhaps, it scarcely 
affects you at all. At other times the same truths take 
firm hold of your attention and excite your feelings. 
Now, what occasions this difference ? It is this. At 
one time the Spirit of God presses home the truth upon 
your minds and causes it to affect you. At another 
time He does not apply it, and then it produces no ef- 
fect. * Our Savior, you recollect, compares the opera- 
tions of the Spirit to those of the wind. Now, when 
you see the branches of a tree agitated without any 
visible cause, you conclude at once that the winfl is 
blowing upon them. Just so, when your minds are 
interested and affected in a serious manner by reli- 
gious considerations, you may conclude that the Holy 
Spirit is moving upon them. And can you not recol- 
lect many seasons, or at least some seasons, in which 
He has thus moved upon them ? If so, consider how 
great a favor, how great an act of condescension it 
was on the part of God, thus to visit you. Had He 
sent an angel from heaven to warn you, you would 
have thought it a great favor. You would have been 
ready to ask with surprise, Why does the infinite^ 
tverlasting Gad conc^escend to send an angel from 



372 MEMOIR OF 

heaven to promote our welfare ? But foi God to send 
his Spirit to move upon your minds is a much greater 
favor, a much greater act of condescension, than it 
would be to send an angel to you. O then how greatly 
ought you to love and thank him for such a favor, and 
how carefully should you cherish, how humbly should 
you. yield to the motions of this heavenly visiter ! Are 
you still favored with his visits ? Does he still move, 
at times, upon your minds ? If so, be careful, O be 
scrupulously careful not to grieve him, and cause 
him to forsake you. But perhaps he has already 
withdrawn from you. If so, will you not implore his 
return ? Will you not, after reading this, kneel down 
and say, 'Lord, I have ungratefully neglected and 
grieved thy good Spirit, and he has justly with 
drawn from me. It would be just should he never 
return to me. Yet, in thy great mercy, let him return 
and again move upon my mind ; let him come, and 
enlighten and sanctify me.' Let this be your daily 
urgent request." 

To his parents, under various and accumulated af- 
flictions : 

" What a catalogue of trials does your letter con- 
lain 1 I am more and more convinced of what I ha^e 
long suspected, that God tries his people, first, with 
inward, spiritual trials ; and then, when they have ac- 
quired some degree of experience, and faith has be- 
come strong, he visits them with outward afflictions. 

" Dr. Owen says that Heb. 12 : 6 ought to be ren- 
iered, 'whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth ; yea, 
iilso, he severely chastiseth, above the ordinary mea- 
sure, those sons whom he accepts and 'peculiarly d& 



EDWARD PAYSON. 37d 

lights in? If this rendering be correct — and tne doc- 
tor certainly makes it appear so — my parents have 
reason to think themselves special favorites. Perhaps, 
for a short time before death, God's people may be, in 
a measure, exempted from both inward and outward 
trials. 

" I have tried to write, because your letter ought to 
be answered, and because I wished to write something 
consolatory under your afflictions ; but I can only echo 
back your groans I" 

To a Christian brother of rank and wealth : 

" I have thought much of your situation since I left 
you. It is but seldom that God gives one of his chil- 
dren so many temporal blessings as he has given you. 
He has hitherto preserved you, and will, I trust, con- 
tinue to preserve you from the evils which attend a 
state of prosperity. But it is, as you are aware, a 
dangerous state, and calls for great watchfulness and 
much prayer. You are, doubtless, conscious of many 
evil propensities working within ; but tney may work 
long, and produce much internal mischief before their 
«j6fects become external and visible to others. The ef- 
fects of temporal prosperity upon the mind resemble 
<ihose of an unhealthy atmosphere upon the body. The 
constitution is gradually and almost insensibly under- 
mined and weakened 5 and yet no particular part can 
be pointed out as the seat of the disease, for the poison 
is diflused through the whole system. Spiritual lassi- 
tude, the Loss of spiritual appetite, and an indisposi- 
tion to vigorous spiritual exertion, are some of the firs* 
perceptible symptoms that the poison of prosperitv is 
at work. When a man detects these symptoms in him- 



374 MEMOIR OP 

self, it is time for him to be alarmed. If he delays a 
little longer, the disease will make such progress as to 
render him insensible to his danger. Were I placed 
in such a situation I should be ruined in six months. 
Still, your situation is, in one respect, desirable. It is 
one in which you may do much for the glory of God 
and the promotion of his cause." 

To his revered mother, on leaving her habitation, at 
the final dispersion of her family, August, 1824 : 

" My dear Mother, 

" I was a little surprised, when you were with us, 
to hear you say nothing of the unpleasantness of being 
obliged, at your age, to remove far from the place 
where you had spent so many years. It seemed to me 
that such a removal must involve many circumstances 
which would be very disagreeable, and even painful. 
But, as you said little or nothing on the subject, I con- 
cluded that it did not appear equally unpleasant to you. 
It seems from your letter, however, that the time of 
trial had not then arrived, and that you have since 
been troubled about your removal, as I expected you 
would be. I am glad to find that the trial has now lost 
something of its bitterness, and that you feel recon- 
ciled to go where Providence calls. You have son:e 
illustrious examples among God's ancient servants to 
encourage and instruct you. Abraham, called to leave 
his country and his father's house, and Jacob, obliged 
in his old age to go down into Egypt, had trials harder, 
probably, than yours, though of the same nature. Bw 
they went, and God went with them ; and he will go 
v«ith you; doubt it not. On the other hand, see how 



EDWARD PAYSON. 375 

fte dealt with his enemies. ^ Moab hath been at ease 
from his youth, and hath not been emptied from ves- 
sel to vessel ; therefore his taste remainetli in him, and 
his scent is not changed.' You have no been at ease 
from your youth, and you have been emptied from ves- 
sel to vessel, and you are now to be emptied again 
from one vessel to another. And surely this is better 
than to be treated like Moab, and possess his charac- 
ter. Besides, as God said to Jacob in his old age, 
' Fear not to go down into Egypt;' so he says to you, 
* Fear not to go wherever I call ; for my presence shall 
go w»ith you.' I hope you feel no anxieties of a pecu- 
niary nature. While one of your children has any 
thing, you will not want. But why do I say this? 
Rather let me say. The Lord is your Shepherd, and, 
while he possesses any thing, you shall not want. 
Poor ****, too, will be taken care of. As to *******j I 
can only say once more, Leave him with his Master. 
He knows what to do with him, and he will do all 
things well. If he chooses rather that ******** should 
suffer, he will overrule all his sufferings for good. 
Only pray for him, and then leave him. 

" I preached yesterday on this passage : — ' Though 
he will not give him because he is his friend, yet, be- 
cause of his importunity he will rise and give him 
as many as he needeth.' This, as well as the parable 
of the unjust judge, evidently teaches that importu- 
nate prayer will prevail when nothing else can. A man 
may pray ten times, and be denied; and yet, by pray- 
ing ten times more, obtain the blessing. Had the Syro- 
Phoenician ceased after making three applications to 
Christ, she should have gone away empty ; but, by ap- 
plying once more, she obtained all that she asked. 



376 MEMOIR OF 

" It has been a time of trial with me, as well as with 
yoUj since we parted. I have been reduced lower, m 
point of health, than on any former occasion. For four 
weeks I was unable to preach, and doubted whether 1 
should ever preach more. But this was all my trial, 
and I was kept very quiet. My sermon on ^ Be still,' 
&c. followed me, and God in mercy inclined me to 
be still. My people urged me very strongly to make a 
voyage to Europe, and offered to supply the pulpit and 
pay all my expenses. But, though I should like well 
enough to see Europe, I could not feel any freedom to 
go. I did not like to have so much expense lavished 
upon me, nor did I know how to lose so much time as 
such a voyage would require. I am now better, and 
have been able to preach the three last Sabbaths. But 
I seem to preach in vain. There is no noise nor shak- 
ing among the dry bones ; and, even of the church, I 
may almost say. There is no breath in them. But 1 
am kept from* impatience, and am not quite discou- 
raged. As I know how desirous you feel that your 
children should love each other, I would tell you, if I 
could, how much I love E. I loved her much before 
her last visit, and she endeared herself still more to us 
during that visit. I believe, too, that I love my bro- 
thers 'pretty well. Do tell them so. What you say re- 
specting the complaints of ministers who visit us, I 
have heard before. I do not w^onder at it. They have 
some reason to complain. But the reason of our appa- 
rent coldness is what you suppose it to be. Pressed 
down to the very dust as I usually am, I cannot al 
ways dress my countenance in smiles, nor prevent it 
from expressing my sufferings. Hence I am unpopu^ 
far among ministers. It is a trial, but I cannot help it.' 



EDWARD PAYSON. 3*5^ 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

His private character — His affections and demeanor as a h\LS- 
bandj father, master , friend — His gratitude, economy ^ gene- 
rosity — His temper of mind under injuries. 

It is not every character that will bear a close m 
spectioa. The more intimately some men are view 
ed, the less veneration and respect are felt for them. 
This is true of some in elevated stations, and pos- 
sessing no small share of public confidence. Even 
the church presents this anomaly, A man may bear 
a saint-like visage abroad, and yet be a very fiend in 
his own family ; may put on meekness and devotion 
in a worshiping assembly, while he is the haughty 
tyrant of his wife and children ; may preach self-de- 
nial and condescension, and yet carry it lordly towards 
the inmates of his own dwelling, making them the 
ministers of his will and pleasure, or else imbittering 
their existence by his savage temper and unreasona- 
ble complaints. 

Professional men, whose public duties are very nu- 
merous and urgent, are liable to fail in many of those 
minute regards which contribute so much to heighten 
the 



- '* only bliss 



Of paradise which has survived the fall." 

With the prevailing desire and purpose to yield to 
every claim its due consideration, they are in danger 
of thinking that they do well if they are only indiffer- 
ent to those of the least imposing description which 
originate in their domestic relations ; that they are not 



3T8 MEMOIR OF 

only excusable, but disinterested and praiseworthy 
m neglecting, from devotion to the public welfare 
the ten thousand little attentions to a wife's comfort 
and children's instruction and enjoyment, which, 
though each requires but a moment's time, and taken 
singly, scarcely deserves specification, constitute, in 
the aggregate, the principal part of domestic felicity. 
But a man's circumstances must be very peculiar, to 
render these two classes of duties incompatible with 
each other. The look of affection, the kind word sea- 
sonably interposed, the helping hand which love ex- 
tends, the eye ever awake to anticipate the little wants 
of the household, the heart prompt to seize opportu- 
nities to soothe sorrow, to calm excited feelings, to 
inspire and promote joy, and to alleviate the burden 
of maternal anxieties and cares which press inces- 
santly upon the wife — what sacrifice of public duty 
do these require ? Yet who can calculate the misery 
which they prevent, or the blessedness which they 
confer? As it is not great calamities which render 
men unhappy, but petty injuries, and provocations, 
and disappointments, constantly recurring, too trifling 
10 excite public sympathy, or to be made the subject 
of loud complaint — so it is not insulated acts of pro- 
fuse generosity, and widely separated, though extra- 
vagant expressions of affection, which constitute the 
reality or the happiness of friendship — especially of a 
friendship so pure and endearing as ought ever to sub- 
sist between those who are united by conjugal ties. 
These holy bonds are cemented and strengthened 
by daily and hourly acts and expressions of kind- 
ness. And where, in the whole compass of mo- 
tives, could a consideration be foui:d to enforce this 



EDWARD PAYSON. 379 

conjugal tenderness, so affecting and impressive as 
that example of love to which St. Paul refers the hus- 
band for a pattern of his own duty ? — and it may oe 
added, what other reference could have conferred such 
exalted honor on the marriage relation ? — " Husbands, 
love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church. 
Be not bitter against them." This was Dr. Payson's 
law in all that pertained to conjugal duties ; and to 
this his daily practice exhibited as exact a conformity 
perhaps as is ever seen in this state of imperfection. 
Reasons have already been suggested why a sparing 
use should be made of those letters which exhibit his 
tenderness and fidelity in this relation ; but a few ex- 
tracts may with propriety be introduced : 

'' At Sea, May 10, 1S15. 
**My dear Wife, 

" As this is the first time I have had occasion to 
address a letter to you since Ave were married, I 
thought it necessary before I began, to consider a few 
moments by what title to address you. The result of 
my meditations was a determination to employ the 
term ' wife ' in preference to any other. If you ask 
why I prefer that name, I answer. Because it reminds 
me that you are mine, my own. I might call you 
'Dear Louisa,' 'Dear friend,' or 'Dear' any thing 
else — and it might mean only that you were a sister, 
a friend, or a favorite. But when I call you 'My 
wife,' It seems to me to mean every thing sweet, 
amiable, and endearing. It not only reminds me that 
she to whom I write is, under God, mine, but that she 
is mine by the gift and appointment of God— mine by 
the sacred bond of marriage, which seems to give an 



380 MEMOIR OP 

air of sacredness to our union. After all, I have not 
said what I meant to say, but something a little like 
it. So do you try to imagine what I meant to say, 
and then confess that I have succeeded better than 
you, in choosing a title with which to head a letter 
For my own part I would rather you should call me 
^ Dear husband,' than ' Dear friend,' or ' Dear Ed- 
ward,' &c. However, call me by what name you 
please, your letters will always be precious while 
they continue to utter the language of affection. I 
nave just been reading one of two which I have al- 
ready found among my baggage. If you knew the 
pleasure they gave me, you would feel well paid for 
the trouble of writing. I fully intended to write at 
least one to you, and leave it behind me ; but I could 
think of no place to put it, in which you would be cer- 
tain to find it. But I must hasten to give you some 
account of our voyage : 

" Friday and Saturday we had fair winds and plea- 
sant weather, and I was not at all sea-sick. But on 
Sunday it began to rain and blow hard. In the even- 
ing it increased to quite a gale, but was still favorable ; 
so that, on Monday noon, we found ourselves, by ob 
servation, ninety miles south of Philadelphia. Since 
that time we have been beating about, vainly trying 
to get withm the capes of Delaware. We have just 
taken a pilot on board, and hope to reach Philadelphia 
in about forty-eight hours. Since the gale on Sunday 
the doctor and I have been very sick, and able to eat 
nothing. For two days and nights, without intermis- 
sion, I was tormented with one of my nervous head- 
aches. This morning it has left me, and I begin to feel 
something like an appetite. I will only add now. as 



EDWARD PAYSON. 38 J 

an excuse for writing so miserably, that I am at this 
moment tossing and rolling about worse than a boy in 
a swing, or on the end of a plank. Every thing near 
me, which is movable, rolls from side to side inces- 
santly ; and I should do the same, did I not hold on 
to something stable. I will therefore defer the con- 
clusion of my letter till I am more established. 

^^ Philadelphia^ May 11. 

" We arrived here last night after a most delightful 
.^ail up the Delaware. Wind and tide both favored us, 
so that we came at the rate of eleven miles an hour, 
for ten hours successively. Scarcely ever have I ex- 
perienced so much pleasure in one day. Every body 

seemed happy. Dr. and I were in high health 

and spirits ; the prospect on the banks of the river vvras 
delightful, and changing every moment ; the day was 
fine, and the swiftness of our motion was very agree- 
able ; and, to crown all, I saw God in his v/orks, and 
tasted of his goodness in every thing. Excess of plea 
sure was almost painful ; before night I was fairly 
weary of enjoyment, and wished for sleep. I thought 
of you almost every moment ; and nothing but the pre- 
sence of yourself and the children was wanting to ren- 
der me as happy as I can ever be in this world. Last 
night I dreamed that I had reached home. I felt your 
tears of affection upon my cheek, and little Edward's 
arms round my neck ; but I awoke, and it was a dream. 
I have not yet been ashore. Every body on board is 
in a bustle ; the passengers hastening to visit their 
friends, and I standing away in one corner alone, talk- 
ing with my best, dearest earthly friend. You, at the 
distance office hundred miles, have more attractions 



382 MEMOIR OF 

for me than the whole city of Philadelphia, which lies 
spread out before me, and on which I have scarcely, 
as yet, bestowed a glance. If I did not write thus 
early I should not be able to send my letter to-day ; 
and you would be obliged to wait one day longer be- 
fore you heard from us. I now begin to regret that I 
did not urge you more to meet me at New Haven. It 
would be a great gratification to have you so much 
nearer to me, and to think of meeting you so much 
sooner. I still have a faint hope that you will bt 
there. 

" Kiss the children for me ; talk to them about me j 
love me, as I do you, better than I did — yes, far bettei 
than I did, when I wrote the last letter to you before 
we were married. Love to all who inquire for me. 
God be with you, bless you, keep you, my dear, dear 
wife. 

" So prays your affectionate husband." 

In a letter written during another season of absence 
is the following beautiful passage, in which the gentle 
and the severe are most charmingly blended : 

" Though your letter was consoling, it grieved 

me for a moment. It did not seem to breathe so much 
tenderness as your former letters ; but I soon perceiv- 
ed the reason. Your mind was braced up to help me 
to bear my burdens ; and in such a state of mind it is 
not easy to feel or express tenderness. I hope you wil 
remember this remark. You know that I ain often 
obliged, while at home, to put on all the iron I can 
command, in order to bear up against trials and dis- 
couragements ; and many times, when you know no- 
thing of it, I am engaged in most distressing inward 



tiUWARD i'AYSON 383 

conflicts. Now, hoW can a man seem tender and af- 
fectionate at such a time 1 How could a soldier, in the 
heat of battle, stop to smile upon his wife or kiss his 
children ? Even if he spoke to them at such a time 
the highly raised state of his feelings would probably 
give something like sharpness to his voice. But I for- 
bear excuses. Christ was tender and affectionate in 
the severest agonies, the most distressing conflicts. 
I hope, if I am ever permitted to return, you will find 
me a little more like him than I have been." 

In his strictly domestic letters he sometimes hits off 
the different humors, peculiarities, relations and cir- 
cumstances of himself and his connections with inim- 
itable vivacity, and a sportiveness which shows how 
he could unbend himself when occasion required. A 
short passage from the close of one such letter will 
serve as a specimen of the qualities alluded to ; and, 
like his satire upon quackery, may serve a more im- 
portant purpose than mere amusement. In the keen 
irony which pervades it, is an effectual rebuke of that 
doating partiality which leads so many parents to 
think their own children prodigies of genius : 

" As to baby, she is to be the greatest genius and 
the greatest beauty in these parts. I could easily fill a 
sheet with proofs of her talents. Suffice it to say that 
she has four teeth; stands alone; says pa' and maJ ; 
no-^no — very stoutly ; and has been whipped several 
times for being wiser than her father." 

With a heart always more ready to confer favors 
than to receive them, his condition was very frequent- 
ly such, that he needed rather " to be ministered unto 
than to minister ;" but the most agonizing sufferings of 



384 MEMOIR OF 

Dody, when exempted from depre'ssiou of mindj nevei 
rendered him the less cheerful and agreeable husband 
and father. It is astonishing how '' lightly he esteemed 
such afflictions." They seemed to affect nim almost 
as little as violence inflicted on a block or a stone. His 
demeanor under bodily agonies has often been such 
that he was rather envied than pitied by his family 
and attendants. These were, indeed, seasons of unu- 
sual gayety and cheerfulness. He has left a descrip- 
tion of the accumulated evils that were crowded mto 
a few days, into which his playful imagination has 
thrown so much of humor as to divest the subject oi 
ts repulsive character, and clothe it with no ordinary 
attractions. But it is chiefly interesting as an illustra 
tion of a happy temper : 

" Since I wrote last I have been called to sing 

of mercy and judgment. My old friend the Sick Head 
ache has favored me with an unusual share of his 
company, and has seemed particularly fond of visiting 
me on the Sabbath. Then came Cholera Morbus, and, 
in a few hours reduced me so low that I could have 
died as easily as not. Rheumatism next arrived, eagei 
to pay his respects, and embraced my right shoulder 
with such ardor of affection that he had well nigh torn 
It from its socket. I had not thought much of this gen- 
tleman's powers before ; but he has convinced me of 
them so thoroughly, that I shall think and speak of 
them with respect as long as I live. Not content with 
giving me his company all day for a fortnight toge- 
ther, he has insisted on sitting up with me every night, 
and, what is worse, made me sit up too. During this 
time my poor shoulder, neck and back seemed to be 
a place in which the various pains and aches had as- 



EDWARD PAY SON. 385 

sembled to keep liolyday ; and the delectable sensa- 
tions of stinging, pricking, cutting, lacerating, wrench- 
ing, burning, gnawing, &c. succeeded each other, or 
all mingled together, in a confusion that was far from 
being pleasing. The cross old gentleman, though his 
zeal is somewhat abated by the fomentations, blisters, 
&c. with which we welcomed him, still stands at my 
back, threatening that he will not allow me to finish 
my letter. But enough of him and his companions. 
Let me leave them for a more pleasing theme. 

" God has mercifully stayed his rough wind in the 
day of his east wind. No horrible, hell-born tempta- 
tions, no rheumatism of the mind has been allowed to 
visit me in my sufferings ; but such consolations, such 
heavenly visits as turned agony into pleasure, and 
constrained me to sing aloua whenever I could catch 
my breath long enough to utter a stanza. Indeed, 1 
have been ready to doubt whether pain be really an 
evil ; for, though more pain was crowded into last 
week than any other week of my life, yet it was one 
of the happiest weeks I ever spent. And now I am 
ready to say. Come what will come — sickness, pain, 
agony, poverty, loss of friends — only let God come with 
them, and they shall be welcome. Praised, blessed for 
ever be his name for all my trials and afflictions ! There 
nas not been one too many — all were necessary, and 
good, and kind." 

How perfectly versed was he in the heavenly art ol 
eylracting the choicest sweets from the bittere-st cup ! 
" honey out of the rock, and oil out of the flinty rock." 
How much anguish must such a demeanor under suf- 
ferings have saved " the partners of his blood !" What 
rare and exquisite enjoyment must it have imparted to 

Pay&on. 25 



386 AIEMUIK OF 

them, to witness a happiness which the calamities ot 
life could not mar ! It was surely an enviable privi 
lege to enjoy instructions rendered so emphatical and 
impressive by the circumstances of the teacher. 

In another extract may be seen the tender yearnings 
of a father's heart — a heart, nevertheless, in a state ol 
sweet subjection to " the Father of spirits, who chast- 
eneth us for our profit, that we may be partakers of his 
holiness :" 

'' May 13, 1816. 
•'Your welcome letter, my dear mother, has just ar- 
rived. You would pity me, if you knew in what cir- 
cumstances I sit down to answer. For ten days I 
have been in what Dr. Young calls the post of obser 
vation, darker every hour. Poor little Caroline lies be- 
fore me, writhing under the agonies of dropsy in the 
head. The physicians have given her over. Louisa 
sits before me making her shroud ; yet she will pro- 
bably live a week longer ; her distress increasing every 
day, till death closes it. I thought that I was almost 
without natural affection ; that I did not love my chil- 
dren ; but I find to my cost that I do. Her distress 
wrings every nerve and fibre of my heart. If you 
have ever seen a person die of this dreadful disor- 
der, I need not describe it. If you have not, descrip- 
tion can give you but little idea of it. I am, however, 
mercifully spared the keener distress of being unre- 
conciled to the trial. As yet, I can bless the name of 
the Lord, and I bless him that I can. Whether I shall 
contmue to feel so to the end, he only knows. It is pain- 
ful to see her suffer for my sins. It is dreadful to thinli 
of having provoked such a being as God is, to inflict sac h 



EDWARD PAY30N. 387 

sufferings. But it is right. The affliction is too light, 
as indeed every affliction short of eternal death would 
be. I find a great difference between the effect of suf 
faring in my own person, and in the person of another. 
Personal sufferings seem to harden the heart, and 
make me selfish, so that I can feel little for others. They 
will drag one's attention home to himself. But suffer- 
ing in the person of another seems to have an effect 
directly opposite, and is, thei efore, more beneficial. 1 
needed some such trial, to teach me how to sympa 
thize with my people in similar circumstances." 

For more than a week afterwards he watched this 
child, " struggling between hfe and death" — the victim 
of complicated diseases, the effects of which it would 
be difficult to describe, and almost congeal one's blood 
to read. Yet he was calm "as the morning when 
the sun ariseth ;" and though his health was impair- 
ed by watching, in addition to his labors, he says of 
this season — " it has been, on the whole, a happy week. 
I have been unusually free from spiritual trials 3 and any 
thing which frees me from them is a blessing. Be not 
distressed on our account. We are happy, and can sing 
' sweet affliction,' .&c. I would not but have had it on 
any account." 

It will add nothing to the strength of the impression 
produced by these extracts, to say that he was a mosl 
kind and tender husband, a most faithful and affection- 
ate father ; but it is adding something to their import 
tQ affirm that, in him, these qualities were uniform, and 
manifested in his daily intercourse with his household. 

He was the companion of his children. Not unfre- 
quently would he descend, as it were, to their level. 



iS8 MEiMOlIi OF 

and mingle for a few moments m their pastimes^ and 
even invent new diversions for them; particularly 
such as w ould call forth exertions of skill and inge- 
nuity — so that their very amusements might prove a 
profitable exercise, and contribute to the developement 
of their intellectual faculties. Games of chance, and 
every thing which bore a distant resemblance to them, 
he utterly disallowed. He delighted to amuse them 
with pictures, at the same time pouring into their 
mmds a knowledge of the arts, or of historical charac- 
ters, or of geographical and statistical facts, or of the 
natural history of animals, or whatever else would be 
most readily suggested by the picture. 

Often would he entertain his children, either from 
the stores of his own memory or from his still richer 
invention, with tales and fables ; from which it was 
their task to deduce the moral, as an exercise of their 
perceptive and reasoning faculties, in pay for the e,n- 
tertainment which he had afforded them. If they failed, 
he would, of course, make the application himself. 

So far as he exerted himself for the intellectual ad- 
vancement of his children, he did it not so much by 
set lessons and at seasons set apart for that purpose 
exclusively, as by incidental instructions. There 
were many days when his engagements left him 
no time to meet them, except at their meals ; then — 
indeed it was his common practice — he would im- 
prove the time spent at the table for this purpose — pro- 
posing various questions, and inviting inquiries from 
them, always leaving them with a subject for consi- 
deration, and often calling upon them at night to men- 
tion any new idea which they had acquired during the 
day. He was much devoted to the welfare of his 



EDWARD PAYSON, 389 

children, and his cares, burdens and maladies were 
oppressive indeed, when they did not share a father's 
attentions. 

To instruct them in religion was of course his first 
care. Here, also, he wisely consulted their age and 
capacities, and imparted it in measure and kind as 
they were able to bear. He doubted the expediency 
of giving religious instruction only at stated periods, 
and dealing it out with parade and formality, and in 
tedious addresses. His motto was — " Line upon line, 
precept upon precept ; here a little, and there a little," 
as occasion offered, or the emergency demanded. 

But he was master as well as father; "one that 
ruled well his own house, having his children in sub- 
jection with all gravity." He habitually explained his 
commands to such of his children as were of suffi(jient 
age to understand and appreciate them ; and always 
referred to the Scriptures as the umpire from whose 
decision there was no appeal. " The Bible says thus," 
was the invariable and ultimate argument for enforc- 
ing obedience. Appeals of this kind contribute greatly 
to inspire an early reverence for the sacred book. It 
was a willing obedience, and from exalted principles, 
which he aimed to secure. 

He treated his domestics as if he believed that "God 
made of one blood all the people that dwell upon the 
earth" — as if he expected to stand with them at the 
•bar, where " he shall have judgment without mercy, 
who hath showed no mercy." They shared his re- 
ligious instructions, and were remembered in his 
prayers. He also exacted of his children, as an invio- 
lable duty, kind and considerate treatment towards 
the domestics. To several of them his counsels and 



390 MEMOIR OF 

prayers were blessed. To one who had been anxious 
for her own salvation in consequence of his previous 
fidelity, and apparently lost her impressions, he affec- 
tionately said, as she entered the parlor bearing a 
pitcher of water — " I hope the time may never come 
when you will long for a drop of that water to cool 
your tongue." It was a word in season — she became 
■ a Christian. Another was about to leave his family 
for a gay circle, with the prospect of entering a new 
relation, from which he apprehended danger to her 
soul. At family prayer, the last time she was expect- 
ed to be present, he prayed that the separation might 
not be eternal. The petition was remembered; she 
soon returned to her service in his family, exhibited 
evidence of conversion, and afterwards died in faith. 

la his family devotions he was never tedious. They 
were always impressive, and adapted with surprising 
appropriateness to the existing circumstances of the 
household. He delighted to address Jehovah through 
Christ, as his God by covenant; and hence he derived 
some of those powerful arguments which he pleaded 
in intercession for his children, and one strong ground 
of hope that God would convert and save them. 

To obtain any adequate conception of the manner 
in which God was acknowledged and honored in his 
habitation, recourse must be had, as in other instances, 
to his own language : 

"^pHZ, 1816. . 

" Another precious passage is that in Zecha 

riah, ' In that day shall there be upon the bells of the 
horses. Holiness to the Liord^ &c. I preached on it 
lately, and, among other things, observed that, in that 
day, every action would be performed as the most sc^- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 391 

'emn religious duties are now ; every house and place 
would be a temple ; every day like a Sabbath ; and 
every meal like the Lord's supper. We have since 
been trying to have the prophecy fulfilled at our house 5 
and, though we succeed miserably enough, yet the bare 
attempt has given us a happiness unknown before. One 
thing which has been greatly blessed to us, is having 
family prayer at noon as well as morning and evening. 
It showed us how far we often get from God during 
the day, even when we begin and close it with him. 
In some families this would be impossible ; and then 
half an hour spent alone would answer the purpose as 
well. I find it requires almost constant rubbing and 
chafing to make the blood circulate in such frozen 
souls as ours ; and, after all, it avails nothing, if the 
Sun of Righteousness does not shine.'' 

Dr. Payson was the father of eight children, two ol 
whom, a son and a daughter, he followed to the grave. 
Six survive him, two daughters and four sons. 

Many persons were honored with a large share of 
Dr. Payson's confidence ; but it is very doubtful whe- 
ther he. ever poured out all the feelings of his bosom 
to any beyond his nearest relations, if, indeed, he did 
to any besides his God. It required a reach of sympa- 
thy beyond what man is ordinarily capable of exercis- 
ing to enter deeply into his experience. He could not 
bring himself to tell of the peculiar agonies or rap- 
tures which by turns tortured and blessed him, to any 
oeart that could not send back a response. And where, 
almost, could that heart be found ? And in this the 
writer, while tracing his religious experience, has 
often thought he was justified by the example of Paul, 



392 MEMOIR OF 

after his rapture. Still, while there were secrets iii his 
^wn bosom of too sacred a character to be made com- 
mon by participation, his intercourse with his flock, 
individually, was that of a highly endearing, tender, 
and confidential friendship. " If there were ever a 
minister" — these are his own words — "blessed with 
a kind and faithful people, I am. If I were not so of- 
ten sick, I should be too happy. When I come into 
my congregation, I feel as a father surrounded by his 
children. I do not feel as though there were an ill- 
disposed person among them. I can throw off my ar- 
mor without fearing that an enemy is there with a 
dagger ready to stab me." Their afiection was most 
fully and faithfully reciprocated. Never did a minis- 
ter more ardently love his charge, or enter with great- 
er facility into all their interests and feelings. When 
any of them were visited with calamity, he was among 
the very first to tender his sympathy ; and always left 
them " lightened." In listening to his conversation and 
prayers, the burden would often fall off. 

** Beside the bed where parting fife was laid, 
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd," 

he was at once faithful and tender ; and if 

" Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul," 

it was because it had been pointed to the " smitten 
Rock," to the " Lamb of God, who taketh away the 
sins of the world." 

" Comfort came down^ the trembling wretch to raise, 
And his last faltering accents whisper'd praise." 

He was eminently susceptible of gratitude. A favor 
which would be received with a very summary ac- 
knowledgment by many, would make his " shoulders 



EDWARD PAYSON. 39^ 

ache under the load of ohligation thsft was laid upon 
them." And if he " bore it pretty well, it was because 
nothing renders a man so careless about increasing 
his debtSj as the consciousness that he shall never be 
able to pay." 

Economy was a very noticeable feature in his cha- 
racter. It was a principle with him to spend nothing 
merely for ornament. The money which came into his 
possession he regarded as a talent for which he was 
accountable 5 and so scrupulous was he as to the dis- 
position which he made of it. that he is thought to have 
regarded some things as forbidden luxuries which 
would have been for his welfare. In his furniture, in 
his apparel, and that of his household, and in the pro- 
visions of his table, there was a plainness and a sim- 
plicity well becoming a man professing and teaching 
godliness. Connected with this quality was a noble 
generosity of soul. He did not save to hoard, but to 
bless others. He did not love money for its own^ake ; 
and so obvious to all was his disinterestedness, that, 
so far as is known, he never fell under the charge or 
even the suspicion of being avaricious. If the tempo- 
ral or spiritual necessities of his fellow-creatures de- 
manded relief, his money was as free for their use as 
a cup of cold water. He had declined purchasing an 
article of convenience for the family one morning, be- 
cause, as it was not absolutely necessary, he thought 
they could not afford it. The same day he gave ten 
dollars to a woman in reduced circumstances, who 
called at his house. At another time he said to his 
church, who had handed in their contribution of fifty 
or sixty dollars for foreign missions — " I am ashamed 
to send so small a sum^ and shall forward one hundred 



394 MEMOIR OF 

dollars as yourcontribution ; and you may act your 
pleasure about indemnifying me." These are only in- 
stances out of a multitude ; the same liberality cha- 
racterized him as long as he lived. He continued to 
give till after he was unable to put his name to a sub- 
scription paper. It viras with reluctance that he re- 
ceived from his people what they were forward to give 
as a compensation for his services ; and for two suc- 
cessive years he actually relinquished four hundred 
dollars. He never would have possessed a dwelling- 
house in fee if his people had waited for his consent 
Acting according to the impulse of their own liberal 
ity, and their convictions of what was due to him in 
return for the sums which he had relinquished, they 
purchased and secured to him, by deed, a house more 
spacious than he would have chosen ; and this was all 
his property, beyond actual expenditures, which he did 
not give away. 

In .this connection a document will be introduced^ 
containing a request, such as it would be equally hon- 
orable to ministers and people if there were more fre- 
quent occasion for : 

*' To the members of the Second Parish in Portlaiid^ in pariah 
meeting assembled— 

" Gentlemen, 

"It is a circumstance which claims my thankful 
acknowledgments, and of which I hope ever to retain 
a grateful recollection, that, while many ministers are 
constrained to ask, and perhaps ask in vain, for an in- 
crease of salary, the only request relative to a support 
which I have ever had occasion to present tc you is, 
that my salary may be diminished. Such a request, 



EDWARD PAYSON. 395 

you will recollect, I made through the'medium of one 
of the congregation at your last annual meeting; but 
your kindness and liberality prevented you from com- 
plying with it. I now repeat that request in writing. 
The salary which you voted me at the time of my set 
tlement is amply sufficient for my support ; and more 
than this I am unwilling to receive ; for I can never 
consent to acquire wealth by preaching the Gospel of 
Christ. Permit me then respectfully,. but earnestly, 
to request that the addition which you have so gene- 
rously made to my salary, the last two years, may be 
discontinued. 

" That the Master whom I serve may repay all 
your ^kindness to his servant, is the first wish and 
most earnest prayer of 

" Your deeply indebted and grateful pastor, 

"Edward Payson. 

" Portland, April 27, 1821." 

In the same spirit, after his last sickness had made 
such inroads upon his strength as almost wholly to 
disqualify him for exertion, he dictated the following 
communication : 

" April 27, 1827. 

" To the members of the Second Congregational Church in 
Portland^ in parish meeting assembled — 

* Brethren and Friends, 

" Of the kindness and generosity with which you 
have invariably treated me ever since I became your 
pastor, and especially since the commencement of my 
present indisposition, I am deeply sensible. Nor have 
you given me the smallest reason to suppose that your 



3% MEMOIR OP 

kindness is exhausted, or even diminished. But J 
must not allow myself to encroach upon it too far. 
It is my indispensable duty to prefer your spiritual 
welfare to every personal consideration. If I have 
reason to believe that your religious interests would 
be promoted by a dissolution of the connection be- 
tween us, it is incumbent on me to request that it 
may be dissolved ; and to retire from a station, the 
duties of whicb I am no longer able to perform. And 
have I not reason to believe that such is the fact? 
With the present state of my health you are suffi- 
ciently acquainted. It has already occasioned you 
much trouble and expense. You have waited a rea- 
sonable time for its restoration, and the probabilitj that 
it will ever be restored is by no means great. It is 
highly important that such a society as this she aid enjoy 
the services of a minister who possesses a vigorous con- 
stitution, firm health, and ministerial qualifications of 
the first order ; and the salary which it gives entitles 
it to expect, and will enable it to command the ser- 
vices of such a minister. In view of these circum- 
stances, I feel a prevailing persuasion that it is my 
duty to propose a dissolution of the connection between 
us, and to request you to unite with me m callmgr - 
council for the purpose of dissolving it. Such a pro- 
position and request 1 now submit to you. 

" That on this and every other occasion you may 
be guided by that wisdom which is from above, and 
led to the adoption of such measures as shall be mcsi 
conducive to the glory of God and your own best in- 
terests is the prayer of 

" Your affectionate friend and pastor, 

"Edward Payson.'* 



EDWARD PAY SON. H97 

This request met a most honorable reception. Theii 
reply to it expressed the most " deep and affectionate 
sympathy with their much esteemed pastor, and a 
sense of their high obligations for the very valuable 
services which a kind Providence had permitted and 
enabled him to perform for a long course of years ; 
and appreciating his present services, much as they 
were interrupted and curtailed by sickness, of para- 
mount value and interest to them, they did respect- 
fully solicit that he would be pleased to withdraw his 
request ; and thus permit them to hope, that whatever 
might be the state of his health in future, they should 
enjoy the benefit of his counsel and prayers, till he 
was called to receive the reward prepared for the 
faithful servants of Christ." — With these wishes, so 
affectionately and gratefully expressed, he complied ; 
and continued, in such ways as he could, to advance 
their spiritual interests, till removed by the undoubted 
will of God. 

But there are in the Hves of eminently faithful mi- 
nisters, events of another character, which it is pain- 
ful to narrate, and yet which ought not to be passed 
over in silence. The hostility which they sometimes 
experience illustrates the depravity of mankind, and 
confirms the authority of Scripture by evincing the 
truth of the declaration — " If any man will live godly 
m Christ Jesus, he shall suffer persecution.^' Dr 
Payson was such "a terror to evil doers," that from 
time to time they seemed bent on destroying his re- 
putation, and multiplied their slanders till they 
ceased to gain any credence even with the vilest. 
When these designs upon his character proved abor- 
cive, their enmity manifested itself in other forms. 



398 MEMOIK OF 

He once a.ludes to this opposition in his letters, h 
was in a year eminently distinguished by God's bless- 
ing on his labors. 

'Julyi, 1810. 

" Enemies rage most terribly. You have pro- 
bably seen in the papers an account of the attempt to 
burn our meeting-house. We have not discovered the 

author ; but there is no doubt that are at 

the bottom of it. It was little less than a miracle that 
the house was not burnt, with many others. Never 
since I have been here, has the enmity of the heart 
been permitted to rage as it does now." 



CHAPTER XIX. 

t^urther pcntUndars rekding to his personal hist onj. and relU 
gioits exercises, in connection with his pastoral labors and 
their results. 

It was not thought desirable to interrupt a descrip- 
tion of " the pastor in action " by frequent references 
to dates ; or to pay any special regard to chronolo- 
gical order in a rehearsal of scenes and employments 
which were more or less common to every year of his 
ministry. In this chapter, however, that order is re- 
sumed, for the purpose of continuing the history of 
his religious experience through the various occur- 
rences and vicissitudes of his life. The particulars 



EDWARD PAY30N. 399 

Will be given almost entirely in his own language, 
and in insolated extracts, which will be found, how- 
ever, to possess the principal advantages of a connect- 
ed narrative, besides several others which no second- 
hand statements could secure. They were sketched 
it the time, and have the vividness of first impres- 
sions in view of truths and facts as they were succes- 
sively brought under notice, while the circumstances 
in which they are penned are a sufficient guarantee oi 
their accuracy. The articles of intelligence, and 
modes of elucidating and enforcing truth, which are 
interspersed, will enhance their value; while they will 
enable the reader to view the subject of this Memoir 
m a greater variety of attitudes, and to learn his ex- 
ercises and feelings in numerous circumstances — in 
prosperity and under the rod ; when borne along on 
ihe full tide of success, and when thwarted at every 
nep ; when religion was triumphant, and when " the 
ways of Zion mourned." 

'' Portland, June 14, 1813. 
'My dear Mother, 

" We arrived here last Friday in safety, and found 
every thing had been preserved by our merciful Pro- 
tector. We very soon had reason to acknowledge how 
much his protection is superior to ours ; for, the very 
aight after our return, our garden was laid waste. 

" For a few days after my return I was exceedingly 
unwell, and there seemed less prospect of my conti- 
nuing in the ministry than ever. In addition, I was 
more severely exercised with spiritual trials than 1 
have been for two years past; so that the Rve days 
succeeding my return were, perhaps, as dark as any 



400 MEMOIR OP 

five days that I ever experienced. But now, blessed 
be God! the scene has wonderfully changed. For 
three days I have felt something more like health than 
I have enjoyed for years ; something of that spring 
and elasticity of spirit which used to render life tolera- 
ble and exertion pleasant. How long it will continue 
i know not. It seems too good to last. I see, how- 
ever, already, that if the burden of sickness is to be 
removed, some other burden, perhaps a worse one, 
must be imposed in its place. I am ready to run wild 
v/ith the pleasure of not feeling pain ; though, even 
now, I am not altogether free from it. If my health 
should be . restored, I shall consider, it as little less 
than a miracle ; and shall feel as if your deafness may 
be removed. Indeed I think it will strengthen my 
faith as much as it will my body. It will also remove 
some spiritual difficulties and doubts, which have been 
a terrible hinderance to me in my race, and given un- 
belief more advantage over me than all other things 
united. But how I ramble ! 

" We have little encouraging of a religious nature, 
though the church are, I believe, much engaged. 
They ought to be ; for I find that ^ Portland Christians' 
have at lea§t a name to live at the westward ; a better 
name, I fear, than they will ere long deserve, even it 
they merit it now.-' 

" September 12, 1814. 

— - — " I engaged to go on a mission, if my people 
would consent; but they will not hear of it. The 
church would consent, but the congregation wiL not. 
You will learn from the newspapers that we are in a 
state of alarm here, or I should say nothing of it. Evei 
smce our return the st^^ets have been filled with wa- 



KDWARD PAY SON. 401 

gons, &c. carrying goods out of town, and the alarm 
continues and increases. We had hoped to have a 
quiet Sabbath yesterday ; but in the morning the 
chairman of the committee of public safety called and 
informed me that the committee had issued a hand- 
bill, requiring all the male citizens to work through 
She day on the fortifications, and stating that the usual 
religious services of the day must be dispensed with. 
With this order our church absolutely refused to com- 
ply, and we had divine service both parts of the day 
as usual, and a considerably large congregation. This 
morning all is bustle and confusion through the town 
We have sent a few things to Gorham ; and, in case 
of an attack, we can pack into the chaise and follow. 
You have no reason to entertain the smallest fears 
for our personal safety. In ten minutes after an 
alarm is given we can be safe out of town. The church 
seem to feel in some measure as I could wish : strong 
confidence in God, mingled with a deep sense of ill- 
desert and submission to his will. They have a pray- 
er-meeting every evening ; and next Thursday, if cir- 
cumstances will permit, we are to have a fast. At our 
house all is still and quiet. We hear little of the noise, 
and have slept undisturbed every night till the last. I 
cannot think we are in much danger. Not that great 
dependence is to be placed in our means of defence : 
but I cannot think God means to destroy this place. 
We needed something to rouse us, and to remind U3 
that we were engaged in war, and to excite us to pray 
for the removal of God's judgments ; and this effect 
the alarm has, I trust, produced. It tends powerfully 
to wean us from the world ; so that, thus far, it has 
been a mercy." 

Pay son. 26 



402 MEMOIR OF 

" Nov. 14, 1814. 

— — "We are going on as well as can be expected 
L. is well ; little L. better than for a year past ; my 
own health slowly but gradually improving. Oui 
souls too, I hope, are not quite so far from prospering 
and being in health as they have been ; the church are 
reviving, and there are many hopeful appearances in 
the congregation. But the best of all is, that we seem 
to be waking up in this part of the country, as well as 
in others, to the state of public morals. Delegates 
from nineteen towns in this vicinity met in this town 
last week, and adopted a number of measures to se- 
cure the proper observance of the Sabbath. A similai 
meeting for the county of Lincoln is to be held this 
week at Wiscasset. These things, and others of a 
similar nature, of which I hear abroad, almost lead 
me to cry with old Simeon — ' Let thy servant depart 
in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation ? We 
shall yet see peace upon our Israel ; and I have very 
little doubt, that, after the war ceases, we shall have 
greater revivals through the land than we have ever 
yet seen. It was harder to do what has been done, both 
m the world and among us, than to do what remains. 
The wheel is now in motion, and will be kept so with 
comparative ease. It is a glorious day to live in ! So 
much to be done ; so much to be prayed for; so much to 
be seen. I was wrong in sjiying I wished to depart in 
peace. I wish to stay, and see, and do a little more. I 
would not now exchange a place in the church below, 
even for a place m heaven. The longer our time of labor 
is, the better. There will be time enough for rest. 

"Dr. died last week. I saw him repeatedly 

during his illness , but not a word of a religious na- 



EDWARD PAYBON. 40^ 

tare did he utter ; and I am told he said as little to 
others. He was a minister upwards of fifty years. 
What a meeting it must be, when a pastor meets all 
who have died under his ministry during so many 
years ; especially if he has never faithfully warned 
ihem ! 

" Our people feel the consequences of the war very 
much. I am astonished to see how well they continue 
to pay my salary ; and still more, to see how liberally 
they give to every proper object. Their deep povert} 
serves to set off the riches of their liberality. If the} 
were like many congregations, I should soon be dis 
missed. Many, however, have moved away on ac- 
count of the war ; and if it continues, the rest must 
follow. However, we serve a good Master ; and while 
he has work for us to do, he will feed us. I rejoice to 
to learn that you find Hhe joy of the Lord your 
strength.' It is strength indeed. I hope my father 
finds as much reason to rejoice in the progress of re- 
formation in New-Hampshire as we do here." 

'' June 2, 1815. 

" I shall not be able to visit Rindge this sum- 
mer. Journeying does me so little good, and I have 
been absent so long, that I shall not dare to think ot 
it at present. Were it possible, I would comi? about 
the time of the ordination of the Missionaries at New- 
buryport, to which our church is invited; but I fear it 
will not be. 

" I am sorry for poor ; but my sorrow is miti 

gated, if not removed, by reflecting that if he is a 
Christian all things are working for his good ; and if 
he is not, an education will do him more harm than 
good I have grown quite hard-hearted as it respects 



i04 MEMOIR OP 

the trials of Christian?. I scarcely pity them at all 
while under the rod, though I am sorry we all need it 
so much. However, I sympathize with you, my dear 
mother, in your want of hearing. It is a grievous 
trial ; and if, as you intimate, frequent letters will in 
uny degree mitigate it, I will strive to write oftener. 
I trust our revival has not ceased ; though it will not, 
I fear, prove so extensive as I at first hoped." 

''SepLl, 1815. 

^^ Do not feel anxious about me. I am, you 

know, in good hands — in better hands than yours ; 
and when you consider how good God has been to 
me, you can have no reason to fear that he will deal 
with me otherwise than well. 

" I have little to write, respecting our situation in a 
religious view, that is encouraging; but things look 
promising in many other places at a distance. You 
have heard of the revivals at Litchfield and New-Ha- 
ven. An account of these rerivals, read in Rowley, 
has occasioned the commencement of a similar work 
there, which promises to become extensive. There is 

also considerable attention among the students in 

Academy ; and a letter, which I have just received 
from a genMeman in Baltimore, informs me that theie 
is a revival in an academy in that vicinity, and in two 
or three other places. It certainly appears more and 
more probable that God is about to work wonders in 
most of our seminaries of learning ; and, if so who 
3an calculate the blessed effects which will be the 
result? . 

" The revolution in Dartmouth College makes a greai 
noise here. Losing Mr. Brown will be a grievous blow 



EDWARD PAYSON. 405 

to me. I think the trustees could hardly ha re made a 
better choice." 

On perusing the following, it is difficult to repress a 
wish that the writer had been under the necessity ol 
" fitting up a house " every year : 

" Portland^ November 1, 1815. 
" My dear Mother, 

" I fear you will think me very negligent in delay- 
ing so long to answer your letter ; but I have an excuse 
ready. We have been moving, and repairing our house, 
and I have been almost incessantly engaged night and 
day. We have had half a score of worknien in the 
house, and I have been obliged to superintend and 
work with them; and this, in addition to parochial du- 
ties, has so hurried me that I have scarcely had time 
to eat. You will be glad to hear that my cares and la- 
bors have had a very beneficial efiect with respect to 
my health, so that I have gained more in fourteen days 
than in as many months previous. I have also enjoyed 
a much higher degree of spiritual health than usual, 
and have had many special mercies, both of a tempo- 
ral and religious nature ; so that I have seldom passed 
six happier weeks than the last. Our house proves 
much more convenient than we expected, and we have 
seen much of the wisdom and goodness of God in bring- 
mg us into it. ft is the same house in which I former- 
ly boarded when preceptor — in which I spent some 
months in folly and sin, and in which I received the 
news of Charles's death, and began to turn my atten- 
tion to religion. These circumstances give ij an inte- 
rest of a p3culiar kind, and furnish matter for many 
aumbling, many mournful, and not a few thankful and 



406 MEMOIR OF 

profitable reflections. O what a Master do I serve ! ] 
have known nothing, felt nothing all my days, even 
in comparison with what I now see m him. Never was 
preaching such sweet work as it is now. IJJever did the 
world seem such a nothing. Never did heaven appeal 
so near, so sweet, so overwhelmingly glorious. * * * 
God's promises appear so strong, so solid, so real, so 
substantial — more so than the rocks and everlasting 
hills 5 and his perfections — what shall I say of them ? 
When I think of one, I wish to dv/ell upon it for ever : 
but another, and another, equally glorious, claims a 
share of admiration; and when I begin to praise, I 
wish never to cease, but have it the commencement of 
that song which will never end. Very often have I 
felt as if I could that moment throw off the body with- 
out staying to ' first go and bid them farewell that are 
at home in my house.' Let who will be rich, or ad- 
mired, or prosperous ; it is enough for me that there is 
such a God as Jehovah, such a Savior as Jesus, and 
that they are infinitely and unchangeably glorious and 
happy." 

The year 1818 was the most remarkably distinguish- 
t<L for the effusions of the Holy Spirit on his people of 
any year of his ministry, with the exception of that in 
which his happy spirit took its flight, when he preached 
so much from the bed of death. This fact the reader 
will regard as a striking commentary on the subjomed 
extracts from his diary : 

" Dec. 16, 1815. Since the last date I have passed 
through a greater variety of scenes and circumstances 
than in almost any period of equal length in my who^e 
life, mi 3 liave experienced severer suffer ings. conflicts. 



EDWAKD PAYSON 407 

jvrid disappomtments. Some time in February I began 
to hope for a revival ; and after much prayer for direc- 
tion, and, as I thought, with confidence in God, I took 
some extraordinary and perhaps imprudent measures 
to hasten it. But the event did not answer my expec- 
tations at all; and in consequence I was thrown into 
a most violent commotion, and was tempted to think 
God unkind and unfaithful. For- some weeks I could 
not think of my disappointment with submission. 
There were many aggravating circumstances attend- 
ing it, which rendered it incomparably the severest 
disappointment, and, of course, the most trying temp- 
tation I had ever met with. It injured my health to 
such a degree that I was obliged to spend the summer 
in journeying to recover it. This, however, did not 
avail, and I returned worse than I went away, and 
plunged into the depths of discouragement. Was 
obliged, sorely against my will, to give up my evening 
lectures, and to preach old sermons. After a while, 
however, my health began to return, though very slow- 
'y. God was pleased to revisit me, and to raise me up 
out of the horrible pit and miry clay in which I had 
so long lain ; and my gratitude for this mercy far ex- 
ceeded all I felt at my first conversion. Sin never ap- 
peared so odious, nor Christ so precious before. Soon 
after this my hopes of a revival began to return. About 
a month since very favorable appearances were seen, 
and my endeavors to rouse the church seemed to be 
remarkably blessed. My whole soul was gradually 
v/rought up to the highest pitch of eager expectation 
pnd desire ; I had great assistance in observing a day 
of fasting and prayer ; the annual thanksgiving was 
blessed in a very remarkable and surprising manner^ 



408 MEMOIR OF 

both to myself and the church. From these and many 
other circumstances I was led to expect, very confi- 
dently, that the next Sabbath, which was our commu- 
nion, would be a glorious day, and that Christ would 
then come to comert the church a second time, and 
prepare them for a great revival. I lad great freedom 
in prayer, both on Saturday night and Sabbath mcrn- 
ing ; and after resigning, professedly, the whole mat- 
ter to God, and telling him that if he should disap- 
point us it would be all right, I went to meeting. But 
what a disappointment awaited me ! I was more strait- 
ened than for a year before ; it was a very dull day, 
both to myself and the church ; all my hopes seemed 
dashed to the ground at once, and I returned home m 
an agony not to be described. Instead of vanquishing 
Satan, I was completely foiled and led captive by him ; 
all my hopes of a revival seemed blasted, and I ex- 
pected nothing but a repetition of the same conflicts 
and sufferings which I had endured after my disap 
pointment last spring, and which I dreaded a thousand 
limes worse than death. Hence my mmd was exceed- 
ingly imbittered. But, though the storm was sudden 
and violent, it was short. My insulted, abused Master 
pitied and prayed for me, that my faith might not fail ; 
and therefore, after Satan had been permitted to sift 
me as wheat, I was delivered out of his power ; and, 
strange as it even now appears to me, repentance and 
pardon were given me, and I was taken with greater 
kindness than ever to the bosom of that Savior whom 
I had so insulted. Nor was this all ; the trial was be- 
neficial to me. It showed me the selfishness of m^ 
prayers for a revival, and my self-deception in think 
ing I was willing to be disappointed, if God pleased. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 409 

It convinced me that I was not yet prepared for such a 
blessing, and that much more wisdom and grace were 
necessary to enable me to conduct a revival properly, 
than I had ever imagined before. On the whole, though 
the past year has been one of peculiar trial and suffer 
ing, I have reason to hope it has not been unprofitable, 
and that I have not suffered so many things altogethei 
in vain. I have seen more of myself and of Christ than 
I ever saw before ; and can at times feel more of the 
frame described in Ezekiel, 16 : 63, than I ever ex- 
pected to feel a year since. The Gospel way of salva- 
tion appears much more glorious and precious, and sin 
more hateful. I can see, supposmg a revival is to come, 
that it was a great mercy to have it so long delayed. 
My hopes that it will yet come are perhaps as strong 
as ever, but my mind is on the rack of suspense, and I 
can scarcely support the conflict of mingled anxieties, 
desires and expectations. Meanwhile appearances are 
every week more favorable, the heavens are covered 
with clouds, and some drops have already fallen. Such 
are the circumstances in which I commence the ninth 
year of my ministry ; and surely never did my situa- 
tion call more loudly for fasting and prayer than now. 
"In the preceding sketch of the past year I have 
said little of my own wickedness, or of God's good- 
ness ; for, indeed, I know not what to say. The simple 
statemen s which I have made of facts speak more 
loudly in favor of Christ, and against myself, than 
any thing else can do. I used to think that repent- 
ance and confession bore some small proportion to 
my sins : but now there seems to be no more propor- 
tion betvveen them than between finite and infinite. I 
can see that I once trusted much to ray repentnnf? 



410 MEMOIR OF 

but now my repentance seems one of my wors* sins, 
f)n account of its exceeding imperfection. 

" For an hour or two I have enjoyed as much as 
sistance as I usually do on such occasions ; but I see 
more and more how exceedingly little there is of spi- 
rituality m my best affections. Imagination, natura* 
affections, and self-love, compose by much the largest 
part of my experiences. Indeed, I can scarcely dis- 
cover any thing else. It is like a fire just kindled ; 
much smoke, some blaze, but little heat. I have been 
praying, more than I ever did before, for more spiri- 
tual affection and clearer views ; but as yet my gra- 
cious God does not answer my request. But he knows 
best, and with him I can leave it. 

" Was favored while reading Owen on the He- 
brews, with ncAV and unusually clear views of many 
things respecting our Savior's sufferings, which filled 
me with wonder and delight. O how little have I 
known, how little do I still know of the great mys- 
tery of godliness ! In the evening hoped I felt some- 
thing of what the apostle calls travailing in birth for 
souls. I was in such a state of mind as I cannot well 
describe, but it seemed to be almost insupportable. 

" Dec, 17. Had a most sweet, refreshing season m 
orayer last night. The unsearchable riches seemed 
)pened to me, to take as much as I pleased. Had 
great liberty in praying for a revival; and could 
scarcely give over the blessed work, though much ex- 
hausted. This morning was in the same frame. 
Was especially affected and delighted with the proof 
of love which he required from Peter, ' Feed my 
sheep.' Prayed that I might be enabled to feed them 
ihis day. Went to the house of God with more of 



EDWARD PAY SON. ill 

such a frame as 1 wished than usual. I have hitherto 
had no liberty in praying for a revival in public. Hov/- 
ever much I might feel at home, it was taken from me 
as soon as I entered the meeting-house. But to-day 
my fetters were taken off. I could pray for nothing 
but a revival. 

" Dec, 18. Felt unusually oppressed with a sense 
of the wisdom and grace necessary to conduct- a re 
vival ; but was enabled to trust in God to supply my 
wants. Spent the evening with Christian friends. 
Prayed for a blessing on the visit, and found it a 
sweet season. After my return had a most refreshing 
and delightful season in prayer. Had no longer the least 
doubt of a revival, and my joy was unspeakable. Con- 
tinued sweetly meditating and praying till I fell asleep. 

" Dec, 19. New joys, new praises. Had a most ra- 
vishing view of Christ this morning, as coming at a 
distance in the chariot of his salvation. In an instant 
he was with me and around me ; and I could only cry, 
Welcome ! welconie ! a thousand times welcome to 
my disconsolate heart, and to thy widowed church! 
O, joy unspeakable and full of glory ! — while seeing 
him not, I feel and believe his presence. Spent the 
evening with the church, after much prayer, both 
alone and with others, that Christ would meet and 
ble«?s us. Went to meeting trembling, and my fears 
were realized. I was entirely deserted, had nothing 
to say, and was obliged to leave them abruptly. They 
sat stupid awhile after I left them, and then sepa- 
rated. This was a sore trial. Impatience and self- 
will struggled hard for leave to say something against 
Christ; but I was enabled to flee to the throne of 
grace, and found relief. One thing is certain : I havp 



412 MEMOIR OP 

ao direct promise that there shall be a revival 5 hm 
I have a thousand direct, positive assurances tha^ 
Christ IS faithful, and wise, and kind. This, there 
fore, faith will believe, whatever becomes of my 
hopes and wishes ; and it is evidently absurd to pro 
fess to trust in God for what he has not expressly 
promised, while I do not believe his positive assur- 
ances. 

" Dec. 24. Enjoyed great nearness to Christ in fa- 
mily prayer. Seemed to feel a perfect union with 
him, and to love with a most intense love every 
thing that is dear to him. Christians seemed inex- 
pressibly dear to me, and I loved to pray for them as 
for myself. But, O, where have I been ? and what 
have I been doing all my days ? How terribly blind 
and ignorant of religion have I been ! and now I know 
nothing, feel nothing as I ought. Saw that there is 
incomparably more to be known and felt in religion 
than I ever thought of before. What a pity that I 
have lost so many of the best years of my life in con- 
tented ignorance ; and what would I not give for the 
years I have lost. I never can be humbled sufficiently 
for my indolence. As it respects a revival, I feel 
easy. My anxiety has subsided into a settled calm, 
arising from a full persuasion that Christ will come 
and save us. 

" Dec, 30. Was greatly assisted in praying for a 
revival, and felt almost a full assurance that it would 
be granted. Felt sweetly melted, and almost over- 
powered with a sense of God's sovereign, immerited 
love. Could not forbear saying to him that he ought 
not to save such a guilty creature ; or, at least, ought 
not to employ me, and bless my labors ; but he seem- 



EDWARD PAYSOK. 413 

ed to reply with great power and majesty, "1 will 
have mercy on whom I will have mercy.' Could not 
but submit that it should be so. Never did the so- 
vereignty of God appear so sweet as then. Spent 
part of the evening in religious conversation with my 
domestics. 

" Jan. 4j 1816. Preached* the evening lecture with- 
out much sensible assistance. After meeting, one o 
the church informed me that in the afternoon a man, 
(who had formerly been one of the first merchants in 
town,) once a professor, but who has been for many 
years an apostate and bitter enemy to religion, came 
to him apparently much distressed respecting his sal 
vation ; and that the same man was at lecture. This 
good news filled us with joy and triumph, so that all 
doubts of a revival seemed removed. O, I wanted, 
even then, to begin my eternal song ; and excess of 
happiness became almost painful. Could scarcely 
sleep for joy, though much fatigued. 

" Jan, 5. Had similar views and feelings this morn- 
ing, but less vivid. Took a review of God's dealings 
with me, and of my own exercises respecting the re- 
vival. Saw infinite wisdom and goodness in every 
thing that God has done, and could not but admire 
and praise. As to my feelings, though they seemed 
little less than a mass of pride, and selfishness, and im- 
patience, yet I could not but see that there was some 
real faith under ail, which God had accepted. After- 
wards, however, reflecting on the feelings of papists 
towards their saints, and pagans towards their idols. 
I was led to doubt whether I had exercised any real 
fairh at all. Attended a fast. Endeavored to convince 
ill*, church how polluted the conference-room must be 



il4 MEMOIR OF 

in the sight of God, in consequence of the sins which 
had been committed there. Then made a confession 
of them, and prayed that it might he cleansed. Then 
did the same with respect to our closets, and houses, 
and afterwards the house of God^ and the communion 
table. Then read and expounded the new covenant, 
and showed v/hat was meant by taking hold of it. Fi- 
nished by imploring all the blessings of this covenant 
on the church, and praying for a revival. 

" Jan, 7. Sabbath. Had no freedom either in prayer 
or preaching, and the congregation appeared uncom 
monly stupid. Concluded that there was to be no re- 
vival under me. Was exceedingly distressed, but felt 
no disposition to murmur or be impatient. Withdrew 
to my chamber to weep and pray. It seemed clear 
that I was the great obstacle to a revival. I have not 
•rendered again according to the benefit done unto 
me, but my heart has been lifted up; therefore is 
there wrath upon my people.' Threw myself in the 
dust at God's feet. Derived some comfort from often 
repeating those words, ' I will be gracious to whom I 
will be gracious.' It seemed sweet as well as rea- 
sonable that God should be a sovereign, and do what 
he will with his own." 

"Marcft ], 1816. 

" Could I, my dear mother, tell you all the 

^ood news I have so long been waiting for, it would 
be some comfort; but I can say but little compared 
with what I hoped to be able to say before this time ; 
nor can I yet determine how it will go with us. We 
have about eighty inquirers, and several, I hope, ai>5 
converted • but this is nothing to what we expected. 



EDWARD PAYbON. #15 

However, we would be thankful for a drop if we can- 
not have a shower. It has been a trying season with 
me this Avinter. While pursuing the revival, it seemed 
as if I must die in the pursuit, and never overtake it." 

" April 1, 1816. 

" I am so worn down with constant cares and 

labors, that my affections seem to be all dried up, ' and 
I am withered like grass.' However, I hope you have 
received, ere this, a few lines as a proof that I have 
not quite forgotten or ceased to love my mother. 

" Our revival still lingers : it, however, increases 
slowly. Ihave conversed with about forty who enter 
tain hopes, and with about sixty more who are inquir 
ing. Twenty -three have joined the church since the 
year commenced. The work is evidently not over; 
but whether it will prove general, is still doubtful. 
There is quite a revival at Bath, below us. Nearly 
two hundred have been awakened. In Philadelphia, 
seventy-one were added to a single church at one 
time, a few weeks since. In New-York and Balti- 
more, also, there are revivals. You have probably 
heard that there have been revivals among the Hot- 
tentots. Two hundred were added to the church in 
one year, and ten Hottentot preachers ordained. There 
IS much more good news of a similar* nature. Surely 
we live in a good day, and I believe you will yet see 
good days in Rindge. Their liberality in raising my 
father's salary is a token for good ; and I rejoice in it 
more for that reason than for any other. Those who 
are most willing to pay for the Gospel, are most like- 
ly to have it blessed to them. 

" We go on very happily in every respect. I have 



11^ MEMOIR OF 

been favored with a long calm, or rather sunshine 
Every thing is easy ; I am careful for notnmg ; Christ 
is so precious and so near; my cup runneth over. 
Every day I expect a storm, hut it does not come. 
Doubtless I have many bitter, trying scenes to pass 
through yet ; worse than any I have heretofore expe 
rienced. But I care not : He will carry me through. 
I wish to mention to you some passages which have 
been peculiarly sweet of late. One is this : ' He 
caused them to be pitied of all them by whom they 
v/ere carried away captive.' Scarcely any passage oi 
Scripture seems to me so expressive of God's good- 
ness to his people as this. After they had provoked 
him till he banished them from the good land, still he 
pitied them, and made their enemies pity them. It 
sounds like David's language — ^Deal gently with the 
young man Absalom for my sake.' 

"Another is the account of our Savior's ascension, 
in the last chapter of Luke : ^ And he lifted up his 
hands and blessed them. And while he blessed them,' 
&c. Observe, ' while he blessed,' &c. The last thing 
he was ever seen to do on earth was to bless his dis- 
ciples. He went up scattering blessings ; and he has 
done nothing but bless them ever since." 

" SepL 19, 1816. 

" I do not wonder at all, my dear mother, at your 
discovering, from my letters, the jaded, languid state 
of my mental faculties. They have long since lost all 
the elasticity which they ever possessed, and my mind 
u ' as dry as the remainder biscuit after a voyage.' 

"On the whole, the past summer has been 

the happiest which I have enjoyed since I was set- 



EDWARD PAYSOM. 417 

tied. Were it not for the dread nnly depressing effects 
of ill health, I should he almost too happy. It seeros 
to me that no domestic troubles, not even the loss of 
wife and children, could disturb me much, might I en- 
joy such consolations as I have been favored with 
most of the time since the date of my last letter. 
Soon after that, the revival, which I feared was at an 
end, began again, and thmgs now look as promising 
as ever. My meeting-house overflows, and some of 
the church are obliged to stay at home, on account of 
the impossibility of obtaining seats. I have, in the 
main, been favored with great liberty for me, both in 
the pulpit and out ; and it has very often seemed as if 
— could I only drop the body — I could contmue, with- 
out a moment's pause, to praise and adore to all eter- 
nity. This goodness is perfectly astonishing and in- 
comprehensible. I am in a maze whenever I think 
of it. Every day, for years, I have been expecting 
some dreadful judgments, reckoning, as Hezekiah did, 
that as a lion God would break all my bones, and, 
from day even to night, make an end of me. Now, 
and now, I Jiave said to myself, it is coming. Now, 
God will cast me out of his vineyard. Now, he will 
lay me aside or withdraw his Spirit, and let me fall 
into some great sin. But, instead of the judgments 
vhich I expected and deserve, he sends nothing but 
mercies ; such great mercies too, that I absolutely 
stagger under them, and all my words are swallow- 
ed up. 

" But, great as my reasons are to love God for hi& 
favorsj methinks he is infinitely more precious on ac- 
count of his perfections. Never did he appear so inex- 
pressibly glorious andlovely as he has for some weeks 

Pay son. 27 



418 MEMOIR OF 

past. He isj indeedytfill in all. I have nothing to fear 
nothing to hope from creatures. They are all mere 
shadows and puppets. There is only one Being in 
the universe, and that Being is God ; may I add, He 
IS my God. I long to go and see him in heaven, f 
long still more to stay and serve him on earth. Rathe? 
I rejoice to be just where he pleases, and to he whaJ 
he pleases. Never did selfishness and pride appear 
so horrid. Never did I see myself to be such a mon 
ster; so totally dead to all wisdom and goodness. 
But I can point up and say — ^There is my righteous- 
ness, my wisdom, my all. In the hands of Christ I 
lie passive and helpless, and am astonished to see how 
he can work in me. He does all ;. holds me up, car- 
ries me forward, works in me and by me ; while I do 
nothing, and yet never worked faster in my Me, To 
say all in a word — ' My soul followeth hard after thee, 
thy right hand upholdeth me.' 

" Our inquirers are about seventy. We are building 
a conference-house, to hold five hundred people. Some 
of the church, who can ill afford it, give fifty dollars 
each towards it." 

" December 9, 1816. 

" In a religious view, things remain very much as 
they have been. We have about fifty inquirers ; but 
they do not seem, except in a few instances, to be 
very deeply impressed, and their progress is slow. 
We have admitted seventy-two persons into the church 
during the present year. Our new conference-house 
has been finished some weeks. At its dedication, and 
at a quarterly fast held in it the same Aveek, we en- 
joyed the divine presence in a greater degree, I think. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 410 

than we ever did before as a church. I would not have 
given a straw for the additional proof whi^h a visible 
appearance of Christ would have afforded of his pre- 
sence. And he has been wonderfully gracious to me 
ever since. It is several months since I have been 
disturbed Avith any of those dreadful conflicts whicii 
for so many years rendered life bitterer than worm 
rood and gall. 
" We have receivted intelligence of E.'s marriage, 
can realize more than I once could, what a severe 
trial it must be to you and my father to have both 
daughters gone-^almcst like burying them. If my 
father were not a minister, and ihusjixed where he 
is, I should send him and you such an invitation as 
Joseph sent to Jacob, to come and let us nurse and 
nourish you, since you are left so much alone." 

" December 16, 1817. 

^' This bemg the anniversary of my ordination, de 
termined to spend it in fasting and prayer. Had little 
courage to attempt it, on account of bodily infirmities 
and repeated vain attempts ; but God Avas gracious to 
me, and enabled me to go through with it. Had for 
a long time a melting, heart-broken frame at the feet 
of Christ, weeping aloud, and obtained a full and 
sweet assurance of pardon. Never before enjoyed 
such a sense of his love, or felt so constrained to love 
him and every thing that belonged to him, especially 
his Word, which I could not forbear kissing and press- 
ing to my bosom. Was perfectly willing to die with- 
out leaving my chamber, if my work here were done 
and God saw best. • 

" Dec. 18. Began to think last nignt tnai I nave 



420 MEMOIR OF 

Deen sleeping all my days ; and this morning felt 
sure of it. I have been idling and sleepmg wnixC my 
ftock have been dropping into hell. How astonish- 
ingly blind have I been, and how impercepriDie my 
religious progress ! Prayed for my people witn moie 
of a right spirit than perhaps ever before. After meet- 
ing had for a few moments such a view of Goo as 
almost overwhelmed, me. Could not have supported 
\t long." 

'' October 27, ISIS. 

" In addition to these favors, we have some 

reason to hope that Zion is travailing in birth with 
souls. After a long season the preached word begins 
again to be blessed ; and several have within a few 
days been awakened. My health too, which for seve- 
ral weeks was worse than ever, is now quite as good 
as usual ; and God has been so gracious to me in spi- 
ritual things, that I thought he was preparing me foi 
L.'s death. Indeed it may be so still ; but if so, his 
will be done. David's charge to his soul, [ wait thou 
only upon God,' has of late seemed peculiarly pre- 
cious. Let him take all ; if he leaves us himself, we 
still have all and abound. I tell my dear parents of 
these mercies, because I know they are in answer to 

jur prayers, and because I trust they will cause you 
abound in thanksgiving in my behalf. 

9f ■^^ ■^ ■^ "!¥■ 

" Since I wrote the above I have seen three more 
newly awakened ; and other circumstances appear en- 
couraging. Truly my cup runs over with blessings. I 
can !5till scarcely help thinking that God is preparing 
nie for some severe trial; but if he will grant. me his 



EDWARD PAYSON. 42l 

presence, as he does now, no trial can seem sev^ere. 
However, I desire to rejoice with trembling. I seem 
to know a little what is meant by fearing the Lord and 
his goodness. There seems to be something awful 
and venerable even m the goodness of God, when 
displayed towards creatures so desperately wicked, 
so inexpressibly vile as we are. O, could I now drop 
the body, I could stand and cry to all eternity, with- 
out being weary — God is holy, God is just, God is 
good ; God is wise, and faithful, and true. Either of 
his perfections alone is sufficient to furnish matter for 
an eternal, unwearied song. How bright, how daz- 
zling is the pure, unsullied whiteness of his charac- 
ter! and how black, how loathsome do we appear in 
contrast with it ! Could I sing upon paper, I should 
* break forth into singing ;' for day and night I can 
do nothing but sing. ' Let the saints be joyful m glory ; 
let them sing aloud upon their beds ; for the Lord 
shall reign King for ever, and thy God, O Zion, 
throughout all generations.' " 

''A^ril IC; 1820. 

"I nave lately been very much delighted with some 
account of the last years of Mr. Newton. Nothing that 
I have yet met with seems to come so near complete 
ripeness of Christian character as the views and feel- 
ings which he expresses in his daily conversation. 
He seems to have seen God continually in every thing 
to have been wholly swallowed up in him, and to have 
regarded him as all in all. The whole creation seemed, 
as it were, to be annihilated in his view, and God to 
have taken its place. If a miracle had been wrought 
Defore me to prove the reality of religion, it could 



422 MEMOIR OP 

scarcely have prodaced conviction like that which re- 
suhed from seeing religion thus gloriously exempli- 
fied. After his faculties seemed to be almost extinct, 
so that he could not remember, in the afternoon, hav- 
ing preached in the morning, faith and love and hope 
were as strong as ever. Indeed, I cannot conceive of 
nearer approaches to perfection in this world than he 
seems to have made during the last years of his life. 
He says that God works in his people, to will first, 
and afterwards to do ; and thinks that Christians will 
to do good many years before they actually do much. 
This is encouraging. I think God works in me to 
will ; but in doing.^ my progress is small indeed." 

" May 17, 1821. 
" My dear Mother, 

" 111 news flies so fast, and becomes so much exag- 
gerated in its progress, that I should not wonder if 
you were to hear a rum.or that I am dying, if not 
dead. The truth is, I have been sick — perhaps dange- 
rously so. About three months since I began to be 
troubled with a slight cough. It gradually grew worse, 
and was attended with loss of appetite, pain in the 
chest, difficulty of breathing, daily accession of fever, 
and spitting of blood. It is nearly a month since I 
have been obliged to give up preaching, and have re- 
course to emetics, blistering, bleeding, &c. By the 
blessing of God attending these means I am now al- 
most well again, and hope to be able soon to resume 
my labors. I am, however, still weak, and cannot 
write much ; but I was fearful you would hear that 1 
am worse than I really am, and therefore thought ii 
best to write a few lines." 



ELWAKD PAYSON. 42S 

''^ June 8, This is a most melancholy day to me. It 
IS the Sabbath on which we should have had the com- 
munion ; but we have no one to preach for us. My 
flock are scattered, and I can only look on and groan. 
My health is in such a state that I can feel nothing 
but misery. However, this blow seemed to touch me. 
I saw that it was just, though I can scarcely be said 
to \idivefelt it. To-morrow I expect to sail for Charles- 
ton, with a view to the recovery of my health ; but I 
go with a heavy heart. Thei-e appears little prospect 
of its proving beneficial. 

" July 16. 

•' I am just returned from Charleston. My health is 
much improved. I had a very pleasant passage out; 
but a most tedious and unpleasant return. The cap- 
tain who carried me out was as kind as possible. I 
hope he has his reward. He offered to carry me to 
Europe, and bring me back. It would have been grati- 
fying to see Old England ; but I could not spare the 
time. 

" July 16. O how much better is God to me than 
my fears, and even than my hopes ! how ready to an 
swer prayer ! This afternoon he has banished my fears 
and sorrows, strengthened my faith, revived my hopes, 
and encouraged me to go on. Had a precious season 
in visiting and praying with some of my people, and 
still more so in the evening. O how wise and good is 
God ! Now I can see it was best that I should not be 
assisted in preaching yesterday ; for it drove me, in 
self-despair to the throne of grace. Whereas, had I 
been assisted, I might have remained at a distance. 
And I desire to record it to the honor of God and my 



424 MEMOIR or 

own shame, that 1 never went to him in (listress, with 
out finding almost immediate relief. 

" July 25. This day I am thirty-eight years old. 1 
had intended to make it a day of family thanksgiving, 
but my weakness prevented. Indeed, ill health is an 
obstacle continually in my way, almost wholly ob- 
structing my usefulness and growth in grace. Half 
my time I am so languid in body and mind that I can 
do nothing ; and the other half I am very far from be- 
ing well. But God has hitherto graciously supported 
me, so that, though cast down, I am not yet destroyed. 
As to resolving that I will do better in future, I have 
no courage to do it. The loss of so many years 
withers my strength and courage, and dries up my 
spirits.'^ 

" August 6, 1821. 

" Smce I wrote last there has been quite a change 
in me. Then my health was better, but my mind sick. 
Now my mind is comparatively at ease, but my health 
has sunk down nearly to its old standard. However, 
this state is vastly more comfortable than the former, 
and I desire to be satisfied. I think, my dear mother, 
you may dismiss all anxiety respecting me. I am in 
wise and good hands, and do not suffer more than is 
absolutely necessary." 

" Sept. 1. While lying awake last night enjoyed 
most delightful views of God as a Father. Felt that 
my happiness is as dear to him as to myself; that he 
would not willingly hurt one hair of my head, nor let 
me suffer a moment's unnecessary pain. Felt that he 
was literally as willing to give as I could be to askr 
Seemed, indeed, to have nothing to ask for." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 42& 

In a letter, dated September 10th, after alluding tc 
* sore trials/' and especially to one of several events 
which had a most melancholy and disastrous aspect on 
the religious prospects of the church, he says, " This, 
coming just when we were expecting a revival, was 
peculiarly grievous ; but I still hope, after God has 
crushed us into the dust he will exalt us. He has been 
most wonderfully gracious to me during these trials. 
Never before have I enjoyed such consolations. It 
seems as evident as noon-day, that the same love 
which prompted the Savior to bear the curse for uSj 
would have led him to bear all our afflictions for us, 
were it not absolutely necessary that we should suffer 
in our own persons. I see, I feel that he would as 
soon wound the apple of his eye as give one of his 
people a moment's needless pain. I care not what 
trials may come, for I know that they will be for my 
good, and that he will support me." 

At the commencement at Bowdoin College this 
month, he received the degree of Doctor in Divinity ; 
but writes to his mother — ^" I beg you not to address 
your letters to me by that title, for I shall never make 
use of it." 

" Sejpt. 19. Last night, while lying awake, had 
more distinct apprehensions of God's greatness than 
at any previous time. Realized little of any thing 
else except simple greatness; and this, although I 
seemed to have no views compared with what might 
be, almost crushed me to death. I could not move a 
limb, nor scarcely breathe. Saw how easily a little 
view of God. might destroy us. Could realize more 
than ever that a clear view of God must be hell to 
the wicked ; for had any sense of his anger accora 



426 MEMOIR OP 

panied this view of his greatness, I could noi have 
supported it. 

" Oct. 11. Still my cup runs over with blessings. 
God graciously continues to grant me his presence 
when I lie down and when I rise up ; though he every 
day sees enough in me to justify him in leaving me 
for ever." 

" October 15. 

^' God continues to be wonderfully gracious 



to me in spiritual things. I know not what it means. 
I never was so happy for so long a time before. 1 
suspect some grievous trial is approaching. Let it 
come if God pleases. While he is with me I feel en- 
tirely independent of ail circumstances, creatures, and 
events. Yet creature comforts are pleasant, when we 
can enjoy God in them. 

" I fear will do the church little good. 

At first it seemed to affect them in a proper manner, 
but the impression is fast wearing away. Whether 
God will scourge them still more severely, or whether 
he will come and melt them into repentance by unex- 
pected displays of mercy, I do not know. If I could 
see them made to feel what a God Jehovah is, and 
what a Savior Christ is, and what a place heaven is ! 
But I do not. Still, when I look at God in Christ, and 
see how good, how gracious, how condescending, how 
powerful he is, I am compelled, in spite of myself, to 
hope, and almost to feel sure that I shall, sooner or 
later, see a revival of religion here. It may be, how- 
ever, that this bright day is designed only to prepare 
me for as dark a night. But I desire to do present du« 
ty, to enjoy with humble gratitude present happiness, 
and let to -morrow take thought for itself." 



EDWARD FAYSON. 427 

'^November 25. 

"A young man, member of our church, is just 

settled, and a revival has commenced. About fifty 
Are awakened, and the work is increasing. He makes 
the fourth member of our church who has been settled 
since I came here." [Dr. Payson superintended iha 
preparation of several young men for the ministry.] 

" February 3, 1822. 

"If my letter takes its complexion from my 

feelings, it will appear gloomy indeed. Since I wrote 
last it has been a season of trial with me. E. has had 
a terrible abscess, which we feared would prove too 
much for her slender constitution. We were almost 
worn out with watching ; and, just as she began to 
amend, I Avas seized with a violent ague in my face, 
which gave me incessant anguish for six days and 
nights, and deprived me almost entirely of sleep. 
Three nights I did not once close my eyes. When al- 
most distracted with pain and loss of sleep, Satan was 
let loose upon me to buffet me, and I verily thought 
would have driven me to desperation and madness. 
Nor is my situation now much better. The fact is, my 
nervous system, at all times weak, has been so shat- 
tered by pain, and watching, and strong opiates, which 
gave no relief, that I am sunk in gloom and despon- 
dency, and can only write bitter things against my- 
self. Surely no one suffers so much unprofitable 
misery as I do. I call it unprofitable, because it is of 
such a nature that I do not see how it possibly can 
produce any good effect. It only weakens, dispirits, 
and discourages me. 

" We have had a few instances of conviction, and 



428 



MEMOIR OP 



at least one of conversion, since I wrc^te last ; and tlie 
church, 1 hope, is gaining ground. You will be glad 
to hear that eight or ten are awakened in Gorham." 

" February 5. 

" 1 can now write in a less dismal strain. I am noi 
happy, but I am less wretched. 1 feel that while such 
a creature as I am is out of hell, I have great raason 
for thankfulness. But my flesh trembles and my 
blood almost runs cold, when I look back upon what 
[ have suffered. Certainly a very large proportion 
of my path lies through the valley of the shadow of 
death. Bishop Hall says — 'None out of hell have 
suffered so much as some of God's children ;' and I 
believe it. I should not, however, much regard my 
sufferings, if they -were sanctified." 

^^ February 19. 

''You will be glad, my dear mother, to hear that 
the man who had the legion is sitting at the feet of 
Jesus, in his right mind. I had obtained some relief 
when I wrote you last, but it proved of short continu- 
aiLce ; the clouds returned aftet the rain, and I was 
again in the horrible pit and miry clay, and there re- 
mained till the next Sabbath. But now, I trust, the 
devil is cast out, though, as he departed from our Sa- 
vior only for a season, I know not how soon he may 
return. You know Mr. Newton thinks, that, compa- 
ratively speaking, he fights witli neither small nor 
great, except with ministers. I know not how this 
may be ; but if he torments others as he does me, I am 
sure I pity them. I am now so worn out Avith suffer 
ing and conflict that I seem incapable of enjoyment 



EDWARD PAYSOI^. 429 

but 1 feel quiet and peaceful, and that is a great 
mercy. 

" The symptoms of a revival increase among us. 
Perhaps a dozen have been avirakened and three have 
obtained hope smce I wrote last. I was sent for to- 
day to see a man ninety-two years old, who, after a 
long life of sin, is awakened in his old age. His situ- 
ation, on the whole, seems encouraging, though he is 
nearly blind and deaf." 

" February 2G. 

" The revival has been advancing, and there now 
seems to be every reason to hope that God has begun 
a great work among us. I would not be too sanguine, 
but things look more favorable than they have for se- 
ven or eight years. Every day I have two, and three, 
and four inquirers to see me, and their convictions are 
very deep and pungent. Three have just obtained 
hope. 

"I rejoice the more in this work, because it enables 
me to stop the mouth of my old adversary, and to 
prove to his face that he is a liar. I could not doubt 
that I had been enabled to pray for a revival these 
many years. Nor could I persuade myself that Christ 
had not promised it to me. The essence of a promise 
consists in voluntarily exciting expectations of some 
benefit. In this sense, a revival had often been pro- 
mised to me. And when it was not granted ; when, 
one time aftei anoth3r, promising appearances died 
away ; and especially when T was left to such exer- 
cises as rendered it impossible that I should be favor- 
ed with a revival — Satan had a fine opportunity to 
wcrk upon my unbelief, and to ask^ Where is your 



430 MEMOIR OP 

God 1 what do you get by praying to him 1 and where 
is the revival which he has been so long encouraging 
you to expect, and to pray for ? Now I can answex 
these questions triumphantly, and put the lying tongue 
to silence. But the work is all God's ; and I stand 
and look on to see him work ; and this is favor enough, 
and infinitely more than I deserve. 

" You spoke in your last of poor . Rich, you 

would call him now, if you could see him. He has 

made more progress in religion since ■. than he 

would in twenty years of ordinary advancement. ] 
feel like a child when talking with him. Truly God's 
ways are not like ours. Meanwhile poor brother R. 
who is not half so undeserving of a revival as I am, 
IS laid aside just as soon as favorable symptoms 
begin to appear. His physicians speak very dis 
couragingly." 

'^ March 7. Pleached in the evening to the largest 
assembly that I had ever addressed at a Thursday lec- 
ture. Came home encouraged, and rejoicing in God. 
The work is his — I am nothing, and love to be no- 
thing. Dare not promise to serve God more faith- 
fully. However extensive a revival he may send, I 
shall again be stupid and ungrateful, unless he pre- 
vent." 

'' March 17. 

'' The revival goes on. Fifteen, we hope, are con- 
verted; and four times that number under deep im- 
pressions. But in the midst of it I am laid aside. My 
lungs have been failing for several weeks, and I can 
preach no longer. After my last Thursday lectu*«e 1 



EDWARD PAYSON. 43) 

had a strange turn. Every body thought I was dying. 
It was occasioned by an inability in the heart to free 
itself from the blood which poured in upon it. How- 
ever, the doctor came, and took a large quantity of 
^lood, which relieved me. But I am just as I was 
i'ast spring, and unless God interposes to help me, 
shall be unable to preach for weeks. You may well 
suppose that this is a trying dispensation ; but so far I 
um kept quiet under it. I feel that it is not only just, 
but wise and kind. Poor brother Rand is in the same 
situation. The revival among his people i-ncreases, 
but he can do nothing. I wish P. was here ; we both 
Qeed him." 

" May 20, 1S23. 

" Geesar, speaking of one of his many battles 

which was severely contested, observed that on for 
mer occasions he had fought for victory, but then he 
fought for life. Even so it is with me. Once I fought 
for victory, and no ordinary victory Avould satisfy me ; 
but my strength, and courage, and ambition are now 
so crushed, that I fight merely for life, and I am scarce- 
ly able to secure even that. Still I hope for victory 
ultimately. I have just finished a sermon on Heze- 
kiah's petition — ' Q Lord, I am oppressed ; undertake 
for me.' It has given me some comfort ; it ought to 
give me more. Indeed, if we prQi)erly considered 
who Christ is, and what he has undertaken to do for 
us, we should never need consolation, but might, like 
Bt. Paul, though sorrowful, be always rejoicing; and 
say with him — ^Blessed be God, who hath blessed 
us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly things in 
Christ Jesus.' I nave prepared another sermon from 
a succeeding passage in the same chapter — ^Thou 



132 MEMOIR OF 

Kastj in love to my soul, delivered it from the pit oi 
corruption.' The words 'delivered it' are not in 
the original ; and as Father Henry observes, the pas- 
sage may be read — ' Thou hast loved my soul from 
the pit of corruption ; thou hast loved my soul when 
it was in the pit of corruption, and thou hast loved it 
out of the pit of corruption ; not merely taken it out, 
and redeemed it out, but loved it outJ " 

" May 25. 

" My sermon on Christ's undertaking for us does 
me more and more good. I wish I could impart to you 
some of the comfort which it gives me. I wish to get 
away from frames and feelings, and live continually 
on the precious truth — ' Christ has undertaken for me.' 
He IS able, he is faithful, he will keep what he has 
undei taken to keep, he will do all he has undertaken 
^o do. Another passage has been very sweet to me 
this morning, and I think I shall preach upon it next 
Sabbath : — ' He hath made us accepted in the Beloved.' 
To be accepted of God, to be accepted in his beloved 
Son — wliai an honor ! what a privilege ! Well may 
it be said to every one who enjoys it, ' Go thy way 
eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a 
merry heart ; for God now accepteth thy works.' 

" Our church %gan last winter to employ a domes- 
tic missionary. They sent him to a town which has 
Ions: been without a minister, and where, just before 
a vain attempt had been made to raise one hundred 
dollars to pay for preaching. His labors produced such 
effect, that they have now raised a fund v/hich will 
support a minister for ever. They have also given our 
aiissionary a unanimous call to settle with them Wc 



EDWARD PAYSON. 433 

shall make a similar experiment in another town ss 
soon as we can find a suitable missionary. How much 
is money worth at such a time as this !" 

Dr. Paysou describes a species of trial to which he 
was twice subjected, that will probably, at the first 
glance, surprise those who were acquainted with his 
strong confidence in revelation, and his rich experience 
m the consolations of religion. It shows most vividly 
the awful malice of the " accuser of the brethren," 
whose power to distress Christians, as well as his 
agency among " the children of disobedience," is great- 
ly underrated at the present day ; as even his existence 
is extensively doubted. Against the servant of God, 
who was making such inroads upon his kingdom, he • 
seems to have directed all his " fiery darts." They gave 
temporary pain, but inflicted no mortal wound. The 
adversary was foiled. 

" December 5, 1823. 

" I have been sick, and laid by from preaching 

uix thanksgiving day and two Sabbaths, but am now 
able to resume my labors. But O the temptations which 
have harassed me for the last three months ! I have 
met with nothing like them in books. I dare not men- 
tion them to any mortal, lest they should trouble him 
as they^ have troubled me ; but, should I become an 
apostate and write against religion, it seerns to me 
that I could bring forward objections which would 
shake the faith of all the Christians in the world. 
What T marvel at is, that the arch-deceiver has never 
been permitted to suggest them to some of his scribes, 
and have them published. They would, or I am much 
mistaken, make fearful work with Christians for a 

Pay son. 28 



434 MEMOIR OF 

timej though God would, doubtless, enable them t€ 
overcome in the end. It seems to me that my star? 
has been far worse than that of Mansoul was when 
Diabolus and his legions broke into the towm. They 
could not get into the castle, the heart ; but my castle 
was full of them. But do not be troubled for me ; I am 
^ow better. Let me then try to comfort my. mother." 

The other passage, depicting a similar conflict, was 
written about a year and a half after the above : 

" It seems to me that those who die young, like 
Brainerd and Martyn, know almost nothing of the dif- 
ficulty of persevering in the Christian race. My diffi- 
culties increase every year. All the atheistical, dels 
tical, and heretical objections which I meet with in 
books, are childish babblings, compared with those 
which Satan suggests, ancj which he urges upon the 
mind with a force which seems irresistible. Yet I am 
often obliged to write sermons, and to preach, when 
these objections beat upon me like a whirlwind, and 
almost distract me. When he asks, as he does conti- 
nually ask, What have you gained by all your prayers ? 
I know not what to reply. However, pray I must, and, 
God assisting me, pray I will. The way is indeed dif- 
ficult, but I can devise no other which is not more so. 
There is no one to whom I can go if I forsake Christ." 

These last quoted passages are adapted, not to raise 
doubts respecting the genuineness and authenticity of 
revelation, but to strengthen our confidence in it as the 
sure word of God which endureth for ever. The ob- 
vious and legitimate inference from them is, that the 
Bible can sustain, uninjured, attacks and objectiona 



EDWARD PAYSON. 435 

iiiore formidable than any which have been directed 
against it by the mightiest infidels. 

" Jan. 1, 1824. Rose early, and tried to pray ; but a 
weak, languid frame crushed me down. T have, how- 
ever, reason to bless God that he allows such a wretch 
as I am to serve him at all. Groaned and struggled 
v/ith my weakness before God. Read a number ol 
passages in my diary, especially what is recorded 
under date of Dec. 16, 1815. Am glad I kept a jour- 
nal ; I had otherwise forgotten much of what I have 
done against God, and of what he has done for me. 
Was confounded at what I read. My Avords are swal- 
lowed up. My life, my ministry has been madness, 
madness ! What shall I do ? where shall I hide ? To 
sin, after I had. sinned so much, and after I had been 
forgiven ! But I cannot write ! I cannot think ! And 
if my sins appear so black in my book, how must they 
appear in God's ! 

" Jan. 29. Have had much to be thankful for, and 
much to be ashamed of for some days past. God has 
Deen more than ordinarily gracious to me, granting me 
liberty of access to him in prayer, and permitting me 
tc be in some degree useful. I have received many 
tokens of warm affection from his people, and been as- 
sisted in my work. . . . Have learned a lesson which 
I ought to have learned before. I am religiously ro- 
mantic. I am always expecting something out of the 
common course, and planning what God is going to do. 

" May 15. Rode to G. to give them a day's preach- 
ing, as they are destitute. Took up a poor cripple by 
the way, and preached Christ to him. Felt some pity 
and love for him while talking. A curious combina- 
tion of circumstances threw him ip my way. Could 



436 MEMOIR OF 

not out think how we both snould admire the leadings 
of Providence, if he should be converted in conse- 
quence of what was said to him. 

"July 20. Perplexed what to do. My people wish 
me to go to Europe. Tried to commit the case tn 
God. 

" Oct, 17. Slept none last night, and my sufferings 
were great. My right arm seems about to perish. 
Could say, God's will be done. 

" Nov, 7. What I have long feared has come upon 
me. My voice and my faculties are half gone already, 
and what remains is rapidly departing. 

" Nov, 27. Was favored with a most precious sea- 
son in prayer. Had such views of God and Christ ! 
Lay and mourned at his feet till I was exhausted, and 
longed unutterably to be more holy, and to have others 
holy, O what reason have I to bless God for this ! 

'•^ Jan, 5j 1825. At the concert on Monday recom- 
mended to the church to imitate the Lord's prayer, and 
always begin their supplication with praying that God's 
name may be glorified. Have derived much benefit 
from pursuing this practice. Made eleven visits, and 
felt thankful for having strength to do it. 

" Ja7i. 31. Felt very happy and dead to the world 
all day. Rejoiced in God, and cared not what he did 
with me. 

" Feb, 9. Had a delightful season in prayer. It 
seemed as if it was only to ask and receive. Had 
Eothing to ask for myself, except that I might be 
swallowed up in the will of God. 

'' Feb, 15 16. Much engaged in visiting. Went tf 
the utmost extent of my strength. Felt insatiable de 
sires for more holiness," 



EDWARD PAY SON. 437 

" Boston^ March 21, 1825. 
My dear Mother, 

" I value your letters much, and your prayers still 
more ; and sometimes think that your life is preserved 
principally, to pray for your children. It will be found, 
I doubt not, in the coming world, that ministers had 
much less share in the success which attends their 
labors, than is now supposed. It will be found, that 
if they drew the bow, the prayers of Christians point- 
ed and guided the arrow. I preached last evening to 
an immense concourse of people. After the pews 
were filled, seats were brought in and placed in all 
the aisles. So far as I know, however, very little 
good has been done by my labors here. But I desire 
to leave it all with God. I am astonished and asham- 
ed by the kindness with which his people here treat 
me. * * 

" You express a wish that my feelings were more 
equable. I wish they were. But I am so completely 
wretched when God withdraws from me, that the re- 
moval of that wretchedness by his return renders me 
almost too happy. This thought has lately been of 
some service to me. Every Christian ought to love 
God in proportion to what has been forgiven him. 
But every Christian knoAvs more evil of himself than 
he can know of any other human being. He ought, 
therefore, to feel as if more had been forgiven him, 
and as if he were under greater obligations to love 
God than any other human being ; as if it were worse 
for him to sin against God than it would be for any 
other." 



438 MEMulK OF 

" Portland, July 27. 

" I had attempted to observe my birth-day as a 

day of prayer, but apparently to no purpose. I was 
so unwell that I could do nothing. However, the 
next day, the blessings which I wished to ask for, but 
could not, were bestowed. I need not tell you how 
sweet, how soothing, how refreshing Christ's return 
mg presence is, after long absence. Still I am home 
down in such a manner by ill health that I can but 
naif rejoice. The state of religion among us helps 
also to crush me. There never has been so entire a 
suspension of divine influences since my settlement 
as at present. Those of the church who are most spi- 
ritual tell me that they never found it so difficult to 
perform religious duties as they do now. In fine, the 
church seems to be on Bunyan's enchanted ground, 
and many of them are sleeping in some of the arbors 
which he mentions. Whether they will wake before 
death, seems doubtful." 

'* September 29. 

" I preached last Sabbath on being guilty of the 

blood of souls ; and endeavored to point out some of 
the ways in which we may incur this guilt. I have 
incurred but too much of it ; and it lies upon me with 
a weight which I know not how to bear, but which I 
cannot throw off. True, blood has been shed for us, 
which has efficacy to take away the guilt of blood. 
But though this consideration may keep us from de- 
spair, it cannot shield us, or, at least, cannot snield 
one whose guilt is like mine, from the sufferings oc- 
tasioned by self-reproach and a wounded spirit. 1 
seldo'Ti think of the time I spent in B. without a pang 



EDWARD PAYSON. 139 

'ihi keenness of which you cannot easily conceive. It 
IS a painful thought that we are so long in learning 
tiow to live, that ere the lesson is well learned life is 
spent. Another subject on which I have lately been 
writing, and which has assisted to increase my de- 
pression, was suggested by the passage — 'Even 
Christ pleased not himself.' If any one who ever 
lived in this world had a right to please himself, he 
surely had- such a right ; yet how far was he from ex- 
ercising or claiming it 1 He evidently adopted and 
acted upon the principle, that as man, he was not his 
own ; that he belonged to God and to the universe, 
and that he must do nothing merely for the sake of 
promoting his own personal gratification. I contem- 
plate this example with feelings similar to those with 
which a child who has just begun to hold a pen, may 
be supposed to look upon a superb copper-plate, which 
ne is required to imitate ; or rather with such feelings 
as one might indulge who had been learning to write 
for many years, and yet found himself further from 
resembling his copy than he was at first." 

" Nov. 4. Quarterly fast. Went to meeting feel- 
ing very unwell, and found very few assembled. Was 
obliged to wait half an hour before there was a suffi- 
cient number to sing. Was entirely overcome by dis- 
couragement. Could not say a word, and after strug- 
gling in vain with my feelings, was obliged to state 
them to the church and come away. 

" Nov, 9. Installation of a minister over the Third 

Church to-day. Have reason to be thankful that I 

have been carried through this business of separation 

so well, and that affection for those who have left us 

* IS rather increosed than diminished." 



440 MEMOIR OP 

This last date brings us down to a period from 
which his health may be said to have been constantly 
declining. The progress of the maladies which were 
wasting away his frame may have been stayed for a 
few days or weeks in succession after this, but their 
hold on him was never more weakened. The winter 
succeeding was one of infirmity and suffering. He 
continued to preach on the Sabbath; but the exhaus- 
tion consequent upon the exertion often rendered it 
difficult for him to reach his home, distant but a few 
rods. So much overcome was he as to be physically 
unable to lead the devotions of his own family ; and 
his Sabbath nights were nights of restlessness and 
anguish. Still, when holy time again returned he 
longed for the habitation of God's house, and again 
repeated his efforts, and with similar consequences. 

Observing with alarm this prostration of his strength, 
his people, in the spring of 1826, resolved upon an al- 
teration of their meeting-house, with a view to his re- 
lief. The ceiling was brought down and arched, and 
the floor inclined towards the pulpit, by Avhich changes 
more than one third of the space to be filled by the 
speaker's voice was excluded, and the difficulty of fill 
ing it diminished in a still greater proportion. It was 
while this alteration was in progress .that he made his 
circuitous and last journey to the Springs, which has 
ilready been mentioned. 

On arriving there he said to Mr. W. in allusion to 
lis health — " I am in pursuit of a good which is con- 
stantly flying before me, and which, I apprehend, will 
('3r ever elude my grasp."—" The incessant and unre- 
mitted labor of years," adds Mr. W. " seemed to have 
left him but a mere wreck of beings which he longed 



EDWARD PAYSON -ii] 

to be rid of to serve God in a region of perfect health 
and boundless activity. He had little expectation oi 
recovering his health, and several times remarked 
that if it viras the will of God to take him away speedi- 
ly, it was no matter how soon he departed. The idea 
of wearing out his days in a state of inactivity and 
consequent depression was distressing to him, and 
made him deeply solicitous to have the question of life 
and death fully settled. Sometimes, said he, when I 
retire to bed I should be happy to have it the last 
night of my life. With Job he might say — " I am made 
to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are 
appointed unto me. When I lie down I say. When 
shall I arise, and the night be gone ? I am full of toss- 
ings to and fro unto the dawning of the day ! When 
I say. My bed shall comfort me, and my couch shall 
ease my complaint ; then thou scares t me with dreams, 
and terrifiest me with night visions ; so that my soul 
chooseth strangling and death rather than life. I loathe 
it ; I would not live alway." 

Mr. W- — imagined — and in this he was unques- 
tionably correct — that the sufferings of Dr. Payson 
were greater than any one knew or suspected ; and he 
adds, " they were endured, for the most, m silence. 
At midnight he would arise and walk his room, sing- 
ing some plaintive air. At first I knew not what to 
make of the unwonted and mournful sounds which 
broke in upon my slumbers ; and often, as the sound 
softly died away, my soul was filled with sadness. He 
complained much of his head. In one conversation 
he dwelt particularly on the cau^-es which had opera- 
ted 10 undermine and destroy his health. Among them 
was his great and increasing anxiety for a general nni 



442 MEMOIR OP 

powerful revival of religion among his people; his in- 
cessant labors to secure so great a blessing, and the 
repeated disappointments he had experienced from 
year to year. We would seem, said Dr. Payson, to be 
on the eve of an extensive revival, and my hopes would 
be correspondently raised ; and then the favorable ap- 
pearances would vanish away. Under the powerful 
excitement of hope, and under the succeeding depres- 
sion arising from disappointment, my strength failed, 
and I sunk rapidly under my labors. He spoke of hav- 
ing been under a temptation, constantly, to labor be- 
yond his strength ; and believed many a faithful mi- 
nister had thus been tempted by Satan to cut short his 
days. In this way his own life had been shortened. 
When, in a season of excitement, he had exhausted 
his whole strength, even then Satan suggested that 
he had not done enough, but must do much more, or 
be counted unfaithful." 

This ceaseless anxiety for a revival appears the more 
remarkable, when contemplated in connection with the 
fact that the church was continually growing under 
his ministrations, and the congregation enlarging, till 
there was not room enough to receive them. In one 
year of his ministry the church received an accession 
of seventy-three, and in the year of his death seventy- 
nine ; and the average number was more than thirty- 
five a year during the whole of his ministry. If there 
were an entire suspension of divine influences at any 
time, it was of temporary duration. Judging from the 
accessions made to the church, there must have been 
a constant and gradual work of God. If the term of his 
ministry be divided into periods of five years, the num- 
ber added in each period differs from that of every 



EDWARD PAY SON. 443 

Other period by a comparatively small number. The 
difference is in favor of the first two periods, when, 
with fewer bodily infirmities, he " ceased not daily, and 
from house to house, to testify repentance towards God, 
and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ." 

About mid-summer he returned from his last excur- 
sion abroad to the bosom of his family and flock, and 
continued to employ the little strength which remained 
in making known Jesus Christ, and him crucified. 
From this labor no entreaties could prevail with him 
to desist. He continued to occupy his pulpit on the 
Sabbath, for the most part, through the following win- 
ter ; notwithstanding parts of his body, particularly his 
right arm, had already begun to perish, and were not 
only useless, but an incumbrance. But while " the out- 
ward man decayed, the inward man Avas renewed day 
by day.'^ This is in a degree true of his mental facul- 
ties, as well as of his religious progress. The corus- 
cations of his intellect delighted and astonished his 
visiters. Among these was the Secretary of the Ame- 
rican Education Society, who, asking Dr. Payson for 
a message which he might carry from him to benefi- 
ciaries, received the following impromptu : 

'^ What if God should place in your hand a diamond, 
and tell you to inscribe on it a sentence which should 
be read at the last day, and shown there as an index 
of your own thoughts and feelings? What care, what 
caution would you exercise in the selection ! Now. 
this is what God has done. He has placed before you 
immortal minds.^ more imperishable than the diamond 
on wliieh you are about to inscribe, every day and ' 
every hour, by your instructions, by your spirit, or by 



M4 MEMOIR OF 

your example, something which will remain, and be 
exhibited for or against you at the judgment day." 

We shall close our extracts, and this chapter, with 
two short letters to his mother, the last he ever wrote 

" February 1, 1827. 
'^' My dear Mother, 

" I have just received your letter, and though I am 
obliged to write with my left hand, and that is numb, 
I must try to scratch a few lines in reply. I am no bet- 
ter; am tolerably contented and happy, but have not 
much sensible consolation. We have increasing evi- 
dence that L. is become pious ; but E. who seemed 
to be awakened, has lost his impressions. You have 
probably heard that Mr. R. hopes that H. is converted. 
We have about a dozen hopeful converts, and appear- 
ances are encouraging. I have much to be thankful for. 
Wife, chilflren and people, all try to minister to my 
comfort. I rejoice to hear that your mind is in so de- 
sirable a frame, ihough I expected no less. God has 
not led you so far to forsake you at last. Should you 
be taken away before me I shall feel as Eiisha did 
when he lost Elijah : for I doubt not your prayers have 
been of great service to me. I received a letter from 
G. lately, inviting me to come and spend part of the 
winter at New-York. 1 thank him, but I cannot come. 
Home is the only place for a cripple, who can neither 
dress nor undress himself; besides, I can be of some 
service to my people while here. I have many things 
to sayj but writing is so wearisome and painful that I 
can add nothing more. Assure G. and E. of my warm* 
est love, and believe me 

" Your affectionate son " 



EDV\AKD PAYSON. 445 

" February 20. 
* My dear Mother, 

" I wrote tLie inclosed letter three weeks since, and 
sent it by a man who said he was going to New-York; 
bijt after I hoped it had arrived there, it came hacK to 
me again. I have just received your last letter, and 
what shall I say in reply ? If my hand would permit 
I could say much ; if my health would allow of it, 1 
would come and see you. As it is, I can only say 
God be with you, my dear mother, and bless you, as 
he has made you a blessing to me. If it be his will 
that we should not meet again in this world, I must 
say — Farewell, for a short time ; for short, I trust, will 
be the time before we meet again. Farewell, then, 
my dear, dear mother ! for a short time, farewell T' 

It proved to be the last farewell. His mother, a few 
days afterwards, was called to her eternal home„ 



CHAPTER XX 



His last labors — His spiritual joys, heavenly cou7isels, and 
brightening intellect , during the progress of his disease-^ 
His ti'itimphant death. 

Dr. Payson was at length compelled to yield to the 
irresistible power of disease. Parts of his body, in- 
cluding his right arm and left side, were very singu- 
larly affected. They were incapable of motion, and 
lost all sense of feeling externally ; while, in the in- 
terior parts of the limbs thus affected, he experienced, 



446 RiEMOiR or 

at intervals, a most intense burning sensation, which 
he compared to a stream of fused metal or liquid fire 
coursing through his bones. No external applications 
were of the least service ; and in addition to his acute 
sufferings from this source, he was frequently subject 
to most violent attacks of nervous head-ache. 

It was with great reluctance that he relinquished 
preaching. " The spirit continued willing " long after 
the " flesh failed." But who can resist the appoint- 
ment of Heaven ! The decree had gone forth that he 
must die ; and the progress of his complicated mala- 
dies declared but too unequivocally that the decree 
must soon be executed. He did not, however, cease 
preaching at once, but at first secured assistance for 
half the day only. An arrangement to this effect, 
which was expected to continue several weeks, com- 
menced on the second Sabbath of March. He occu- 
pied the pulpit in the morning. His text was, " IVie 
word of the Lord is tried.'^^ The sermon was not writ- 
ten, of course -, but no one that he ever wrote, not even 
his celebrated discourse on the Bible, was more in- 
structive and eloquent than this ; particularly those 
parts in which he described the trials to which " the 
word of the Loi'd^"^ had been subjected by its enemies, 
and the tests of a different character which it had sus- 
tained from its friends. Never scarcely were the 
mightiest infidels made to appear so puny, insignifi- 
cant, and foolish. " He who sitteth in the heavens *' 
could almost be seen " deriding them." When de- 
scribing the manner in which Christians had tried it, 
ne •' spoke out of the abundance of his heart." Expe* 
rience aided his eloquence, and added strength to the 
-conviction which it wrought. And it v/ould have beei) 



RDWARD PAY30N. 447 

listened to with a still greater intenseness of interest^ 
had his own trials, mentioned in the preceding chap- 
ter, been known. The application of the subject to his 
auditory must be left for imagination to supply j for it 
cannot he conveyed on paper. • 

On pronouncing the blessing, he requested the con- 
gregation to resume their seats. He descended from 
the pulpit and took his station in front of it, and com- 
menced a most solemn appeal to the assembly. He 
began with a recognition of that feeling in an audi- 
tory which leads them to treat a minister's exhorta- 
tions as if they were merely a discharge of profession- 
al duty, by one placed above them and having little 
sympathy with them. " I now put aside the minis- 
ter," said he ; "I come down among you ; place my- 
self on a visible equality ; I address you as a fellow-* 
man, a friend, a brother, and fellow-traveler to the bar 
of God ; as one equally interested with yourselves in 
the truths which I have been declaring." He then 
gave vent to the struggling emotions, of his heart in 
a strain of affectionate entreaty, expressing the most 
anxious desires for their salvation. In conclusion, he 
referred them to the common practice, Avhen men 
have any great object to accomplish, of assembling to- 
gether and adopting resolutions expressive of their 
convictions and purposes ; and he wished his hearers 
to follow him in a series which he was about to pro- 
pose ; and to adopt them, not by any visible act or ex- 
pression, but mentally, if they thought them of suffi- 
cient importance, and could do it sincerely. One 
resolution expressed a conviction of the truth of the 
Bibie ; another, of criminal indiiferenc'e to its momen 
tous disclosures; another acknowledged the claims 



448 MEMOIR or 

of Jehovah; another, the paramount importance oi 
attention to the concerns of the soul ; and another, 
the purpose to seek its salvation v^ithout delay. 
Though his withered arm hung helpless by his side, 
yet he seemed " instinct with life;" and every suc- 
cessive resolution was rendered emphatic by a gesture 
of the left. 

In all his public ministrations during this period, 
when his body was sinking towards the grave, there 
was a singular adaptedness of truth to existing circum- 
stances. The subjects upon which he expatiated were 
n unison with his condition as a servant of God ri- 
pening fast for heaven. There was much of the nature 
of testimony for God. He omitted no opportunity 
public or private, to maintain the honor and perfec- 
tions of Him whose ambassador he was. He could 
scarcely utter a word without rendering it obvious to 
all who heard him, that God was higher in his esteem 
than any, than all created beings. One illustration of 
this statement was afforded by a sermon ^which he 
preached as late as the last Sabbath in April, from 2 
Samuel, 18 : 3 — " Thou art worth ten thousand oj 
us?^ Parts of this sermon are reported from recollec- 
tion by his eldest daughter, who has been the most 
successful — where all fail — in retaining his characte- 
ristic expressions. 

The text, which was addressed to David by his sub- 
jects. Dr. Payson applied to Jehovah, and illustrated 
its truth in this application by a variety of methods, 
showing that God is worth ten thousand times ten 
thousand of human beings ; yea, worth more than alJ 
he creatures that ever have been, and all that «ver 
will be creat^'.d: 



, KDVVARD PAY SON. 445 

*' Suppose you take the capacity for iiappiness, 
which has been said by philosophers to be the only 
true standard of perfection : — if the happiness which 
Godenjoys were divided into portions, each of which 
would be sufficient to fill an archangel to overflowing, 
there would be an infinite number of those portions. 
God's happiness is not merely a fountain, but an ocean 
without bottom or shore. And this should be a never- 
failing source of consolation to ihe Christian, when 
he reflects on all the misery in the world, that still 
happiness predominates ; for God is infinitely — infi- 
nitely happy. 

" The man who should go round the universe — sup- 
pose, if you will, that each of the numerous millions 
of stars known to astronomers is the centre of a sys- 
tem, and that each of these innumerable worlds is as 
populous as our own ; yet the man who should, at one 
fell stroke, fill all these countless myriads of beings to 
the very brim with wretchedness, would do infinitely 
less mischief than he who should, if that were possi- 
ble, destroy the happiness of Jehovah. In the first 
instance, it would be but poisoning the streams ; in 
the latter, the fountain itself would be turned into bit- 
terness. * * * 

" Thus v\re have proved that God is worth infinitely 
more than all his creatures. But, instead of acknow- 
ledging and feeling this, men practically exalt them- 
selves ten thousand times above God. They think ten 
thousand times as much of themselves as of God ; an 
\njury done to themselves aflects them ten thousand 
times as much as one done to God ; and Jehovah sees 
himself cast down — down^ — down from his throne, to 
make room for little insignificant worms of the dust, 

Paysou. 29 



450 MEMOIR OF 

And wliat can be worse than this ! Men talk about 
degrees of wickedness, because some have broken the 
laws of their country and others have not; but this 
undervaluing and degrading their Maker is what all 
have done , and it is not possible to go farther m 
wickedness. Yes ; this is what I have done — and 1 
desire to make the confession with shame. I have 
done this ; and you have done this, my hearers. In 
the presence of this much insulted God, I must charge 
it upon you. And I tell you, my hearers, if you do 
not repent of this conduct God will be obliged to put 
you down — d*lfwn — down, as low as you have degrad- 
ed him. If he should not do this ; if, out of false pity 
to one individual, he should pardon you without re- 
pentance; that instant all the songs of heaven would 
stop, and all the happiness of the universe would be 
dried up. Heaven, the habitation of God's glory, 
where myriads of celestial intelligences are contem- 
plating his infinite perfections, would become, from a 
place ot perfect and unmingled happiness, a scene of 
unutterable, inconceivable misery. 'Jehovah is no 
longer worthy to be trusted ! Jehovah is no longer 
worthy to be trusted !' would be the universal and 
pathetic exclamation. ' We thought there was one 
Being, and only one, on whom we might depend ; but 
even He has failed ; and where now shall we look for 
perfection!' But, blessed be God! these dreadful 
imaginings can never be realized, for Jehovah will 
never change,^^ 

In this connection we shall introduce a paragraph 
communicated by a ministering brother, who occupied 
his pulpit on the day in which the interview mev 
tioned took place : 



EDWARD PAY SON. 451 

'•'As an instance of his strong fancy^ and of the 
uses to which he applied it, I will mention, that on 
the last Sabbath in which, with great difficulty, he 
entered the house of God, he said to me— 'I find in 
my illness that the power of imagination is unweak 
ened, and that it is very easy for me to wander into 
the regions of fancy. On the subject of the wisdom 
of God in the direction of mysterious events, and oui 
duty of submission and faith, it has occurred to me 
recently, that our conceptions might be assisted by 
imagining God to take a human form, answering — if 
it were possible — to his infinite nature. What would 
be its dimensions ? The angel in the book of Revela- 
tion is represented as standing with one foot on the 
sea and the other on the land, and lifting up his hand 
to heaven. But were God in a form such as I have 
supposed, one foot would be on the remotest star in 
one direction of infinite space, and the other foot on 
che remotest star in the opposite direction of the un^ 
bounded expanse : — and should we propose to climb 
from his feet to the glories of his face — if we had the 
speed of light, and had been traveling from the crea 
tion of the world, we should have made little progress 
in our journey. And shall we then presumptuously 
judge of the ways of this God, and imagine that we 
could manage earthly things more wisely than he ? 
Shall we have any doubts as to his unfailing wisdom, 
and perfect rectitude, and infinite goodness V I have 
not been able to give you his words, but I have given 
you his thoughts." 

Of the penetrating and all-absorbing effect of his 
last public ministrations, particularly at the commu- 
Dion table, some feeble conception may be formed 



Id2 MEMOIR OK 

from an extract furnished by a gentleman^ who^ foi 
twelve years, had been only an occasional attendant 
on his ministry. The first paragraph has no special 
reference to this period, but may properly De retained 
for the value of its testimony : 

"At the sacramental table especially did his mind 
appear to be absorbed in the contemplation of things 
unseen and eternal. To a candid observer it wrvs 
manifest, at such seasons, that his ^fellowship was 
with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ.' 1 
doubt not that I express the feelings of each membei 
of his church, when I say that often, on these occa- 
sions, he seemed to soar to the third heaven, and by 
those fervent and elevated effusions of thought with 
which he always accompanied his administration oi 
the ordinance, he literally carried the minds if not the 
hearts of his hearers wjth him. His influence in this re- 
spect is associated with my earliest recollections of Dr 
Payson. In one particular instance, which occurred 
during my boyhood, such was the absorbing influence 
Df his eloquence on my own mind ; arising, doubtless 
more from the attraction of his fervent zeal, and that 
creative fancy for which he was so remarkably dis- 
tinguished, than from any special regard on my own 
part, to the truths he uttered ; that from the com- 
mencement of the public services of the afternoon to 
the close of the sacramental season which succeeded 
them, it seemed like a pleasing reverie ; and had all 
the effect of an ocular survey of every scene connect- 
ed with the humiliation and exaltation of the Savior. 
So strong was the mental impression receired, that 1 
can still distinctly recollect not only his text on that 
occasion — Rev. 4 : 3, latter clause — but also the hyrai; 



EDWARi^ PAYSON. 453 

with which the public services were introduced — H- 
25, B. 1, Wattsi He seemed to have taken his flight 
from one of the most elevated heights of meditation, 
and to soar in a climax of devotion and sublimity of 
thought, until faith changed the heavenly vision into "\ 
reality, and spread all the glories of redemption around 
the consecrated symbols of Christ's death. 

" I had the solemn pleasure, too, of being present at 
one of his last communion seasons with the church on 
earth. It v/as an affecting, a soul-cheering scene. Its 
interest wa« greatly enhanced by the nearness in 
which he seemed to stand to the communion of the 
church trmmphant. His body was so emaciated with 
long and acute suffering, that it was scarcely able to 
sustain the effort once more imposed upon it ; but his 
soul, raised above its perishing influence, and filled 
with a joyful tranquillity, seemed entirely regardless 
of the weakness of its mortal tenement. His right 
hand and arm were so palsied by disease as to be quitch 
useless, except that in the act of breaking the bread, 
when he could not well dispense with it, he placed it 
on the table with the other hand, just as you raise any 
lifeless weight, until it had performed the service re- 
quired of it. It seemed as if he was unwilling that 
even the withered hand should be found unemployed 
in the holy work. Truly, thought I, there must be a 
blessed reality in that religion which can thus make 
the soul tranquil and happy in the constant and rapid 
advances of decay and death ! 

" I have never known Dr. Payson when he seemed 
more abstracted from earth than on this occasion. It 
was, as he supposed, and as his church feared, theiT 
final interview at that table. In all the <zlowin^ fer. 



454 MEMOIR OF 

VOX of devotion, assisted by his ever-fertile imagma- 
tioiij he contemplated the Savior as visibly present in 
the midst of them ; and with his usual eloquence and 
closeness of appeal he seemed to make each commu- 
nicant feel that what he had imagined was a reality. 
There was a breathless silence ; and the solemnity oi 
the scene could hardly have been surpassed, if, as he 
expressed it, the Lord Jesus Christ were seen sitting 
before them, or addressing to each individual member 
the momentous inquiry, ' Lovest thou me V I can say 
for one, that the terrors of hypocrisy never swelled so 
fearful, and the realities of the judgment-seat never 
seemed nearer, than at that solemn hour. And I trust 
many were then enabled from the heart to pray, with 
the Psalmist, Search me, O God, &c. 

" From the occasional opportunities I have enjoyed 
of attending on Dr. Payson's administration of that 
ordinance, I can have no doubt that they were to him 
foretastes of that supper of the Lamb on whose more 
blessed celebration he so triumphantly entered. And 
it is an interesting, a momentous question — 

" Shall we, who sat with him below, 
Commune with him above ?" 

On the first of July he attended public worship 
and, after a sermon from his assistant, he rose and ad- 
dressed his people thus : 

" Ever since I became a minister, it has been my 
earnest wish that I might die of some disease which 
would allow me to preach a farewell sermon to my 
people ; but as it is not probable that I shall ever be 
able to do this, I will attempt to say a few words 
now; — it may be the last time that I shall ever ad* 



EDWARD PAYSON. 455 

dress you. This is not merely a presentiment. It is 
an opinion founded on facts, and maintained by phy- 
sicians acquainted with my case, that I shall never be- 
hold another spring. 

" And now, standing on the borders of the eternal 
world, I look back on my past ministry, and on the 
manner in which I have performed its duties ; and, O 
my hearers, if you have not performed your duties bet- 
ter than I have mine, wo ! wo ! be to you — unless you 
have an Advocate and Intercessor in heaven. We have 
lived together twenty years, and have spent more than 
a thousand Sabbaths together, and I have given you at 
leasttwo thousand warnings. I am now.going to ren- 
der an account how they were given, and you, my 
hearers, will soon have to render an account how they 
were received. One more warning I will give you. 
Once more your shepherd, who will be yours no long- 
er, entreats you to flee from the wrath to come. Oh, 
let me have the happiness of seeing my dear people at- 
tending to their eternal interests, that I may not have 
reason to say, I have labored in vam, I have spent my 
.strength for nought." 

At the communion table the same day he said — 
"Christians seem to expect that their views of 
Christ and love to him will increase without their 
using the proper means. They should select some 
S3ene in his life, and meditate long upon it, and strive 
to bring the circumstances before their minds, and im- 
agine how he thought and felt at the time. At first, 
all will appear confused and indistinct ; but let them 
continue to look steadily, and the mists will disap- 
pear, and their hearts will begin to burn with love 
to their Savior. At least one scene in Christ's life 



456 MEMOIR OF 

should be thus reviewed every day, if the Christiaii 
hopes to find his love to his Redeemer increase." 

His public labors were now nearly over ; but he was 
daily and hourly uttering something to rouse the care- 
less, or for the instruction, edification, and comfort of 
God's children. 

To his daughter, who expressed a wish that labor 
as certainly ensured success in spiritual as in temporal 
affairs, he said — " It does ; it is just as certain that 
prayers for spiritual blessings will be answered when- 
ever God sees best, as that the husbandman, who sows 
his seed with proper precaution, will reap. The only 
reason that our endeavors to obtain spiritual blessings 
are not oftener attended with success, is, they are not 
made in earnest. Never omit prayer, or any devotion- 
al exercise, when the stated season for it arrives, be- 
ca;use you feel indisposed to the duty." 

July 12, 13, 1827. On both these days Dr. Payson 
seemed a little revived. He had tried sailing around 
the harbor, and found it beneficial. On repeating the 
experiment, however, he discovered that though these 
water excursions were of service to his lungs, they in- 
creased the paralytic affection — if such it was — in his 
arm, and they were relinquished. 

July 22. Sabbath. To his daughter he said, " There 
is nothing in which young converts are more prone to 
err, than in laying too much stress upon their feelings. 
It they have a comfortable half hour in the morning it 
atones for a multitude of sins in the course of the day. 
Christ says, ' If ye love me, keep my commandments.' 
It would be well for us to pay more attention to our 
conduct, and prove the depth of our feelmg by oui 
obedience." He also advised her to observe some plan 



EDWARD TAYSON. 457 

gi'ith regard to reading on the Sabbath. In the morn 
ing lie recommended reading the Scriptures exclusive 
ly, and afterwards works intended to convey informa 
tion respecting religious subjects. 

July 29. He remarked to some new converts who 
called, that the most important direction he could giro 
them was, to spend much time in retired converse with 
the Scriptures, and with God. " If you wished to 
cherish the remembrance of an absent friend, you 
would read over his letters daily, meditate on his acts 
of kindness to you, and look at any tokens of affectior 
which he might have left you. 

" We are accustomed to suppose that God's feel- 
ings towards us vary according to our own ; that when 
we are in a lively spiritual frame of mind he regards 
^s with more complacency than at other times. This 
is not the case. The feelings with which God regards 
us do not fluctuate like ours." 

August 5. Sabbath. This day he entered the meet- 
mg-house for the last time ; and this month completes 
twenty years since he entered it the first time as a 
preacher — then, a trembling youth, now the spiritual 
father of many hundreds ; then just girded for the war- 
• are, now the veteran who had " fought the good fight," 
and was just going to resign his commission and re- 
ceive a crown of unfading glory. He made a great 
effort to go out, as there were twenty-one persons to 
be admitted to the church. He was supported into the 
house by his senior deacons ; and althougn ne merely 
read the covenant and remained during the adminis- 
tration of the sacrament, he was exceedingly overcome 
Most of the persons present were much ifTected^ and 



458 MEMOIR OF 

after the services many crowded around liim. to lake 
liis hand for the last time. 

August 8. He had a violent nervous head-ache ; ana 
was much interrupted in speaking by a difficulty of 
breathing ; but said in a cheerful voice to some of his 
church who were in — " I want you always to believe 
that God is faithful. However dark and mysterious 
any of his dispensations may appear, still confide in 
him. He can make you happy when every thing else 
is taken from you." 

August 13. He received from a society of young 
men in his congregation, who were associated for reli- 
gious improvement, a letter, in which they generously 
offered to give his son a liberal education. The follow- 
ing is his answer: 

" To the Society for Religious hnjprovement. 
'* Beloved Brethren, 

" No act of kindness which it was in the power of 
man to show could have been more soothing to my 
anxieties as a dying parent, or more grateful to a dy- 
ing minister, than your unexpected and most generous 
offer to furnish the means of a liberal education to my 
oldest son. 

" Most fervently do I thank you for making this 
offer, and the Author of all good for inducing you to 
do it. To see him thus already beginning to take care 
of a family which I must soon leave, is a great en- 
couragement 10 my faith that he will continue to take 
care of them after I am gone. 

"If it is any satisfaction to you to know that you 
have assisted to smooth your pastor's dying pillow 
and shed li^'ht on his last hours, you may feel that sa- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 459 

tisfactioii m a very high degree. With most earnesi 
prayers that God would reward you abundantly for 
tills kind offer, I have concluded to accept it, provided 
that my son, when he shall have attained the age oi 
sixteen, shall be found to possess such a character as 
will justify a hope that he will make a good use of the 
advantages with which you generously furnish him 
And now, brethren, farewell." 

During this month his "wreck of being" was fur- 
ther shattered by a spasmodic cough, which at times 
threatened absolute strangulation. 
. Sept. 4. He said to his wife and daughter — " I do 
not think you are sufficiently thankful for my conso- 
lations, or realize how wonderful it is that. I am thus 
supported. Owing, to my natural activity, and un- 
willingness to be dependent on others for the supply 
of my wants, these trials are exactly those which are 
most calculated to make me miserable. But God can 
sweeten the bitterest cup." 

He afterwards said, with emotions which would 
hardly allow him to speak, — " Oh, my daughter, how 
you will regret, when you come to see how good God 
IS, that you did not serve him better. Oh ! he is so 
good, so good." 

Sept, 9. During the preceding week he had rode 
out several times, being carried down stairs and lift- 
ed into the chaise. For a few days he thought him- 
self better ; but these favorable appearances were of 
short duration. He remarked that sometimes, in or- 
der to try his people's faith, God gives them a pros- 
pect that an affliction is about to be removed, and 
then permits it to return again. He compared his 
present case to that of a man, who, after having beeui 



460 MEMOIR OF 

a long time confined in prison, finds his door open one 
Tiorning; but, on attempting to leave it, the door is 
suddenly closed with such violence as to throw him 
prostrate on the floor. 

He was asked on this day by some of his friends, 
if he could see any particular reason for this dispen- 
sation. "No," replied he; "but I am as well satis- 
fied as if I could see ten thousand. God's will is the 
very perfection of all reason." 

In answer to the question by a lady from B. Are you 
better than you were? he replied, "Not in body, bul 
in mind. If my happiness continues to increase, !• 
cannot support it much longer." On being asked, 
Are your views of heaven clearer and brighter than 
ever before ? he said — " Why, for a few moments, I 
may have had as bright ; but formerly my joys were 
tumultuous ; now all is calm and peaceful." He was 
asked, " In your anticipations of heaven, do you think 
of meeting departed friends ?" After a moment's re- 
flection he said, with a most expressive countenance. 
" If I meet Christ, 'tis no matter whether I see others 
or not — though I shall want some to help me praise 
him." He doubtless had an opinion on this subject, 
but he remembered Christ's answer to the question, 
" Are there few that be saved ?" 

" God deals strangely with his creatures to promote 
their happiness. Who would have thought that 1 
must be reduced to this state, helpless and crippled, 
to experience the highest enjoyment !" 

" You ought to feel happy, all ought to feel happy 
wno come here, for they are within a few steps oi 
heaven." During the course of this conversation he 
repeated this verse, " Thy sun shall no more go down 



EDWARD PAYSON. 401 

neither shall thy moon Avithdraw itself; for the Lord 
shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy 
mourning shall be ended." Turning to a young lady 
present, he said, " Do you not think this is worth tra- 
veling over many high hills and difficult places to ob- 
tain ?" " Give my love to my friends in Boston; tell 
them all I ever said in praise of God or religion falls 
mfinitely below the truth." 

" Dr. Clarke in his travels, speaking of the compa- 
nies that were traveling from the East to Jerusalem, 
represents the procession as being very long ; and, af- 
ter climbing over the extended and heavy ranges oi 
hills that bounded the way, some of the foremost at 
length reached the top of the last hill, and, stretching 
up their hands in gestures of joy, cried out, ' The 
Holy City ! the Holy City !' — and fell down and wcr 
shiped ; while those who were behind pressed for 
ward to see. So the dying Christian, when he gets 
on the last summit of life, and stretches his vision to 
catch a glimpse of the heavenly city, may cry out of 
Its glories, and incite those who are behind to press 
forward to the sight." 

To a clergyman — " Oh, if ministers only saw the 
mconceivable glory that is before them, and the pre- 
ciousness of Christ, they would not be able to refrain 
from going about leaping and clapping their hands for 
joy, and exclaiming, I'm a minister of Christ ! I'm a 
minister of Christ 1" 

" When I read Bunyan's description of the land of 
Beulah, where the sun shines and the birds sing day 
and night, I used to doubt whether there was such a 
place ; but now my own experience has convinced me 



462 MEMOIR 9F 

of it, and it infinitely transcends all my previous con 
ceptions.' 

" I think the happiness I enjoy is similar to that en- 
joyed by glorified spirits before the resurrection." 

Sept, 16. 8abbath. He awaked exclaiming, " I am 
going to mount Zion, to the city of the living God, to 
the heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable company 
of angels, to the general assembly and church of the 
first-born, and to God the Judge of all." 

During the night of September 17th he was seized 
with spasms, which it seemed must separate soul and 
Dody. It was not thought by his physician that he 
could survive a second attack ; but his hold on life re- 
mained, though the spasms continued to return every 
succeeding night with more or less violence. Every 
new attack seemed, however, to strengthen the ener 
gies of his mind. No better evidence of this can be 
desired, than is Exhibited in a letter which he dictates 
to his sister : 

" September 19, 1827. 
' Dear Sister, 

' Were I to adopt the figurative language of Bun 
yan, I might date this letter from the land of Beulah, 
of which I have been for some weeks a happy inhabi- 
tant. The celestial city is full in my view. Its glories 
beam upon me, its breezes fan me, its odors are wafted 
to me, its sounds strike upon my ears, and its spirit 
is breathed into my heart. Nothing separates me from 
it but the river of death, which now appears but as an 
insignificant rill, that may be crossed at a single step, 
whenever God shall give permission. The Sun oi 
Righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer and 
nearer, appearing larger and brighter as he approached 



EDWARD PAY30N. 413S 

and now he fills the whole hemisphere ; pouring forth. 
a flood of glory, in which I seem to float like an insect 
m the beams of the sun ; exulting, yet almost trem- 
bling while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and 
wondering, with unutterable wonder, why God should 
deign thus to shine upon a sinful worm. A single 
heart and a single tongue seem altogether inadequate 
to my wants : I want a whole heart for every separate 
emotion, and a whole tongue to express that emotion. 

" But why do I speak thus of myself and my feel- 
ings ? why not speak only of our God and Redeemer? 
It is because I know not what to say. When I would 
speak of them my words are all swallowed up. I can 
only tell you what eflects their presence produces, 
and even of these I can tell you but very little. O, my 
sister ! my sister ! could you but know what awaits 
the Christian; could you know only so much as I 
know, you could not refrain from rejoicing, and even 
leaping for joy. Labors, trials, troubles would be no- 
thing : you would rejoice in afflictions and glory in 
tribulations; and, like Paul and Silas, sing God's 
praises in the darkest night and in the deepest dun- 
geon. You have known a little of my trials and con- 
flicts, and know that they have been neither few nor 
small ; and I hope this glorious termination of them will 
serve to strengthen your faith and elevate your hope. 

" And now, my dear, dear sister, farewell. Hold on 
your Christian course but a few days longer, and you 
will meet in heaven, 

" Your happy and affectionate brother, 

"Edward Payson." 

The next day he sent for the editor of a religious 



i64 MEMOIR OP 

journal and expressed his wishes in regard to the dis- 
position which should be made of a certain class Ot 
effusions which his exit would probably call forth 
adding, '' I make this request about as much for youf 
sake as my own." He had then survived three or four 
of these dreadful nocturnal attacks, but observed that 
He could not calculate upon surviving another. In 
answer to the question, why he was thus affected in 
the night rather than the day — he proceeded with as 
much readiness as if it had been the study of his life, 
to give a philosophical account of the change which 
takes place in the body, in its transit from a state ol 
wakefulness to that of sleep. " Then," said he, " thai 
is as soon as the will resigns its power over the mus- 
cles and organs of the body — then my diseases com- 
mence their gambols." 

To his daughter, who was obliged to defer a con- 
templated undertaking by an approaching storm, he 
turned and said with a smile — " I suppose you feel 
as if the equinox ought to be deferred on account of 
your school." 

Sej)L 21. " O what a blessed thing it is to lose 
one's will ! Since I have lost my will I have found 
happiness. There can be no such thing as disappoint- 
ment to me, for I have no desires but that God's will 
may be accomplished. 

" I have been all my life like a child whose father 
wishes to fix his undivided attention. At first, the child 
runs about the room — but his father ties up his feet ; 
he then plays with his hands, until they likewise are 
tied. Thus he continues to do, till he is completely 
tied up ; then, when he can do nothing else, he will 
attend to his father Just so God has been dealing wb.i 



EDWARD PAYSON. 465 

me, to induce me to place my happiness in him alone. 
But I blindly continued to look for it here ; and God 
has kept cutting off one source of enjoyment after ano- 
ther, till I find that I can do without them all, and yet 
enjoy more happiness than ever in my life before. 

" It sounds so flat, when people tell me that it is 
just for God to afflict me, as if justice did not require 
infinitely more." 

He was asked, "Do you feel reconciled?"— "O ! 
that is too cold. I rejoice, I triumph ! and this happi- 
ness will endure as long as God himself, for it con- 
sists in admiring and adoring him." 

" I can find no words to express my happiness. I 
seem to be swimming in a river of pleasure, which is 
carrying me on to the great fountain." 

Sabbath morning, Sept. 23d, he said, — " Last night 
[ had a full, clear view of Death as the king of terrors ; 
how he comes and crowds the poor sinner to the very 
verge of the precipice of destruction, and then pushes 
hum down headlong ! But I felt that I had nothing to 
do with this ; and I loved to sit like an infant at the 
feet of Christ, who saved me from this fate. I felt that 
death was disarmed of all its terrors ; all he could do 
would be to touch me, and let my soul loose to go tc 
my Savior. 

" Christians are like-passengers setting out together 
in a ship for some distant country. Very frequently 
me drops overboard ; but his companions know that 
Ke has only gone a shorter way to the same port ; and 
that when they arrive there they shall find him ; so 
wnat all they lose is his company during the rest of 
the voyage.'^ 

" I long to la^asure out a full cup of happiness to 



4G6 MEMOIR Of 

every^ body, but Christ wisely keeps that prerogative 
n his own hands.'- 

" It seems as if all the bottles of heaven were opened; 
and all its fullness and happiness, and, I trust, no smal? 
portion of its benevolence, is come down into my 
heart." 

" I am more and more convinced that the happinesa 
of heaven is a benevolent happiness. In proportion as 
my joy has increased I have been filled with intense 
love to all creatures, and a strong desire that they 
might partake of my happiness." 

Sept. 26. In answer to some complaints of one oi 
the family he said — " Perhaps there is nothing more 
trying to the faith and patience of Christians, or which 
appears to them more mysterious, than the small sup • 
plies of grace which they receive, and the delays which 
they meet with in having their prayers answered; so 
that they are sometimes ready to say. It is in vain to 
wait upon the Lord any longer." He then mentioned 
the text, " ^ Wherefore gird up the loins of your minds, 
be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to 
be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.^ 
A large portion of the grace which Christians are to 
receive will be given to them at the second coming of 
Christ, or immediately after death ; and this will al- 
ways be in proportion to their prayers and exertions 
here. Christians need not, therefore, be discouraged at 
the slow progress they make, and the little success 
wmch attends their efforts ; for they may be assured 
that every exertion is noticed," and will be rewarded, 
by their heavenly Father." 

To a young convert he said—" You will have to go 
through many conflicts and trials ; you must he put 



ED WARD PAY SON. 407 

in the furnace, and tempted, and tried, m order to shou' 
5^ou what is in your heart. Sometimes it will seem a^ 
if Satan had you in his power, and that the more you 
struggle and pray against sin, the more it prevails 
against you. But when you are thus tried and despond- 
ing, remember me ; I have gone through all this, and 
now you see the end." 

To another — " You recollect the story of David res- 
cuing the lamb from the lion and the bear. David loved 
the lamb before he rescued it from danger ; but he loved 
it more afterwards. So Christ loves all his creatures ; 
but he loves them more after he has taken them into 
his fold, and owned them as the purchase of his pre- 
cious blood." 

" Christians might avoid much trouble and incon- 
venience, if they would only believe what they pro- 
fess — that God is able to make them happy without 
any thing else. They imagine that if such a dear 
firiend were to die, or such and such blessings to be 
removed, they should be miserable ; whereas God can 
make them a thousand times happier without them. 
To mention my own case — God has been depriving 
me of one blessing after another ; but, as every one 
was removed, he has come in and filled up its place ; 
and now, when I am a cripple, and not able to move, 
I am happier than ever I was in my life before, or 
ever expected to be ; and if I had believed this twenty 
years ago, I might have been spared much anxiety.^^ 

" If God had told me some time ago that he was 

about to make me as happy as I could be in this 

world, and then had told me that he should begin by 

crippling me in all my limbs, and removing me from 

''all my usual sources of enjoyment ; I should ha¥@ 



lOy MEMOIR OF 

thought It i very strange mode of accomplishing ins 
purpose. And yet, how is his wisdom manifest even 
in this ! for if you should see a man shut up in a close 
room, idolizing a set of lamps and rejoicing in theii 
lig]it, and you wished to make him truly happy, you 
would begin by blowing out all his lamps ; and then 
throw open the shutters to let in the light of heaven." 

" Suppose a son is walking with his father, in whos« 
wisdom he places the most entire confidence. He fol- 
lows wherever his father leads, though it may be 
through thorns and briers, cheerfully and contentedly. 
Another son, we will suppose, distrusts his father's 
wisdom and love, and, when the path is rough or un- 
even, begins to murmur and repine, wishing that he 
might be allowed to choose his own path ; and though 
he is obliged to follow, it is with great reluctance and 
discontent. Now, the reason that Christians in gene- 
ral do not enjoy more of God's presence is, that they 
are not willing to walk in his path when it crosses" 
their own inclinations. But we shall never be happy 
until we acquiesce with perfect cheerfulness in all hb 
decisions, and follow wherever he leads, without a 
murmur." 

After it had become certain that he would never 
again leave his chamber till he was carried out, yet, 
being unceasingly desirous to benefit his people, he 
sent a request, which was announced from the pulpit, 
that they would repair to his chamber. Once, it is 
believed, they came indiscriminately ; at other times 
in specified classes, including as many as the cham- 
ber could contain. When he had addressed to them 
collectively his last most solemn and affectionate 
• ;iounsel, till compelled to desist by the failure of his ' 



EDWARD PAYSON.^ 469 

Strength, he took them individually by the hand, and, 
with a heavenly smile, bade them farewell I 

To the members of his congregation he spoke near- 
ly as follows : 

" It has often been remarked that people who have 
been into the other world cannot come back to tell us 
what they have seen ; but I am so near the eternal 
world th^t I can see almost as clearly as if I were 
there ; and I see enough to satisfy myself at least of 
the truth of the doctrines which I have preached. I do 
not know that I should feel at all surer had I been 
really there. 

" It is always interesting to see otliers in a situation 
in which we know that we must shortly be placed our- 
selves ; and we all know that we must die. And to 
see a poor creaiure when, after an alternation of hopes? 
and fears, he finds that his disease is mortal, and death 
comes to tear him away from every thing he loves, 
and crowds, and crowds him to the very verge of the 
precipice of destruction, and then thrusts him down 
headlong ! There he is, cast into an unknown world ; 
no friend, no Savior to receive him ! 

'' O how different is this from the state of a man 
who is prepared to die ! He is not obliged to be 
crowded reluctantly along; but the other world comes 
like a great magnet to draw him away from this ; and 
he knows that he is going to enjoy — and not only 
knows but begins to taste it — perfect happiness ; foi 
ever and ever; for ever and ever! ***** 

" And now God is in this room ; I see him ! and O 
how unspeakably lovely and glorious does he appear ! 
worthy of ten thousand thousand hearts, if we had 
.hem. He is here, and hears me pleading with the 



470 'memoir of 

creatures that he has made, whom he preserves and 
loads with blessings, to love him. And O how terri- 
ble does it appear to me to sin against this God ; to 
set up our wills in opposition to his ; and when we 
awake m the morning, instead of thinking, ^Whal 
shall 1 do to please my God to-day?' to inquire, 
'What shall I do to please myself to-day V " After a 
short pause he continued, "It makes my blood run 
cold to think how inexpressibly miserable I should now 
be without religion. To lie here and see myself tot- 
termg on the verge of destruction! — O, I should be 
distracted ! And when I see my fellow-creatures lia- 
ble every moment to be reduced to this situation, I am 
in an agony for them that they may escape their dan- 
ger before it be too late. When people repent they 
begin to see God's infinite perfections, how amiable 
and glorious he is, and the heart relents and mourns 
that it has treated him so ungratefully. 

" Suppose we should hear the sound of a man's voice 
pleading earnestly with some one, but could not dis- 
tinguish the words ; and we should inquire, ' What is 
that man pleading for so earnestly V ^ O, he is only 
pleading with a fellow-creature to love his God, his 
Savior, his Preserver and Benefactor. He is only plead- 
ing with him not to throw away his immortal soul, not 
to pull down everlasting wretchedness upon his own 
head. He is only persuading him to avoid eternal mi- 
sery, and to accept eternal happiness.' ' Is it possible, 
we should exclaim, ' that any persuasion can be ne- 
cessary for this V and yet it is necessary. O my friends, 
do, do love this glorious Being — do seek for the salva- 
tion of your immortal souls. Hear the voice of youi 
dying minister, while he entreats you to care for yom 
souls. " 



EDWARD PAYSON. 471 

He afterwards said — " I am always sorry when 1 
say any thing to any one who comes in ; it seems so 
inadequate to what I wish to express. The words sink 
ight down under the weight of the meaning I wish to 
convey." 

On another occasion — " I fi^d no satisfaction in look- 
.ng at any thing I have done ; I want to leave all this 
behind — it is nothing — and fly to Christ to be clothed 
m his righteousness." 

Again — " I have done nothing myself. I have not 
fought, but Christ has fought for me ; I have not run, 
out Christ has carried me ; I have not worked, but 
Christ has wrought in me — Christ has done all." 

The perfections of God were to him a well-spring 
of joy, and the promises were " breasts of consola- 
tion," whence his soul drew its comfort and its ali- 
ment. " O !" exclaimed he, " the loving-kindness of 
God — his loving-kindness ! This afternoon, while I 
was meditating on it. the Lord seemed to pass by, and 
proclaim himself ' The Lord, the Lord God, merciful 
and gracious !' O bow gracious ! Try to conceive of 
that, his loving-kindness y as if it were not enough to 
say kindness, but — loving kindness. What must be the 
ioving kindness of God,* who is himself infinite love!* 

" It seemed this afternoon as if Christ said to me, 
"You have often wondered and been impatient at the 
way by which I have led you; but what do you think 
of it now?' And I was cut to the heart when I looked 
back and saw the wisdom and goodness by which 1 
fiad been guided, that I could ever for a moment dis- 
trust his love." 

A clergyman from another state, who visited Dr 
P^yson about this stage of his illness, gave the follow- 



472 MEMOIR OF 

ing account of the interview in a letter to a friend ' 
" His eye beams with the same animation as ever. 
The muscles of his face are unaffected by that which 
has spread all but death throughout the other parts of 
nis system. When I entered the chamberj addressing 
me with a smile, he said, ' I have no hand to welcome 
you with, but I am glad to see you.' I observed to him 
that I was reluctant to lay any tax upon him in his 
present weak state, but had felt desirous to see him a 
moment. He replied that he did not feel parsimonious 
of the poor remains of strength he had left : he had got 
so near through, that it was not worth while to be so- 
licitous about saving for future time. He conversed in 
a low, audible voice, and in the same strain of pointed, 
pithy remark as when in health. He observed that 
the point in which he believed ministers generally 
failed most, and in which he had certainly failed most, 
was in doing duty professionally, and not from the 
heart. I could not but say to him that probably his 
practice had been marked with less of this error than 
that of most others. He seemed pained with the thought 
that any should be more deficient than he had been : 
* O, I hope it is not so ! I hope it is not so !' Referring 
to the peace which the Gospef afforded him under his 
trials, he said, ' I have never half valued as I ought the 
doctrines which I have preached. The system is grcaJ 
and glorious, and is worthy of our utmost efforts tc 
promote it. The interests depending will justify us in 
our strongest measures. In every respect we niay em- 
bark our all upon it ; it will sustain us.' 

" Speaking of the temper requisite to the right dis- 
sharge of ministerial duty, he said, ^ I never was fit to 
•.ay a word to a sinner, except when T had a brokeir 



edwaul payson 473 

neart myself; when I was subdued and melted into 
oenitence, and felt as though I had just received par- 
don to my own soul, and when my heart was full of 
tenderness and pity — no anger, no anger.' He express- 
ed himself with great earnestness respecting the grace 
of God as exercised in saving lost men, and seemed 
particularly affected that it should be bestowed on one 
so ill deserving as himself. ' O how sovereign ! O how 
sovereign ! Grace is the only thing that can make us 
like God. I might be dragged through heaven, earth 
and hell, and I should be still the same sinful, polluted 
wretch, unless God himself should renew and cleanse 
me.' He inquired whether I could preach to his people 
on the morrow. Being told that I was not well, he re- 
plied, ^ Then do not preach ; I have too often preached 
when I was not able.' 

" On taking leave I expressed a hope that he might 
continue to enjoy the presence of God, and receive 
even increasing peace, if he could bear it. ^O !' said 
he, ' when we meet in heaven we shall see how little 
we know about it.' His whole manner and appear- 
ance is that of a man who has drunk into the spirit of 
heaven far more deeply than those around him." 

October 7. In conversation with his eldest daugh- 
ter, on being asked whether self-examination was not 
a very difficult duty for young Christians to perform, 
he replied, " Yes ; and ^or old ones too, because it is 
displeasing to the pride of the heart, because wander- 
ing thoughts are then most apt to intrude, and because 
of the deceitfulness of the heart. When a Christian 
first begms to look into his heart, he sees nothing but 
confusion ; a heap of sins and a very little good mix- 
?d up together ; and he knows not how to separatt 



474 MEMOIR OF 

them, or how to begin sell-examination. But let him 
persevere in his efforts, and soon order will arise ou 
of confusion." She mentioned to him a passage in 
the life of Mr. Alleine, which led him to say, " We 
never confess any faults that we consider really dis- 
graceful. We complain of our h*ardness of heart, stu- 
pidity, &c. but we never confess envy, or covetous 
ness, or revenge, or any thing that we suppose will 
lower us in the opinion of others ; and this proves that 
we do not feel ashamed of coldness or stupidity. In 
short, when young Christians make confessions, un 
less there is an obvious call for them, it usually pro- 
ceeds from one of these three motives ; either they 
wish to be thought very humble, and to possess great 
knowledge of their own hearts ; or they think it is a 
fault which the other has perceived, and are willing to 
have the credit of having discovered and striven against 
it ; or they confess some fault, from which they are 
remarkably free, in order to elicit a compliment. 

" There are no two feelings apparently more unlike 
than mortified pride and gratified pride ; yet they are, 
m reality, very similar ; and we are indulging one ol 
these feelings almost constantly. When God permits 
every thing to go on very smoothly, and grants us 
some comforts, our pride is gratified ; we are pleased 
with ourselves, with God — and call the feeling grati- 
tude—and with those around us ; we can be very plea- 
sant and obliging. But let this state of things be re- 
versed ; let our corruptions be suffered to break loose, 
and trials and conflicts to assail us — then our pride is 
mortified ; we begin to fret and repine, and say that 
ail our endeavors are useless. You cannot yet con- 
ceive how very small a portion of grace 'we have; so 



EDWARD PAYSON. 



475 



that, if we doubt whether matter is infinitely divisible, 
we can hardly doubt that grace is so." 

"With regard to self-examination, we should al- 
ways have, as it were, our eye turned iuAvard, to watch 
our motives and feelings. We should also, at night, 
review the conduct of the day ; and it would aid you 
to do this, if you made an .abstract of the duties you 
owe to God and to your fellow-creatures in the seve- 
ral relations of life, and also of your besettmg sins. 
But the most important direction I can give you is, to 
look to Christ; for while we are contemplating his 
perfections we insensibly imbibe his Spirit." 

Notwithstanding his deep seriousness, there was 
occasionally a pleasantry in his manner of expressing 
himself which would excite an involuntary smile: 
" What contrary and unreasonable creatures we are ' 
The more God does for us the less we thank him. 
Here" I am, stripped of more than half my blessings, 
as Ave ordinarily estimate them, and yet I never felt 
half so grateful to God before. We are just like the 
harlequin when hired to mourn, of whom his em- 
ployer said, ' The better I pay him the more he won't 
grieve.' " 

A gray-headed member of his church, who is usu- 
ally very abrupt in his address, but generally very 
scriptural, entered his chamber one day with the salu- 
tation — " Watchman, what of the night ?" — " I should 
think it was about noon-day," was the answer. 

On Sabbath-day, Oct. 7, it was the privilege of the 
young men of the congregation to assemble, at his re- 
quest, in his chamber, when he addressed them in sub- 
stance as follows : 

My young fri ?nds, you will all one day be obliged 



476 MEMOIR i)v' 

to embark on the same voyage on which 1 am just 
embarking ; and as it has been my especial employ- 
ment, dm'ing my past life, to recommend to you a Pi- 
lot to guide you through this voyage, 1 wished to tell 
you what a precious Pilot he is, that you may be in- 
duced to choose him for yours. I felt desirous thai 
you might see that the religion I have preached caD 
support me in death. You know that I have many 
ties which bind me to earth — a family to whom I am 
strongly attached, and a people whom I love almost 
as well — but the other world acts like a much stronger 
magnet, and draws my heart away from this. Death 
comes every night and stands by my bedside m the 
. form of terrible convulsions, every one of which threat- 
ens to separate the soul from the body. These conti- 
nue to grow worse and worse, until every bone is al- 
most dislocated with pain, leaving me with the cer- 
tainty that I shall have it all to endure again the next 
night. Yet, while my body is thus tortured, the soul 
is perfectly, perfectly happy and peaceful — more hap- 
py than I can possibly express to you. I lie here and 
feel these convulsions extending higher and higher , 
but my soul is filled with joy unspeakable. I seem to 
swim in a flood of glory which God pours down upon 
me. And I know, I know that my happiness is but be- 
gun , I cannot doubt that it will last for ever. And 
now, is this all a delusion? Is it a delusion which 
can fill the soul to overflowing, with joy in such cir- 
cumstances ? If so, it is surely a delusion better than 
any reality. But no, it is not a delusion ; I feel that 
it i^" not. I do not merely know that I sJiall enjoy all 
.his — / enjoy it now, 

" My young friends — were I master of the whole 



EDWARD PAYSON. 477 

world, what could it do for me like this ? Were all its 
wealth at my feetj and all its inhabitants striving to 
make me happy, what could they do for me 7 Nothing 1 
nothing ! Now, all this happiness I trace back to the 
religion which I have preached, and to the time when 
that great change took place in my heart, which I have 
often told you is necessary to salvation ; and I now 
tell you agam, that without this change you cannot, 
no, you cannot see the kingdom of God. 

" And now, standing as I do on the ridge which se- 
parates the two worlds, feeling what intense happiness 
or misery the soul is capable of sustaining ; judging 
of your capacities by my own, and believing that those 
capacities will be filled to the very brim with joy or 
wretchedness for ever; can it be wondered at that my 
heart yearns over you, my children, that you may 
choose life and not death ? Is it to be wondered at 
chat I long to present every one of you with a cup of 
happiness and see you drink it ; that I long to have 
you make the same choice which I made, and from 
which springs all my happiness ? 

" A young man just about lo leave this world ex- 
claimed, ' The battle's fought ! the battle's fought ! the 
battle's fought ! but the victory is lost for ever !' But 
I can say. The battle's fought and the victory is won! 
the victory is won, for ever ! I am going to bathe in 
an ocean of purity, and benevolence, and happiness, 
to all eternity. And now, my children, let me bless 
you ; not with the blessing of a poor, feeble, dying 
man, but with the blessing of the infinite God. The 
grace of God, and the love of Christ, and the commu- 
nion of the Holy Ghost, be with all, and each one ol 
you, for ever and ever : Amen." 



478 MEMOIR OF 

Having delivered his dying messages to all classes 
among his own flock, he commissioned a ministering 
brother to bear one to the Association of Ministers 
who were to meet in a few days. The purport of it 
was — " a hearty assurance of the ardent love with 
which he remembered them even in death 5 an exhor- 
tation to love one another with a pure heart fervently 5 
to love their work, to be diligent in it, to expect suc- 
cess, to bear up under their discouragements, be faith- 
ful unto death, and look for their reward in heaven." 
I rejoice, said the brother, rejoice more than I can ex 
press, to be the bearer of such a message ; for you, 
perhaps, are aware that many of your brethren have 
thought you distant and reserved, and as having die 
rished too little of a fellow-feeling towards them. " I 
know it," said he ; " but my apparent reserve was not 
owing to any want of affection for them, but to a very 
different cause : I have been all my days like a soldier 
in the fore-front of the hottest battle, so intent in fight 
ing for my own life, that / could not see who was fall- 
ing around me." 

While speaking of the rapturous views he had ol 
the heavenly world, he was asked if it did not seem 
almost like the clear light of vision, rather than that 
of faith. " Oh !" he replied, " I don't know — it is too 
much for the poor eyes of my soul to bear ! — they are 
almost blinded with the excessive brightness. All I 
want is to be a mirror, to reflect some of those rays to 
those around me." 

" My soul, instead of growing weaker and more 
languishing, as my body does, seems to be encmed 
witn an angel's energies, and to be ready to break from 
the body and join those around the throne." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 4.79 

A friend, with whom he had been conversing on 
his extreme bodily sufferings and his high spiritual 
joys lemarked — " I presume it is no longer incredible 
to yc'Ci, if ever it was, that martyrs should rejoice a^d 
praise God in the flames and on the rack."—" No," 
said he, ''•I can easily believe it. I have suffered 
twenty times — yes, to speak within bounds— twenty 
times as much as I could in being burnt at the stake^ 
wnile my joy in God .so abounded as to render my 
sufferings not only tolerable but welcome. The suf- 
ferings of this present time are not worthy to be com- 
pared with the glory that shall he revealed. 

At another time — " God is literally now my all in 
all. While he is present with me no event can in the 
least diminish my happiness ; and were the whole 
world at my feet trying to minister to my comfort, 
they could not add one drop to the cup. 

" It seems as if the promise, ' God shall wipe away 
all tears from their eyes,' was already fulfilled to me, 
as it respects tears of sorrow. I have no tears to shed 
now but those of love, and joy, and thankfulness." 

October 16. To his daughter — " You will avoid 
much pain and anxiety, if you will learn to trust all 
your concerns in God's hand. ' Cast all your care upon 
him, for he careth for you.' But if you merely go and 
say that you cast your care upon him, you will come 
away with the load on your shoulders. If I had the en- 
tire disposal of your situation, and could decide how 
many scholars you should have, and what success you 
should meet with, you would feel no anxiety, but would 
rely on my love and wisdom; and if you should discover 
any solicitude, it would show that you distrusted one 
or the other of these. Now all your concerns are in the 



480 MEMOIR OF 

hands of a merciful and wise Father ; therefore it is an 
;nsult io him to be careful and anxious concerning them, 
Trust him for all — abilities, success, and every thing 
els€ — and you will never have reason to repent it." 

At one tirne he was heard to break forth in the fol- 
lowing soliloquy : 

^^ What an assemblage of moti\res to holiness does 
the Gospel present ! I am a Christian — what then ? 
Why, I am a redeemed sinner — a pardoned rebel — all 
through grace, and by the most wonderful means which 
infinite wisdom could devise. I am a Christian — what 
then ? Why, I am a temple of God, and surely I ought 
to be pure and holy. I am a Christian — what then ? I 
am a child of God, and ought to be filled with filial 
love, reverence, joy, and gratitude. I am a Christian — 
what then ? Why, I am a disciple of Christ, and must 
imitate him who was meek and lowly in heart, and 
pleased not himself. I am a Christian — ^what then ? 
Why, I am an heir of heaven, and hastening on to the 
abodes of the blessed, to join the full choir of glorified 
ones, in singing the song of Moses and the Lamb ; and 
gurely I ought to learn that song on earth." 

To Mrs. Pay son, who, while ministering to him, had 
observed, " Your head feels hot, and seems to be dis- 
tended," he replied—" It seems as if the soul disdain- 
ed such a narrow prison, and was determined to break 
through with |in angel's energy, and, I trust, with no 
small portion of an angel's feeling, until it mounts on 
high." 

Again — " It seems as if my soul had found a pair 
of new wmgs, and was so eager to try them, that m 
iier fluttering she would rend the fine net-work of the 
body to pieces." 



EDWARD F'AYSON. 481 

A't another time — " My dear, I should think it might 
encourage and strengthen you, under whatever trials 
you may be called to endure, to remember me. O ! you 
must believe that it will be great peace at last." 

At another time he said to her — " After I am gone, 
you will find many little streams of beneficence pour- 
ing in upon you, and you will perhaps say, ' I wish 
my dear husband were here to know this.' My dear, 
you may think that I do know it by anticipation, and 
praise God for it now." 

" Hitherto I have viewed God as a fixed Star, bright 
indeed, but often intercepted by clouds ; but now he is 
coming nearer and nearer, and spreads into a Sun so 
vast and glorious, that the sight is too dazzling for 
flesh and blood to sustain." This was not a blind ado- 
ration of an imaginary deity ; for, added he, " I sec 
clearly that all these same glorious and dazzling per- 
fections which now only serve to kindle my afi^ections 
into a flame, and to melt down my soul into the same 
blessed image, would burn and scorch me like a con- 
suming fire, if I were an impenitent sinner." 

He said he felt no solicitude respecting his family ; 
ne could trust them all in the hands of Christ. To feel 
any undue solicitude on their account, or to be unwill 
mg to leave them with God, would be like " a child 
who Avas reluctant to go to school, lest his father 
should burn up his toys and play -things while he was 
absent." 

Conversing with a friend on his preparation for his 
departure, he compared himself to " a person who had 
been visiting his friends, and was about to return 
home. His trunk was packed, and every thing pre- 

Payson ^ i 



482 MEI»K)IR OF 

pared, and he was looking out of the window, waiting 
for the stage to take him in." 

When speaking of the sufferings he endured, parti- 
cularly the sensation of burning in his side and leP 
leg, he said that if he expected to live long enough to 
make it worth while, he would have his leg taken off 
On Mrs. Payson's uttering some expression of sur 
prise, he replied — " I have not a very slight idea of the 
pain of amputation 5 yet I have no doubt that I suffer 
more every fifteen minutes than I should in having my 
leg taken off." 

His youngest child, about a year old, had been un- 
der the care of a friend, and was to be removed a few 
miles out of town ; but he expressed so strong a wish 
to see Charles first, that he was sent for. The look of 
love, and tenderness, and compassion with which he 
regarded the child, made an indelible impression on 
ail present. 

At his request some of the choir belonging to the con- 
gregation came a few days before his death, for the 
purpose of singing, for his gratification, some of the 
songs of Zion. He selected the one commencing, 
'' Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings ;" part of the 
nymn, " I'll praise my Maker with my breath ;" and 
the " Dying Christian to his Soul." 

Sabbath day, October 21, 1827, his last agony com- 
menced. This holy man, who had habitually said of 
his racking pains, " These are God's arrows, but they 
are all sharpened with love"— and who in the extre- 
mity of suffering had been accustomed to repeat, as a 
favorite expression, " I will bless the Lord at all 
times'^ — had yet the " dying strife" to encounter. It 
commenced with the same difficulty of respiration^ 



EDWARD PAYSON. 483 

ihough in an aggravated degree, which had caused 
him great distress at intervals during his sickness. 
His daughter, who had gone to the Sahbath school 
without any apprehensions of so sudden a change, vf as 
called home. Though laboring for breath, and with a 
rattling in the throat similar to that which immediate- 
ly precedes dissolution, he smiled upon her, kissed her 
affectionately, and said — " God bless you, my daugh- 
ter !" Several of the church were soon collected at his 
bedside ; he smiled on them all, but said little, as his 
power of utterance had nearly failed. Once he ex- 
cfaimed, " Peace ! peace ! Victory ! victory !" He 
looked on his wife and children, and said, almost in 
the words of dying Joseph to his brethren — words 
which he had before spoken of as having a peculiar 
sweetness, and which he now wished to recall to her 
mind — " I am going, but God will surely be with you.'* 
His friends watched him, expecting every moment to 
see him expire, till near noon, when his distress par- 
tially left him ; and he said to the physician, who was 
feeling his pulse, that he found he was not to be re- 
leased yet ; and though he had suffered the pangs of 
death, and got almost within the gates of Paradise — ; 
yet, if it was God's will that he should come back and 
suffer still more, he was resigned. He passed through 
a similar scene m the afternoon, and, to the surprise 
of every one, was again relieved. The night follow^- 
ing he suffered less than he had the two preceding. 
Friday night had been one of inexpressible suffering. 
That and the last night of his pilgrimage were the 
only nights in which he had watchers. The friend 
who attended him through his last night, read to him, 
at his request, the twelfth chapter of the second Epis- 



^84 MEMOIR OF 

tie to the Corinthians; parts of which must have heeo 
peculiarly applicable to his case. 

On Monday morning his dying agonies returned id 
all their extremity. For three hours every breath was 
a groan. On being asked if his sufferings were greater 
than on the preceding Friday night, he answered, " In- 
comparably greater." He said that the greatest tem* 
poral blessing of which he could conceive would be 
one breath of air. Mrs. Pay son fearing, from the ex- 
pression of suffering in his countenance, that he was 
m mental as well as bodily anguish, questioned him 
on the subject. With extreme difficulty he was ena- 
bled to articulate the words, " Faith and patience hold- 
out." About mid-day the pain of respiration abated, 
and a partial stupor succeeded. Still, however, he con 
tinued intelligent, and evidently able to recognise all 
who were present. His eyes spoke after his tongue be- 
came motionless. He looked on Mrs. Payson, and then 
his eye, glancing over the others who surrounded his 
bed, rested on Edward, his eldest son, with an expres-. 
sion which said — and which was interpreted by' all 
present to say. as plainly as if he had uttered the words 
. of th» beloved disciple — " Behold thy mother !" There 
was no visible indication of the return of his suffer- 
ings. He gradually sunk away, till about the going 
down of the sun, when his happy spirit was set at 
liberty. 

His "ruling passion was strong in death." His 
love for preaching was as invincible as that of the 
miser for gold, who dies grasping his treasure. Dr. 
Payson directed a label to be attached to his breast, 
on which should be written — '^Remember the word:i 
which I spake unto you ichile I wcw yet present v'ith 



EDWARD PAV^iON' 48o 

jjo2(. ; that they might be read by all who came to look 
at his corpse, and by which he, being dez 1, stili spake. 
The same words, at the request of his people, were 
engraven on the plate of the coffin, and read by thou- 
sands on the day of inteiment. 

His funeral sermon was preached by the Rev. 
Charles Jenkins, (who was soon to follow him,) from 
2 Tim. 4 : 6 — 8. " / am now reaay to be offer ed, and 
the time of my departure is at hand, ^have fought 
a good fight^ I have finished my course. I have kepi 
the faith : henceforth there is laid zip for me a crown 
.of righteousness^ lohich the Lord, the righteous Judge. 
' shall give me at that day ; and not to me only, biix 
unto all them also that love his appearing,''^ 



^'BEHOLD THY MOTHER!" 

The scene at the death-bed of Dr. Paysoii, de- 
scribed on the preceding page, has been happily ex- 
panded in the following beautiful lines from the pen 
of Mrs. Sigourney. 

What said the eye? — The marble lip spake Lot, 
Save in that quivering sub wiih which stern Death 
Doth crush life's harp-strings. — Loi again it pours 
A tide of more than utter'd eloquence — 
** Son! — look upon thy mother!" — and retires 
Beneath the curtain of the drooping lids, 
To hide itself for ever. 'Tis the last, 
last glance!— and mark hov/ tenderly it fell, 



486 MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 

Upon tliat lov'd companion, and tlie groups 
That wept around. — Full well the dying knew 
The value of those holy charities 
Which purge the dross of selfishness away, 
And deep he felt that woman's trusting heart, 
Rent from the cherish'd prop, which, next to Christ 
Had been her stay in all adversities, 
Would take the balm -cup best from that dear hand 
Which woke the sources of maternal love- 
That smile, whose winning paid for sleepless nights 
Of cradle-care— that voice, whose murmur'd tones 
Her own had moulded to the words of prayer ! 
How soothing to a widow'd mother's breast 
Her first-born's sympathy ! 

Be strong, young man! 
Lift the protector's arm — the healer's prayer. 
Be tender in thy every word and deed. 
A Spirit watcheth thee !— -Yes, he who pass'd . 
From shaded earth up to the full-orb'd day. 
Will be thy witness in the court of heaven 
How thou dost bear his mantle. 

So farewell. 
Leader in Israel !— Thou whose radiant path 
Was like the angel's standing in the sun,* , • 

Uadazzled and unswerving— it was meet 
("bat thou shouldst rise to light without a cjoud. 

* RovelatioD, 19:17. 



THE END. 



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