THE LIFE AND LABORS
— OF—
REV. E. M. MARVIN, D. D, LL. D.
—ONE OF THE—
BISHOPS OF THE M. E. CHUECH, SOUTH,
— TOGETHER-
WTTH A DISCUSSION OF SOME OF THE MORE IMPORTANT
POINTS OF DOCTRINE AND PRINCIPLES OF CHURCH
POLITY TAUGHT BY THE METHODIST
EPISCOPAL CHURCHES.
—BY—
D. R. MANALLY.
ST. LOUIS :
Logan G. Dameron, Agent,
ADVOCATE PUBLISHING HOUSE.
1878.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by
LOGAN D. DAMERON, AGENT.
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
CONTENTS.
Preface 5
CHAPTER I. Introductory 9
CHAPTER II. Heredity is
CHAPTER III. Boyhood , 20
CHAPTER IV. He Joined the Church 36
CHAPTER V. He was Converted 47
CHAPTER VI. A Calu to the Ministry 62
CHAPTER VII. Itinerancy 75
CHAPTER VIII. Circuit Life 95
CHAPTER IX. Station Life ... 117
4
CONTENTS— CONTINUED.
CHAPTER X. College Agency 132
CHAPTER XI. The Presiding Eldership 147
CHAPTER XII. Army Life 178
CHAPTER XIII. The Episcopacy 191
CHAPTER XIV. The Episcopacy— Continued 209
CHAPTER XV. The Episcopacy— Continued 227
CHAPTER XVI. Foreign Mission Work 240
CHAPTER XVII. Literary Labors 263
CHAPTER XVIII. Literary Labors — Continued 275
CHAPTER XIX. Literary Labors — Continued 290
CHAPTER XX. Personalty 315
PREFACE.
Unless the subject be of extraordinary character, or has filled a very large space in the public eye, there is, in these days, very little encouragement offered for the writing of biographies, and especially for what are usually called religious biographies. When we have learned the essentialities and leading character- istics of one man's religious experience, we have learned the essentialities and leading characteristics of the religious expe- rience of every man. As Christians, they have all been baptized by the same Spirit — " all mind the same things and all walk by the same rule." Then there is, perhaps, no denomination of Christians that has in the same length of time given to the world so many religious biographies as have the Methodists. So many have they put forth that even themselves, as a body, seem to have become well nigh, if not entirely satiated. Of the four millions of Methodists now living, how many of them ever at- tentively read Dr. Whitehead's, or Moore's and Coke's Life of John Wesley — or Drew's Life of Coke, or the three admirable
6 PBEFACE.
volumes of autobiography of Adam Clarke, or Everett's Life of the same, or the Life of Richard Watson? Of the three mil- lions and more of Methodists in the United States, how many of them ever read the Life of Bishop Asbury, or of Bishop Emory, as written by his son; or Bishop Paine's Life of Bishop McKendree, or Dr. C. Elliott's Life of Bishop Roberts; or Dr. Clark's Life of Bishop Hedding? Or of the more than seven hun- dred thousand Southern Methodists, how many ever read Hen- kle's Life of Bishop Bascom, or that excellent volume, the Life of Capers, by the chaste and classical scholar, Bishop Wightman? How many of all the Methodists now living have read these books? Perhaps not one in a hundred, if one in a thousand.
If, then, such biographers, with such subjects, had so limited a hearing, when the biographer is less able, and his subject, to say the least of it, not more distinguished than were theirs, very little can be expected.
Then when we come to biographies and autobiographies of men of somewhat less note, such as T. Ware, J. Gruber, Jas. Quinn, Peter Cartright, Jacob Young, Yalentine Cook, Philip Gatch, John Collins, Joseph Travis, and others of that day, we find the number of readers still more limited, while most of those of still later date have fewer still. As an instance : The late William G-. Caples, of the Missouri Conference, was a man of decided ability and of extensive usefulnesss. In many respects he was the equal, and in some the superior of his biographer. Bishop Marvin favored the church and the world with a well-
PREFACE. 7
arranged, well-written and interesting life of his friend and co- laborer. It has been before the public eight years, and less than six hundred copies have been sent out by the publishers. With these facts before him the present author had no encourage- ment, inclination, nor desire to attempt a detailed account of the Life and Labors of Bishop Marvin; but that life and those labors furnished an appropriate text for the presentation and dis- cussion of some points in Methodist doctrine and economy, which the author believed needed to be before the church. The opportunity was favorable, and he embraced it, as he had a perfect right to do. How he has accomplished his work the reader will judge for himself. He asked no one's permission to write — he sought the assistance of none — he had from the first all the materials he desired, and has used them in the following pages agreeably to his own original purpose. And, as the read- er will perceive, in presenting questions of doctrine and church economy, he has at the same time given all of the most promi- nent features in the life and the labors of the Bishop.
It was at first intended to send out this volume during the first or second week in May last, and it could have been done. But on the 16th of last March, and after a part of the work was in type, the author learned by announcements in the public prints, that a Biographer had been selected and the work be- gun, or about to be begun. Then* to show that the present writer did not propose to interfere with any one's rights or privileges, nor to stand in the way of any, he, on his own mo-
PBEFACE. tion and of his own accord suspended publication of this volume to give reasonable time for another. Five months have passed since then, and now, with charity for all, and malice or ill feel- ing to none, he sends out this volume, which, while by no means free from defects, and might have been better than it is, may still be of some service to every candid person who may give it an attentive perusal.
THE AUTHOR.
St. Louis, August, 1878,
LIFE AND LABOKS OF BISHOP MAKYIN.
(Sfoapte* &x#L
INTEODU CTORY .
THE uses and abuses of biography are many and great. Itis the foundation of all history- Nay, itis the superstructure as well. It isthe substance, as it is the substratum of the annals of civilization. All science, human and superhuman, must find in bi- ography its last and only intelligible term . For what is knowledge without a subject, or revelation without a prophet? Its scope is universal and infinite. It predicates intelligence and will ; and, without intelli- gence and will the universe is empty and nought. It rises to the height of human excellence, and descends to the bottom of human depravity and guilt. It is great as the life of benificence and purity, and little as the life of selfishness and sin. It has to do with all things to which life is related. The petty inci- dents of manual and mechanical experience are in no sense the biography of an individual. These things are common to all men, and can not distinguish one among the many They only serve to confuse and
10 INTB OB UC TO'R Y.
blend him with the common mass. And this is true in spite of the prevailing fashion of constructing bi- ography out of a mere accumulation of details. This method proclaims the nnworthiness of its hero, and says to every soul, not idle or giddy, " Go else- where for what you seek.'
But biography, worthily written, is the entertainer and instructor of the noblest minds. They feel the pulse of the highest sympathy, and thrill in answer to its throb. With the exceptional and abnormal of excellence, and especially with its outcome in action, they have the closest and tenderest fellowship. It is the poverty of this element, in biographies so- called, which has driven the world to the invention of fiction. If men can not find this pabulum of their ideal life in those literary forms which wear the stamp of authenticity, they will seek them in other forms ; and this demand will always create its own supply. But all men prefer to find it where it really is (if only it could be reached and produced), in the lives of men of uncommon mental stating. And that it is not so found and brought forth, for the de- light and inspiration of the world, is the fault of the small men who write the lives of great ones. Of course, he whose life is worth the writing or the reading, save as an accidental link in some historic chain, must have differed widely and greatly from the average man — must have been, in effect, a hero. No transient and local importance, or fortuitous re- lation to great events, can excuse or substitute in-
INTRODUCTORY. 11
trinsic greatness in the subject of such a work. No degree of skill in the artist can hide the poverty of the original design. If the landscape or the face contain no features worthy of admiration, the highest efforts of genius must be wasted in an attempt at reproduc- tion. But, the worthiness of the subject granted, and the treatment correspondingly able, the result must be a book which the world can not afford to forego', and will not suffer to die. It is a fountain of refresh- ing to the weary pilgrim or toil-worn laborer, to which he will return again and again, with added thirst and keener zest ; while, for him whose larger thought seeks the raison cT etre of his kind, whether for per- sonal consolation under the burden of life's mystery or the instruction of others, it is the most satisfying of all the sources of wisdom and of hope.
It is conceded that, of all the springs of conduct, the most powerful and enduring is example. No virtue can well resist the contagion of habitual asso- ciation with vice ; and no vice can long survive in the unchanging atmosphere of virtue. It is on this ac- count that we guard so carefully, and that we ought to guard much more carefully than we do, the social surroundings of our children. Experience has taught us that they will take the moral complexion of their associates. And this lesson of common experience is confirmed by the best results of reasoned thought. We are moved and swayed by moral influences ; but moral influences reach us through the door of our open and voluntary attention. There is no other
12 INTRODUCTORY.
means by which they can reach or affect us. That which we do not perceive is, for us, as if it did not exist. It can never be either a factor in our conduct, or an element in our character But that to which we attend, whatever it may be, must be one, and may be both. And the force of surrounding influ- ences is always graduated by the energy of attention which we give to surrounding objects. Now, there are few other things in the universe to which we give such natural, eager and sustained attention as to the actions of others of our kind. To this we are drawn by the native force of an irresistible sympathy And this is the simple philosophy of the influence of ex- ample. But biography is example crystalized, and yet glowing with life ; durable as the diamond, yet warm and subtile as the sunbeam. Our closest human companionships are precarious ; but the writ- ten life which we have devoured and to which we return with fresh and eager hunger and thirst, is divorced not even from our waking or sleeping dreams. It is clasped to the breast of passion, and steeped in the dews of revery, and adorned with the flowers of fancy until it becomes an integral part of our very selves. It is thus, very often, in the closest and most unselfish sense, that biography is a source and inspiration of virtue.
For that other, but still very respectable and very popular, class of virtues which have their origin in the consideration of what others will say of us, biog- raphy is simply the all-powerful and fruitful mother.
INTB OB TIC TOE Y. 13
Take a man whose social or official position guaran- tees the belief that some one will be found to write his life, and he is always posing for the future picture in which, as he fondly hopes, other and admiring generations will gaze upon his features and attributes. At home, abroad, in the pulpit or rostrum, on the street, there is an all-apparent consciousness that he is being observed and will be reported ; that he is sit- ting, standing or speaking for his picture. Of course, this is very ridiculous ; but he does not see himself from the angle of incongruity, and smile as we will, he does not blush. And when we remember how much of selfish gratification he foregoes, and how really helpful is the ostentatious generosity which he exhibits, contemn as we may the motive, the conduct commands our respect.
In fact, the most attractive of all the rewards of virtue, and the most dreadful of all the punishments of crime, which human ingenuity has been able to devise, lie in the magic words, FAME AND IN- FAMY Even Heaven would lose half its charms for the mass of humanity, if our future vindication and triumph, in that blissful sphere, were to be known to none but ourselves ; and Hell might be less intolerable, if our defeat and torture could be endured in secresy.
In the highest and holiest of all the literary pro- ducts of the world — the Bible — of what compara- tive practical effect would be its precepts, if sepa- rated from its story? And it is not merely that
14 INTBODUCTOBY.
the narrative authenticates the precept, though this is of course true ; for God's utterances must wear their own Divine stamp, however isolated from hu- man lips and lives ; but would not such isolation deprive them of a large proportion of their popu- lar power? How much weight should we attach to the moral and positive sayings of Moses, apart from those wondrous relations which awe and thrill us in his life? And the Sermon on the Mount, and all the other grand and beautiful utterances of Christ, let them reach us from some unknown source, cut off from the matchless life and tragic death of the gentle and majestic Person whom we love and ven- erate as the Saviour of the world, and is it not easy to see that their moving, healing and hallowing power would be much abated if not entirely lost? It would seem that He who gave us the revelation of Himself knew well that, in order to reach and save us, even with the knowledge of the truth, it was needful that the message should come to us through lips and lives that we could admire and love.
And so, in later times, it is not so much the thought or speech, as the man who thinks and speaks, that moves the world. It was Luther's temper, as well as his teachings, that wrought the Reformation. It was Wesley *s character, as well as his doctrines, that established Methodism in the world. What these Protestant heroes taught and said had been uttered long before they lived ; but
INTR OD UC TOR Y. 15
it remained for them to apply to a long-laid train the fire of their personal earnestness and courage, in order to light the world to a higher and better life. This they did ; and their manner of doing it — their relation to the scene and the hour — are all that constitute the real storv of their lives. And if their biographers would give us this, and no more, neither we nor the world would ever weary of the tale.
But this is precisely what they can not be induced to do. It would seem as if every one who pro- poses to write the life of another enters, at once, upon enchanted ground, and is instantaneously pos- sessed by a demon of unprofitable scribbling — a sort of cacoethes scribendi — that gives him no rest until he has exhausted the resources of twaddle. Person- alities, the common properties of men, are accumu- lated ad nauseam. Nay, the strain is not always so elevated as to reach the common attributes of hu- manity Mere animal autonomisms are strung out in page after page of dry and never-ending diary . To-day the hero rose, ate, journeyed, rested, went on again, and finally stopped for the night in some particular locality The next day he did the same things at other places and on different roads. Anon, he becomes even human — makes a toilet, reads, writes, converses — gives evidence of common sense and reason. Then he receives visitors, and these are named and enumerated, or he goes to visit others, and we are furnished with a particular de-
16 INTE ODUC TOE Y.
scrip tion of roads, distances, residences, and some- times even the genealogy of the happy family that has the good fortune to entertain him. And all this on the principle that
" 'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's self in print; A book's a book, altho' there's nothing in 't."
The reasoning is transparent. If a sufficient num- ber of persons can be sufficiently nattered by the author, they will buy the book and read it, or at least that portion of it in which their own names appear in a halo of intimacy with the hero. The author of such a book resembles those enterpris- ing publishers who have recently astonished our local world with a fashionable Directory, thus bank- ing, perhaps not insecurely, on the well-known vanity of human nature. But, with the biographer, such an enterprise can prove a success only when the proportions of his hero are so extraordinary as to have attracted a world-wide attention to his name, and thus rendered interesting even the petty details of his daily life ; and. in that case the artifice is need- less. The vast majority of men whose lives are written are not sufficiently eminent to render their occasional and accidental association with us a flat- tery so exquisite that we are willing to pay for it even the moderate price of a crown-octavo volume. Thus the author loses his labor, the result is a dead edition, the shelves groan with a new burden of rubbish, and the publisher becomes one of those "burnt children" who preserve a salutary dread of
INTRODUCTORY. 17
all future biographical fires. God forbid that we should blight, with such a book, the name and mem- ory of our lamented Marvin. Not thus would we write the memoir of his noble life. We would show him rather as he was, in his relation to his Church and his time, that the lesson of his life may speak to us and to our children with more persuasive eloquence than ever tired those lips now silent in the grave.
$to*pt*« $tttm&.
HEREDITY
THE modern apostles of this doctrine claim for it two things : first, that it is new — an original discovery of our later times ; and secondly, that it diminishes, if it does not destroy, individual re- sponsibility. If we are not greatly mistaken, they will be found at fault in both these assumptions. For its age, it is as old as the Bible. " I, the Lord, thy God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon the children, to the third and fourth generations," is a Scriptural text which has been a target for the shafts of infidelity in every age. "How," says the objector, "can jealousy, one of the most selfish of passions, be predicated of the All-Good, All-Great and All-Wise? Does not this clearly show that the author of this text was a rude barbarian, who clothed with his own lit- tleness the God whom he professed to reveal ? And this imbecility has been palmed upon the world as the direct inspiration of the Almighty !" But, dear critical skeptic ! what is all this, to which you so violently object, but a transparently figurative an-
HEREDITY. 19
nouncement of those permanent and unchangeable laws which it is your habit to deify, and a distinct promulgation of that doctrine of hereditary and ante-natal influence, about which vou are accus- tomed so eloquently to prate? Jealousy, when predicated of the Supreme Ruler of the universe, translates itself, by all the rules of just criticism, into that steady, rigid and inflexible adherence to order and harmony, which decrees that every causal influence shall work its legitimate result, unhindered by conflicting interests and passions. And this grand quality of the God of the Bible the thought- less rationalist has sought to abstract and deify by itself!
And for the other part of the text, the " visiting of the sins of the fathers upon the children," which the rationalist denounces as a most foul injustice, when we set it side-by-side with its plainly implied correlative, that "the virtues of the parents de- scend equally to the children," and when we extend the typical words, "third and fourth generation," to imply and include, as they reasonably do, the countless descendants of men, we shall see that it would be difficult for modern science to formulate one of its own favorite dogmas as briefly or as well.
But it behooves us, as a Methodist writer, to be careful of man's moral agency ; one of the cardinal doctrines of our theology, which is here supposed to be threatened with a total eclipse. If the virtues and
20 HEBEDITY.
vices of parents descend to their children, how, it is asked, can the children be responsible for their own conduct? With their inherited tendencies to piety or impiety, are they not the helpless subjects of ante-natal influence? But this conclusion, spe- cious as it appears, is an obvious non-sequitur It is affirmed by the theory, and must be conceded by reason, that, of perfectly holy beings, only perfectly holy beings could be born, and that procreating demons could produce only their kind. But aver- age fathers and mothers are neither angels nor de- mons, but a mixture, in different proportions, of good and bad. It ought not to be affirmed by this theory of heredity, and certainly cannot be con- ceded if it were affirmed, that children can be either better or worse by virtue of ante-natal influence than those from whom they sprang. The question, there- fore, is hardly practical, and our Methodist doctrine of moral agency remains undisturbed.
With these obvious restrictions, which have their foundation in common sense and experience, and which can therefore never be disturbed, we see no reason why the claims of heredity should not be freely conceded, and we can see some reasons why they should be cordially accepted by all good men. One reason, very simple but very cogent, is the sim- ple fact that the existence of hereditary traits of character is quite as much a matter of common ob- servation as of facial and other physical resemblances ; and we do not like, particularly well, to theorize against a stubborn and all-apparent fact.
HEREDITY. 21
Another reason is, that — the above restrictions being always understood — we can not sec that any moral evil, and we do see that much moral ^ good, may come from the doctrine The heritable right of our children in the pecuniary accumulations of our industry is felt to be a great and precious privi- lege. No other support so strongly upholds the en- ergy and enterprise of men. From our present stand-point it is easy to see that the total abolition of all the laws of inheritance would wreck society ; so that this apparent outgrowth of our civilization upholds the soil from which it sprang. And why should not this work of Providence be duplicated in the moral, pathematic and intellectual world? Once let men thoroughly believe that they are in- vested with the power to transmit their mental traits to their offspring ; let them confide in it only as thoroughly as they do in the administrative fidelity of those civil laws to which they entrust the division and conservation of their property : and have we not furnished them with most powerful incentives to spiritual industry and thrift? But let them know that this is not merely a precarious privilege but an inevitable destinv ; that thev are bound to this trans- mission by an irrefragable law : and do we not apply the very highest stimulus to the noblest faculties of their nature ? And is the world so rich in Christian virtue, that it can afford to contemn and banish this able auxiliary ? For one, we say, let him come — this dreaded Heredity — and do his mightiest to convince
22 HEBEDITY.
men of the immortality of their virtues and vices. Though " he followeth not with us," yet because he casteth out devils in the name of Christ, we bid him welcome to the work of Christ.
In an English port, in the year 1635, only fifteen years after the landing of the Pilgrims, another com- pany of persecuted Puritans, allured by the repre- sentations of their pioneers in the new world, and fleeing from ecclesiastical proscription in the old, trod the gangway and crowded the decks of the good ship Increase, Robert Lea, Master, and watched, with sad hearts, but wrapt and inspired faces, the shores of home sink in the Eastern sea, and turned to the widening waste of waters in the West, beyond whose threatening waves lay the land of their new-born hopes. Side-by-side, in that solemn company, stood Remold Marvin and Richard Mather In their time, and among their peers, they were noteworthy men. High, stern, austere, and clad with that mantle of si- lence and reserve which is so impressive among all the habiliments of the soul, they were the acknowl- edged chieftains of their little band. They had long known and loved each other in that quiet, undemon- strative way which is the characteristic of English- men among men, and of Puritans among Englishmen. Bound together by a common faith, a broth- erhood of peril, and linked in the grand adventure upon whose issue they had cast their all, the ties be- tween them were of no ordinary tenderness and po- tency.
HEBEDITY. 23
Mather was a non-conformist minister, distin- guished by uncommon zeal and ability and by the best as well as the worst qualities of that much- persecuted class. And when we say he had the worst qualities of his order, we must be understood to refer only to such as are consistent with the most exalted sincerity Believing himself a chosen vessel of the Lord, and under the immediate inspiration of Heaven, he had no patience with anybody who with- stood his will or controverted his opinions. He was bigoted and cruel. Having been persecuted, he naturally became a persecutor But no words could exaggerate the high and devoted loyalty of his at- tachment to those who saw with his eyes and shared his lot. And this was the tie which bound him to his friend.
Marvin was of a higher and larger type. Though no preacher, he was one of those powers behind the pulpit which are often greater than the pulpit. He saw the preacher's duty as well as his own, and kept him up to the work. Wo to the laggard shep- herd who halted or grew weary in the care and instruction of the flock. To sustain the preacher in his work, his purse, his home; his heart, his hand, would to the extent of their ability honor every draft that courage and devotion could present. He knew the tenets of the Puritans as well as their ministers did, and held them, if possible, more rig- idly Something of his temper may be inferred from that passage in his will in which he directs
24 HEBEDITY.
that to each of his grandchildren "there be pro- vided and given a Bible as soon as they are capable of using them." If he could have believed in its validity, no doubt the stern old Puritan would have sent the bequest on down through the ages to the remotest scion of his race.
Such were the two men who, unwitting of the future, paced the spray-damp decks of the "Good Ship Increase," and held high converse of the mys- teries of Providence and grace. When we know that their lines were subsequently united in the per- sons of Elisha Marvin and Catherine Mather, their great-grandchildren, we can not help, wondering if some antecedent thrill of coming kinship did not cross the chasm of a hundred years and melt to warmer tenderness the hearts of those grave men who looked so lovingly into each other's eyes
That was a happy marriage, and pregnant with great issues, though the echoes of its joy-bells have saddened to the monody which so lately tolled around the world the knell of departed Goodness and Greatness. The official records of the Marvin line fail us here, as it was but reasonable to expect they would : they keep the quiet of their ancestral way ; but the Mathers, like their progenitor, are all in the public eye. Increase, the son of Eichard, was for sixty-two years pastor of the old North Church, in Boston, was president of Harvard Col- lege, spent sixteen hours a day in his* study, and published ninety-two separate works. Cotton Ma-
HEREDITY. 2f>
ther, his son, was still more celebrated. He entered Harvard College at twelve years of age, and was even then as much distinguished for piety as remark- able for precocity He became his father's colleague in the ministry, wrote in favor of the political ascen- dency of the clergy and against witchcraft, eagerly advocating the adoption of desperate remedies for the diabolical disease. He was still more indus- trious than his father, having written, at the close of his life, three hundred and eighty-two works.
Thence on, the downward line of Marvin is dis- tinct, though not distinguished. Enoch, the son of Elisha, was born in 1747 He married Ruth Ely, and removed to Berkshire, Massachusetts, where his son, "Wells Elv, was born. In 1817 he came to Missouri with his son, and died in 1841. And here the strain takes on new blood, as it would seem, with good effect Wells Ely was the father of the Bishop, but his mother was the descendant of Welch ancestors. Of these, in Warren County, Missouri, June 12, 1823, was born the subject of the present memoir, Enoch Mather Marvin.
^tiairtev Wkxx&.
BOYHOOD.
TWO and a half miles southwest of the present town of Wright City, on Barrett's Creek, in a double cabin, of unhewn logs covered with boards, held in their places by weight poles, young Marvin first drew breath. His natal mansion is worthy ot a particular discription. It was, as has been said, a double log cabin ; i.e. it consisted of two square pens, constructed by laying logs transversely across others, till the requisite height of an ordinary room was attained. Then, the pens being separated by a space large enough for a hall, or passage, long top- logs called plates, extending from end to end of the two pens, were placed on both sides, and from these rose the rafter-poles which sustained the roof. This roof was composed of what, by an extreme courtesy which would astonish one accustomed only to the present forms of lumber, were called "clap-boards." But not such as "Webster's Unabridged" defines, as they were riven and wholly of equal thickness at both ends rather than being thicker at one end than at the other, as the aforesaid "Unabridged" would
BOYHOOD. 27
have us believe These boards — there being no saw- mills convenient, or the settlers being unable to pro- vide a more expensive product — were obtained in the following manner : The prospective builder went to the forest and selected what is called a good board- tree. By this was meant a tree of such fibre as would be split easily, evenly and uniformly The material selected was generally some variety of oak. The tree chosen was felled and, by means of a cross- cut saw, divided into lengths of from three to four feet. These blocks were next split into slabs of a nearly uniform thickness. And then by the use of a froe or frow, were riven into boards of about half an inch in thickness, or thicker if the timber were bad. The gables of a true log cabin were also constructed of logs, each one " above the square " being three or four feet shorter than the one next below, and on each was laid " lengthway " of the house two bearing poles, one on each side to sustain the boards. This was continued, shortening each log to give the roof its "pitch," until it came to the last or topmost log or pole, called the "ridge-pole." A course or layer of boards was then placed with the ends resting on the first and second bearing poles, then on or near the upper end of the course was placed a weight-pole, to keep the boards in that layer firm in their places, and against which also rested the lower ends of the boards in the second course or layer, and so on until the roof was completed. The house needed then only to be "chinked" and daubed, floored, and
28 BOYHOOD.
chimneyed, doored and shuttered. The chinking was done by placing blocks in the open space be- tween the logs then plastered over with moistened clay, thus filling the interstices, the blocks having been carefully fastened in their places. The doors and windows were constructed by sawing out sections from the log walls wherever a door or window might be desired, and these openings were then protected by rude shutters, often hung on wooden hinges. The flooring was done by laying down puncheons, or the trunks of small trees, cut to the proper length and split in halves, with the flat side uppermost ; and the chimneys, on the model of the house, built of sticks, cemented and plastered with mud, so as to be impervious tojire. Such was the character of the house on Barrett's Creek, and in which our hero first saw the light. There he listened to his mother's lullaby, and was shaken, in infancy, into that phys- ical hardihood which subsequently braced and sus- tained the fiery energies of his spirit.
Later, with increasing wealth, his father built a house of hewn logs, with a ceiling, and so high as to afford a loft or garret, which was used as a chamber for the boys, and was entered by a ladder from the outside. There they were lulled to sleep by the patter of the rain upon the roof, and waked by the matin-songs of birds. None of the clandestine night excursions familiar to bad boys whose parents believe them to be sleeping quietly in their beds, were practiced here, as the paternal guardian had
BOYHOOD. 29
but to remove the ladder after his sons had retired and they were prisoners until morning.
Here, Marvin spent his boyhood ; and there was much, even then, to the discerning eye, which sepa- rated and marked him from his fellows. He h;ul mental movings beyond his years, and which some men never attain with any number of years. It is not meant that he was not like other boys in his sports and employments. He took kindly to every aspect of the life which God and nature gave him. He was cheerful, ready, affectionate, kind. He zealously rode the horses to water, fed and cared for the pigs and chickens, and brought home the cows at milking time. When too young to hold the plow, he could ride the horse that drew it, or he dropped the corn which his father covered with the hoe. But in this he was often silent, intent, wrapped in meditation, and had what some called " a far-away look in his eyes."
He was fond of all the rude and active sports of boyhood, and excelled in fleetness of foot. He hunted and fished with the foremost. He trapped the rabbits in winter and limed the birds in sum- mer, His whoop and halloo rang from hill-top and valley He wrestled and ran with the bravest, laughed with the merriest, and talked and jested on equal terms with the wittiest and most humorous. But all this was done in a manner peculiarly his own. It was as if he had but entered a field of exercise, where he sported with light weapons in
30 BOYHOOD.
order to discipline and develop his powers for some serious task. From the very height of mirthfulness or strife his pale, mobile face resumed, with start- ling suddenness, its habitual expression of mingled intentness and repose.
For schooling, young Marvin was mainly depend- ent upon the instruction of his mother, who taught him, along with the neighbors' boys, to the extent of her educational acquirements. To this teaching, sweetened as it was by the glance and voice of ma- ternal tenderness, he inclined a willing ear, and when the fount was dry, he still thirsted eagerly for more. The only school within his reach was the one taught by his mother. Her terms were so mod- erate, and her accomplishments comparatively so great, that no competing institution of learning lived in that neighborhood. Those who paid her at all for the education of their children, and they were a large majority of her patrons, gave her perhaps a dollar or less a month for each scholar, deducting all lost time ; and this sum, often paid her in pro- duce. It will be readily seen that Mrs. Marvin, though she helped her husband in this way, did not speedily enrich either him or her children.
After exhausting this inadequate source of knowl- edge, the boy turned eagerly to whatever reading- matter came within his reach. Perhaps it was on the whole fortunate the supply was limited. Had he possessed the facilities afforded by our later pub- lic libraries, there is no knowing what would have
BOYHOOD. 31
become of him. He might have been drowned in the sea of Fiction, or lost in some slough of Impu- rity As it was, there was no other danger of intellectual or moral disaster than that which arose out of the poverty of supply and the consequent liability to mental inanition. This was partially avoided by reading the same books again and again, until he had completely mastered their contents. He was thus able to follow, unconsciously, the advice of one of the great masters of modern thought — "Read much but not many " He may have found a little history, a little biography, a little science, and occasionally a stray volume of some old classic These he would devour and master, until they became part of the permanent furniture of his mind. He was able to use them, on all occasions, as readily and freely as if they had been a part of the original constituents of his brain. This chapter in his history may answer the inquiry as to where and how "he picked up his learning."
He had another habit, common, we believe, to minds of a high order and which, at the same time, are gifted with a very strong talent for expression, to-wit : the custom of frequent and lonely impro- visation. With childish facility of metre, he could lie on his back for hours, in the depths of the silent woods, crooning to himself, in melodious monotone, the musings of his heart. And, the passion and power of expression growing with this exercise, it would soon come to pass that he would stand upon
32 BOYHOOD.
his feet and, in default of other and better audience, pour out to the silent trees around him the torrent of his burning thoughts. Then, gathering confi- dence from the sound of his own voice and the even and consecutive flow of the periods of his speech, he would feel the impulse to address others. Long he might have been held silent by timidity and em- barrassment. Under favorable circumstances he would often gather his playmates around him, mount a stump or log, and astonish them with a speech.
But this did not satisfy the aspiring boy. He sighed for a wider field and a larger audience than the circle of his playmates. He had heard of de- bating societies, and he resolved to form one. The difficulties were great. He could not appear openly in the matter — he was too young. What he had to do was, cautiously and skilfully to suggest the sub- ject to others, who were older and more influential, that they would accomplish it as on their own mo- tion. In this he succeeded. The society was organized, a debate announced, and young Marvin was first an auditor and afterward a speaker In an incredibly short space of time he was the unri- valled master of the society The country-side turned out to hear Old and young men and women hung on his lips, or burst into wild and unrestrained applause, at some happy and unexpect- ed turn of his sparkling thought. The hoarded treasures of his daily musings and his nightly
BOYHOOD. 33
dreams came glowing forth before the dazzled eyes of his neighbors and friends. It must have been a wonderful spectacle. The rude log-house, dim with the tallow-dip or lurid with the fitful flame of the resinous torch ; the crowded scats ; the strained attitude of silence and the look of eager expectation on every face ; and in the midst of all that slight, childish form with its pale, sad face and flashing eye and ringing voice, disputing with others the prize of reason and eloquence, and often bearing it awav from them all.
Of Marvin's afl'ectional relations with his father, little or nothing is known to us. In an intimate as- sociation of many years we rarely heard him men- tion that father s name ; and, on the motive of so great a silence, we cannot hazard any conjecture.
But the sheet-anchor of the boy's tenderness was his mother. Of her he spoke willingly, cheerfullv, gratefully and piously to the last She was his counselor, his friend, his confident. The first dis- tinct recollection of his life, as he has repeatedly said, was that of sitting on hei* knee and hearing
her sing,
" Alas! and did my Savior bleed?"
while the tears rolled down her cheeks and fell upon his upturned faee% By her wise and gentle instruc- tions she hastened the dawn of moral consciousness in his soul, and was tenderly careful to point him to the Sun of Righteousness, from whom, as she taught him, that dawning came. She lifted him to the
34 BOYHOOD.
heights of veneration, brightened his intelligence itiid refined his heart. He carried to her all his joys and sorrows, and she gave him an equally tender sympathy for both. She was the only one who thor- oughly understood him, and to her he revealed him- self unconsciously and without reserve. In a sense wonderfully unique, and depending for its interpre- tation upon the peculiar mental constitution of this boy, she was in one sense his only friend. He trusted her as he trusted no one else ; and he confided in her without reserve, because he felt that his reserve was powerless against her tender discernment.
He had other friends, and not a few He was popular in his neighborhood, and with all his ac- quaintances. His geniality, his wit and his talents drew around him an admiring circle. To these he gave a warmth of demonstrativeness proportioned, in each case, to the appreciating power of the indi- vidual. To those who gave much love, he gave much in return ; and to those who gave little, he re- turned no more. This quality came, no doubt, from the old Mather blood, of which, as we advance, we shall see that he had a fervid strain.
As a boy, he was intensely emulous, not to say ambitious. This could not be otherwise. With his ardent imagination, in which, as in a glass, he saw fair pictures of his future ; with his glowing fancy, which ante -dated that future and brought all its srlo- ries within the grasp of the present ; with his talents, of which he could not but be conscious, which ffuar-
BOYHOOD. 85
anteed his overpassing competitors in the race of life, and which demanded a field of action commen- surate with their vigor and brilliancy ; with all these, if he had not been emulous, it would have argued some capital defect in the proportions or relations of his powers. This defect did not exist and, to use a thread-bare simile, he was us emulous as Julius Cie- sar, and as brave as the same great prototype of these qualities. If life held no prize to which he might not aspire, it contained no Rubicon which he dared not cross.
But while dreaming thus of the conquest of the world, it occurred to him to begin the work by setting himself right with the world's acknowledged Ruler He would enlist under his banner. If he was afraid of nothing else, he was undeniably afraid of God. He would *« take hold of his strengh," so that the arm of the Almighty should not hurt him when it fell. He would join His Church and give his name and his influence to the Christian cause. Thenceafter he might profitably and safely pursue the great work of his life. And so it came to pass that, in August, 1839, when sixteen years of age, in the heat of the dying summer, under no revival influ- ence, and moved only by his own reflections, Enoch Mather Marvin became a member of the M. E. Church.
(toptM Jflttttto*
HE JOINED THE CHUKCH.
H
E Joined the Church." — Many have done so. They are doing so daily ; but what of it? This : First, every one that does so becomes a help or hindrance to the Church. He facilitates or retards its progress ; he helps to make it better or he makes it worse, and it is amazing how many join the Church for what it will do for them rather than what they can do for it ; consequently they remain com- paratively inactive, waiting and waiting to see where- in it will benefit them, and seeming never to inquire in wThat or how they can help it. They lose their individuality, sink themselves in the mass, and float along as the current of popular feeling may chance to direct. Thev are hot or cold, zealous or incliffer- ent, active or indolent, just as those around them may happen to be, and almost always estimate the religious status of the Church by their own feelings, and judge of what they ought to do by what others are doing. Positively, they do little or no harm ; negatively, they are clogs, impediments, dead- weights and actual hindrances to the Church's progress.
HE JOINED THE CHUSCB. 87
Not unfrequently they are hyper-sensitive — the preacher must never pass without stopping, other members must cuddle, caress, and give them special attention, or they are hurt ; and for that reason they sometimes go from one Church or one denomination to another, that they may receive more attention — be more noticed, as (hough the Church were a mere social organization, designed to elevate the low or lower the high, and place all on the same social level ; and thus, so far as the real object of Church or- ganization is concerned, they are weights, incum- brances, nuisances. Much of the time and labor of the pastor and better class of members has to be spent in keeping them quiet — soothing their fretful- ness and meeting their exacting*. They seem never to think they are as much bound to work for and help forward the interests of the Church as are any others. They are never to minister, but always to be ministered to ; consequently a large share of the spiritual power of the Church instead of aggressively pushing forward the general interests, has to be ex- pended on them, and by just so much as this is done the general advancement and prosperity are im- peded.
In view of this fact, it is deemed proper, trite and common though the subject may be, to call attention to the individual obligations assumed by all whq connect themselves with the Church, and which ob- ligations they solemnly promise to fulfill. The matter is important, and deserves very serious con-
38 HE JOINED THE CHURCH.
sicleration, not only by those who may contemplate uniting with the Church, but bv those who have al- ready done so as well.
Every one who, after due consideration and care- ful examination, connects himself with the M. E. Church, South, solemnly promises to " renounce the devil and all his works, the vain pomp and glory of the world, with all covetous desires of the same, and the carnal desires of the flesh, so that he will not fol- low or be led by them." He also solemnly declares his firm belief " in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ his only be- gotten Son, our Lord, and that he was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead and buried ; that he rose again the third day ; that he ascended into heaven and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty, and from thence shall come again at the end of the world to judge the quick [or liv- ing] and the dead."
Also declares his belief " in the Holy Ghost, the Church of God, the communion of saints, the re- mission of sins, the resurrection of the body, and everlasting life after death;" and then most rever- ently and solemnly promises to endeavor obediently to keep God's holy commandments, and walk in the same all the days of his life.
This is the baptismal covenant, and if the appli- cant for membership has been baptized in infancy, he then at the time of his admission solemnly ratifies
HE JOINED 1HE CHURCH. 39
and confirms the promise and vow of repentance, faith and obedience contained in this covenant, and further promises «* to be subject to the Discipline of the Church, attend upon its ordinances, and support its institutions."
These are the professions of faith, the vows and promises made by him who connects himself with the Church, after he has been examined bv the min- ister in charge, his spiritual condition inquired into, and satisfactory assurances given of his desire to be saved from his sins — the genuineness of his faith, and willingness to keep the rules of the Church. If this examination by the minister, which is precedent to the reception, be made faithful and thorough, then there is small chance for improper persons to insinuate themselves in the Church. But if the min- ister be incompetent — fail to appreciate the import- ance of the work — or be negligent or hasty and par- tial, or if, because the applicant is rich or influential, or great in the world' s estimation, perhaps in his own also, the examination is passed over smoothly, lightly and easily, no one will be at a loss to per- ceive what evils may follow This is the beginning point, and it is the important point. Care and pains taken, and judicious labor bestowed right here may, and often do save a vast deal of trouble and scandal to the Church afterwards. Begin right, and then to continue so is comparatively easy Begin wrong, and subsequent correction is always difficult, some- times almost impossible.
40 HE JOINED THE CHUECH.
But, supposing the examination to have been properly made, the result entirely satisfactory, the vows taken, and the connection with the Church perfected, then we may properly inquire what it is he has done. . The inquiry here, is made upon the supposition that he, so connecting himself with the Church, had a clear understanding of the matter in advance of his action, and we rehearse it for the purpose of refreshing the memory of those who are members of the Church, as well as to afford infor- mation to such as may think of becoming such.
First, then — He has renounced, that is, forsaken, cast off, rejected, disclaimed, refused to own or acknowledge any allegiance or obligation to the devil and all his works, or the vain pomp and glory of the world, or covetous desires of the same, or the carnal desires of the flesh. He has rejected, cast off, all, and in the most solemn and public man- ner declared he will not follow or be led by them. Now is he a truthful man, is he an honest man, meaning what he says ? Then he ma}^ be expected ever after this to count the things he has renounced as his enemies. He has openly declared war against them, will fight them to the end, and, however feeble his stragglings may be, he will never }deld. On the contrary, he will constantly endeavor to obediently keep God's holy commandments, to fol- low the teachings of His word, in all things, at all times, in all places, and under all circumstances. Accepting that word as " a light to his path, and a
HE JOINED THE CHURCH. 41
lamp to his feet" — not walking in his own ways, nor finding his own pleasure, but subordinating all things else to the divine will, and seeking first, be- fore and above all else, "the kingdom of God and his righteousness."
How broad, how deep, how high, how compre- hensive, yet how exclusive is the nature of these promises and vows ! Uncompromisingly excluding everything that is wrong in thought or feeling, or word or act, and including everything that is "right, even from the least to the greatest. Still there are those who have complained and do complain that the Church is too lenient in the reception of mem- bers, and receives unconverted persons. That de- pends upon what is meant by conversion. It re- quires only a moderate attention to the terminology of different sects to satisfy any observant mind that different denominations attach different meanings to that word, and use it with different acceptations. To point out those different meanings is not an object in this writing. It may be sufficient simply to state, that whoever has in his heart a sincere desire "to flee the wrath to come, be saved from his sins," and can sincerely take upon him the vows, and make the declarations and promises re- ferred to, is one in whose heart a work of grace has been begun. Few or none will deny this. Call it what you will — awakening or conviction, as some have done, conversion as others have termed it, or regeneration as it has been called by still others — no
42 HE JOINED THE CHURCH.
matter — the fact remains, a work of divine grace has been begun ; and what should the individual do but become a co-worker, that he receive not that grace in vain, but work out his salvation with fear and trembling, while God worketh in him both to do, according to his (God's) good pleasure?
All will agree this is the course to be pursued. Then the question arises, can the person concerned better do this in or out of the Church? A correct answer to this will determine the whole matter. Can he better carry on that work among unbelievers than among believers? The Spirit of all grace is working within him, and he is trying to follow the leadings of that Spirit. Under such circumstances is it proper, and likely always to be beneficial for such an one to associate, at least occasionally, with those who have had like experiences, and who, therefore, can instruct and assist him ; and if occa- sionally, why not constantly? It does seem as if there should be but one opinion among Christians on this subject ; nor would there be any diversity if all would properly and precisely define their term's, and each tell exactly in what way or sense they were used.
Such are the method and conditions of joining the Church now ; but a somewhat different plan was pur- sued in young Marvin's day Then people joined the Church on probation, as it was called — i. e., on six months trial whether they would like the Church and whether the church would like them. The cere-
HE JOINED THE CHUBCH. 48
mony was very simple, and consisted only of giving the preacher one's hand and name in the public con- gregation. If either party grew tired of the com- pact, it might be cancelled by either without even the formality of the other's consents The proba- tioner declined to be received at the close of his term, or the Church erased his name. If, however, both wished to confirm it, there was a public and formal reception of the candidate into the Church, and he assumed all that we have above set forth, and possessed all the rights and privileges of full mem- bership.
The effect of this step upon the mind of young Marvin surprised himself. He was like one suddenly awaked in a strange place. He found himself in the midst of new and solemn relations. The close and intimate association with fervent Christians ; the intense devotion of the prayer-meetings ; the thrilling narratives of individual experience in the class-room ; the preacher's stirring and strongly per- sonal appeals ; the songs of triumph and the shouts of ecstasy, which characterized nearly every Metho- dist assemblage in that day ; all appealed at once to his imagination, his understanding, his conscience and his heart. This wonderful contagion of pas- sionate piety, might it not yet conquer the world ? and would not the world be in every sense the better and the happier for such a subjugation ? Here opened an enterprise of spiritual adventure which kindled the ardor of the youthful knight. And what was
44 HE JOINED THE CHUBGH.
more reasonable, than the loyal and affectionate de- votion of redeemed souls to Him who had rescued them from death and hell by his own blood ? Ought not he, as well as others, since he shared with them in the benefits of the Saviour's sufferings and death, to be at once grateful and good, and to emulate their fervid devotion to the Captain of their salvation? Should he look tamely on while others, no more deeply indebted than himself, bore the offering of their hearts and lives to the Master's altar? For many months these thoughts and feelings kept wild riot in his soul. He has furnished us with one picture of his mental strivings at this time, on which it may be instructive for all to look. He says :
"Soon after I had united with the Church I had an experience I am sure I can never forget. I was in the saddle, on the Lord's day, on my way to a social meeting in the country The aspects of the autumn scenery are as distinct in my memory as if it had been only yesterday ; the warm sun lay upon the mottled foliage, and there seemed the hush of a hal- lowed peace upon the face of nature. All at once the thought came to me — 'I am in the Church, and it is in my power now, by my unholy living, to bring a blot on the Church, and to dishonor the Saviour.' For a time the reflection seemed insupportable ; it was almost more than I could bear."
It will be seen from this how soon and how pow- erfully the Church cast her restraining influence upon the young man who, led by the hand of Maternal
HE JOINED TEE CHURCH. 45
Love, had come to the altar of the church. The hand of God was upon him, and its painful weight seemed unendurable. Appetite and sleep departed from him. He had not known before that he was guilty — that he was in danger — that he was under sentence of eternal doom. To be sure lie had supposed, from his early religious instruction, that in a general way and in common with all others, he shared in a kind of hereditary depravity ; but this was all. And now, ho felt that he was as the chief of sinners, and shud- dered under the sense of au infinite and Divine wrath. The heavens seemed brass above him, and the earth iron beneath him.
His moods were variable. Sometimes, full of rest- less anguish and fiery conflict, he wandered in the woods and fields hour after hour seeking^ by the mere force of physical exhaustion, to lull the pain of his breast. At other times, for days together, he was wrapped in a sombre mantle of despondency and shunned the light of day and dreaded the warmth of home. Anon, he broke into wild and fitful gleams of mirth and jollity He was the life of every com- pany ; he set the table in a roar, and his chamber companions could not sleep for his laughter-compel- ling jests. He had a horror of solitude and sought to resist and overthrow the despotism of his own thoughts. Then devotion supervened. He would have it out in a struggle with the Almighty He would wrestle with the Angel and prevail. And so he spent long hours in earnest, solemn but unavail-
46 HE JOINED THE CHUBCH.
ing prayer. He wished to bring God to his terms — to secure the Almighty for his helper and coadjutor in the strife of personal emulation ; but he had not, as yet, fully resolved to yield to God's terms, and devote his all to the service of Christ.
At last, sixteen months after joining the Church, in December, 1840, he grew weary of the conflict and reckless of all consequences he said, in the depths of his spiritual submission : "I will be any- thing and do anything that God shall ordain. Let him show me his will and I will execute it. I give my whole heart — I will and do accept Christ on His own terms — and accept him now " And then went up to the gates of Heaven the news : " The dead's alive ! the lost is found !" and Enoch Mather Marvin was converted to God.
Chapter <£im.
HE WAS CONVERTED.
€i T T E was converted." — Other denominations X X sometimes use other phrases, such us " Con- fessed Christ," "experienced a hope," *« accepted the Savior," k' professed faith in Christ," etc., but, as a general thing, they all mean substantially the same thing. But what is it they do mean ? Is the public mind, or the mind of the Church clear on this point? Is there no confounding of terms, no put- ting one thing for another, no using of terms inter- changeably, when those terms do not mean the same thing, and thereby either misleading the mind, or leaving it in a confused state? We incline to the opinion these questions cannot be answered negative- ly, and it is a matter of importance to settle, so far as may be, the meaning and proper application of the terms used.
And, to begin at the beginning, we must try first to answer the question raised concerning depravity, or, as it is often stated, total depravity In doing this we will first give a brief statement of the teach- ings of the leading churches on the subject :
48 HE WAS CONVERTED.
The doctrine of the Catholic Church on original sin, as set forth by an able and approved author (Moehler) is simple and may be reduced to the fol- lowing propositions :
Adam by sin lost his original justice and holiness, drew upon himself, by his disobedience, the displeas- ure and judgments of the Almighty, incurred the penalty of death, and thus, in all his parts — in his body as well as his soul — became strangely deterio- rated. This sinful condition is transmitted to all his posterity as descended from him, entailing the con- sequences, that man is himself incapable — even with the aid of the most perfect ethical law offered to him from without — to act in a manner agreeable to God, or in any other way to be justified before him, save only by the merits of Jesus Christ.
With this agree the teachings of all the Doctrinal Catechisms that have fallen under our notice, par- ticularly that of Rev P Collet of Sorbonne, and that of Rev Stephen Keenan, both of whom, we be- lieve, are recognized by the Church.
The "Assembly's (Presbyterian) Confession of Faith ' ' has the following :
" Our first parents, * * * being the root of all mankind, the guilt of this (Adam's) sin was imputed, and the same death in sin, and corrupted nature, conveyed to all their posterity, descended from them by ordinary generation. From this orig- inal corruption, whereby we are utterly indisposed, disabled and made opposite to all good, and wholly inclined to all evil do proceed all actual transgressions."
The Heidelberg Catechism reads : " From the fall and disobedience of our first parents, Adam
HE WAS CONVERTED. 49
and Eve, in Paradise; hence, our nature is become so corrupt that we are all conceived and born in sin."
The Methodist Churches, both in England and America, and wherever else they are found, have ex- pressed their views in an article, thus :
" Original sin standeth not in the following of Adam (as the Pelagians do vainly talk), but it is the corruption of the nature of every man, that naturally is engendered of the offspring of Adam, whereby man is very far gone fr/)m original righteous- ness and of his own nature inclined to evil, and that continu- ally "
To be sure this is not all that is taught on the sub- ject by some of these churches. The Catholic, the Lutheran, the Church of England, the Protestant Episcopal Church in this country, and the Presby- terian, all teach, either by positive declaration or by legitimate inference, that the guilt as well as the cor- ruption of Adam s sin has been transmitted to his posterity, so that every one born into this world "deserveth God's wrath and, damnation," as the Church of England and the Protestant Episcopal Church in this country express it, or " whereby he is bound over to the wrath of God and curse of the law," as it is expressed in the Assembly's Cat- echism.
This view is not taken by intelligent Methodists, nor is it taught in their Articles of Religion. They accept the Article as quoted above — accept the doc- trine of transmitted corruption, but not of trans- mitted personal sin, believing that the "Lamb of God hath taken away the sin of the world ' ' — that is, "as by the offense of one judgment came upon
50 HE WAS CONVERTED.
all men to condemnation, even .so by the righteous- ness of one the free gift came upon all men unto justification of life." The sin of Adam and the merits of Christ are here pronounced to be co-ex- tensive. "Judgment came upon all all men" — the free gift came upon all men So, if in the first clause the whole human race be meant, the same is meant in the second clause ; and it follows that as all were injured by the sin of Adam, so all are ben- efited by the obedience of Christ. Therefore, what- ever these benefits be, all children dying in infancy must partake of them, else there would be a large portion of mankind upon whom they never came — who never received the " free gift " — and this would contradict the Apostle's words. Therefore, "the sin of the world," or the personal sin and guilt of Adam's posterity, being taken away by " the Lamb of God," the "free gift" having come "upon all men to justification of life " — jus facer e — to make it right for men to have life ; and as sin per se is a transgression of the law, and those dying in infancy never sinned, they are all saved in heaven through the merits of Christ.
But to return to depravity direct. Neither any of the formulated creeds referred to, nor the Bible, use the phrase "total depravity;" and how it came in such common use among a large class of writers and speakers might, perhaps, be satisfactorily explained were it required by the necessities of the case. But however that may be, the propriety of its use may,
HE WAS CONVERTED. 51
except as a mere quotation, or for the purpose of illustration, well be questioned.
If our fallen humanity be considered separate and apart from the redemptorv scheme, then its deprav- ity may be regarded as total or entire. For if the fall mean anything, it means complete alienation from God. Left to himself, after the original trans- gression, man would never have made a right choice nor performed an holy act. The race whose pro- genitor began his career in an act of deliberate re- bellion, would not do otherwise than fly from bad to worse.1
If, therefore, we find in man, before liis conver- sion and regeneration, any qualities or elements which are not stamped with selfishness, sin and re- bellion against God, we are compelled to say that such qualities do not strictly belong to the fallen nature of man. If, also, we find any unregenerated man in the possession of external objects which af- ford the least possible enjoyment, we are likewise forced to admit that such possessions do not prop- erly belong to a fallen human nature ; the normal inheritance of a depraved man is spiritual death, utter poverty, and constant misery Total deprav- ity can not imply less than what is involved in these two propositions — utterly destitute of goodness, and utterly destitute of happiness and enjoyment 2
But this is not man's condition. He is in possession of good — much good — temporal and intellectual,
iDr. Bellows. 2Dr. Townsend.
52 HE WAS CONVERTED.
and as "every good and perfect gift cometh down from the Father of lights," man is to be considered in relation to the scheme of redemption, and as re- ceiving all the good he possesses or enjoys, from the giver of all good, through the merits of the Re- deemer. On this principle the opposing views which have struggled against each other so long and so bitterly, may be harmonized. Those who contend that man is " dead in sin, and wholly defiled in all the faculties and all the parts of his soul and body," are right, if reference is made to man as left by the fall and without the benefits of the scheme of redemption. While those who contend that man is not " death sick, but naturally in health sufficient, with proper diet and exercise, to develop into per- fection," are right if reference be had to man as endowed with certain unmerited and special favors by divine grace. The Old-Schoolmen say "man has no right ability," and separately from the atone- ment he has not. They are right. The New-School men say "man can fulfill God's requirements," and if by can they mean the gracious ability which God bestows, they are right. The sum of the whole is : Without Christ we can do nothing ; through Christ strengthening us we do all things required of us.
It were useless to speculate upon what man was or would have been without a Redeemer. That is not his condition. He has a Redeemer, who lighteth every man that cometh into the world, and through whom came the grace which bringeth salvation, and
HE WAS CONVERTED. 63
hath appeared to all men and appeared in all men, by the bestowment of all the good, temporal or spiritual, which they enjoy, who is the way, the truth and the life, and by whom men may come back to a forsaken Father, and again enjoy his di- vine favor.
And now let us consider the progressiva steps by which that return may be effected. In the common language of the Church, these are usually designated by the terms awakening, conviction, repentance, faith, justification, adoption, regeneration, new birth, conversion, and sanctification, and by the catechisms and leading writers of the Church these terms are defined :
Awakening — Having the attention and feelings more than ordinarily fixed upon and more deeply interested in religious matters as pertaining to one's self. More than usually con- cerned about religion.
Conviction, in a religious sense, is the first degree of repent- ance, and implies an affecting sense of our guilt before God, and that we deserve and are exposed to His wrath. — ( Watson.)
"Repentance — True repentance is a grace of the Holy Spirit, whereby a sinner, from the sense of his sins and apprehension of the mercy of God in Christ, doth with grief and hatred of his sin turn from it to God, with full purpose of and endeavors after future obedience." — (Catechism.)
An evangelical repentance, which is a godly sorrow wrought in the heart of a sinful person by the word and spirit of God, whereby from a sense of his sin as offensive to God, and defiling and endangering his own soul, and from an apprehension of the mercy of God in Christ he with grief and hatred of all his known sins turns from them to God as his Savior and Lord.— (Watson.)
Faith in Christ is a saving grace whereby we receive and rest on him alone for salvation . as he is offered to us in the gospel.
54 BE WAS CONVERTED.
Justification is an act of God's free grace, wherein He par- doneth all our sins and accepteth us as righteous in His sight, only for the sake of Christ. — (Catechism.)
Justification in theology is used for the acceptance of one, by God, who is, and confesses himself to be guilty. . . Hence it appears that justification and the remission or forgiveness of sin are substantially the same thing. These expressions relate to one and the same act of God — to one and the same privilege of his believing people. — (Watson.)
Adoption is an act of God*s free grace, whereby, upon the forgiveness of sins, we are received into the number and have a right to all the privileges of the sons of God. — (Catechism.)
" Adoption, in a theological sense, is that act of God's free grace by which, upon our being justified by faith in Christ we are received into the family of God and entitled to the inherit- ance of heaven." — (Watson.)
Kegeneration is that great change which God works in the soul when he raises it from the death of sin to the life of right- eousness. It is the change wrought in the soul by the Almighty when it is created anew in Christ Jesus, when it is renewed after the image of God in righteousness and true holiness. Then our sanctification being begun, we receive power to grow in grace and in the knowledge of Christ, and to live in the exercise of inward and outward holiness.
Entire sanctification is the state of being entirely cleansed from sin, so as to love God with all our heart, and mind, and soul, and strength, and our neighbor as ourselves. — (Catechism.)
Regeneration — a new birth — that work of the Holy Spirit by which we experience a change of heart. It is expressed in Scripture by being born again. The change in regen-
eration consists in the recovery of the moral image of God upon the heart; that is to say, so as to love Him supremely, and serve Him ultimately as our highest end, and to delight in Him super- latively as our chief good.
Sanctification, that work of God's grace by which we are re- newed after the image of God, set apart for his service, and enabled to die unto sin and live unto righteousness. — ( Watson. )
It will be observed that Watson speaks of regen- eration and new birth as one and the same. In an- other place he says :
HE WAS CONVERTED- 65
Conversion — Considered theologically, consists in a renova- tion of the heart and life, or a being turned from sin aud the power of Satan unto God.
The attentive reader will easily perceive that Mr Watson not only speaks of regeneration and new birth as one and the saine; but that he also makes little or no difference between regeneration and the new birth on the one part, and conversion and sanc- tification on the other If either regeneration or conversion, as he uses these terms, embrace all that is implied in his definitions, then they embrace all that is implied in his definition of sanctification. For if the soul be thoroughly raised from a death of sin to a life of righteousness in the full sense of those terms, then what more is embraced in his defi- nition of the other term? Or if conversion mean a thorough "renovation of the heart and life, as a being turned from sin and the power of satan unto God," what more is there in sanctification as he de- fines it? A close study of these definitions will reveal the fact that the distinction or difference be- tween the several works of grace on the heart, whatever it may have been in the mind of the writer, is not clearly expressed in the definitions given. A still greater confounding of terms used as designa- tive of this work of grace is plainly, and often pain- fully noticeable in the writings and oral teachings of others.
In view of this fact, and also of the further fact that if the soul make the attainments and reach the
■
ends set before it in the gospel of Christ, its views
50 .HE WAS CONVEBTED.
of what these ends are, and how they should be at- tained, should be characterized by greater or less definiteness and clearness as well as correctness. In other words, it must have its ideal — and that ideal must be correct in itself. In view of this, the fol- lowing thoughts are respectfully submitted for the consideration of all inquirers after truth :
First — Considered as separate from the atone- ment, and separate from all the provisions and ben- efits of the Redemptory scheme, human nature — as a nature — separate from all other natures — in all its essential characteristics and all its differentiation — is entirely and utterly depraved. There is no good in it — nor can it, of itself, attain to good, or perform that which is good. But —
Secondlv — This nature has been redeemed — "not with corruptible things as gold and silver, but with the precious blood of Christ." And to redeem it Christ himself took upon him our nature — " not the nature of Angels but the seed of Abraham" — was " made under the law, to redeem them that were under the law " And when he took upon him the nature of one man he took upon him the nature of every man — and when in that nature, he redeemed one man he redeemed all men. He took the nature that had sinned, and in that nature he made an atone- ment for that nature, and by consequence for all who possessed it. And now as " every good and per- fect i>ift cometh down from the Father of liohts," ill the good that comes to man, whether to him as a
HE WAS CONVERTED. 57
physical, intellectual, social or moral being ; all, all comes from God through the merits and mediation of Christ. Let this great truth be pondered well — and then
Thirdly — Remember that the objects, purposes, plans, and all the workings of the redemptory scheme were designed to bring fallen and lost humanity back to the Father from whom by disobedience it had strayed and become lost. In order to do this, how- ever, it was and is necessary that it be regenerated — reproduced — that is, generated or produced again ; or, as the Apostle expresses it, "renewed in the spirit of your mind" — or renewed in the spirit of the spirit- — not only in the thoughts and feelings, the aspirations and aims, the affections and desires ; not only the volitions, but renewed in the basis on which all these rest, the source whence they flow, the unde- fined and undefinable /, the Me, the very Ego of the man. This must be regenerated or reproduced. And now all the good, temporal, intellectual, or purely spiritual that is bestowed upon man is bestowed in view of this end ; bestowed in order to his regenera- tion and the bringing him back to his ' ' Father in heaven." And the regenerative process, in its widest signification, includes the totality of the work of grace performed in man, from the first beamings of that * « light which lighteth everv man that cometh into the world " to the final salvation of the soul in heaven, while awakening, conviction, contrition, the grace of faith and repentance, justification, the being
58 HE WAS CONVEBTED.
born again, adoption and sanctification, are stages in the same general regenerative process.
This admitted, then, it follows that the "sin of the world ' ' being taken away by Him who bore our sins, and the salvation of all who die in infancy thus secured, it remains for individual sinners, for per- sonal transgressors to become co-workers with God who worketh in them, both to will and to do and work out their salvation. That is, to heed the light that shineth, and walk in that light ; to note the awakening or quickening influences of the Holy Spirit on their minds and hearts, and carefully cherish these influences as best they can, follow on through all the stages of the process, and thus attain to a full and complete resurrection unto life. And if this yield- ins; obedience and co-workins" be besfun with the first operations of the Holy Spirit and closely followed in its progressive influences and teachings, the individual may thus, through grace, retain his infant justifica- tion and grow in grace as he grows in stature. This, however, sad to say, is rarely done.
If this general view were taken, would not men be more careful ' ' not to despise the gifts ' ' that are be- stowed, and not to receive "the grace of God in
vain."
Young Marvin did not retain the grace of infant justification. Like most others he went astray, fol- lowing the devices of his own heart, and seeking his own pleasure. This continued year after year — until at length he gave attention to the inward warn-
HE WAS CONVERTED. 59
ings — and, through grace, was enabled to repent, believe and experience a change that made him con- sciously " a new creature," and placed him appa- rently in a new world. The whole face of nature, both animate and inanimate, seemed to him to have undergone a renewing change. It seemed to rise fresh and smiling, as from a baptism of infinite love. The skies were no longer sad — the heavens no long- er distant. The leafless trees of the forest took forms and hues of beauty that his spring-tide and summer recollections of their loveliness could not match. The frost-burned fields were fairer than when he had seen them clad with verdure and gold- en with grain. The murmur of the streams had tones of music deeper and sweeter than he had ever caught before, and especially all forms of life were animate with joy and vocal with praise. From insect to man, the world so long unstrung had been sud- denly attuned, by some unseen hand, and harmony supplanted discord on all the strings of life. The faces of his friends, in particular, seemed to have caught the celestial halo of the pictured saints and/ angels ; and through this glory he looked upon his mother's face, and clasped her hand and leaned his boyish head upon her tender breast.
He understood well enough that all this was the effect of his own excited and surcharged feelings. We have often heard him say, referring to this expe- rience, " it was but the subjective clothing the objec- tive with its own bright hues." But the extent and
60 HE WAS CONVERTED.
intensity of this illusion evidenced the thorough- ness of the change that had passed upon his spirit. This change was no illusion. It widened, deep- ened and strengthened with his physical frame. As the seventeen-year old boy grew to manhood, ripened to maturity, and passed on into the early autumn of life, where the death-frost found and killed him, the sun of an unclouded conscious- ness continued to attest the fact of his conversion. Hence, there was no paralysis of doubt, or exhaust- ing strife of inward dissidence to cripple or impair his spiritual powers. They were always ready for the frav, and the waste of war was alwavs on the enemy's ground.
Marvin's conversion did not, as was so common in that day, occur in a revival-meeting, and no minister was specially instrumental in the work. He attrib- uted it more to the religious influence of his mother than to any other human agency It was the ripened harvest of her early sowing, whose golden fruits are gathered now, under her eye and near her heart, in the granary of heaven.
Like Saul of Tarsus, the first impulsive utterance of his renewed heart was, " Lord, what wilt thou have me do?" He was ready for anything, and he did not believe that God meant him to be idle. Not for this, he was sure, had been given him the riches of Divine Grace and the inspiration of Infinite Love. The treasure was unquestionably his, but what should he do with it? This was the question of the hour,
HE WAS CONVEBTED. 61
from the solution of which his life would take its final bent. There must be some work for him. But what was it? Never mind. God would show it to him in his own good time and way Meanwhile, he had to do, for the present, with only the nearest and most obvious duty To this he gave himself with concentrated energy and burning zeal. The prayer- meeting, the class-room, the revival- altar, all the work of the Church, witnessed his fervid devotion, and were quickened to higher efficiency by his labors. Gradually the conviction grew among preachers and people, " this young man is chosen of Ood for the work of the ministry." It found expression in the common conversations of which his talents and labors were the subject, and in the special tasks for which he was designated by the leaders of the Church. At length it was suggested to himself ; and an inward voice, which he felt was Divine, confirmed it to his soul. He knew it for the call of God, and he answered, with earnest and resolute submission, "Here am I. Send me." And so it came to pass that, in 1841, when but little more than eighteen years of age, and in less than one year after his con- version, Enoch Mather Marvin entered the ministry, and was received on trial in the Missouri Conference.
($H«ptM gxxtU.
A CALL TO THE MINISTRY.
IN all the various departments of ecclesiastical polity, and among all the interests therein in- volved, there are none that demand more serious attention than those pertaining to a call and qualifi- cation for the ministry As if by immutable law, or by stern unyielding fate, as is the minister so are the people. Ordinarily, they will be intelligent, enterprising, energetic, industrious, upright, and exemplary ; or directly the reverse, accordingly as he teaches and practices among them. They will, so long as they acknowledge and receive him as their minister, imbibe more or less of his spirit ; they will in some degree copy his example and tread in his footsteps. He will do much to make or to mar them — to help them to heaven or drive them to hell. If he be really and deeply pious, imbued with the Spirit of the Master whom he professes to serve — if "the burden of souls " be upon his heart — if he rightly appreciate the nature and obligations of his calling, realize its responsibilities, so that with Paul he can deeply feel and truly exclaim,
A CALL TO THE MINISTRY. 63
"Wo is me if I preach not the gospel," and still like Paul declare, "I determined not to know any- thing among you save Jesus Christ, and him cruci- fied," and that "I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ my Lord" — if he really be ''crucified to the world, and the world crucified" to him, and the life he now lives in the flesh he lives "by faith in the Son of God" — if he recognize and feel himself to be an ambassador of Christ, speaking in Christ's stead, and in all his conduct and conversation manifest these things — then indeed will he be blessed of God, and the people be blessed through his ministrations. But if "no man taketh this honor unto himself but he that is called of God, as was Aaron," then a careful examination as to what constitutes a Divine call to the ministry is proper at almost any time, or in any place. There is too much depending on this to allow it to be passed over slightly The intelli- gence, the piety, the progressiveness, the prosperity and the safety of the Church are all involved ; and in this, as in all things else, the nearer men conform to the Divine plan, the more safe and successful will they be.
As to what constitutes a call to the work of the ministry there is, it must be admitted, a diversity of opinion among Christian people ; and yet all Churches agree that it is highly improper to enter upon it impelled only by those mere secular and low inducements by which men are led to engage in
64 A CALL TO THE MINISTBY.
the common every-day employments of life. The Churches generally hold — though not with entire unanimity — that the selecting or designating of men for the ministry is the peculiar prerogative of the Almighty. As in former dispensations, Aaron and his sons, and the whole tribe of Levi were called to the Jewish priesthood, and Moses, David, Elisha, Jeremiah, John the Baptist, and other prophets, were specially called to their work, and as the same principle prevailed in Apostolic times, the Savior himself having entered and exercised the prophetic and priestly office by Divine appointment, and as he specially called those whom he chose to be his Apos- tles, so the principle should still be recognized in the Churches, and the recognition continued till Christ shall come again. Peter and Andrew, James and John and Matthew and the other Apostles re- ceived their call from the Lord Jesus in person, and by him were commissioned to preach the gospel first to the Jews, and subsequently to the world ; and Saul who was called of God to be an Apostle, not- withstanding the infant Church had, in a most solemn manner, elected Matthias to take part in the Apos- tleship. Barnabas and Silas, and as we may safely conclude, all the early preachers were made "over- seers of the Church by the Holy Ghost." Nor are we to suppose that this was but a temporary pro- vision for the supply of preachers during the age of miracles. On the contrary, it is referred to as a perpetual resource of the Church ; hence the com-
A CALL TO THE M1NISTBY. 65
mand given to us to pray for the appointment of ministers — " Pray ye the Lord of the harvest that he will send forth laborers into his harvest/ '
The New Testament abounds with both preceptive and suggestive teachings on the subject which must convince all intelligent and candid men that both the ministry and ministers are by (rod's appoint- ment, and that such and only such as he appoints are true ministers. This high prerogative, then, God still exercises in the Church, although the mod<j$ by which the call is made now differ widely from those used in former dispensations. Men are not now called as were Peter and Andrew, James and John, and Matthew No audible voice is now heard calling men to leave the common avocations of life and enter the ministry Nor are we to expect any such phenomena as that characterizing the conver- sion and call of Saul of Tarsus. As well might we expect the bestowment of the gift of tongues, or of healing. Instances have occurred in modern times, and do still occur, where persons have thought them- selves called to the ministry by an audible voice — by dreams or by some unaccountable impulse ; but while charity might prompt us to believe them sin- cere, it would be verv unsafe to give heed to such phantasies ; and the Church that would commission such idle visionaries to expound God's holy word could not be very far from corruption and ruin.
In the first stages of the propagation of the gospel the operations of Divine grace on the individual heart
66 A CALL TO THE MINISTRY.
were not unfrequently accompanied by visible mani- festations designed perhaps to produce conviction in the minds of unbelievers. The forgiveness of sins was sometimes accompanied by the healing of bodily diseases, both by Christ and his Apostles. When the Holy Ghost was given in the day of Pentecost it sat upon the disciples as "cloven tongues of fire," but when received by Cornelius and others, then present at the preaching of Peter, no such miracle nor phenomenon occurred. That same spirit still converts the soul, and the many and varied miracles wrought in those days on the physical man were em- blems of the greater miracles wrought by the Holy Ghost — greater because to convince a soul of sin is a work far above that of convicting a man of crime ; while giving sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, speech to the dumb, strength to the impotent, the cleansing of the lepers, the healing of the sick, the raising of the dead, were all great works worthy of him by whom or in whose name they were performed ; their antitypes on the soul by the power of the Holy Ghost were far greater. The spiritually opening of eyes, unstopping ears, loosing tongues, healing sick- nesses, cleansing leprosy, supplanting impotency with strength, and raising the spiritually dead are works in magnitude and importance far beyond those performed on the body ; hence the Master said, " The works that I do shall ye do, and greater works than these shall ye do, because I go unto my Father," when, as he said, " I will send the Comforter and he
A CALL TO THE MINISTRY. 67
shall abide with you forever." The spirit is the same — the great work performed is substantially the same, while the modes and manifestations are some- what different.
" A call to the ministry may be defined a persua- sion wrought by the Holy Spirit in the mind of an individual that it is his duty to become a preacher of the gospel. It is recognized by the subject of it simply as a conviction of duty, which, however, is properly ascribed to the Holy Spirit the Divine agent which produces all pious emotions and purposes. This impression varies greatly in clearness and in- tensity in different individuals, and in the same individual at different times. At first it may be per- ceived only in the form of a casual suggestion, a transient desire, or a mere inquiry awakened in the mind by reflection, reading, conversation, or other ordinary means ; and it is commonly developed and matured by prayer, by self-examination, by perusing the Scriptures, by hearing the gospel, by pious con- ference, by meditating upon the wants of the Church and of the world — in a word, by all those means which deepen piety and make more fervent our love to Christ. The progress of the mind from first im- pressions to a thorough and abiding conviction is sometimes slow, and may possibly be the work of years. It is commonly found, however, that the views of one who ultimately attains to clear evidence of his call to the ministry become clear and settled with a rapidity proportioned to his growth in grace
68 A CALL TO THE MINISTBY.
and habitual fidelity to the Kedeemer's cause. The distressing and protracted doubts with regard to the subject which oppress so many minds may commonly be traced to superficial piety, to worldly feeling, and an unwillingness to engage in a work so abhorrent to sloth, ambition and selfishness. A few individuals who are doomed to struggle with morbid peculiari- ties of miud or body, or with the prejudices of a vicious education, may be long in attaining to a sat- isfactory evidence with regard to the path of duty, but in most, perhaps in all other cases, it is reason- able to expect that the humble, the obedient, and the teachable will soon be relieved from all painful un- certainty
' ' The feebleness and indistinctness of first impres- sions should not be taken as an argument against their genuineness. On the contrary, it seems to be most consistent with the whole economy of the gospel, that the manifestation of the Spirit should, at first, be only sufficient to awaken the attention and to ex- cite the mind to a course of inquiry and self-exam- ination, and that it should shine upon us in a clearer light in answer to our prayers, and in aid of our humble endeavors to ascertain and perform our duty- Every part of the gospel economy is conformed to the condition of man in a state of probation, and it may be doubted whether the Holy Spirit ever exerts an influence upon the human mind beyond its power of prompt and easy resistance. But without stop- ping to inquire whether there are any exceptions to
A CALL TO THE MINISTRY. 69
the great law by which the Divine agent is pleased to regulate his own operations, we may rest assured that, in calling the ministry, as well as in his other offices, ' a manifestation of the Spirit is given to profit withal,' that 'to him that hath, more shall be given ;' and that they who are graciously visited by this Divine light may, at their option, follow or extinguish it. There is a palpable and perilous mistake on this subject, which prevails very extensively in the Church. Many young men who have been led to think it their duty to devote themselves to the min- istry, give no heed to this impression, under a vain belief that, if the call be genuine, it will become more loud and importunate for being neglected. Thev imagine that this work of the Spirit differs essentially from all its other operations, and they seem to demand that its influence shall be irresistible before they will cease to resist it. The practical efforts of this pernicious error are often no less in- structive than melancholy The holy visitant which was given to enlighten, not to control the mind, is grieved by neglect and disobedience. Incipient con- victions of dutv stow feeble and confused, and the feelings subside into fearful indifference, which is too often regarded as sufficient proof that God has not spoken." x
If the views advanced above are correct it is a matter of great importance to every pious young man who has been brought to feel that it may prob-
i Dr. Olin.
70 A CALL TO THE MINISTRY.
ably be his duty to preach the gospel, to give the subject an immediate and prayerful attention — con- sider it carefully, and use all proper means to ascer- tain his duty — and if it be not to become a minister, yet he is bound to devote himself actively and unre- servedly to the cause of Christ, and that, too, in the way which, after careful and prayerful examination, shall to his judgment and conscience seem to be the will of God and the indication of His Providence . But no individual who may think himself called to the work of preaching the gospel, ought to feel sure of his call, or enter upon the work, without a careful examination as to his qualifications. Every one who may be under convictions of duty in this matter, and is not qualified for the work to which he may think himself called, is under the most sacred and solemn obligations to use every means at his com- mand, and employ all his time in securing such a training as will prepare him for the work — and if God has really called him the way will be opened by which the requisite preparation can be made.
It may not be amiss to remark in this connection — that what is usually termed a classical education is by no means essential to a successful prosecution of the ministry in the case of each and every individual minister — as the facts connected with the history of the subject of these sketches demonstrate. To the Church has been given apostles, prophets, evangel- ists, pastors and teachers ; and while classical learn- ing is important and, perhaps, essential to the min-
A CALL TO THE MINISTRY. 71
istry as a whole, it by no means follows that each and every individual minister must be in possession of it. While some gather the learning of the world and use it in explaining, defending and enforcing the Divine Word, others may be serving as evangelists, calling sinners to repentance, and thus spreading a knowledge of the truth.
It was a remark of DeAubigne that " unity in diversity, and diversity in unity, is a law of nature, and also of the Church." It is true. And this unity and this diversity are as clearly manifested in the Christian ministry as anywhere else. While the history of the past records wonderful instances of success attending the labors of men who knew no language but that of the common people, and to whom science and philosophy were almost unknown terms — they were men of God — mighty in the Scriptures, knowing nothing " Save Jesus Christ, and Him crucified," were endowed with power from on high, and were thus owned and blessed of God.
But whoever is Divinely called to the work, wheth- er as an evangelist, pastor or teacher, passes through a severe ordeal. He has a sense of the importance of work, of the fearful responsibilities connected with it, and of his utter unfitness — of himself — to perform it, keener and deeper than that experienced by any other, or that he himself experienced pre- vious to his recognition of that call. Neither the pencil of a Hogarth nor the pen of a Smollet could paint or portray the stragglings, the agony of the
72 A CALL TO THE MINISTRY.
soul in that fearful experience. Yet through this ordeal, so trying, and in which so many souls are wrecked, the boy, Marvin, passed easily and safely - This exemption and security he owed to the thor- oughness of his original consecration. When he said, in the hour of his conversion, " Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ? " his spirit took an attitude of sub- mission to the Divine will from which it never un- bent. It needed only to assure him of the authen- ticity of his Divine vocation to the ministry in order to secure his prompt and cheerful obedience. Here, indeed, he had some trouble. Because the subject was originally suggested to him by others, he feared that it might have had no higher origin than their partial hopes ; and to these, however flattering, it would not become him to listen. Had it not been for the distinctness of their echo in his own bosom, the promptings of others would never have occasioned him a second thought. But this voice within him ! Might it not be that of his own ambition, pride or vanity? He resolutely demanded this answer of himself, and rendered it with the sunny candor of his earliest religious thought. No, he was inclined to think, after long pondering on the question, it could be no ambition, pride or vanity which prompt- ed him to the ministry. Ambition ! where were its fields and its rewards of power, dignity and wealth in the humble calling; of a Methodist itinerant? how could pride be gratified by his becoming the obedi- ent a- nd self-denying servant of others? and how few
A CALL TO THE MINISTBY. 73
and feeble were the voices which would praise such a choice, compared to the multitudes who would wel- come him to another and more brilliant career? Besides that he had consciously cast these motives out of his heart, how could they come to him in the guise of their opposites? Of this, then, he was sure — that no form of worldly selfishness bade him preach the Gospel.
But what, then, was it? this inward persuasion — which seemed to gather, in its firm but gentle hand, all the forces of feeling and of reason, and bind them on that rude altar, the Methodist itinerant ministry? It came not, certainly, from himself; for he could distinctly see that his own wish and con- viction pointed to other fields, and that these had been arrested and held in leash by an alien and a stronger force. As certainly it came not from the suggestions of others ; for when, before, was any counsel of friends, however dear, gifted with this strange potency that 4 it silenced every dissenting voice of his own soul, and made itself alone audible in the ear of consciousness? Above all, it could be no diabolical inspiration ; for it lacked every quality of meanness and malice, and was full of tenderness and love. Whence then could it come but from above ? and what could it be but the whisper of the Divine Spirit, bidding him to go forth to that life- work concerning which he had humbly asked the counsel and guidance of Heaven? Thus, by reason as well as faith — by an analysis of exclusion, if we
U A CALL TO THE MINI STB Y.
may so term it — he reached and rested in the assur- ance that he was called of God to preach the Gospel. From this moment to the end of life, he never wavered in his conviction or turned aside from the path of duty which it indicated.
(ttlwpttv gtvtntU.
ITINERANCY.
THE Methodist Itinerancy is the wonder, but not quite the admiration, of the world. Arising almost within the memory of living men it has, within little more than a hundred years, spanned oceans, subdued forests, conquered deserts, and now num- bers its ministers by tens of thousands and its adhe- rents by millions ; and at the same time that it has gone so far, it has most effectively remained at home. It has occupied and swayed the centres, as well as subjugated the outskirts, of civilization. While it has gained so much, it has forsaken nothing. In the interest and enthusiasm of foreign conquest it has left no home-field -until led, no cottage desolate. A chain so flexible to itself and so unyielding to others ; so light and yet so strong ; whose adventurous links, however widely separated are never sundered, and are always increasing in numbers and in force ; in what work-shop was it forged ? and whose is the hand so rapidly bearing it round the world?
For a merely natural answer, which would exclude
76 ITWEBANCY.
all super-human agencies, it might be said that it originated solely in the restless zeal and organizing brain of a persecuted priest of the Church of En- gland who, perceiving the inefficiency of existing forms of religion, sought to recast it in a mould of his own invention. But this answer would satisfy others as little as ourselves. The friends of the sys- tern (of whom the writer is one of the most ar- dent) would complain, that it were attributing to the agency of a mere man, that which was the obvious work of God ; and in this complaint they would be justified. Its enemies, on the other hand, must themselves confess that such a cause is wholly inadequate to its supposed effects. These enemies of the Methodist system may be distinguished into two great classes, and their arrows of criticism assail it from opposite directions.
The first of these classes consists of the hyper- orthodox, who regard Methodism as a schism, and competing sects who may be envious of its success. The former are represented by the Catholics and the high-church Episcopalians, and the latter have a common and every-day apparency, in newspapers, public addresses, and controversial books, which renders it unnecessary that they should be particu- larly named. These regard Methodism and par- ticularly the itinerancy as of bad origin and, indeed, do not scruple to say, when provoked by contumacy or warmed by debate, that it was begotten by the father of evil : and for the proofs of its bad origin,
ITINEBANCY. 77
they point to all the traits which distinguish it from their own systems, and pronounce them distinctly and altogether unscriptural and bad. " Look," cries the angry and intolerant high-churchman, "at your boasted Itinerancy ! What is it, after all, but a parcel of uncultivated laymen, going about singing, praying, and ranting, in order to escape the pains of that honest labor in which they would be much bet- ter and more profitably employed? What good do they accomplish? Do they not stir up the dregs of the people and minister to the wildest and most vicious excitements? Do they not travesty our sacraments, cripple our revenues and almost depop- ulate our churches ? Do they not lead thousands of poor souls astray, who will infallibly be lost? And this you call a glorious system ! Away with it, to the foul depths out of which it crawled like a ser- pent, to writhe its blighting way through the' world ! ' '
But, we reply, so long as these, whom they call unordained men, are able to preach the Gospel with an eloquence, learning, and effectiveness, to say the least, much greater than their own "legitimate apostolical successors ;" so long as their spontaneous prayers have a fervor, earnestness, and spirituality of devotion unknown to ritualistic forms ; while, in active practical benificence, they far surpass their churchly critics ; while, in sobriety, simplicity, and purity of life, they put to shame, and ought to put to the blush, the men who denounce them : they can
78 ITINERANCY.
well afford to smile at the impotence of that rage whose only weapon is invective.
But competing sects can not stand upon the high ground of peerless orthodoxy and hurl down anath- emas upon the "Methodist Schism." So far as apostolical authority goes they are in the same kind of boat — only somewhat more frail and a great deal smaller — as that which carries the fortunes of the Itinerancy. Still, they agree with the churchmen that it is a sort of mechanical bird of perdition, whose wonderful energies are sustained by unscrip- tural power. It is a "Great Iron Wheel," which crushes and grinds all with which it comes in con- tact ; and to this wheel are chained the Methodist preachers and the Methodist people, with the single consolation that they are helping to bruise others while being bruised themselves. And this is the method of their argument :
"The Itinerancy is iron, because of its unyielding restrictions ; and it is a wheel, because of its regu- lar revolutions. Now, a restriction is an evil in itself, a logical evil ; and the burden of proof that it is not an evil, in any particular case in which it is employed, rests upon those who favor its use. But we are willing to forego our logical rights and fur- nish you with the proof that it is evil, and only evil, as your Methodist system applies it to the ministry of the Church. Why, in the first place, it breaks up the pastoral relation. There can be no ties of mutual confidence and affection between your
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preachers and people, for they hardly come to know each other before the sullen, grinding machinery rends them apart. Thus your system, even if it make converts, can mature no Christians, In the second place, it spoils the preachers both in temper and understanding — as preachers and as men. They can deliver the same discourse to different cong-reo-a- tions on their circuits every Sunday for a month, and thus escape the salutary discipline of severe and regular study in their earlier ministry ; while their frequent removal from circuit to circuit, is a stand- ing temptation to them not to study : thus they be- come mere rote and memoriter repeaters of a few stale platitudes which derive all their efficacy from violent gesticulation and incoherent declamation. Then the position of authority in which they are placed over grave men, in everyway their superiors, tends to make them arbitrary and vain, and their frequent enforced partings with those whom they had begun to love beget a temper of coldness, in- difference, and selfishness which soon renders them incapable of disinterested friendship or affection. In the third place, it spoils the people as well as the preachers. They become as indifferent and selfish as their so-called pastors. They learn to care nothing for the present incumbent, and to look eagerly for his perpetually-coming successor. And in this con- stant appetite for change consists all their stability Hence their only conception of religion is a social excitement. In the fourth place, the system is
80 ITINEBANCT.
hierarchical, and therefore necessarily corrupt. It is in effect a one-man power The bishop is supreme. The lives and fortunes, the health and happiness of the preachers are in his hands. He can send them where he will — to a fat or a lean appointment — and none can say him nay. He can send them to com- parative riches and honor, or poverty and contempt. It is too much to say, that the possessor of such a power will not be courted and flattered. He must be and he is. Hence the parasites of your confer- ences will become his pets and favorites, and their best elements, containing all the integrity and manliness that those bodies possess, will be thrust backward out of sight to linger in brokenness and distress, under the shadow of the Episcopal frown. In the fifth place, your system is arbitrary, and therefore conspicuously tyranical. It grinds the faces of God's poor, or it flatters the faces of the world's rich, according to the whim of the moment or the temper of the mind. Let a bishop but have a prejudice against a place or a man, and he may gratify it by the punishment of both : the place will get the worst man, and the man will get the worst place. And the converse is equally true. In fact, one can set no limit to the evils and abuses of such a plan. They are inherent and irremediable. They belong to the system, are a part of it and insepara- ble from it. When it is freed from them it will no longer be itself, and such an institution as the Methodist Itinerancy will no more exist."
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And to all this we reply, seriatim, that if, first, the Itinerancy be iron because of its restrictions, and a wheel because of its revolutions, then the earth must be an iron wheel, the sun and moon and all the planets must be so many iron wheels, every system of government, sacred and secular, must be an iron wheel, and the universe itself must be a " Great Iron Wheel ;" for all these have restrictions and regular revolutions ; and there can be, on the whole, no ob- jections to considering the Itinerancy one iron wheel in such a goodly company
Secondly — The itinerant system does not break up the pastoral relation. There are no better pastors than some of the Methodist preachers ; and the pas- toral fidelity of the whole body will average well with that of the ministers of any other denomination ; and, in proportion to numbers, the pastoral relations of the Methodist preachers are not changed more frequently than those of other churches. The dif- ference is — and it is altogether in favor of the itin- erancy— that with it these changes are effected with- out friction, debate or church-disturbance. And the efficiency of its pastoral system may be seen in the fact that nowhere in the world can there be found riper and more beautiful examples of Christian man- hood and womanhood than in the ranks of the Meth- odist people.
Thirdly — The system does not spoil the preachers, either in temper or understanding, but develops them in every noble sense. They make more and better
82 ITINERA XCY
sermons in the saddle, than do many of the theolog- ical graduates in the study Their prospective changes only serve to give them that mental repose — that absence of worry lest they should run out — which is the condition of the best intellectual action ; and the effect of the system is seen in the fact that, by the popular verdict, they are at least the equals, in eloquence and learning, of their ablest competitors in any other church. They are not immediately placed in positions of authority, but learn first to serve, in order that they may know how, in time, more kindly and effectually to direct the services of others. The ties between them and their people are of the most tender and enduring quality, and it often occurs that the friendships formed on their first cir- cuits are their latest and best ; and this arises out of the very essence of the system ; they go away ex- pecting to return ; they say, Au revoir, but never Farewell; and thus regard is nourished by hope.
Fourthly — The system does not spoil the people any more than it spoils the preachers. They do not become, under its workings, cold, indifferent and selfish, but warm, zealous and generous. They care tenderly for the present pastor, ministering to him, like nursing fathers and mothers in the Gospel, in proportion to his need of such help ; and when the time comes that he must go, they bid him God speed, and part from him often with weeping ; and the memory of their tears and prayers becomes his in- spiration to higher and purer devotion. Then, when
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his successor comes, they receive him as the mes- senger of God, and are ready cheerfully to co-operate with him in every good work. If the people of some other churches were spoiled a little, after this Meth- odist plan, it might do them no harm.
Fifthly — The system is episcopal not hierarchical, nor is it necessarily corrupt. It is nothing like a one-man power. The powers of the bishop are as closely limited, his conduct in their exercise as rigidly scrutinized, and his responsibility as definitely fixed and enforced, as those of the humblest worker in the ranks. He is so far from supreme, that he is almost the common servant of the preachers. He can not do as he pleases, with either the preachers or the people ; there are other hands than his upon them, that will not let go at his bidding. The pre- siding elders are the friends of both, and they possess and exercise the strength of a particular acquaintance with the places and the men. The bishop is advised by them, and once let him defy their advice to the injury of the Church, and he will at the next session of the General Conference be arraigned, like any other unfaithful worker, ande censured or retired, according to bis desert. Even the humblest preacher, if he is aggrieved by a bishop's action, or even fancies himself the object of his dislike or caprice, may present his complaint to the committee on epis- copacy at a General Conference ; and they will look into the matter and administer impartial justice, if for no other reason, because it is in the interest of
8i ITINEBANCY.
their own security from episcopal oppression that it should be done. As for parasites, they are found everywhere ; they follow the scent of power and patronage as carrion birds are attracted by the odor of putrifying flesh ; but the bishop who does not recognize them for what they are, or knowing does not mete them the scorn thev merit, will soon find himself restrained from the abuse of power and pil- loried in the censure, if not the contempt of his people.
Thus it will be seen that the system is not arbi- trary, as has been supposed and charged, and that no despotic caprice can control its administration. It oppresses no man because of his weakness, as it flat- ters none because of his wealth and social importance. It merely discriminates the different values of its many factors of usefulness, employs each in situa^ tions of trust proportioned to his worth, and renders him a measure of appreciation graduated by his efficiency in the common work. So, the arraignment of Methodism by hyper-orthodoxy and the compet- ing sects, but honors the common object of their dislike.
The other class of its enemies comprises the phil- osophers and skeptics, and all whose lives of luxury and sin are reproached by ns purity and continence. None of these attributes to Methodism a superhuman origin, either celestial or infernal; albeit some of them are sorely puzzled to account, on rational prin- ciples and by known laws, for its enduring vigor and
ITINEBANCY. 85
efficiency. They do not believe in the existence of any devil, and their God is one that does not concern himself with human affairs ; so, being shut out from these popular sources of explanation, they class the origin and progress of Methodism with those other exceptional human phenomena which stubbornly refuse to come within the ordinary rules of action and its effects ; and this exposition is so far happy, that it enables them to say something in a confessedly very difficult case, and that it is burdened only with the trifling disability that their exception is larger than their rule. " Such an instance," they say, " is afforded by the spread of Christianity These great results did not flow from the actions of the man, Christ, because no such causal power was in him ; neither were they the effects of any supernatural influence, because no such influence exists ; they were merely the spontaneous movings of the multitude ; it was only that humanity was ready for the change, and that Jesus was caught at the turning point of the popular tide and so gave his name and character to that vast flood, of which he was quite as much the creature and the subject as any other of the count- less millions which it has embraced. Such other instances were Mohamedanism, the Crusades, Jesuit- ism, and the Reformation ; and all the ancient pagan religions might be added to the list, as well as mul- titudes of other popular movements of inferior force and effect. It was not that Mahomet, Peter the Hermit, Ignatius Loyola or Luther, any more than
86 ITWEBANCY.
Wesley in the present case, was the author and orig- inator of either of those vast trains of effect which seemed to proceed from him. In discerning the spirit of their time, and in earnest sympathy with that spirit, they were merely the foremost representative men ; they merely voiced and put in action, better than others, what the many thought and felt as warmly and clearly as themselves ; and the grateful multitude, remembering their words and deeds, bap- tized itself with their name."
Such is what is termed among men of the world the philosophical method of accounting for the Wes- ley an movement. Setting aside, as it does, those supernatural agencies which we, in common with the Christian world, regard as the efficient cause of all great movements among men, it leaves those move- ments without any explanation save such as may be found in the frequent use of the magical and mys- tical word, spontaneity- This, we must say, is a most fortunate invention of the philosophers, see- ing that the word necessarily implies, " the quality oi proceeding or acting from native feeling, prone- ness or temperament, without constraint or external force." When, therefore, they say that a certain popular movement is spontaneous, they mean that it originated solely in the thoughts or feelings of men, without any external influence being brought to bear upon them. But this use of the word, however suited to the exigencies of a case in which they have something to explain and no explanation to offer, we
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submit is neither candid nor reasonable. It is" not candid, because the legitimate meaning of the word does not go so far : it implies the absence of con- straining force, but not the absence of persuasive influence ; and it is unreasonable, because it rejects an obvious explanation of an admitted mystery, and bars it out by a purely fanciful barrier Surely this distinction is easy to every mind, as it is familiar to all experience. One may act spontaneously in ac- cordance with the suggestions and wishes of his friends, or against them ; and the pure and perfect spontaneity of his action depends not at all upon the presence or absence of this influence — indeed, has no relation to it. All that it does imply, when pred- icated of any action, is the absence of external force. But here no such force is claimed. We plead not for force, but influence. Our Methodist theology desires no force — will have none — calls only for Divine influence, co-operating with free-will ; and this dead brand of spontaneity, which they hurled into our camp, was in fact stolen from our Methodist lire and quenched in the waters of infidel specula- tion. As we have seen, it needs only to be laid for a moment upon the old hearth, in order to kindle and burn with its ancient glow and shine with its former light.
But not content with taking the God out of the Itinerancy, these skeptical philosophers and lovers of worldly pleasure inveigh in set terms against many of its provisions. "It is," they say, "the
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enemy of human happiness. Its sumptuary code is of the most deadly proscriptiveness. It forbids, at once, the most elegant adornments, the chastest pleasures and the most innocent amusements. It is of solemn and funereal aspect, and all mirth dies under its withering frown. It prohibits the dance, the thea- ter, and even the adornment of the person ; while vigils, prayers and fastings are its substitutes for all the pleasure of life. It condemns its preachers to be homeless wanderers and subjects them, with all their followers, to a regimen of psalms, hymns and other spiritual macerations, from which it is impossible for them to escape, and to which it is death for them to submit. Above all, and worse than all — for without this they would be forced to break away from its intolerable control — it leads them into periodical excitements which it calls revivals, in which all the laws of health and life are disregarded, and from which they sometimes escape only to the couch of the invalid, the hospital of the insane, or the more peaceful refuge of the grave."
And once more we reply: " The Methodist Itin- erancy the enemy of human happiness ! " Ask the millions of witnesses who have testified, in life and in death, that they never tasted happiness till they found it in that communion, and that it never failed them there : Question the myriad homes, whence the demons of vice and crime have been banished, and where the angels of peace and love have been called back bv the voice of the Methodist itinerant : Ask
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the ancient wilderness, noAv blossoming as the rose with all the flowers of civilization which sprang up in the track of the missionary : — and let their com- mon testimony silence the slander forever And all this tirade because, forsooth, the rules of the Itin- erancy forbid that needless self-indulgence in profane luxury and worldly pleasure which naturally tends to corrupt the heart and lead it away from the pure love and service of the Redeemer ! Long live the General Rules, when they provoke this species of criticism. As for revivals, the chief objection of the world to them is candidly confessed : were it not for the revivals, they think and say, no converts would be won from their ranks, and they would drawback- sliders from ours : then let the revivals go on till the last critic is converted.
To the question suggested in the beginning of this chapter, concerning the origin and growth of the itinerant system, there has been returned, thus far, only the answers of its enemies, with fair and brief replies. Its friends, however, are ready with a dif- ferent response, and it is but just that they should be heard.
They think that, what especially distinguishes this system is, the beautiful adaptation of means to ends, which demonstrates its superiority by its unparal- leled efficiency in the salvation of men ; the harmony of all its parts, and the symmetry of the whole ; the ease, quietness and uniformity with which it performs alike the functions of its daily life, and carries on
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the most extended enterprises ; its apparently per- fect adaptation to every grade of culture and capac- ity, encouraging the smallest and feeblest, and afford- ing scope for the most highly gifted and refined ; the confidence with which, still preserving its unity and integrity, it meets every change demanded by the advancing spirit of civilization ; the freedom of the individual itinerant, and his perfect submission to the law which makes him part and parcel of the grand whole ; its peculiar privileges of Christian fellowship, in which the mingled fires of sympathy and devotion weld all hearts to each other and to the common cause ; the fact that it is, from its beginning to the present time, a growth and not a creation, and that it owes its being not to the scheming brain, of man, but to that administration of circumstance in which they recognize the providence of God ; and all this, they think, is at once the evidence of its Divine origin, and the guarantee of its perpetuity and usefulness in the ages to come ; and if this opin ion be enthusiastic and extravagant, it is confirmed by the inherited convictions of three generations of Methodists, and it should require at least as many more, of adverse experience and belief, to unsettle and overthrow it.
Into this great itinerant bucket, which had been sitting for a hundred years under the caves of Heav- en, and which was apparently already full to over- flowing, there fell, in the autumn of 1841, the seemingly insignificant drop, young Marvin. It
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seemed, indeed, then, that he was "but a drop in the bucket;" that his coming was hardly known, and that, failing to come, he would never have been missed ; but all the same he had fallen fr6m the cloud of infinite mercy, and held prisoned in the small compass of a new young man on trial for the itinerant ministry, the tireless energies which were to bear him round the world and quicken the life of a whole church.
He knew little, when he entered, even of the requirements personal to himself, and comprehended still less of the vast scope of Itinerancy ; yet there was, between it and him, a vital harmony It was as if the system and the man had been made for each other. All that the tormer demanded, in its novices, was that they should have " gifts and graces " and of these Marvin possessed not only an uncommon endowment, but a most happy combination. Intel- ligence and sensibility, intellect and spirituality, talents and piety were so equally poised in his soul that the attributes could never overbalance the qual- ities, nor the qualities carry away and dominate the attributes ; and this was precisely what the Meth- odist system required. It did not want a man of more brains than piety, who would always be asking troublesome questions, running into doctrinal here- sies, or straying from the beaten path of itinerant practice ; nor did it want a man of more religious enthusiasm than sober sense, who would discredit the Church by his spiritual vagaries. Yet such, in
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greater or less degree, were many of its yourig preachers. They required much annealing in order to fit them for the work of the Itinerancy. It was rare, indeed, that one could be found already pre- pared, both by nature and grace, for the task to which he came to devote his life. Yet such a pre- pared and anointed one, as if specially designed for the uses of the itinerant ministry, and for nothing else in the world, was Enoch Mather Marvin.
On the other hand, it is quite as unusual for a young man to find, among existing institutions, one so perfectly adapted, both to his tastes and his talents, as to furnish him with the very best field for their exercise which he is able to desire or imasrine. Most of us enter life more or less out of joint with our institutional surroundings. There are some things, even in our chosen pursuits, which do not quite please us, and we are surprised that they have not long since been changed. Time is required to adjust our natures to them and enable us to see, as we nearly always do later in our career, that the changes we had crudely wished are precisely those which would have proved most inimical to our suc- cess. But this again was the happy fortnne of the boy, Marvin. He found, in the Itinerancy, all that his heart, conscience and intelligence could desire. There was nothing in the whole system, as it struck his first imperfect apprehension and gradually un- folded itself to his riper discernment, which he would have changed at any moment, if the wish had been
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equivalent to the deed. If he had made Methodism for himself, he felt that he could not have made it so much to his own satisfaction as he found it. Hence, when he came to the Methodist itinerant min- istry, it was like coming home ; and he experienced, at once, the rest and the freedom which qualified him for the highest and happiest exertion of his splendid powers.
Itinerancy has an ancient and Scriptural origin. Perhaps Samuel was the first or among the first re- ligious itinerants. He went, from year to year, in circuit to Bethel, and Gilgal, and Mispeh, and back to Hamuli, where was his house, and regularly at each place taught the people — offered sacrifices — and administered the law so that he was, in fact, a circuit preacher and circuit judge. The prophets were accustomed to go from place to place teaching the people — and the Divine Master himself was an itinerant, "going about, doing good," in Judea, Samaria and Gallilee. The twelve were sent, and commanded, first "to go to the lost sheep of the House of Israel," and then "into all the world," and subsequently the reader learns of Paul and Bar- nabas, of Luke and Silas, of Matthew and Thad- deus and others, all itinerating — going to and fro — preaching the gospel, and returning again, revisiting the places where, and the people to whom they had preached. So Mr. Wesley did not invent or project a system — but adopted that which the teachings of the New Testament and the practice of the apostles
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furnished to his hand — and only a partial examina- tion will be sufficient to show that an itinerant min- istry is Scriptural — is expedient— and has proven itself to be wonderously successful.
Chapter $ijjtotfi.
CIRCUIT LIFE.
THE first regular circuit preaching done in Mis- souri by any of the Methodist preachers was done in the latter part of the year 1806 and in 1807, by a young man named Travis — John Travis — who was admitted on trial in the traveling connection at a conference held at Ebenezer Meeting House, in Greene county, Tennessee, commencing September 15th, 1806, and at the close of the Conference Ses- sion was announced for Missouri Circuit — Western Conference — Cumberland District, Rev William, afterward Bishop McKendree, Presiding Elder. The Cumberland District, as it then was, included all of Middle and Western Tennessee, all of Southern Ken- tucky, a part of Indiana, all of Illinois, and all the settled portions of Missouri and Arkansas. Travis reached the field of his future operations as soon as practicable, labored as opportunity and ability allowed, and reported to the next Annual Conference two circuits with a membership of one hundred white and six colored persons. From the time he com-
96 CIRCUIT LIFE.
menced this work to the present hour Methodism with its circuit preachers and circuit preaching, and with all other of its characteristics has been more or less prominent among all the other denominations and ecclesiastical operations in the State. Year aftei year its ministers were regularly appointed ; year after year they toiled with varied success, and year after year as the population increased, the work en- larged, until October, 1841, thirty-five years after Travis had entered the State, when there were in the Missouri Conference, 77 traveling preachers, 4 superannuated and 177 local preachers with 14,801 white, 1,399 colored, and 411 Indian members. The Missouri Conference at that time included the State of Missouri and also some missionary stations among the Indians west of the State.
In the year last named ( 1841 ) at a conference held in Palmyra, commencing October the 6th, Enoch M. Marvin, with fourteen others, was "admitted on trial in traveling connection." Of these fourteen others — J. H. Headlee, Win. M. Rush, Richard Holt and Joseph Dines still live, the first and second active in the itinerant work ; the third and fourth in the local ranks. The name of John Read, one of the fifteen, disappears from the minutes at the end of the first year. Ludwig S. Jacoby, another of the number, had a brilliant and successful career. He was one of the first, if not the very first, native born German that became a Methodist preacher in this country. A man of learning, of decided ability,
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deep and fervent piety, he labored successfully — though against no little opposition — among his coun- trymen in Missouri, subsequently returned to Ger- many where, with others, he laid deep and wide the foundations of Methodism on which an annual con- ference has been erected, and after a number of years he came back to Missouri and continued his work until his death, which occurred in the city of St. Louis only a few years ago.
David W Pollock was another of the same class of whom honorable mention should be made. Fe\v men have labored in Missouri who in the same length of time gained the respect or won the confidence and affections of the people more than did he. From his admission to the traveling connection in 1841 to the conference held in October, 1849, his labors were in Missouri, and largely in the city of St. Louis. Few men of his age excelled him in pulpit efforts or in pastoral fidelity and efficiency In the latter year (1849) he was appointed missionary to California, as one of the first three missionaries sent by the M. E. Church, South, to that field. There he labored until his health failed, and at the session of the St. Louis Conference for 1852 he was transferred to the Alabama Conference, where, after having been sta- tioned in Tuscaloosa and also serving for a short time as agent for the Bible Society, he died in peace. His brethren of the Alabama Conference said of him : « ' He was a remarkably sweet-spirited man and a very eloquent preacher."
98 CIRCUIT LIFE.
At the session of the Missouri Conference, com- mencing September 27th, 1843, thirteen of the class of fifteen admitted on trial two years before, were received into full connection — John Read's name having disappeared as noted, and B. F Love was continued on trial. At the end of the fourth year John Glanville was reported as superannuated, and Joseph Dines as located. The next year Manoah Richardson was reported as superannuated, and thus one by one they passed from the itinerant work until Marvin, Rush and Headlee alone were left of the class of fifteen.
John A. Tutt, a member of the class, continued to labor in Missouri until 1849, when he died in peace. The Conference said of him : "He was a man of fine mind ; a respectable scholar ; a good preacher, and one of great purity of purpose."
Much might be written in regard to others of the class did such come within the design of the present work. They were men good and true and fulfilled their mission, and the larger portion have gone to their reward.
It may be proper in this connection to sketch in a general way the manner of life upon which these men entered at the time of their admission on trial in the annual conference — the circuit life they led.
Of course, the distinguishing feature of the itin- erancy par eminence is, its circuit system. This is its germinal point, out of which all the rest has grown. Those who understand and love the Metho-
CIBGUIT LIFE. 99
dist economy, wisely appreciate and cherish this as the strong arm of its service, and most vital of all the conditions of its permanent success. If we are not mistaken there is a growing tendency, in the later adherents of Methodism, to underrate and depreciate the circuit work. It is seen in the fact that, among preachers and people, the passage from the circuit to the station is getting to be thought a step in advance — a promotion. The effect of this opinion, if it shall come finally to reach, and prevail in the minds of those who direct the work, will be disastrous to the system and presage its speedy downfall. It will be analogous, in its effects, to the impression, in an army of invasion, that all the posts of honor lie in the rear
Now, in every sense and for every reason, such an opinion is contrary to the fact. The true sphere of the Methodist preacher is the circuit ; among the highest, most honorable and responsible offices in the Methodist Church, is the charge of circuit work. The conditions of this work, if they could be fully and fairly set forth, without any suppression or ex- aggeration, would read like a romance, and would attract and thrill every heart and command the hom- age of the most exalted intelligence. To be in charge of such a work is like standing where worlds are made and aiding in the splendid process ; it is looking upon, handling and molding the very sources of itinerant life. The factors of Methodism's grandest uses pass through the hands of the humble
100 CIBiJUIT LIFE.
circuit-rider, and not unfrequently catch their first inspiration from his thought and receive their final impress from his temper. It is his business to dis- cover them in germ ; develop them in capacity, and kindle in their souls those fires of devotion which are destined to warm and illumine the world.
Let us see if, with the pencil of naked fact, and without a tinge of imaginative or fanciful coloring, we can sketch a picture of this life which shall appeal with the power of simple truth to all who have ever known it, and at the same time attract the sympa- thetic regards of the untraveled many who, linger- ing in the homes of ancestral religion, have never looked upon the wonders of the new world of Meth- odism.
Our young itinerant, then, without learning or experience, but called of God and obedient to tl :; call, is ready to go forth to his work. He hi.s received information of his acceptance by the con- ference and assignment to a particular field of labor for the current ecclesiastical }Tear, and has made his preparations accordingly He has gotten his horse, saddle, bridle, saddlebags, overcoat or blanket, um- brella, hymn-book, Discipline and Bible. Every one of these items is worthy of particular mention, be- cause it cost him care and pains. As for the horse, he did not see where it was to come from. He had neither the animal, nor the money or credit to pur- chase it. But one morning he found it, with all its necessary furniture, at his father's door; and surely
CIRCUIT LIFE. 101
he was right in thinking that the Lord sent it, though ho knew that it came by the hands of a good old man of the neighborhood. With this encouragement the remainder of his scanty outfit is soon in readi- ness, and with a final pressure of his father's hand, a tenderer good-bye to his weeping mother, and a last look on the little world of home, he mounts his horse and sets out to find his circuit. He has more than a hundred miles to travel, has but the vaguest conception of the route, and must obtain particular directions as he can upon the way He expects, with diligence and without serious error to reach, on the evening of the third day, the house of a brother who has been particularly named and described to him as one able and willing to furnish him with all needed in- formation concerning his work. For intervening ne- cessities, he must depend upon chance hospitality. As he rides along through the crisp October air, what a strrnge medley is his mind ! He asks himself whither he is going, and for what purpose. Can it be that he is actually a Methodist traveling preacher, on his way to his work? Then he reviews, in memory, his conversion, consecration and call to the ministry- Are these genuine? and will they not fail him under the burden of trials and responsibilities which he is going to encounter? For a moment, he is full of trepidness and doubt ; but he lifts his eyes and heart to Heaven for Divine guidance and authentication of his mission, and the instant testimony of the Spirit so fills his heart with celestial peace, that it runs over
102 CIRCUIT LIFE.
at his his eyes in grateful and happy tears. Then he breaks into song —
"Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow thee : Naked, poor, despised, forsaken,
Thou, from hence, my all shalt be.
Perish, every fond ambition —
All I've sought, or hoped, or known;
Yet, how rich is my condition! God and heaven are still my own."
and, moved by the swelling emotions of his heart, his voice, low and trembling at first, gathers power and volume, till the woods around him ring with the melody of his battle-hymn. Now, indeed, he is all courage and will, on iirc for endeavor and eager for the coming struggle. And so, with alternate prayer and hymns, he beguiles the un weary way
Anon, his mood changes. What is it, distinctly, that he has to say to those people when he shall come to them?—- what message from God has he to give them ? Then he reviews his small sermonic treasures, and wonders which of the two or three texts from which he has already spoken will be the most appropriate for the inauguration of his great enterprise. In his uncertainty he runs them suc- cessively through his mind, reciting aloud, in the security of his solitary way, what he fancies are their happiest passages. Unable to decide, he refers the question, at last, to the inspiration of the hour and the guidance of the Spirit.
Then he wonders how the people will receive him.
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Will they be glad or sorry that he is come? May they not have been looking for an older and more experienced preacher, or expecting some particular favorite, and so be disappointed, and manifest their displeasure in coldness to him? If this should be the case, he does not exactly see how he is going, to stand it. It will be a hard strugo-le at the best and, if they should prove unwilling to hear him — to have him for their pastor — he greatly fears that he can find nothing to say or do for them ; though he longs to labor for their welfare, and feels his heart quite deeply interested in their happiness. For are they not his people? Has not the Church given them to his spiritual care and oversight? Already, he yearns for them in prayer. And they ! do they think of him as he thinks of them? Are they looking and longing for his coming, and trying to fancy what manner of man he will be ? As this thought passes through his mind he tries to look at himself in the glass of memory, in order to form some estimate of the impression which his first appearance will pro- duce ; but in this he can no more succeed than can we who are older and have tried it oftener than he.
As he draws near the end of his journey, to which his frequent inquiries of passing wayfarers, and the minute directions thus elicited, have kept him in the right path, his interest and anxiety are redoubled. It is the last day, and the clay declines to evening ; for the sun is out of sight in the West, and the shadows are deepening around him. It seems to him
104 CIBCUIT LIFE.
hours since they told him, in answer to his latest question, that the house of Brother A. was but four miles distant, and was the first which he would find lying immediately upon the road. His tired horse, seeming to sympathize with the impatience of his rider, pricks up his ears and quickens his pace. Is that a light flashing for a moment through the gath- ering gloom? Yes, he sees it again, steadier, though fitful — it is the gleam of a hearth-fire shining through the open door of a rude log-cabin. At last he has reached the home of Brother A. A rough -looking man, chopping fire-wood before the door, suspends his labor as he rides up and waits apparently to be addressed. Yes, he is Brother A. ; and is this the new preacher whom they have been expecting for several days? He is glad to see him — bids him " 'Light, and come in ;" an invitation with which he willingly complies. The wife and mother gives him a second welcome, frank and cordial, though brief, and the eager children press around him to make his acquaintance and obtain his notice. It is plain they are accustomed to the sight of preachers, in that house ; for everything goes on as if he were there for the fiftieth time, instead of the first. In- deed, before bedtime, he has learned so much about his work from Brother A., who turns out to be a steward and class-leader, that he seems to himself to be an old preacher instead of a new one, and to be quite at home and in his place. At last a BibJe is brought out and placed, with a candle new-
G1BCUIT LIFE. 105
ly-lighted — for they have sat and talked by the fire- light hitherto — at his side, and he is asked to «« have prayers." A lesson is read, they all unite in sing- ing a familiar hymn, and then he remembers, all at once, that he is kneeling for the first time at God's altar, with a family of His people. The thought touches him and finds expression in the trembling fervor of his utterance, and its effect is seen in the shining faces of his hosts as they bid him good-night, not precisely at the door of his chamber, for they can not accompany him so far, for to this he must ascend by a ladder, and enter through a square hole in the ceiling. There, in one of the two rooms which the cabin contains, he finds a chair and com- fortable bed, from which he can look out, through chinks in the broken roof, upon the blue sky and starry heavens. He finds himself wondering dream- ily what the guests do when it rains, but before he can answer the question to himself, he is asleep.
The next day, as he finds, there is an appointment for him to preach at the neighboring church ; for the circuit is large and the numerous appointments can not all be filled on the Lord's Day, To this place he is conducted by his hosts, and there he finds the first stated assembly of his people. It is unusually large, he is assured, on account of the eagerness of the people to see and hear the new preacher. This information prompts him to number them, and he finds, upon sober count, including himself and the children, just twenty-three souls upon the ground.
106 CIRCUIT LIFE.
To these he discourses, with all the zeal ;,nd ability of which he is capable, from his favorite text, and, at the close of this service, holds a class-meeting. This last, he discovers, is expected of him as often as he preaches — it is the old Methodist fashion, the fashion of the first preachers. He finds, on trial, that it more than compensates him for the additional labor ; that it refreshes him, and even exalts him ; and above all, that it gives him a spiritual acquaintance with these members of his flock to which fre could not have attained by months of ordinary intercourse ; as if the hearts of preacher and people, having been first heated by the sermon, were afterwards welded together by the interchange of Christian experience. To conclude all, he is transferred to the care and commended to the hospitality of a second brother, and so passed from hand to hand — all cordial and kind — till he has completed the tour of his four- weeks' circuit, and filled the whole round of its twen- ty-four or twenty -five appointments.
He has found it no easy task. His path has been obstructed, in more than one instance, by physical obstacles of no light difficulty and peril. He has had to ford bridgeless streams, and to swim where no ford was, rather than miss an appointment. He has been wet and cold and dreary He has spent uncomfort- able nights following laborious days, and arisen on the morrow to new toils and hardships. From these scenes he has passed to the abodes of culture, refine- ment, and even luxury ; for a large circuit includes
CIRCUIT LIFE. 107
all ranks; and his welcome here, if more polished, has been as cordial as that which he found in the cabins of the poor. Everywhere they have greeted him as the Sent of God. At his Sunday appoint- ments, the neighborhoods have turned out for miles around and given him audiences that have first fright- ened but afterward inspired him. He has spoken with strange and thrilling unction, and strong men have wept and trembled under his words. He has found the seat Of his power ; and now he feels the ground under him as firmly as he clasps the Hand above him. His confidence has grown already to ha- bitual self-poise and ease. He is no longer the shy, awkward boy, but the self-possessed and ready man. To his own consciousness he has learned, thought, and felt more, in the last four weeks, than in all his previous life.
Thus he comes once more, at the close of his first round, to the cabin of Brother and Sister A. They are expecting him and are hungering and thirsting for his coming. They have neither forgotten nor neglected him. He has seen their faces in several of his Sunday congregations, and pressed their hands in more than one class-meeting ; and already they have learned to love him with a strange fervor of tenderness and admiration. They are at the door, with eager faces, looking the way that he should come. Even the children, hearing father and mother talk so much of the coming of the preacher, have caught the expectant fever, and are perched on con-
108 CIBCUIT LIFE.
venient elevations or hurrying down the road to meet him ; for there indeed he comes at last, and is re- ceived with such looks and hand-clasps of loving welcome as startle him to tears ; for scarcely could a holy angel be more honored or revered. And who can paint the rapture of their sweet communion, or the melted fervor of their united devotions? Thus, throughout his second round, he finds that the har- vest is already come, and that he is reaping in joy the tender regards which he sowed in tears.
And now there comes a salutary break in the mo- notony of joyous labor. The Quarterly Meeting is at hand, and the Presiding Elder is here to hold it. Grave, stern, watchful, his scrutinizing look puts our hero not a little in awe. Then the assemblage is impressive. It is Saturday morning, and from every direction come class-leaders, stewards, exhort ers, local preachers — all the official forces of the circuit — to pass in review under the eye of the experienced leader who is there to inspect them and their work. The morning discourse follows — strong, impressive, odorous with doctrine and stern with discipline : our youthful preacher trembles where he sits, under the utterances of this Man of God. The Quarterly Conference is assembled, with the stern monitor of Methodism, just risen from his knees, in the chair. That Chair — what a source of fulminating lightning, thunder, and rain it seems to him : The reports are up ; characters and actions are under review ; and criticism, warning, censure, commendation, appeal, stir the. Conference to its depths.
CIBCTJIT LIFE. 109
.This ordeal past, a worse is at hand. He must preach to the assembled official representatives of all his congregations, and in the presence and hearing of the Presiding Elder. His voice trembles, his limbs totter, his vision reels. He is thinking more of the stern censor behind him than of his message and all his other auditors. Stumbling and stammer- ing he goes on, till some look or tone of sympathy in part arrests his embarrassment and impresses his heart with the true significance -and responsibility of his position. Then, indeed, he forgets the Presiding Elder and thinks only of lost sinners and an all- powerful Saviour; and his brain, working all the freer and more vigorously for its recent baptism of confusing blood, he preaches as he never preached before. A hundred vocal responses answer to his thoughts and confirm his appeals, and among all these the loudest and the most fervent come from the man behind him. As at last, exhausted and overcome he sits down, it is in the midst of a rain of tears and a tempest of bursting sobs and echoing shouts. The Presiding Elder knows what to do. Seats are promptly prepared and soon crowded with weeping penitents. Of these several are con- verted and, springing up in ecstacy, are received in the arms of weeping and. rejoicing friends. Cries of joy and grief, voices of sympathy and exhortation, hymns of praise and triumph mingle in one mass of bewildering sound ; but there is no real confusion ; it is merely the din of the first grand battle ; for the revival has begun, and these are its earliest fruits.
110 CIBCU1T LIFE.
The Sabbath morning breaks clear and bright. At nine o'clock, the Love-Feast. Our hero never witnessed such a scene before. The crowded room : the tender, expectant faces ; the touching devotional solemnity ; the simple ceremonial of the handed bread and water ; the narratives of individual expe- rience, so different and yet so like, and seemingly strung upon the sacred melodies floating through the air like pearls upon a silver thread ; all is strange, beautiful, and new The things which most impress him are, the fervent sincerity of the narratives and the variety and felicity of the illustrations. One grey-haired man begins his address with, "Twenty years ago I struck the Eock ! " Another, a colored woman and a servant, says, "When I sweep the house, and the door is open, and the sun is shining in, I see the air filled with dust ; but when I close the door, though there may be a great deal more dust in the air, I can not see it. Just so it is with my poor heart: When the door is open, and the Sun of Righteousness is shining in, I can see it full of sin ; but when the door is shut, though there may be a great deal more sin there, I can not see it." Such testimonies as these, with the trembling utter- ances of the young converts — their incoherent words and transparent meaning — interpreted by a common experience, record themselves indelibly upon our hero's mind and insure his cordial and permanent appreciation of the Love-Feast.
The remaining services of the day and night
CIRCUIT LIFE. Ill
deepen and confirm the revival, and the departing brethren bear its tidings and spirit to all the other congregations of his charge. From point to point of his work, the fire spreads and burns till the Avhole circuit is in a flame ; and he, flying from neighbor- hood to neighborhood, feels that it would be glorious to die in such a battle of the Lord. The result is, such a harvest of souls as long enriches the Church, and such a knitting of him to the hearts of his peo- ple that time can not sunder the tie ; and many of them remember him with gratitude and speak of him with tenderness to the latest hour of their lives. The remainder of the Conference year is devoted to securing the fruits of this splendid victory and hold- ing fast the ground thus hardly won.
Such, in brief, with a thousand circumstantial variations which we can not stop to notice, is the life of the Methodist circuit-rider We have dealt with but its earliest and feeblest phase, as exempli- fied in the career of a youthful itinerant on his first circuit; and yet, even thus imperfectly set forth, its dignity and importance will be recognized by all who have eyes to see.
This is one side of the picture. There is another — a darker and gloomier side, whereon is mapped out numberless cold receptions — chilling looks — freezing manners — which depress, discourage, dishearten and almost crush the young preacher On this other side is also mapped unnumbered trials, difficulties, pri- vations, afflictions of body and mind — perils in the
112 CIRCUIT LIFE.
forest — perils by flood — perils by exposure — perils by open enemies — perils by false friends — all going to make up a picture of real life that no tongue can tell, no pen describe. A stranger among strange people, many of whom regard him with suspicion and still more look on him with cold indifference and pass him with marked neglect — and still others openly and coarsely abuse and deride him — the homeless and almost or quite penniless young preacher soon finds there are shades as well as lights in the itinerant life — finds it far from being all sunshine — and is often left in doubt whether he is not compelled to look on and contemplate the dark side of the picture much oftener and much longer than on the brighter and better side ; so that although he is the bearer of "precious seed" he does literally "go forth weeping."
But on this side the picture there is no need to dwell.
And such a youthful itinerant was Marvin when, in the Fall of 1841, he was received on trial in the Missouri Conference and assigned to the Grundy Mission, in the Richmond District, without a col- league and with Wm. W Redman as his presiding elder. This mission, as appears from the Minutes of the Conference, was in an untried field ; and the temper and endurance of the young man were thus put, in the outset of his career, to a test of uncom- mon severity — he was to try his hand on the extreme front of the Methodist line, and see how much ter-
C1BCUIT LIFE. 113
ritory he could conquer from the enemy The re- sult vindicated the wisdom of his appointment, and he reported, at the close of his first conference year, an actual membership of one hundred and thirty-one. How much of the boy's life-blood went into this fine harvest it is impossible to say, but certainly he did not spare himself.
Such were the warmth and enthusiasm which char- acterized his presiding elder's report, at the Confer- ence of 1842,. of the cheerfulness and efficiency of his first year's work, and so few were the men to whom that kind of work could safely be entrusted, that it was thought best to employ him at least one more year in the labor of a pioneer ; and he was accordingly sent to another virgin field in the same District, distinguished as the Oregon Mission. With equal zeal and fidelity, and with increased experience, he spent another year of hardship and privation in this most delicate and difficult work, and at its close reported to the Conference one hundred and fifty- seven members.
At the Conference of 1843 he was elected and ordained deacon and placed in charge of Liberty Circuit, still in the same District and under the same presiding elder. From this work he reports a very large addition to the membership of the Church ; though, from the circumstance that the members are joined with those from Weston in the minutes, it is impossible to give the exact number due to Liberty.
From the Conference of 1845, where he was elected
114 CIRCUIT LIFE.
and ordained elder, he was sent, after a year of sta- tion life, to the Weston Circuit, with George D. Tolls as junior preacher and Wm. Ketron as presid- ing elder From this work, notwithstanding the losses through disaffection growing1 out of the recent separation of the Churches North and South, he still reports a net gain of fifty-eight to the membership of the Church in his charge.
Again, after two years of station life, during the Conference years of 1848 and 1849, he was in charge of Monticello Circuit, in Hannibal District, and with Jacob Lannius as his presiding elder. The first of these years he was alone in this work, but during the second he had Win. M. Wood for his junior. Here again he overcomes the depletion which is going on in consequence of the separation, and reports a net gain of one hundred and one for the two years of his administration.
His last circuit, to which he was sent from the Conference of 1851 after another year of station life, was St. Charles, in the district of the same name, with S. W Cope as his junior and Wm. Patton as his presiding elder. Here he still shows a net in- crease of seven in the white membership, but loses one hundred and eight of the colored. The colored people were resolutely going to those whom they esteemed better friends. Not a few of our white members went in the same direction during all these years, and it is not a little to Marvin's credit that he was able to preserve and even increase our strength
CIRCUIT LIFE. 115
in every circuit field committed to his charge through- out this trying time.
Whoever glances with an intelligent and thought- full eye, over the statistical reports of our own or anv other church, can not fail to observe such an apparent general regularity in the ebb and flow of the members, registering alternate gains and losses, as to lead to the impression that they are under the restraint of some mysterious law which forbids their constant tendency in a single direction. This seem- ing nrystery, however, vanishes the moment we enter patiently upon the track of any individual factor in the general product. Then, indeed, we find that this man is almost uniformly successful or unsuc- cessful ; that the number committed to his charge is regularly increased or diminished ; and hence that, in proportion as the class which he represents pre- ponderates in the body to which he belongs, will the general result" be plus or minus.
It will thus be seen that Marvin spent seven years of his ministerial life in charge of circuit work, and that he was uniformly successful in that work. It is in order that the Church may derive from it those lessons of practical wisdom which it is calculated to impart, that we have preferred to place in a single group these years of his circuit life, rather than follow the chronological order of his successive ap- pointments ; and it is thus, we may say here once for all, that we propose to deal with the other materials of his history It is, in our opinion, by these sepa-
116 CIRCUIT LIFE.
rate and distinct views of the man, from each point of his relation to the Church and the times, that we can obtain the best and most faithful understanding of his character and life.
(tthuytix gintliu
STATI ON LIFE .
A METHODIST station is simply one of the regular appointments of a circuit, which has grown strong enough in numbers, wealth and liber- ality to support its own pastors without the aid of the others, and which has therefore assigned to it the exclusive services of a member of the Confer- ence, who is thence styled the station preacher, in order to distinguish him from those other members of the Conference Avho are employed in circuit work. It follows, hence, that the circuits are the rule of Methodist organization, and stations its occasional exceptions. Not unfrequently it happens, that the erection of a circuit-appointment into a station is premature, and unfortunate for both itself and the constituent body of which it was a member. Of course it is the strongest appointment on a circuit which aspires to be, and does actually become, a station. This transition, when it is the result of normal and healthy growth, is easy and natural : the chief appointment is merely left off the plan of the
118 H TA TION LIFE.
circuit, which goes on quite as well, and often, in- deed, better, without it. The infant station is stim- ulated by new responsibilities to larger labors, and the whole Church is thus benefited by the change.
But sometimes the impulse to station life grows out of something like morbid selfishness on the part of the strong appointment, which, in point of fact, is not nearly so strong as it fancies itself. It has grown tired of bearing; the burden of its weaker sis- ters on the circuit, and aspires to keep house on its own separate account. Besides, it wants Sunday- preaching, and preaching every Sunday, and prayer and class-meetings through the week. Over and above all, it wants a preacher of its very own, for whose services and attentions there shall be no legit- imate competition in other quarters, and sometimes (for Methodist life has its leap-years) it has gone so far as to fix its heart on the man of its choice, and even propose to him, in advance of the parental sanction of Conference and the presiding elder. Then, when the hasty experiment is tried, its burden is found too heavy to be borne. It is not nearly so pleasant in experience as in anticipation. The charm of novelty is gone from the preacher, and he lacks, perhaps, that maturity of menial resource which would qualify him to bear the drain of con- stant ministrations to the same people, without be- coming trite and commonplace. Besides, he may have faults, which were not apparent till brought out by this nearer view, and it may be that chief among
STATION LIFE. 119
these, and that which aggravates if it does not create most of the others, is the amount of money which it requires to support him. Thus, taken altogether, the people of the new station arc not happy in the possession of their will. And their discontent is felt and shared by the preacher — felt as a wound and shared as a resentment. He is, indeed, cruelly dis- appointed in the results of this experiment. He thought that he was making a step forward, and, behold, he has slipped many steps backward ! He had supposed himself advancing from labor to com- parative repose, and from obscurity to renown ; but he finds this dream of his imagination justly inter- preted by its contraries : the circuit labor was light, compared with the exhausting toil of the station ; and he has lost repute as a preacher, for the reason — which he understands better than anybody else — that he has lost power in preaching. The secret of his old, moving magnetism of utterance seems to have vanished mysteriously from his grasp. He feels like Sampson, shorn of his strength while sleeping, and waking to struggle vainly with the cords which formerly coilld not for one moment have bound him.
And his peace has gone with his strength. No- body seems especially to love or care for him as formerly The sisters, it is true, receive him polite- ly when he goes on his pastoral rounds ; but he can not help seeing that his visit interrupts their domes- tic industries, and that in heart they wish him away
120 STATION LIFE.
The brethren give him a hastv nod when he calls at their places of business, and with a " Pray excuse me, I am engaged," turn to their work and leave him with a realizing sense that he is not particularly wanted just then and there. He has been used to the warmth of the circuit greeting, and this chills him. He remembers, but a little while ago The was on the circuit then), when the people, who now scarcely stop to greet him in passing, and who shun his ministry, or make it the occasion of their most refreshing slumbers, came out 'with nods and becks, and wreathed smiles " to honor his approach, when friendly lights shone in their eyes, and their warm hands leaped to meet the pressure of his own ; and when they hung upon his words as if they had been oracles. He does not realize that this shock to his feelings is nothing but the effect of passing from the warm bath of the circuit to the cold douche of the station. He is sick, forlorn, discouraged, mis- erable, and, when Conference comes, joins very heart- ily with the people of his station in the request that they may both be sent back to the circuit where they belong.
But the ill-effects of this rash experiment do not end here. Indeed, they are permanently unfortun- ate, both for the work and the men. It turns out that the forsaken appointments have proved too weak to sustain their former burden, and have broken down in an effort disproportioned to their strength, and which should never have been required of them.
S TA TION LIFE. 121
The result is, suffering on both sides, aggravated by discontent and heart-burning. The preachers are dissatisfied because they are not paid, and in their hearts they blame alike the circuit which has not paid them, and the Conference which sent them where they could not be paid. The people, on their side, feel that they, too, have been wronged. They are angry with those who abandoned them in order to aspire to the dignity of a station — with the Confer- ence which has burdened them as heavily, thus bro- ken and crippled, as in the time of their full strength, and with their own pastors, for the double reason that they are at once the representatives of the Con- ference and the weights by which the circuit has been oppressed. All this does not augur favorably for the future of that charge.
Nor can the matter be set quite right by the resto- ration of the statu quo through the action of the administrative powers. It is not with altogether a good grace that the dismantled station returns to its place in the circuit. This is a forced eating of hum- ble-pie which is by no means relished. There is much grimness in the humor with which Bro. B., the Nestor of the circuit, greets their representatives in the first quarterly Conference : " Oh, yes ; wanted to be a station, did you, and couldn't keep it up? Welcome home, Brethren." So there are soreness, unkind feeling: and lonor-endurinsj friction in the once superbly prosperous and firmly united charge ; as every society on the circuit is ready, on occasion, to
122 STATION LIFE.
fling; iii the face of the fallen station some cutting" allusion to its escapade. In some sad instance, this feeling has been known to proceed to such a length as to drive the unfortunate appointment to other futile attempts at independent life, which have result- ed in its degradation from the first rank on the cir- cuit to a permanently inferior place.
The preacher, too, when he has finished, with a sense of inexpressible relief, his unhappy year of station life, has by no means heard or felt the last of his transient dignity The other preachers in the district know all about the result long before the year is ended, and are ready at Conference with their " quips and quirks," their ironical compliments and sly inuendoes, to turn this great annual feast of a Methodist preacher's life into a season of painful mortification to him. He finds, too, when the ap- pointments are read, that it is by no means all a joke, that he has lost character and standing with the appointing powers, and that it will probably be long; before he can recover all that he has thrown away in his childish essay Nor is this unjust. He is esteemed according to his work ; and having •failed and wrought harm, rather than good, in a position of his own choosing, he cannot complain if his brethren deem him comparatively unfitted for places of exalted trust and grave responsibility. The real wrong lies in the indulgence or indifference
CD (_y
of those appointing powers which furnished him, and the other parties concerned in the folly, with
S TA TIOJST LIFE. 123
the opportunity of inflicting upon themselves a lasting injury
As has been said, station life under the best and most favorable circumstances — under the only cir- cumstances indeed in which it should exist in our economy — is the result of natural and healthful growth. The change is then permanent, and the station is a station always. But even at the best it is a strain, violent and lasting, upon our economy, and the occasion of much friction in the working of the administrative powers of our conferences and their cabinets. It is even questioned, by many wise and thoughtful lovers of Methodism, if the Church have not made a mistake in establishing them under any circumstances, if she would not do better, even now, to turn all the stations into circuits according to the British-Wesleyan method, furnishing each with a numerical pastoral strength proportioned to its abilitv
Upon this affirmative much might be well and fairly urged. The stations must possess, in process of time, a numerous and wealthy membership ; and if to this rule there be occasional exceptions, these exceptions constitute in themselves the strongest possible impeachment of the wisdom which insti- tutes and encourages what is thus liable to become a dead factor in our economy Methodism should have no such barren fig-trees to provoke the Mas- ter's curse. But if they do become wealthy, re- fined and polished, they are in just this proportion
124 S TA TION L 1FE.
isolated from the circuit work and liable to be estranged from its sympathy. They come to re- quire a different, and what they regard as a higher, order of pulpit and pastoral service. They are not always willing to take such as the Conference may send them. They wish to know their men, and to approve and select them beforehand. It sometimes occurs, that a whole Conference even cannot supply their single demand, and they must import from abroad some preacher whose shining reputation has dazzled their eyes in the distance. And all this, though it bears hardly on the very life of the itiner- ancy, the appointing power feels itself obliged to sanction.
As a consequence, the preacher thus imported is sometimes a man apart and not in full sympathy or fellowship with the Conference of which he is a nominal member. The other members of the Con- ference into which the stranger has come, in obedi- ence to the call of a single church, too often regard it as a slight on them, and feelings not the most pleasant nor of the most christian-like character are indulged. That this ought not to be so, is admit- ted, but that it is often the case cannot be denied. Who has not witnessed it, while many a " transfer " has been made to feel it, no matter how pure or how honorable his motives and purposes may have been ?
Manv such an one has been made to feei that he was a foreigner and an alien, and the interest he
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might otherwise have felt in the general work of the Conference, is lacking. He has been made to feel that he was not at home — that he had come for a special service, and when that was accomplished he must depart for some other field, where a similar service might be required. Thus there is a tend- ency to grow up in our economy a class of men different from the great body of the preachers, who are not identified with them in a common work, who are not in strongest sympathy- The tendency is to cherish a class, known and distinguished as the ' * station-preachers," permanently attached to no Conference, but flitting hither and thither, already becoming numerous, and likely to become more so as long as the popular stations are multiplied. It cannot be that, in such a matter, the supply should ever prove unequal to the demand.
But the effect of the station institute is likely to affect the individual churches not less than it affects the preachers. The rich and successful station feels itself exalted above the poor and struggling circuit. And what could be more natural than this feeling? Is it not the admired and flattered of all? Are not its superb appointments and gorgeous apparel the wonder and the envy of the other churches ? Are not its homes of elegance and luxury ranked among the almost fabulous marvels of the country fireside ? Is it not the object of clerical rivalries and the desire of every preacher's heart? Are not bishops and councils its servants, und may they not be trusted to
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do its bidding at any cost of inconvenience to them- selves or the common work? Then, being so wealthy and important, it may safely compete with other town and city churches in the race of fashion. Its sons and daughters must be polished by the dance and refined by the stage ; and its congregations, where erst might be seen the plain old Methodist bonnet, must become halls for the competitive display of gorgeous toilets. Little fear of discipline in the case. Their pastor knows too well how far he can count upon the endorsement of his official Board to venture upon experiments of this kind. Is it sur- prising that, under these influences, the station should become arrogant and haughty, and look down with pity or contempt upon her plain and homely sisters, the country circuits?
But, if Methodism should so grow and prosper in a given community that two or more stations are established there, it might reasonably be expected 1;hat at least these churches, sustaining to each other the relation of mother and daughter, or sisters to each other and daughters to a common mother, would be mutually attached by the closest and tenderest ties, and would all strive diligently for the welfare of each and for the common good, so as to counteract, to some extent, the injurious effect of their compara- tive isolation from the Church at large? Now, is this really and truly the case in those towns and cities of our work where stations are in the plural number? Is it not rather true, that even here fashion affects
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the temper of churches just as it spoils the natural affections of families ; that these nearly related churches do not love each other as they should, that there springs up, very early in the history of their common life, a feeling of jealous estrangement in the heart of each, which mars or renders almost im- practicable any enterprise for a common welfare that depends upon their mutual and cordial co- operation? This may be a sad truth, but those who best know our city work and have been most heavily burdened by its responsibilities can tell how sadly true it often is : and in the meantime all mav infer, from this and other quite apparent truths, the char- acter and tendency of the station institute as it relates to our common prosperity It would not be difficult to show, by facts and figures, if such application were not too pointed for a work like this, instances where Methodism has either stood still or declined in strength during a period in which, by the employ- ment of the ordinary energies of circuit life, it is reasonable to believe it might have doubled, trebled or even quadrupled its original force.
From all this it may be seen that the hardest test of a Methodist preacher's character and worth is to be found in station life. Ay, and blessed are those preachers who have never borne its strain or felt its heartache. They have escaped from they know not what perils and disasters, by their fortunate absence from those fields where the strongest and bravest, if he win a victory, must purchase it with some costly drops of his life's best blood.
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The man who meets this test and bears it well, is not one of many. If he carry with him to the sta- tion and p reserve while there — intact, or without serious or fatal deterioration — the simplicity, purity, and fervor of his circuit life ; if his warmth be neither frozen nor permanently chilled by the long contact with habitual coldness ; if he keep the same rule of Christian sobriety, frequent and earnest prayer, spir- itual conversation and all holy living in the station as on the circuit ; if he suffer not the revival-fire to be quenched in his bosom by the ceaseless flow of triv- iality and social indifference ; if he suffer not the guiding star of his great purpose to live only for the glory of God in the salvation of men ever to vanish from his sight in the mists of prejudice, pas- sion and folly which are rising all around him ; if, despite all the fires of vanity, pride, and ambition through which he must pass, he keep fresh and blooming in his breast the sweet flower of modest humility ; if his heart go out as in the fore-time, to all his brethren in the work, and he stand ready to aid them with the glad service of former days when he stood by their side in an equal field ; if, unspoiled by flattery and unsoiled by selfishness, he stand ready as before for all the work of a Methodist preacher, neither scheming to secure, nor in heart desiring, better fare or more favor for himself than for his brethren : then must it be frankly and truly said, that this man is of no common mold or feeble might. And that such was the subject of this
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sketch, is attested by all who knew him in either circuit or station work.
His station-life began early He was sent, from the Conference of 1844, being then in the fourth year of his itinerant life and not yet ordained elder, to Fourth street Church, in St. Louis, with Wesley Browning as senior preacher, and W. W Redman as presiding elder. It is to be observed, in this instance, that the young man follows his presiding elder from the Weston to the St. Louis District; a circumstance which places in a clear and strong light the fact that he was highly appreciated by Red- man, who had had him under his own eye for the previous three years. The minutes show a loss of five from the membership of First Church during this year ; but this loss is probably not real, owing to the occurrence, about this time, of a large deple- tion from First Church to a branch organization.
After a year's interval, on the Weston Circuit, we again find him, after the Conference of 1846, at Hannibal Station, where he remains for two years, the then limit of the pastoral term, with Jacob Lan- nius as his presiding; elder Here he a°;am over- comes the loss occasioned by the separation of the churches, and reports a net gain of two as the nu- merical result of his term of service.
Again, after two years on the Monticello Circuit, he is sent, from the Conference of 1850, to Palmyra Station, in the Hannibal District, with Horace Brown as his presiding elder. Here he remains but one
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year, reporting, however, a net gain of fifty-eight additions to the membership of the Church in this brief term.
Next, after five years interval spent in the varied employments of circuit preacher, college agent, and presiding elder, he is sent, from the Conference of 1856, to Centenary Church, in St. Louis, with R. A. Young as his presiding elder. He remains at Cen- tenary but one year, but retires reporting a net gain of one hundred and six to the membership of the Church .
Thence, from the Conferences of 1857-8 he is sent to First Church, in St. Louis, with Jno. R. Bennett as his presiding elder, and, during the last year, with Wm. F Compton as his junior. He remains two years in charge of this important work, report- ing, at the close of his term of service, a net gain of ninety-eight members, despite the fact that this charge was suffering severe losses occasioned by the workings of the plan of separation.
From the Conferences of 1859 and 1860, he is returned to the Centenary Church, with Jno. R. Bennett as his presiding elder, and with J Whitta- ker as a supernumerary preacher during the first year. In the second year, Sixteenth street is joined with Centenary and he is promised a supply, with Jesse H. dimming as supernumerary and Joseph Boyle as presiding elder, At the close of the first year he reports a net gain of seventeen. Before the expiratior of his second year at Centenary, he re-
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signs his charge into the hands of his presiding elder, for a reason which will hereafter be mentioned, and thus finally closes his career as a stationed preacher, after nine years of service in the most important and responsible fields of that work. It is enough to say in his praise — and it is saying a great deal — that he was uniformly and solidly successful in that work.
flfoaptcv 3fcnttL
COLLEGE AGENCY.
SOME of the hardest and most faithful, the most perplexing and the least appreciated work ever done by Methodist preachers in Missouri has been done in efforts to advance the educational interests of the people, to found and sustain schools and train the public mind so as to promote, and so far as possible, secure all the interests of our common humanity It has always been a maxim with the denomination that the moral man needed culture full as much as did the merely intellectual man ; that true education equally develops the physical, intellectual and moral natures ; and that all educational sj\stems which ignored this were defective in.exact proportion to the neglect. Among the early works of the distinguished founder and leader of that form or embodiment of Christianity called Methodism, was to found schools and make diligent and strenuous efforts to sustain them to the extent demanded by the wants of the people.
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Very soon after the organization of the Methodist Episcopal Church in America, provisions were made for the literary culture of the people. Twice were college buildings erected in the days of Coke and Asbury and each time were they the victims of de- vouring flames. After that there was an effort to establish schools, and soon thejr had one in Georgia, another in Kentucky, and still others in other parts. Besides these and a general co-operation in the edu- cational interests of the country, the Methodists did little until in the early part of the present century.
In the work of Sunday Schools, however, they were quite active, first among the colored people in the South then among the white children as the way was opened and opportunity offered. This work they began as early as 1783, and in a few years afterwards there were quite a number of such schools for young people of both colors. One of these schools — that which was in the house of Thomas Crenshaw, in Hanover county, Virginia,— was quite noted for its results. Precisely when it was organized the present writer never ascertained, but this much he did learn : Rev John Charleston, a local preacher in the M. E. Church in or about the year 1835, testified that he, Charleston, was a member of that school in 1786, and was there converted during that year. How long the school had been in operation before can not now, perhaps, be determined, but this was five years in advance of the time claimed by any other party as the origin of Sunday-schools in this country-
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While the Methodist Churches have never opposed the efforts of the States or of other denominations of Christian people in the work of general education, they have sought to bear their part and perform their full share. With every other denomination in the land, they have recognized it as their duty and claimed it as their privilege to do what they could for the intellectual as well as the spiritual interests of their children. Hence they have not only held the doctrine and pursued the practice of dedicating their children to God in the ordinance of His Church, but also of training them accordingly, and believing that the duty of all this rested primarily on the parents and could never be lawfully transferred, they regarded every teacher of youth as in loco parentis, as the agent of the parent, employed to do a parent's work and do it in such a manner as the parent should direct ; consequently they always preferred a religious before an irreligious man for a teacher, and other things being at all equal they preferred a religious man or woman whose views and sympathies were in harmony with their own. This was but natural, and what is agreed to by Christian people of any and every denomination.
During the first thirty-four years of the operations of Methodists in this country, or from 17()0, when the first society was formed, to the end of that cen- tury they could do but very little in the way of founding and sustaining schools. They were few in numbers — they were for the greater part poor — the
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war of the Revolution intervened and closed, leaving
©
the whole country in an impoverished and distressed condition. They had lost more than fifty thousand dollars by the burning of their college buildings in Maryland, which was well calculated to dishearten them, and besides so numerous and so pressing were the calls from almost every direction for their min- isterial services that their time and energies were fully and constantly employed, and yet they did something, as already noted.
It is not out of place just here to note, that in the beginning of their educational operations Mr. Asbury favored the founding of schools somewhat after the pattern of the celebrated Kingswood school, founded by Mr. Wesley in England, and for that purpose started a subscription for a "Kingswood School in America." The subscription was drawn up by John Dickins. The plan was very generally approved, but before its completion Dr Coke interfered, and through his influence it was changed and an expensive college was agreed upon. This was rather a sore trial to Mr Asbury He never really approved, but merely submitted to the change. He thought they were undertaking too much ; that the general demand was for elementary rather than for classical educa- tion, and what would sustain one college would sus- tain a dozen or more elementary schools ; and further, that it was much easier to continue after beginning in the right way, than it was to begin wrong and change afterwards. But Dr. Coke's "enlarged
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views" prevailed, and similar "enlarged views" have, to a large extent, prevailed since, and that, too, to the detriment of the real interests of the Church. By attempting too much, but little has been accomplished, compared with what might have been done on a different plan.
Since soon after the introduction of Methodism into what was afterwards and is now the State of Missouri, Methodist schools have existed, not always by the direction of Church conferences or Church officials, so much as by individual energy and enter- prise. In genuine Methodism there is a spirit by which when a man is deeply imbued, he will be prompted to works of beneficence, and among the very first will be that of improving the mental and moral condition of those around him by imparting knowledge of the proper kind. Hence Methodist schools, or schools taught bv Methodists for the in- struction of the children of Methodist parents, have a history coeval with the existence of the denomina- tion itself. Some, indeed many, of these individual enterprises have a history worthy of record and re- membrance. Their influence for good was wide, deep and lasting as mind itself. As an instance the one founded many years ago at Arcadia and so long and so well sustained by its founder. But ever since its organization the Missouri Annual Conference has felt its responsibilities in regard to this matter and been ever ready to adopt and carry out such measures as promised an accomplishment of the desired end.
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Many have been the educational enterprises upon which that conference, together with the other con- ferences, after separation from the parent stock, has engaged, and notwithstanding the many partial or total failures characterizing honest efforts, great and lasting good has been accomplished. A good the extent of which eternity alone can reveal. The decade from 1850 to 1860 was particularly char- acterized by efforts in this direction. Leading min- isters gave more than ordinary attention to the subject and made extraordinary efforts. It may have been that their zeal was somewhat in advance of their discretion, but however that may have been, there is no disputing the fact that very many of the enter- prises set on foot during these years did not succeed.
But there are good people among us who think, and do not scruple to say that, in their opinion, rais- ing money for the endowment of schools and colleges is not the proper work of a Methodist preacher. He is called of God, they say, to preach the Gospel and not to beg money ; and to set him at this task is, in effect, to divert him from the sacred work to which he has solemnly devoted his life.
While it is obvious to others that these people take quite too narrow a view of the subject, and that laboring for the cause of Christian education may be one of the most effectual methods of preaching the Gospel ; still these last are of the opinion that the struo-o-le of the churches to stem the current of secu- lar education is altogether hopeless, and that they
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would do well to surrender in advance of that day of inevitable defeat which seems so rapidly approach- ing. "Our people," they urge, "can not much longer bear the double burden of an onerous taxation to support the free schools and those liberal voluntary contributions which are needed to sustain and ad- vance the literary institutions of the Church. Why not, then, relieve them in time? Already they have grown restive, and display the temper which but too surely indicates a coming revolt. They are gloomy, despondent, reluctant, under our appeals, and daily yielding more decidedly to the self-defensive impulse which is pushing them to the exclusive patronage and hearty approval of the schools of the State. They are pondering with kindly seriousness the pop- ular argument, that literary and scientific education has really nothing to do with religion, and that Christian people can adequately instruct their chil- dren in the principles of their chosen creed at home and through the agency of their Sunday-schools and churches. Why wait until we are convicted in their minds of sectarian bigotry or romantic folly, and thus lose all power to influence and guide t hem ? Let then our literary institutions be disbanded and dismantled, and their values and revenues poured into the empty treasury of the Church. Better thus than see them perish slowly of pecuniary inanition, while the whole body is infected by the contagion of their decay. What better remains to be done? Can we hope to conquer in a struggle with the vast resources of that
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civil power which can lay its hand upon our property to compel us to support the war against ourselves ? Then, since yield we must, let us yield gracefully and in time."
It must be confessed that this plea is a strong one, when regarded from a merely secular and alto- gether human stand-point. If there were no God in the world ; if Right should be abandoned because it is feeble, and Wrong embraced because it is mighty ; if principle were nothing, and expediency everything ; if popular impulses were immutable, and Divine laws fickle and changeful : if human strength had always conquered human weakness, and the history of the world had recorded no victo- ries of the feeble against the mighty ; then, indeed, would the weakness which resisted be folly, and the popular argument might find no sufficient answer.
But this is neither a fair reading of nature and Providence, nor a just statement of the claims of religious education. It is not true, that literary and scientific training have nothing to do with religion, unless it is also true, that religion has no proper connection with the employments and duties of com- mon life. But this latter proposition is refuted by all our observation and experience, and this refuta- tion carries with it the overthrow of the only real argument for purely secular education. The religion which is limited to sacred days and ecclesiastical services is the scorn and reproach of the whole infidel world. They will have it in the daily life, or it is
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nought or worse than nought. Inspiring nil the industries and purifying nil the relations of man it is, even in their eyes, a grand and holy thing. They pay it reverence, as to a celestial power which they can not understand, but which they are forced to ad- mire and respect. Then with singular inconsistency they demand, that this beautiful and conservative power shall be banished from the whole school-life of our children and youth. They will have no relig- ious teachers and no teaching of religion in the public schools ; and into these schools they will drive, by indirect compulsory legislation, all the children of the land. Such is the full and fair issue, between the advocates of purely secular and religious educa- tion : the former will not only have no religion in their institutions of learning, but will compel their opponents to patronize those institutions : the latter would have religion in the school and college as everywhere else, and desire only the privilege of in- stituting and sustaining their own literary founda- tions. This seems a hard case, and shows clearly that the temper and attitude of the secular party are essentially those of persecution ; and this they would not hesitate to charge, to the disgrace of the friends of .religion, were the case reversed.
To render this plain, let it be supposed that the advocates of religious education, thinkinir and feel- ing on this subject precisely as they do, should com- bine, find themselves in the majority and obtain possession, by their representatives, of the whole
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machinery of government ; that they should proceed, by organic and statutory legislation, not to abolish the present free-school system, but to engraft upon it such provisions as would render it effectually a scheme for the promotion of religious education ; and that all who were opposed to this scheme, in principle and belief, should be so heavily taxed for its support as to render the institution of other schools, in which they might, at their own expense, educate their children according to their- conscien- tious convictions, practically impossible : would not this be considered such a union of Church aiid State as trampled religious liberty in the dust, and would it not be stigmatized as a most cruel and odious per- secution? Yet this is precisely what the secular party propose, and have already in large measure accomplished against the friends of religion. It is even in contemplation, and has been seriously advo- cated in some quarters, to make secular education directly compulsory (as it is now indirectly so) by the enactment of penal statutes. The public-school laws, then, clearly constitute another instance of the persecution of the religious by the secular party for conscience sake : the state has as valid a right to secularize the churches as. the schools ; and it only remains for Christianity to say now, as she has often been called upon to say in other and ruder times, whether she will be true to her principles or surren- der them at the bidding of civil authority become despotic.
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The cause of Christian education is the cause of Christianity itself. Purely secular education and none other means, the extinction of the Christian religion : this is its hidden purpose — its steady though secret aim ; and it will as certainly succeed as Christians give way at this point. This is no truer to-day than it has always been : it is only that it seems truer, because the danger is upon us in a new form. In the former days of Christian perse- cution by hostile States, no such enginery as the public-school system existed. This was well for Christianity ; for there has never been a time in its history when, had its children been snatched from its grasp by the strong hands of the State and moulded and manipulated at its will, the faith of their parents could have long survived. It was thus the Pagan systems were beaten in their conflict with Christianity ; not so much by other proscriptive edicts as by that which placed their children in Christian hands ; and Infidelity sees poetical justice in the stern Materialism which threatens the bitter reprisal of the present day Christianity has been allowed relatively to lose in the progress of our later civilization ; and this really and only accounts for the comparative prevalence of skepticism and irre- ligion to-day. It is not, as has been frequently said, the natural and necessary result of modern thought and culture, but the effect of the transferrence of the care "and education of the voun<r from Christian hands. This is sufficiently obvious from the fact,
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that the highest culture and capacity are still found in the Christian ranks, and steadily remain there, when the early education of such minds has been favorable to Christianity- But formerly, and until within a period comparatively recent, it held in its hands, and wielded at its pleasure, the educational facilities of every land where it prevailed and was the Key to all its mental culture. We have seen how it won its final triumph over Paganism, and the lesson was not one to be forgotten. Thenceforward to the Reformation its monks and nuns, its convents and monasteries, were the schools and teachers of the civilized world. Even after the Reformation, education seemed not less firmly held in Christian hands until free America startled the Avorld by its practical experiments in secular schools, and thence has grown the danger of the present hour
Now, Christianity does not claim to-day, the ex- clusive privileges which it so long enjoyed by the free suffrage of the nations. It asks only "a fair field and no favor." It has undiminished confidence in the potency of that Divine truth of which it is the vehicle to men. It asks only that it shall not be crushed under the tread of a blind and brutal force. It is willing to build its humble institutions of learning side-by-side, if need be, with the grandest foundations of material science and literature, and will cheerfully abide the issue of that fair competi- tion ; but it asks to be allowed to build them with hands unmanacled by the iron restrictions of oppres-
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sive statutes, and feet imclogged by the immovable weights of unjust taxation, Then, God and the future for the right and the true. That which it can not afford to surrender — that which to give up would be treason and suicide and render it another Judas to the same Christ — is the care and education of its children ; and to this inalienable right will it cling while God shall give it a heart to feel, a brain to think, or a hand to strike.
Besides, the intelligent Christian does not despair, in the face of all the sinister omens of these most trying times. He remembers that "He that is for him is greater than all that can be against him;"