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THE LIFE

DAVID BRAINERD,

MISSIONARY TO THE INDIANS:

CHIEFLY TAKEN FROM HIS OWN DIARY AND OTHER PRIVATE WRITINGS.

BY JONATHAN EDWAKDS.

WITH PREFACE

BY THE REV. HORATIUS BONAR,

KELSO.

LONDON:

T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW;

EDINBURGH ; AND NEW YORK. ;\; UCCCLVIII.

CONTENTS,

Page PPEFACE, ...... . vii

The Life and Experience of Brainerd, a Protest-

1. Against the Easy-minded Religion of our Day, . . xiv

2. Against the Second-rate Religion of the Day, . . xviii

3. Against the Uncertain Religion of the Day, . . xx

4. Against the Self-pleasing Religion of the Day, . . xxi

5. Against the Imitative Religion of the Day, . . xxix PART I. From his Birth, to the time when he began to Study for the

Ministry, 1

PART II. From about the time he first began to devote himself more especially to the study of Divinity, till he was Examined and Licensed to Preach, ....... 20

PART III. From the time of his being Licensed to Preach, till he was ap- pointed Missionary to the Indians, . . . . 36

PART IV. From the time of his appointment as a Missionary, to his first

entrance on his Mission among the Indians at Kaunaumeek, . 50

PART V. From his first beginning to instruct the Indians at Kaunau- meek, to his Ordination, ...... 62

PART VI. From his Ordination, till he first began to Preach to the Indians at Crosweeksung, among whom he had his most remarkable success, . . . . . . . 110

PART VII. From his first beginning to Preach to the Indians at Cros- weeksung, till he returned from his last journey to Susquehannah, ill with consumption, of which he died, .... 1-34

PART VIII. After his return from his last journey to Susquehannah,

until his death, ->0o

LETTERS written by Mr Brainerd to his Friends, . . . 251

REFLECTIONS and OBSERVATIONS on the preceding Memoirs, . 266

PREFACE.

VERY much of a man's true life must be lived alone ; under no eye but the Father's, with no companionship save that of the Son, and without guidance, or help, or teaching, save from the Holy Ghost.

It has never been otherwise here, whatever it may be hereafter. From the time that earth fell off from God, and the air became the seat of devils, and sin took up its dwelling in every scene and object, and things seen became enemies and tempters, and the creation was made subject to vanity, and the world became an unre- ality, and " the things of the world" gay shadows or idle flatteries, and man began to " walk in a vain show," — from that time the realities of man's being have been constrained to betake themselves to " secret places," finding there a more healthful atmosphere, and a more genial companionship. By the chill vagueness, the unsatisfying hollowness of what it finds in the bustle around, it has been driven into the quiet of closet-soli- tude, where it meets with Him who is infinitely real, and true, and personal, and with things which are all as real, and true, and personal as himself.

It was thus with Him who came " not to be mini- stered unto but to minister." We read once that *' in the morning, rising up a great while before day, he went out and departed into a solitary place and there prayed." — (Mark i. 35.) Again we read that when he had sent the multitudes away, " he departed into a mountain to

Vlll PREFACE.

pray." — (Mark vi. 46.) In the day-time^ sought the desert, for we read that " when it was day he departed and went into a desert-place." — (Luke iv. 42.) At night he sought the desert, for we read that " he went out into a mountain to pray, and continued all night in prayer to God." — (Luke vi. 12.) One who followed his Lord closely, and walked in his footsteps, thus writes — " I have more to do with God than with all the world; yea, more and greater business with him in one day than with all the world in all my life. Therefore, let man stand by ; I have to do with the eternal God, and with him I am to transact in this little time the business of 01 y endless life. Alas, what have I to do with man ! What can it do but make my head ache to hear a deal of sensejess chat about the words and thoughts of men, or their lands and titles, and a thousand iinpertinances, which only prove that the dreaming world is not awake ? What pleasure is it to see the bustles of a bedlam world, and how they strive to prove, or make themselves un- happy? I have never returned from the presence of God when I have really drawn near to him as I have from the company of mortals, repenting the loss of my time, and trembling for my discomposure contracted by their vain and earthly discourse. O that I had lived more with God, though I had been less with some that are eminent in the world, or even with the dearest of my friends ! O how much more pleasing is it now to my remembrance, to think of the hours in which I have lain at the divine footstool, though it were in tears and agonies, than to think of the time I have spent in con- verse with the greatest, most learned, or nearest of my acquaintance ! " * Nor is this a rare experience. Thus all have found it who have tried really to LIVE. They have learned, after much weariness, and many disappoint- ments, and keen vexations, and sharp buffetings, that the life which is lived amid too frequent fellowship with outward things is an unsatisfying and fictitious one. They have discovered that it contains much of what is * " Baxter's Converse with God in Solitude.1'

PREFACE. ]X

false and unreal, much of \vhat is unhealthy and un- stable, much that will not last beyond the hour, and which, when it evaporates, leaves the spirit poorer and emptier than before. *

Nor is it possible that it should ever be otherwise in such a world as this. For existence and life are not the same ; spending life and filling up life are not the same. It is one thing to keep the limbs and faculties in motion, and it is another thing to live. Life is not the mere transit through a certain space, or the con- sumption of a certain amount of time, or the perform- ance of a certain number of evolutions. It is not mea- sured by days and years, nor yet by the multitude of points at which it comes into contact with the outward world. Those things which go down into the depths of our spiritual being are the things which make up life. They fill up every void ; they do not change nor disappoint ; they offer us not only present satisfaction, but eternal companionship. So that the amount of reality in life must be far more proportioned to the ex- tent of our direct intercourse with Him " in whose favour is life" than to the amount of our fellowship with men, or contact with the movements of the world.

Those parts of life which are not true may be lived any where. It matters little what may be the place, or the circumstances, or the company, or the nature of the employment that may be filling our hands. That which is unreal can suit itself to any soil, or find con- geniality in any atmosphere. Earth has a thousand busy circles, smaller and wider, where, in pastime or

* Thus Brainerd writes concerning his days of solitude — " My state of solitude does not make the hours hang heavy upon my hands. Oh, what reason of thankfulness have I on account of this retirement ! I find that I do not, and it seems I cannot, lead a Christian life when I am abroad, and cannot spend time in devo- tion, Christian conversation, and serious meditation, as I should do. Those weeks that I am obliged now to be from home, in order to learn the Indian tongue, are mostly spent in perplexity and barrenness, without much relish of divine things; and I feel my- self a stranger at the throne of grace for want of a more frequent aud continued retirement." — Diary, January 4, 1734.

X PREFACE.

politics, or business, all reality is lost. Any one of these will do for the development of that life which is not life. But the life which is real, springs up in quiet and kindly shade. It comes forth unhidden and un- forced, when the soul, left alone with God, gets full play to itself, and brings all its manifold parts into unob- structed contact with Him in whom " we live, and move, and have our being."

Not that all of life which is spent alone must be true, or that all which is not spent alone must be untrue. It would be unfair to affirm either of these points ; nay, it would be false. One may waste life in solitude as completely as in a crowd ; and one may fill up life well in vigorous service and labour for God. Monasteries prove the former, — such lives as those of Luther, and Knox, and Calvin, prove the latter.

But still, we may say, that there is a greater mix- ture of the untrue in those parts of life which are not lived alone. Into them the artificial and unreal are more largely introduced, so that the natural and simple are riot seldom hidden or stifled. When alone, the simple growth is unchecked, and the natural pro- cess of unfolding goes on. But, bring in other beings and objects, and we obstruct what is natural, we call forth what is artificial. The greater the amount of foreign influence brought to bear upon a man, the less of himself, and the more of what is not himself, we are likely to have. Were man's soul like metal, to be fused and cast into a mould, or were it like marble, to be chiselled and polished after the design of the sculp- tor, then the greater the amount and pressure of foreign influence, the better for his perfect manifestation ; but, if he be rather like a seed, or a plant, all whose indivi- dualities have been wrapt up by the Creator in itself, requiring free scope for growth so as to bring out fully every branch, and leaf, and flower, then to attempt to fashion him into a shape of our own devising, by bring- ing him into contact with other objects, would be to change his very nature, to destroy that which is real

PREFACE. XI

about him, to cramp his vitalities, nay, perhaps, to de- stroy his very life.

These surely are points to which our attention may well be called. For, if depth in spirituality, and warmth in religion, and truth in life, be things desirable, then must we set about seeking them in good earnest, and without delay. * And, if they are to be reached by us, then of a surety the outward must occupy less of our time, and the inward more. There must be more of privacy than Christians seem now to think needful ; and, in that privacy, there must be more of direct con- verse with the things of the eternal kingdom, and more of unbroken fellowship with the Father and the Son. No doubt, a man may be often alone and yet gain no- thing by it. His private hours may be as empty and unfruitful as his public ones; but still no man can^ attain to much of what is true in life who is not often' alone. In public, we give rather than receive ; and hence the necessity for going alone in order to be replen- ished. In public, there is an incessant tear and wear, not only of body but of soul ; and, in order to have it repaired, we must retire to privacy, and to God. " There are some things," says Samuel Rutherford, " in which I have been helped; as, (1.) I have been bene- fited by riding alone a long journey, in giving that time to prayer ; (2.) by abstinence, and giving days to God." f Of Robert Blair we read, that " he spent many days and nights in prayer, alone, and with others; and was one very intimate with God." J And thus writes another : — " I had a deep impression of the things of God ; a natural condition and sin appeared worse than hell itself; the world, and the vanities thereof, terrible and exceeding dangerous; it was fearful to

* " Feeling and considering my extreme weakness and want of grace, the pollution of my soul, and danger of temptations on every side, I set apart this day for fasting and prayer, neither eating nor drinking, from evening to evening, beseeching God to have mercy on me; and my soul intensely longed that the spots and stains of sin might be washed away." — Diary.

f Letters, New Edition, p. 288.

J Livingstone's Characteristics.

Sll PREFACE.

have ado with them, and to be rich; I saw its day- coming; Scripture expressions were weighty ; a Saviour was a big thing in my eyes ; Christ's agonies were then earnest with me, and I thought that all my days I was in a dream till now, or like a child in jest, and I thought the world was sleeping." And, in another place, he tells us how he sought to deepen and perpetuate this sense of everlasting realities : — " In imitation of Christ and his apostles, I purpose to rise timely every morn- ing ; once in the month, either the end or middle of it, I keep a day of humiliation for the public condi- tion ; I spend, besides this, one for my own private condition, in conflicting with spiritual evils, and to get my heart more holy, once in six weeks. I spend once every week four hours over and above my daily portion in private for special causes. I spend six or seven days together once a year wholly and only on spiritual ac- counts." *

It was in such ways that these men of God main- tained the vigour of the spiritual life. In these in- stances, we see what is reality in the life of man, and that that which is true in life has more affinity with the solitude of the closet than with the stir of more public scenes. Brainerd's life brings out all this most vividly. |

* Eraser's Life, Wodrow Edition, p. 275.

f I cannot resist the temptation to throw into a note the following incident in the life of Flavel, known to some, no doubt, but not generally known. What a reality would there be in a life made up of such passages !

" I have with good assurance this account of a minister, who, being alone in a journey, and willing to make the best improvement he could of that day's solitude, set himself to a close examination of the state of his soul, and then of the life to come, and the manner of its being and living in heaven, in the views of all those things which are now pure objects of faith and hope. After a while he perceived his thoughts begin to fix, and come closer to these great and astonishing things than was usual ; and as his mind settled upon them, his aftections began to rise with answerable liveliness and vigour.

" He therefore (whilst he was yet master of his own thoughts) lifted up his heart to God in a short ejaculation, that God would so order it, in his providence, that he might meet with no interruption from company, or any other accident in that journey; which was granted him; for in all that day's journey he neither met, overtook,

PREFACE. Xlll

We do not ask any one to take his life as a perfect life, or his experience as a perfect experience ; nor do we set him up as a model or measure by which our Christianity is to be shaped. In many points we mark imperfection. We can trace in it an undue tendency to the subjective in religion. We can observe an occa- sional leaning to the dark and gloomy, not without a slight touch of something approaching to mysticism. We can at times suspect the existence of something unhealthy, and even feverish, in his spiritual system. We can observe a less frequent reference to Christ, both personally and officially, than we think scriptural. We can afford to make all these deductions, and yet we hold up his life and experience as fitted above those of many to be of service in the present day.

We might make use of it as a protest against many things in our condition, which are too little heeded, and hardly recognised as evil at all. It is a protest,

or was overtaken by any. Thus going on his way, his thoughts be- gan to swell, and rise higher and higher, like the waters in Ezekiel's vision, till at last they became an overflowing flood. Such was the intention of his mind, such the ravishing taste of heavenly joys, and such the full assurance of his interest therein, that he utterly lost a sight arid sense of this world, and all the concerns thereof, and for some hours knew no more where he was, than if he had been in a deep sleep upon his bed. At last he began to perceive himself very faint, and almost choked with blood, which, running in abundance from his nose, had coloured his clothes and his horse from the shoulder to the hoof. He found himself almost spent, and nature to faint under the pressure of joy unspeakable and insupportable ; and at last, perceiving a spring of water in his way, he with difficulty alighted to cleanse and cool his face and hands, which were drenched in blood, tears, and sweat.

" By that spring he sat down and washed, earnestly desiring, if it were the pleasure of God, that it might be his parting place from this world. He said, death had the most amiable face in his eye that ever he beheld, except the face of Jesus Christ, which made it so; and that he could not remember (though he believed he should die there) that he had one thought of his dear wife or children, or any other earthly concernment.

" But having drunk of that spring, his spirits revived, the blood stanched, and he mounted his horse again; and on he went in the same frame of spirit, till he had finished a journey of near thirty miles, and came at night to his inn, where being come, he greatly admired how he came thither, that his horse without his direction

PREFACE.

I. — AGAINST THE EASY-MINDED RELIGION OP OUR DAY.

A believed gospel most certainly brings with it im- mediate peace, else its news are neither good nor true. To receive the peace-bringing news, and yet to be with- out peace, is an inconsistency hard to be accounted for. " Joy and peace in believing," poured into us by the God of hope, is our present heritage. But to be at peace with God, and with our own conscience, is one thing, and to be easy-minded is quite another. The former is the true and healthy condition of the re- newed soul, the latter its state of fatal disease and sad decay. The gospel truly believed, no doubt, un- binds and unburdens us ; for it brings us forgiveness and an endless life. But in doing so, it makes us thoroughly in earnest. It gives us back our lost buoy- ancy of being, it renews our broken elasticity of spirit, it quickens our sinking pulse, it draws out into vigorous and noble action the buried and stifled feelings of the

had brought him thither, and that he fell not all that day, which passed not without several trances of considerable continuance.

plied he, ' I was never better in my life. Show me my chamber, cause my cloak to be cleansed, burn me a little wine, and that is all I desire of you for the present.' Accordingly it was done, and a supper sent up, which he could not touch, but requested of the people that they would not trouble or disturb him lor that night. All this night passed without one wink of sleep, though he never had a sweeter night's rest in all his life. Still, still the joy of the Lord overflowed him, and he seemed to be an inhabitant of another world. The next morning being come, he was early on horseback again, fearing the divertisement in the inn might bereave him of his joy; for he said it was now with him as with a man that carries a rich treasure about him, who suspects every passenger to be a thief; but within a few hours he was sensible of the ebbing of the tide, and before night, though there was a heavenly serenity and sweet peace upon his spirit, which continued long with him, yet the trans- ports of joy were over, and the fine edge of his delight blunted. He many years after called that day one of the days of heaven, and professed he understood more of the light of heaven by it than by all the books he ever read, or discourses he ever had entertained about it."

PREFACE. XV

soul ; and in doing all this, it transfuses throughout our inner man, as well as imprints upon our outer man, a calm, resolute solemnity, mingled with a strenuous and irrepressible earnestness, that cannot rest till it has carried all before it.

Instead of this, we see men " professing godliness " taking things so easily and coolly, that we are led to wonder how far they attach any importance to them at all. There is no lack of fervour in carrying out other pursuits ; the whole heart is thrown into business, and literature, and pleasure, but religion sits lightly on them. They are sound in the faith, and ready at a moment's notice to man its bulwarks when assault is threatened ; they are forward in schemes of usefulness ; all is regular and reputable in their walk ; yet the vitalities of religion are sadly awantiug. Their religion seems to be a thing picked up by the way, easily put on; as easily worn, and, were persecution arising for the Word's sake, in all likelihood as easily put off. It is a religion which knew nothing of the pangs of the new birth as its origin, and which knows nothing of struggle and warfare for its maintenance. " Taking up the cross," " fighting the good fight of faith," " wrestling with principalities and powers," "resisting the devil," "keeping under the body," " cruci- fying the flesh," " mortifying the members," — these are things unthought of. With such, it is an easy thing to be religious, an easy thing to walk with God, an easy thing to pray, an easy thing to deny self, an easy thing to follow Christ. It costs them nothing either in the way of sacrifice or conflict to be religious. They own them- selves sinners, but they take it easily. They acknow- ledge the cross, but they take it easily. They ask for- giveness, and though they never seem to obtain it, they take it easily. They speak of sonship, and though they will not venture to say, " Abba, Father," they take it easily. They are no further on at this day than when first they became religious, yet they take it easily !

Of the religion of this class, it may be said that it

XVI PREFACE.

had no starting-point — no decided commencement in the souls of those to whom it belongs. The charac- teristics of the change in their case are so vague and ambiguous, that to speak of it as conversion or regene- ration, is to turn the most solemn words into an un- meaning sound. A few anxious days and nights, a few struggles against outward sin, a few tears of sentimental tenderness — these are all. Men congratulate them- selves on these undefined impressions, and deem them- selves CONVERTED ! And in their after life, they reassure themselves, or rather they soothe their consciences to sleep, by recalling these feelings, and persuading them- selves that about such a time they passed through a certain change, and that therefore all must be well with them ! ' Their religion had an easy beginning ; it has an easy progress, but if grace prevent not, it will have a woful end. For the hope of such men must perish. Their blossom shall go up as dust.

How far this religious easy-mindedness prevails among us, I do not say. That it does prevail to a very con- siderable extent, will hardly be denied.* Nor will it be questioned that such a_condition is as false as it is fearful. The Bible knows it not. The gospel utterly condemns it. He who *' holdeth the seven stars in his right hand," threatens it with wasting judgment. It may be man's religion, but it is not God's.

It holds out an awful contrast to the religion of David Brainerd. Every page of his memoir, every entry in his diary, every letter from his pen, breathes an intensity of earnestness which not only protests against the tame and facile piety above adverted to, but makes us feel that if it be true godliness, then Brainerd's was fanaticism ; and that, on the other hand, if Brain- erd's be the simple reality of religion, then the other is a mere piece of ill-acted mimicry or cold externalism. Hear how he writes — " Prayed privately with a dear Christian friend or two, and I think I scarcely ever

* " I fear," says Brainerd, writing to his brother John, "you are cot sufficiently aware how much false religion there is in the world."

PREFACE. XV11

launched so far into the eternal world as then ; I got so far out on the broad ocean, that my soul with joy triumphed over all the evils on the shores of*mortality ; time, and all its gay amusements and cruel disappoint- ments, never appeared so inconsiderable to me before ; I was in a sweet frame ; I saw myself nothing, and my soul went out after God with intense desire ; 0 I saw what I owed to him in such a manner as I scarcely ever did ; I knew I had never lived a moment to him as I should do ; indeed, it appeared to me I had never done any thing in Christianity ; my soul longed with a vehemement desire to live to God." Again he writes — <(> My spiritual conflicts to-day were unspeakably dreadful, heavier than the mountains and overflowing floods ; I seemed inclosed, as it were, in hell itself; I was deprived of all sense of God, even of the being of

God, and that was my misery Oh, I feel

that if there is no God, though I might live for ever here, and enjoy not only this but all other worlds, I should be ten thousand times more miserable than the meanest reptile ; my soul was in such anguish, that I could not eat, but felt, as I supposed, a poor wretch would that is just going to the place of execution/' I do not cite these passages as embodying feelings neces- sary for all to pass through ; for I would specially guard against the idea that we are to imitate others, and that any one Christian can be or ought to be the reproduc- tion of another. But I quote them as containing the most awful condemnation which could be pronounced upon the easy-minded religion of multitudes in the pre- sent age of wide profession.

II. AGAINST THE SECOND-RATE RELIGION OF THE DAY.

There is no profit in declaiming against the times, and comparisons between this age and other ages should be cautiously indulged in. But one cannot help feeling, that amid the luxuriant foliage of profession, the " sere

XV111 PREFACE.

and yellow leaf" prevails. There is a want of greatness as well as a want of simplicity in much of modern reli - gion. It has, as one remarks, " no fervour, no keen- ness, no elevation, no splendour of soul." It lacks the freshness, the vigour, the vitality, the power which marked it in earlier times.

And must it remain so ? Must we be content with inferiority ? Is there not such a thing as spiritual am- bition— a desire to get up to. a higher level, nay, to raise up our fellow saints to such a level ? Surely we are to covet the best gifts and to be satisfied with no second-rate religion, no inferior attainments, no com- mon-place Christianity.

In Brainerd we see one specially fitted to arouse us. He has reached no common eminence, and he stands above us, calling to us who are still in the valley beneath, or only on the lower slope of the mountain, " Come up hither." He was a man of like passions as we are. He was fashioned of the same vile clay. He had the same obstructions to encounter, the same steeps to climb, the same enemies to do battle with. Yet he reached the height; and no one can read this diary without feeling how lofty that height was. And if he gained it, why not we? And can we read such utterances as these, and not be quickened ? " Had some intense and passionate breathings after holiness." Again, " I feel it is heaven to please Him, and to be just as he would have me to be ; O that my soul were holy as he is holy ; 0 that it were pure, even as Christ is pure.'' Again, " Felt exceeding dead to the world and all its enjoyments ; I longed to be perpetually and entirely crucified to all things here below by the cross of Christ ; it was my meat and drink to be holy, to live to the Lord and die to the Lord ; and I thought that I then enjoyed such a heaven as far exceeded the most sublime conceptions of an un- regenerate soul !" From these " delectable mountains," these u hills of frankincense," he beckons us upward, telling us of the green slopes and the pleasant air, and the fresh fragrance and the fair prospect which we may

PREFACE. XIX

thus obtain. He entreats us not to remain in the plains, or linger on any of the lower ridges. Let us arise and follow him.

III. — AGAINST THE UNCERTAIN RELIGION OF THE DAY.

Brainerd was often in deep waters, broken with many a tempest, and buffeted with many a surge ; but he never for a moment let go his anchorage. He was moored too fast at the outset of his career to be easily drifted. The abyss of iniquity within him often made him cry out, " 0 wretched man ;" but his sense of for- giveness and consciousness of reconciliation and son- ship never forsook him. He " held the beginning of his confidence firm to the end." Knowing that a man is saved, not by doubting but by believing, he believed and was established. He discerned nothing humbling, nothing sanctifying, nothing elevating in uncertainty as to the relationship subsisting between him and God. He did not conceive that uncertainty could enlarge his heart, or heal his wounds, or stimulate activity, or warm his zeal, or brighten his hope, or kindle his love. Un- certainty might stupify him, but it could not arouse him ; it might paralyze and benumb him, but it could not quicken and invigorate him ; it might dispirit him, but could not animate him ; it might elate, but could not humble him. Hence there is nothing of it through- out his whole diary. He knew whom he believed, and was persuaded that he would keep that which was committed to him against the great day. He did not always rejoice, but he always rested and trusted as a child. He was often brought down to the very gates of hell under a sense of unutterable vileness in himself, yet he did not allow this to estrange him from his God or loosen his hold of the Saviour, or throw up a wall of darkness between him and the cross. His walk with God was not in uncertainty. His hold of God was a conscious thing. His relationship to God was a settled

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and ascertained fact, from which, as from a centre, all the movements of his spiritual life went forth. His is a case from which we may learn not only how perfectly consistent are a profound sense of sin and an unbroken assurance of forgiveness, but how the latter is the true source of the former, — so that it is in proportion as we realize the forgiveness of the cross that our sense of sin is deepened. The consciousness of reconciliation and sonship, the certain knowledge of pardon, the firm hope of the inheritance — these are the things that hum- ble, and empty, and purify.

And what, after all, can this uncertain religion do for us ? Can it comfort ? No, ft only saddens. Can it speak peace ? No, it only troubles. Can it light up the drooping eye ? No, it only makes it droop the more heavily. Can it tin wrinkle the vexed brow ? No, it only adds fresh wrinkles. Can it heal wounds ? No, it only inflicts new ones. Can it give us the u single eye ?" No, it only makes the eye " evil." Can it break our bonds ? No, it only adds new links to our cutting chain. Can it give us rest? No, it only augments our weariness. Can it fire us with zeal ? No, it cools and quenches it. Does it make duty sweet, and turn labour into refreshment ? No, it takes away all relish for the service of God, unnerving and unmanning us, as well as turning all that work for Christ, which should have been so pleasant and easy, into irksom en ess and pain.

It seems strange that so many should be content under this uncertainty, nay, cleave to it as desirable and needful, counting it proud presumption in any one to say, " I am a son." According to man's scheme, uncertainty may be humility, and filial confidence pre- sumption, but certainly not according to God's. If it be a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, then the authentic evidence of our being children of God, is not the extent of our doubting, but the simplicity of our believing. If any one would know the difference between a certain and an uncertain religion, between

PREFACE. XXI

the results of doubting and the results of believing, let him study the lives of Brainerd or Edwards.

IV. AGAINST THE SELF- PLEASING RELIGION OF THE DAY.

One cannot read a page of his diary without feeling rebuked and ashamed. He " sought not his own but the things that are Jesus Christ's." " He pleased not himself." His was pre-eminently a life of self-denial; and his was as truly a ministry of self-denial. Half a century ago, a German minister thus wrote in his diary: u He who is acquainted with spiritual life will know from experience how necessary is daily obedience to that word of Jesus, let a man deny himself; if he indulge his own desires, if he do not crucify them, then does spiritual life decline."* The whole life of Brainerd is a comment upon this. There are no foolish ideas about self -annihilation, such as we find in the schools of mys- ticism ; yet there is what is more scriptural and more difficult of attainment, the regulation of self, the sub- ordination of self, the expansion of self, from being a piece of hateful grovelling earthliness to a generous and heavenly feeling, which has but one desire and aim, that God may be glorified. Thus Brainerd writes : — u When I felt any disposition to consult my ease and worldly comfort, God has never suffered me to feel happy. ... It appeared to me that God's dealings to- wards me had fitted me for a life of solitariness and hardship ; it appeared also that I had nothing to lose, nothing to do with earth ; and consequently nothing to lose by a total renunciation of it ; it was, therefore, right that I should be destitute of house and home, and many comforts of life, which I rejoiced to see others of God's people enjoy ; at the same time, I saw so much of the excellency of Christ's kingdom, and the infinite desir- ableness of its advancement in the world, that it swal- lowed up all my other thoughts, and made me willing, * Rauschenbusch's Memoir, p. 126.

XX11 PREFACE.

yea even rejoice, to be a pilgrim or hermit in the wilder- derness to my dying moment, if I might thereby pro- mote the blessed interest of the great Redeemer; at the same time, I had as quick and lively a sense of the value of worldly comforts as ever I had; but saw them infi- nitely overmatched by the worth of Christ's kingdom." There is no self- pleasing here; no flesh-pleasing; no love of ease ; no concern about earthly enjoyments. He is engrossed with something higher and more glorious. He has risen above things seen and temporal ; he has got within view of things eternal; he has his eye on but one thing, in comparison with which every thing else is vanity. It is the glory of God that absorbs him ; it is the kingdom of Christ on which his heart is set. What a single eye ! what a straightforward aim ! what an un- selfish attitude! Here is a pattern for a minister or missionary. Here is one whose example puts us awfully to shame, and yet it stirs us up, nay it gladdens us too, as we think that such a man as this once walked on our earth and breathed our air.

Yet there was nothing morose about Brainerd. In one place, he tells us of his having " diversions" for his health; and his biographer thus describes him: " I found him remarkably sociable, pleasant, and entertaining in his conversation ; yet solid, savoury, spiritual, and very profitable ; appearing meek, modest, and humble ; far from any stiffness, moroseness, superstitious demure- ness, or affected singularity in speech or behaviour, and seeming to nauseate all such things." In several parts of his diary he breathes out his love to his fellow-men : " I felt much of the sweetness of a gospel temper ; was far from bitterness, and found a dear love to all man- kind." Again — " I felt serious, kind., and tender to- wards all mankind." Again — " Spent an hour in prayer with great intenseness and freedom, and with the most soft and tender affection towards mankind; I longed that those that bear me ill -will might be eternally happy; it seemed refreshing to think of meeting them in hea- ven." Thus, with all the depth and self-denial that

PREFACE. XX111

marked his religion, there was nothing ungentle or un- loveable. He "pleased not himself;" but he sought to please others, to love others, to care for others, to overflow with tenderness to all around.*

V. AGAINST THE IMITATIVE RELIGION OF THE DAY.

When religion ceases to be persecuted, and comes into general favour, so as to be reckoned among the necessaries or at least the decencies of life, then men set themselves to acquire it as part of their education. In doing so, they get hold of certain models after which they endeavour to shape their religious life. These mo- dels are various ; and hence the -variety of the imitations.

* How tender and how natural some of the scenes upon his death- bed ! It seems he was engaged to the daughter of Edwards ; and three days before his death, we are told that when she came into the room he " looked on her very pleasantly," and said, " Dear Jerusha, are you willing to part with me?— I am quite willing to part with you — I am willing to part with all my friends— I am will- ing to part with my dear brother John, although I love him the best of any creature living : I have committed him and all my friends to God, and can leave them with God. Though, if I thought I should not see you, and be happy with you in another world, I could not bear to part with you. But we shall spend a happy eternity together ! " She survived Brainerd only four months, and died in her eighteenth year. " She was a person," says her father, " of much the same spirit with Mr Brainerd. She had constantly taken care of and attended him in his sickness, for nineteen weeks before his death ; devoting herself to it with great delight, because she looked on him as an eminent servant of Jesus Christ. In this time, he had much conversation with her on things of religion; and in his dying state often expressed to us, her parents, his great satisfaction con- cerning her true piety, and his confidence that he should meet her in heaven; and his high opinion of her not only as a true Christian, but a very eminent saint; one whose soul was uncommonly fed and entertained with things that appertain to the most spiritual, experi- mental, and distinguishing parts of religion; and one who, by the temper of her mind, was fitted to deny herself for God, and to do good, beyond any young woman whatsoever that he knew of. She had manifested a heart uncommonly devoted to God in the course of her life, many years before her death; and said on her deathbed, that ' she had not seen one minute for several years, wherein she desired to live one minute longer, for the sake of any other good in life, but doing good, living to God, and doing what might be for his glory.' " In these respects she seems remarkably to have resembled

XXIV PREFACE.

From the lowest pattern of mere externalism up to the highest form of spirituality they range ; and thus form that vast Babel-fabric of profession or religiousness, which, reared by human hands, rises, circle after circle, seeking to scale the heavens. According to the nature of our education, the friends we move amongst, the books we read, the characters we admire, the natural tone of our mind, will be our selection of the pattern after which we frame our religion. But whatever be the model we adopt, an imitated religion is the result. Hence that part of our character which should of all others be most genuine, becomes the most artificial. It is but a copy. It has not sprung up from a root within us ; it has come solely from without ; hence it is hollow ; and its hollowness makes it of but little service amid the buffetings or griefs of life. It rings with the sad sound of emptiness whenever it is called into use, either in the day of toil or the night of suffering. It fails us as a broken reed, or mocks as an idle shadow.

her mother, whose experience was of such a pre-eminently spiritual kind, and of whom her husband, before their marriage, drew the following exquisite portrait. It was written when he was twenty, and was found on the blank page of one of his books. " They say

there is a young lady in , who is beloved of that great Being

who made and rules the world ; and that there are certain seasons in which this great Being, in some way or other invisible, comes to her, and fills her mind with exceeding sweet delight ; and that she hardly cares for any thing except to meditate on him ; — that she expects, after a while, to be received up where he is ; to be raised up out of the world and caught up into heaven ; being assured that he loves her too well to let her remain at a distance from him al- ways. There she is to dwell Avith him, and to be ravished with his love and delight for ever. Therefore, if you present all the world before her, she disregards it, ?jnd cares not for it, and is unmindful of any pain or affliction. She has a strange sweetness in her mind, and singular purity in her affections; is most just and conscientious in all her conduct; and you could not persuade her to do any thing wrong or sinful if you would give her all the world, lest she should offend this great Being. She is of a wonderful sweetness, calmness, and universal benevolence of mind, especially after the great Being has manifested himself to her mind. She will sometimes go about from place to place singing sweetly, and seems to be always full of joy and pleasure, and no one knows for what. She loves to be alone, walking in the fields and groves, arid beems to have some one invisible always conversing with her."

PREFACE. XXV

Sad truth ! The most real thing in the universe is turned into the greatest of all unrealities ! That which should be most spontaneous and authentic, becomes a forced and unnatural production ! Men profess to fear God, nay, perhaps, persuade themselves that they are doing so ; yet it turns out that they have never yet come into living contact with this Being whom they say they fear ; but are merely imitating the emotions and actions of another who has left on record how he feared God, and how he felt, and how he acted ! Men profess to have been con- verted, to have undergone the vital change which fits them for the kingdom ; yet after all it turns out that they are only imitating the movements of the divine life, the play of the spiritual organs in a fellow- man ! They speak of God, and of Christ, and of his gospel, and of the narrow way, and of the endless life, not be- cause the Holy Spirit from within has taught them to do so, but because they have seen or heard a man who is held up to them as an example, thus speak of God, and of Christ, and of his gospel, and of the narrow way, and of the endless life! Fearful facility of imitation! What a source of self-deception is here ! How need- ful for us, on reading such a life as Brainerd's, to beware lest we be giving way to this imitative tendency, intent merely on producing in ourselves a facsimile of the holy man, — a facsimile, in working out which the Spirit has had no hand, but which passes for the work of the Spirit, and thereby deludes ourselves, and imposes upon others.

As, then, we know of few things more subtle and more fatal to the genuineness of spiritual religion, or more likely to produce a mere artificial spirituality, than the plan of taking any man as the model of Christian experience, and insisting on conformity to his likeness as the test of excellence, we would deprecate the idea of calling Brainerd master, or setting up his Diary as the touch-stone of religious experience. In reading his life, we require to guard against our tendency to reli- gious imitativeness, as utterly destructive of all that is fresh and real and natural in religion.

XXVI PREFACE.

In one way, Brainerd's Diary may be more likely than many others to lead to imitation. The depth, the inten- sity, and the loftiness of his experience, make it strongly attractive to a large class of minds. A commonplace life may often furnish most pleasant reading; but it draws after it no imitators, even among the most ordi- nary minds. All men, however commonplace them- selves, turn away from any but a striking character as their model. And the revelation of the workings of a human soul, given us in this Diary, is of no common kind. It often takes a hue of solemnity quite over- powering, and sometimes rises to a sublimity quite unearthly. This is its dangerous side.

But, in another aspect, it presents a warning against imitation. It is throughout so genuine, so true, so na- tural, that we feel rebuked and condemned at the thought of attempting to imitate it. It overawes us too much to think of this; and yet it does stir up within us the desire to put our souls entirely in the Spirit's hands, that He may work in us, not the same experience — for the expe- riences which He produces are all different the one from the other — but an experience as thorough, as pervading, and as profound. He who uses Brainerd's life as a copy which he must labour to imitate as closely and correctly as he can, will succeed in producing nothing but a piece of unhealthy religionism ; he who uses it to arouse and stimulate, to detect flaws and deficiencies, to quicken his conscience, and urge him forward in the same path of high attainment, will find it an unspeakable blessing. It is a life which, in all its parts, inner and outer, is worthy of being kept before our eye ; it is so solemn, yet so loveable, — so striking, yet so unaffected and un- obtrusive,— so noble, yet so gentle, — so elevated, yet so childlike, — so intensely fervent and unearthly, yet so simple, so genuine, and so true !

In casting the eye over Brainerd's Diary, we find so many points to notice, that it is difficult to select. The features of his Christianity are all of them prominent and decided. His was neither a second-rate nor a

PREFACE.

second-hand spirituality. There was a breadth, and power, and intensity about it that one seldom lights upon. Though his course was brief, and his life passed in deserts, not in cities, — though it was, in one sense, obscure and unknown, — yet it contained too much of what was heavenly to allow it to pass unnoticed upon earth. It had nothing of the ostentatious; yet it was so unlike the usual run of religious profession, — it had so little of the tame and the commonplace about it, — ifc was so vivid in its spiritual tints, — that it could not be hidden. Whether it might attract or repel — whether it might be scoffed at or wondered at, it was too unam- biguous to be mistaken. Unconsciously, and in simply giving himself up to the Holy Spirit's guidance, he had been led up to a height which few attain.

Of spiritual childhood or nonage, one finds almost nothing in his life. He seems to stand before us at once in the full strength and proportions of Christian manhood. He has outgrown his childhood ere he has well entered it, — leaving behind him, at once, the fra- gility, the delicacy, and incompleteness of the babe, and taking on the ripeness, and vigour, and hardihood of the man. In self-denial, self-mastery, self-discipline, he exhibits a rapidity of growth which amazes us, and yet which, at the same time, lets us know that the same Spirit which wrought in him is willing and able to work in us as mightily and as swiftly, would we but as unre- servedly throw ourselves into his almighty hands, that he may work in us according to the greatness of his power, and according to the good pleasure of his will.

There is, undoubtedly, a question here very naturally coming up for consideration. How far, and in what way, is God honoured and Christ confessed by a life like that of Brainerd ? It was not a public life. It was not a life of mark and fame, and wide-ranging popu- larity. It was not a life like Whitefield's, or even like Edwards*. It was a life to which few eyes were turned, and in which the world could take little interest, either to love or to hate, to praise or to revile, the man who

XXV111 PREFACE.

lived it. In outward incident, it was not fitted to strike or overawe. It was not a stormy life, like Luther's ; nor a bold life, like Knox's ; nor a commanding life, like Calvin's. It was different from all these ; for it was made up of few events, and these few not likely to be known, or, even when known, to awaken a world's interest or call forth its admiration. It was, besides, a brief life, — a race swiftly run, so that the goal was reached ere the progress of the runner could be marked. Few years were his, for he died in the prime of his manhood, — being one of those to whom God, in his tender love, seems to grant the glad privilege of getting their work finished quickly, and making haste to depart and to be with Christ, which is far better.

How, then, did Brainerd witness a good confession, honouring God and putting the adversary to shame ?

He did so, we would say, not by the success of his labours, though that was great, but by that life of mar- vellous nearness to and strange intimacy with God which he lived during his brief day on earth. It is in living such a life that we witness a good confession, and bring special glory to the name of that God whose we are and whom we serve. It is not, perhaps, easy to understand how a veiled life like this should be so glo- rifying, nor how it should be, that the most hidden parts of it should be sometimes the most glorifying of all ; yet such, we are assured, is the sober truth. And there may often be concentrated in one hour's blessed communion, or in one hour's desperate struggle with the unseen adversary, more of what honours God and bears testimony to his name, than in long years of public labour acknowledged and applauded on every side. It is not upon the platform, or amid the listening crowd, nor even in the pulpit, that we confess Christ with the purest lip and the most noble testimony. These, doubt- less, are fit places for confessing him, just as, in truth, any place is where we can name his name ; but the con- fession in which there mingles least of what is earthly and human, most of what is heavenly and divine, is the

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XXIX

confession made upon the bended knee in the lonely closet, unlistened to by any ear but God's. There we are less tempted to be insincere ; and though even there we are at times conrcious of trying to impose even on him, and speaking of ourselves, not as we really are, but as we know he desires us to be, yet, when alone with him, our witness-bearing is of a truer and more thoroughly expressive kind.

Besides, it is evident that God attaches more import- ance to the private history of our souls in their transac- tions with himself than we are accustomed to do. Not that he makes the private to supersede the public, or the individual to exclude the corporate ; but still he gives us to understand that his glory is strangely wrapt up in all the secret movements of the soul, and that there is a weight and importance connected with our closet history which we know not now, but which we shall know hereafter.

Thus Enoch walked with God, and obtained the tes- timony of pleasing him. Thus Moses passed his forty years' sojourn in Midian, glorifying God in the solitudes of Horeb as truly as afterwards amid the thousands of Israel. Thus David honoured God when feeding his sheep on the plains of Bethlehem. Thus Elijah hon- oured him at the brook Cherith, and at the widow's house in Zarephath. Thus did John the Baptist in the wilderness of Judea. And thus was it with the Lord himself, whose public life was so short, whose private life so long. Ah ! is it not evident that, whether we see it or not, God has some most wondrous way of glo- rifying himself by those parts of our lives which are lived alone ? There is something about the silent, soli- tary growth of his "trees of righteousness" that we are slow to understand. How much of delight in them, and of glory from them, he is continually receiving, we know not ; yet that this is not only great, but of the purest and most precious kind, we cannot doubt.

Nor, indeed, is this altogether wonderful; for it is here that the soul gets fullest room and liberty to ex-

XXX PREFACE.

pand itself. It is here that we are brought into directest contact with God. It is here that there is least of earth and most of heaven. It is here that the spikenard flows forth with its unchecked fragrance. It is from this that our sweetest songs arise. It is here that we unbosom and unveil ourselves without reserve, de- lighting to make mention to God of all that he has done for us, in loving, forgiving, quickening, glad- dening us. It is here that we fondly dwell upon the whole story of our saved life, telling, over and over again, in his listening ear, the wonders of his grace to- wards us, — wonders of grace which all proclaim aloud the unutterable glory of his name! Here too our battles are fought, and our noblest victories won; and who can tell the glory that goes up to God from such a battle-field! Our conflict with sin, our struggles with unbelief, our crucifying of the flesh, our resistance to self, our strife with the world, our wrestling with prin- cipalities and powers, — all in loneliness, and amid tears, and sighs, and groanings that cannot be uttered, — these fill up the story of an unseen life, in which Christ is confessed and. God is glorified in the way in which he most delights to be. Man's love of show and effect and outward scene, would pronounce a life like this wasted and lost. But He who plants flowers in the desert, whose fragrance ascends to none but himself; He who studs the secret cave with its dazzling crystals, which none but himself has ever gazed upon; He who lights up stars in myriads in the depths of space, far beyond the range of man's widest vision; — He glorifies himself in a way more befitting the loftiness of his na- ture and the simple majesty of his name. He can afford to be unseen himself, and he can afford to let that be hidden in which he takes the profoundest interest, and from which he means to draw the largest revenue of glory.

Yet all is not hidden. The indwelling Spirit is ever shining through. Rays of divine light find their way out from the recesses of the closet, — and these are rays

PREFACE. XXXI

of the purest and heavenliest kind. One such beam thus issuing forth will bring more glory to God than myriads of less pure, less heavenly beams, coming from those whose religion is of a more mingled and less ex- pressive kind. And then the face of such a man, when standing forth before his fellow-men in public life, is like the face of Moses ; — it shines, though he is uncon- scious of it; arid, though many around are ignorant of the source whence the impression comes, they cannot help feeling a strange and unearthly influence exercised over them. They feel, but do not understand the spell that binds them. They do not understand either the man or his influence. There is a mystery about him, — a secret wrapt up in him which they cannot fathom. He is unintelligible to them; they know not whither to mock or to revere, whether to draw near or to stand aloof. Yet they are inwardly forced to confess, that surely God is with him. And thus he has proved the truest and most faithful witness for God that could have been found. There was no mistaking him. There was no misapprehending of his testimony. His deeds might not be many; his words might be fewer than his deeds: his public life might have little breadth or mag- nitude, but he has given forth a testimony for God more decided and more telling than that of a hundred others whose names have been honoured among the children of men.*

In another way, also, all is not hidden in the life of such a man. The hosts of darkness compass him about. They see him and know him, even when man sees and knows him not. They put forth the utmost of their craft and power to ensnare or to overcome him. He is but one, and they are legion. They know no pity, they

* It has been said by an anonymous literary writer, in reference to the really great thinkers of the race, that " the mill-streama which turn the wheels of the world, rise in solitary places." HOAV much more true of such men as Brainerd ! From their solitudes there comes forth a power of which the world knows nothing. Yet it is all-pervading, all-influential. It looks like human, yet it is divine. It is man wielding the invisible power of God.

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allow no breathing, they give no quarter. The strife is awfully unequal, yet it must not be fled from. One against thousands, and these mysteriously invisible, each one mightier far than he! Help from his fellow- saints he cannot look for. They have their own battles to fight, and, besides, their help would avail nothing. He must fight, and he must overcome alone.* Wo to him if he blenches or yields one footbreadth, or even entertains the thought of fleeing, or proposing terms of peace! It is not the fight of a day, it is the fight of years, — the protracted battle of a lifetime ; but he fights it well. He conquers. It has been a desperate strife, but he has " overcome through the blood of the Lamb." And what glory does God now receive before these defeated enemies, — in the face of these legions of hell, — by such a victory ! They who are passing smoothly over a summer sea or a sunny earth, untried, untempted, un buffeted, — whose religion has in it no- thing of the battle-field, only of the parade, — may not understand this ; but they who have known the terrors of the warfare and the joy of the triumph, — they who have entered single-handed into combat with the rulers of the darkness of this world, and, in coming off more than conquerors, have learned to ascribe the glory to Him in whose name and might they overcame, can un- derstand it well.

* Take Brainerd's own description of this solitary conflict : — *' I live in the most lonely, melancholy desert, about eighteen miles from Albany (for it was not thought best that I should go to Delaware river, as I believe I hinted to you in a letter from New York). 1 board with a poor Scotchman ; his wife can talk scarce any English. My diet consists mostly of hasty-pudding, boiled corn, and bread baked in the ashes, and sometimes a little meat and but- ter. My lodging is a little heap of straw, laid upon some boards, a little way from the ground; for it is a log-room, without any floor, that I lodge in. My work is exceedingly hard and difficult ; I travel on foot a mile and half, the worst of way, almost daily, and back again; for I live so far from my Indians. I have not seen an Eng- lish person this month. These and many other circumstances as uncomfortable, attend me ; and yet my spiritual conflicts and dis- tresses so far exceed all these that I scarce think of them, or hardly mind but that I am entertained in the most sumptuous manner* The Lord grant that I may learn to ' endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ !' "

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There is yet another way in which all is not hid- den, even in such a life as Brainerd's. No doubt that part of the life that is turned earthwards or man- wards, that part which man can see and know, is much veiled, with little else, perhaps, than occasional beams straying through. But let us not forget that there is another part or aspect of his character, — that which looks heavenward and God ward; and, whatever may be the dimness of the earthward aspect, the heaven- ward one is unutterably bright. And that brightness has its witnesses, — witnesses who can see it all and appreciate it all, — the angelic hosts, who " desire to look into these things," and to whom, as we read, is " made known, by the church, the manifold wisdom of God." The under part of the clouds that float above us in the firmament does oftentimes cheer us with its brightness ; but what is that brightness, as it shows itself to us who are looking up to it on earth, compared with the burst of radiance which the upper surface of these same clouds must present to the eye that can look down upon it all from above ! So with the saint's life. It is only its under side, its darker aspect, that we see. Its upper side, its brighter aspect, is turned to the gaze of heaven, and is always visible to the dwellers in the upper king- dom. They see it and stand in awe. They see it and praise. They see it arid love. They see it, and learn the depths of the riches of the wisdom, and knowledge, and grace, of a redeeming God. What inconceivable glory may thus go up to God from the unseen life of the saint, before that "innumerable company of angels!"

Such was Brainerd's life. While here, it was but its lower surface that men saw, — its upper surface was only visible from above. But now that he has gone to be with Christ, that upper surface is now turned to us, and shines down on us with unhindered radiance. His Diary laid before men, is the full unveiling of that •which was once hidden, so that in it we now can see what, during his earthly sojourn, could be seen only from within the veil.

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His life was not a great life, as men use the word. It was no life of vulgar incident or exciting changes. It was not coloured with romance or sentiment. It had no originality ahout it, save that of acting out all that he believed. It was not made up of many parts, nor filled with varied doings, nor diversified with mani- fold schemes. It was thus far a monotonous life — a life of one plan, expending itself in the fulfilment of one great aim, and in the doing of one great deed — serving God, so that at its close he could say, " I have glorified thee on earth, I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do/'*

He walked this earth as one hastening to he done with it, yet glad while in it to be spent for God. And though, in some respects, his life does look like an unfinished one — an unfulfilled career — yet he did mar- vellously much in little time, and he has left behind him, in his example, a quickening influence which, during a century, has wrought blessedly in many a soul. His mantle may not have been caught, but the fragrance of his name and memory has come with a stimulating power, we may say, to thousands.

This is something worth living for. How great the honour and the joy!

*" No man who lives near to God lives in vain. He may not be conscious of doing any thing directly for others ; yet his life is putting forth a power and an in- fluence which he understands not. Unknown to him-

* Thus he spoke from his deathbed — " I was born on a Sabbath- day; and I have reason to think I was new-born on a Salbath-day; and I hope I shall die on this Sabbath-day. I shall look upon it as a favour, if it may be the will of God that it should be so. I long for the time. O, why is his chariot so long in coming? why tarry the wheels of his chariot? I am very willing to part with all : I am. willing to part with my dear brother John, and never to see him again, to go to be for ever with the Lord. O, when I go there, how will God's dear church on earth be upon my mind ! " Afterwards, the same morning, being asked how he did-, he answered, " I am almost in eternity: I long to be there. Mytwork is done, I have done with all my friends, all the world is nothing to me. I long to be in heaven, praising and glorifying God with the holy angels, all my desire is to glorify God."

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XXXV

self, he is doing much for God and for his fellow-men. In his retirement, he speaks, and is heard, though he knows it not. The witness-bearing of the. closet, is a thing little understood ; but it is not the less true on that account. It is little believed in ; but its efficacy is not the less mighty. It is like one of those secret influences in nature, which are not the less powerful because unheeded or not easily accounted for. And then, when the closet- testimony is arrested here by the translation of the witness to his home within the veil, it is renewed in another form. The fragrance diffuses itself wider than in his lifetime. It becomes more largely known how he lived and how he walked, and how he communed with God. He has departed, but his testimony has not departed with him. It survives, nay, seems to acquire new power, as well as extend it- self over a more ample circle. His memory lives after him, and ceases not to speak and operate for ages.

The life of the loneliest saint thus becomes at length manifested. It shines out and is seen. That which had here but little. of attractive lustre, becomes a many- sided gem, sparkling with heavenly brilliance. The ancients had many a fable about their heroes being caught up from earth and transformed into stars. In the case of such a saint as Brainerd, this is no fable, but a truth and a fact. He walks with God on earth — it may be briefly, or it may be through a long life of prayer and toil ; and when he passes away to the nearer presence above, it is not to perish and be for- gotten, nor is it simply to be " tad in everlasting re- membrance ;" it is to have the veil removed from his life, and its true glory unfolded, — to become a star to men for ever.

THE LIFE OF DAVID BEAINERD.

PART I.

FROM HIS BIRTH, TO THE TIME WHEN HE BEGAN TO STUDY FOR THE MINISTRY.

DAVID BUAINERD was born April 20, 1718, at Haddam, a town belonging to the county of Hartford, in the colony of Connecticut, New England. His father, who died when David was about nine years of age, was the worshipful Hezekiah Brainerd, one of his Majesty's council for that colony. His mother was Mrs Dorothy Hobart, daughter to the Rev. Jeremiah Hobart, who preached for some time at Topsfield, and then removed to Hempstead on Long-Island, and afterwards removed from Hempstead (by reason of numbers turning Quakers, and many others being so irreli- gious, that they would do nothing towards the support of the ministry), and came and settled in the work of the min- istry at Haddam, where he died in the 85th year of his age ; of whom it is remarkable, that he wen£ to the public worship in the forenoon, and died in his chair between meet- ings. And this reverend gentleman was son of the Re^. Peter Hobart, who was first minister of the gospel at Hing- ham, Norfolk, in England ; and, by reason of the persecution of the Puritans, removed with his family to New England, and was settled in the ministry at Hingham, in the Massa- chusetts. His wife (David Brainerd's grandmother) was daughter to the Rev Samuel Whiting, minister of the gospel, first at Boston in Lincolnshire, and afterwards at Lynn in

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Massachusetts, New England. He had three sons that were ministers of the gospel.

David Brainerd was the third son of his parents. They had five sons and four daughters. Their eldest son was Hezekiah Brainerd, Esq., a justice of the peace, and for several years a representative of the town of Haddam, in the general assembly of Connecticut ; the second was the Rev. Nehemiah Brainerd, a worthy minister of Eastbury in Connecticut, who died of consumption, Nov. 10, 1742 ; the fourth was Mr John Brainerd, who succeeded his brother David, as missionary to the Indians, and pastor of the same church of Christian Indians in New Jersey; and the fifth was Israel, student at Yale college, in Newhaven, who died shortly after his brother David. Mrs Brainerd, having lived several years a widow, died when David was about fourteen years of age ; so that in his youth he was left both fatherless and motherless. "What account he has given of himself, and his own life, may be seen in what follows : —

I was, I think, from my youth, something sober, and in- clined rather to melancholy, than the contrary extreme ; but do not remember any thing of conviction of sin worthy of re- mark, till I was, I believe, about seven or eight years of age ; when I became something concerned for my soul, and terri- fied at the thoughts of death, and was driven to the perform- ance of duties ; but it appeared a melancholy business, and destroyed my eagerness for play. And alas! this religious concern was'but'short-lived. However, I sometimes attended to secret prayer, and thus lived at "ease in Zion, without God in the world," and without much concern, as I remember, till I was above thirteen years of age. But some time in the winter 1732, I was something roused out of carnal security, by I scarce know what means at first ; but was much excited by the prevailing of a mortal sickness in Haddam. I was frequent, constant, and something fervent in duties, and took delight in reading, especially Mr Janeway's Token for Chil- dren ; I felt sometimes much melted in duties, and took great delight in the performance of them ; and I sometimes hoped that I was converted, or at least in a good and hopeful way for heaven and happiness — not knowing what conversion was. The Spirit of God at this time proceeded far with me; I was remarkably dead to the world, and my thoughts were almost wholly employed about my soul's concerns ; and I may indeed say, "Almost I was persuaded to be a Chris-

DAVID BRAINERD. g

tian." I was also exceedingly distressed and melancholy at the death of my mother, in March 1732. But afterwards my religious concern began to decline, and I by degrees fell back into a considerable degree of security, though I still attended secret prayer frequently.

About the 15th of April 1733, I removed from my father's house to East Haddam, where I spent four years, but still " without God in the world ;" though, for the most part, I went a round of secret dufy. I ivas not ex- ceedingly addicted to young company, or frolicing (as it is called) : but this I know, that when I did go into company, I never returned from a frolic in my life with so good a conscience as I went with ; it always added new guilt to me, and made me afraid to come to the throne of grace, and spoiled those good frames I was wont sometimes to please myself with. But, alas ! all my good frames were but self- righteousness, not founded on a desire for the glory of God.

About the latter end of April 1737, being full nineteen years of age, I removed to Durham, and began to work on my farm, and so continued the year out, or till I was near twenty years old ; frequently longing, from a natural incli- nation, after a liberal education. When I was about twenty years of age, I applied myself to study ; and some time be- fore, was more than ordinarily excited to and in duty : but now engaged more than ever in the duties of religion. I became very strict, and watchful over my thoughts, words, and actions, and thought I must be sober indeed, because I designed to devote myself to the ministry ; and imagined I did dedicate myself to the Lord.

Some time in April 1738, I went to Mr Fiske's, and lived with him during his life.* And I remember he ad- vised me wholly to abandon young company, and associate myself with grave elderly people ; which counsel I followed, and my manner of life was now exceeding regular, and full of religion, such as it was ; for I read my Bible more than twice through in less than a year — I spent much time every day in secret prayer, and other secret duties — I gave great attention to the Word preached, and endeavoured to my ut- most to retain it. So much concerned was I about religion, that I agreed with some young persons to meet privately on Sabbath evenings for religious exercises, and thought my- self sincere in these duties : and after our meeting was ended, I used to repeat the discourses of the day to myself, and re- * Mr Fiske was the pastor of the Church in Haddam.

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collect what I could, though sometimes it was very late in the night. Again on Monday mornings I used sometimes to recollect the same sermons." And I had sometimes con- siderable movings of affection in duties, and much pleasure, and had many thoughts of joining to the church. In short, I had a very good outside, and rested entirely on my duties, though I was not sensible of it.

After Mr Fiske's death, I proceeded in my learning with my brother, and was still very constant in religious duties, and often wondered at the levity of professors; it was a trouble to me that they were so careless in religious matters. Thus I proceeded a considerable length on a self-righteous foundation, and should have been entirely lost and undone, had not the mere mercy of God prevented.

Some time in the beginning of winter 1738, it pleased God, on one Sabbath-day morning, as I was walking out for some secret duties (as I remember), to give me on a sudden such a sense of my danger, and the wrath of God, that I stood amazed, and my former good frames (that I had pleased myself with) all presently vanished; and from the view that I had of my sin and vileness, I was much dis- tressed all that day, fearing the vengeance of God would soon overtake me. I was much dejected, and kept much alone, and sometimes begrudged the birds and beasts their happi- ness, because they were not exposed to eternal misery, as I evidently saw I was. And thus I lived from day to day, being frequently in great distress. Sometimes there ap- peared mountains before me to disturb my hopes of mercy, and the work of conversion appeared so great, I thought I should never be the subject of it ; but used, however, to pray and cry to God, and perform other duties with great earnestness, and hoped by some means to make the case better. And though I hundreds of times renounced all pre- tences of any worth in my duties (as I thought), even in the season of the performance of them, and often confessed to God that I deserved nothing for the very best of them but eternal condemnation ; yet still I had a secret latent hope of recommending myself to God by my religious duties, and when I prayed affectionately, and my heart seemed in some measure to melt, I hoped God would be thereby moved to pity me ; my prayers then looked with some appearance of goodness in them, and I seemed to mourn for sin, 'ind then I could in some measure venture on the mercy of God in Christ (as I thought), though the preponderating thought

DA.VID BRAINEKD. 5

and foundation of my hope was some imagination of goodness in my heart meltings, and flowing of affections in duty, and (sometimes) extraordinary enlargements therein. Though at some times the gate appeared so very strait, that it looked next to impossible to enter, yet at other times I nattered my- self that it was not so very difficult, and hoped I should by diligence and watchfulness soon gain the point. Sometimes, after enlargement in duty and considerable affection, I hoped I had made a good step towards heaven, and imagined that God was affected as I was, and that he would hear such sincere cries (as I called them); and so sometimes, when I withdrew from secret duties in great distress, I re- turned something comfortable, and thus healed myself with my duties

Some time in February 1738-9, I set apart a day for secret fasting and prayer, and spent the day in almost in- cessant cries to God for mercy, that he would open my eyes to see the evil of sin, and the way of life by Jesus Christ. And God was pleased that day to make considerable discove- ries of my heart to me. But still I trusted in all the duties I performed; though there was no manner of goodness in the duties I then performed — there being no manner of re- spect to the glory of God in them, nor any such principle in my heart — yet God was pleased to make my endeavours that day a means to show me my helplessness in some mea- sure.

Sometimes I was greatly encouraged, and imagined that God loved me and was pleased with me, and thought I should soon Be reconciled to God; while the whole was founded on mere presumption, arising from enlargement in duty, or flowing of affections, or some good resolutions, and the like. And when, at times, great distress began to arise, on a sight of my vileness and nakedness, and inability to deliver myself from a sovereign God, I used to put off the discovery, as what I could not bear. Once, I remember, a terrible pang of distress seized me, and the thoughts of re- nouncing myself, and standing naked before God, stripped of all goodness, were so dreadful to me, that I was ready to say to them as Felix to Paul, "Go thy way for this time.5' Thus, though I daily longed for greater conviction of sin — supposing that I must see more of my dreadful state in order to a remedy — yet when the discoveries of my vile hellish heart were made to me, the sight was so dreadful, and showed me so plainly my exposedness to damnation, that

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I could not endure it. I constantly strove after what- ever qualifications I imagined others obtained before their re- ception of Christ, in order to recommend me to his favour. Sometimes I felt the power of a hard heart, and supposed it must be softened before Christ would accept of me, and when I felt any meltings of heart, I hoped now the work was almost done, and hence, when my distress still remained, I was wont to murmur at God's dealings with me, and thought, when others felt their hearts softened, God showed them mercy, but my distress remained still.

Sometimes I grew remiss and sluggish, without any great convictions of sin, for a considerable time together ; but after such a season, convictions sometimes seized me more violently. One night, I remember in particular, when I was walking solitarily abroad, I. had opened to me such a view of my sin, that I feared the ground would cleave asunder under my feet, and become my grave, and send my soul quick into hell, before I could get home. And though I was forced to go to bed, lest my distress should be discovered by others, which I much feared, yet I scarce durst sleep at all, for I thought it would be a great wonder if I should be out of hell in the morning. And though my distress was sometimes thus great, yet I greatly dreaded the loss of convictions, and returning back to a state of carnal security, and to my former insensibility of impending wrath ; which made me exceeding exact in my behaviour, lest I should stifle the motions of God's Spirit. When at any time I took a view of my convictions of my own sinfulness, and thought the degree of them to be considerable, I was wont to trust in my convictions ; but this confidence, and the hopes that arose in me from it (of soon making some notable advances to- wards deliverance), would ease my mind, and I soon became more senseless and remiss. But then, again, when I dis- cerned my convictions to grow languid, and I thought them about to, leave me, this immediately alarmed and distressed me. Sometimes I expected to take a large step, and get very far towards conversion, by some particular opportunity or means I had in view.

The many disappointments and great distresses and per- plexity I met with, put me into a most horrible frame of con- testing with the Almighty ; with an inward vehemence and virulence, finding fault with his ways of dealing with man- kind. I found great fault with the imputation of Adam's sin to his posterity, and my wicked heart often wished for some

DAVID BRAINERD. 7

other way of salvation than by Jesus Christ. And being like the troubled sea, and my thoughts confused, I used to con- trive to escape the wrath of God by some other means, and had strange projections, full of atheism, contriving to dis- appoint God's designs and decrees concerning me, or to escape God's notice and hide myself from him. But when, upon reflection, I saw these projections were vain and would not serve me, and that I could contrive nothing for my own relief, this would throw my mind into the most horrid frame, to wish there was no God, or to wish there were some other God that could control him, &c. These thoughts and desires were the secret inclinations of my heart, that were frequentlv acting' before I was aware — but, alas ! they were mine — although I was affrighted with them, when I came to reflect on them. When I considered of it, it distressed me to think that my heart was so full of enmity against God, and it made me tremble, lest God's vengeance should suddenly fall upon me. I used before to imagine my heart was not so bad as the Scriptures and some other books represented. Sometimes I used to take much pains to work it up into a good frame, a humble, submissive disposition, and hoped there was then some goodness in me: but, it may be on a sudden, the thoughts of the strictness of the law, or the sovereignty of God, would so irritate the corruption of my heart — that I had so watched over, and hoped I had brought to a good frame — that 1 would break over all bounds, and burst forth on all sides, like floods of water when they break down their dam. But being sensible of the necessity of a deep humiliation in order to a saving close with Christ, I used to set myself to work in my own heart those convictions that were requisite in such a humiliation ; as, for instance, a conviction that God would be just, if he cast me off for ever, and that if ever God should bestow mercy on me, it would be mere grace, though I should be in distress many years first, and be never so much engaged in duty ; that God was not in the least obliged to pity me the more for all past duties, cries, and tears. These things I strove, to my utmost, to bring myself to a firm belief of, and hearty assent to, and hoped that now I was brought off from myself, and truly humbled and bowed to the divine sovereignty, and was wont to tell God in my prayers that now I had those very dispositions of soul that he required, and on which he showed mercy to others, and there- upon to beg and plead for mercy to me. But when I found no relief, and was still oppressed with guilt and fears of wrath,

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my soul was in a tumult, and my heart rose against God, as dealing hardly with me. Yet then my conscience flew in my face, putting me in mind of my late confession to God of his justice in my condemnation, &c. And this giving me a sight of the badness of my heart, threw me again into distress, and I wished I had watched my heart more narrowly, to keep it from breaking out against God's dealings with me ; and I even wished I had not pleaded for mercy on account of my humiliation, because thereby I had lost all my seeming good- ness. Thus, scores of times, I vainly imagined myself humbled and prepared for saving mercy.

While I was in this distressed, bewildered, and tumultuous state of mind, the corruption of my heart was especially irri- tated with these things following : —

1. The strictness of the divine law. For I found it wras impossible for me (after my utmost pains) to answer the demands of it. I often made new resolutions, and as often broke them. I imputed the whole to carelessness and the want of being more watchful, and used to call myself a fool for my negligence. But when, upon a stronger resolution, and greater endeavours, and close application of myself to fasting and prayer, I found all attempts fail, then I quarrelled with the law of God as unreasonably rigid. I thought if it extended only to my outward actions and behaviours, I could bear with it : but I found it condemned me for my evil thoughts and sins of my heart, which I could not possibly prevent. I was extremely loath to give out and own my utter helplessness in this "matter : but, after repeated dis- appointments, thought that rather than perish I could do a little more still, especially if such and such circumstances might but attend my endeavours and strivings ; I hoped that I should strive more earnestly than ever, if the matter came to extremity (though I never could find the time to do my utmost in the manner I intended) ; and this hope of future more favourable circumstances, and of doing something great hereafter, kept me from utter despair in myself, and from seeing myself fallen into the hands of a sovereign God, and dependent on nothing but free and boundless grace.

2. Another thing was, that faith alone was the condition of salvation, and that God would not come down to lower terms, that he would not promise life and salvation upon my sincere and hearty prayers and endeavours. That word (Mark xvi. 16), "He that believeth nor shall be damned," cut off all hope there : and I found faith was the sovereign

DAVID BRAINERD.

gift of God, that I could not get it as of myself, and could not oblige God to bestow it upon me by any of my perform- ances.—(Eph. ii. 1, 8.) " This," I was ready to say, " is a hard saying, who can hear it ? " I could not bear that all I had done should stand for mere nothing, who had been very conscientious in duty, and had been exceeding religious a great while, and had (as I thought) done much more than many others that had obtained mercy. I confessed indeed the vileness of my duties ; but then, what made them at that time seem vile was my wandering thoughts in them ; not because I was all over defiled like a devil, and the principle corrupt from whence they flowed, so that I could not possibly do any thing that was good. And therefore I called what I did by the name of honest faithful endeavours, and could not bear it that God had made no promises of salvation to them.

3. Another thing was, that I could not find out what faith was, or what it was to believe and come to Christ. I read the calls of Christ made to the weary and heavy laden, but could find no way that he directed them to come in. I thought I would gladly come in if I knew how, though the path of duty directed to were never so difficult. I read Mr Stoddart's Guide to Christ (which I trust was, in the hand of God, the happy means of my conversion), and my heart rose against the author, for though he told me my very heart all along while under convictions, and seemed to be very beneficial to me in his directions, yet here he failed — he did not tell me any thing I could do that would bring me to Christ, but left me as it were with a great gulf between me and Christ, without any direction to get through. For I was not yet effectually and experimentally taught that there could be no way prescribed? whereby a natural man could, of his own strength, obtain that which is supernatural, and which the highest angel cannot give.

4. Another thing that I found a great inward opposition to, was the sovereignty of God. I could not bear that it should be wholly at God's pleasure to save or damn me, just as he would. That passage, Rom. ix. 11-23, was a con- stant vexation to me, especially verse 21. The reading or meditating on this always destroyed my seeming good frames. When I thought I was almost humbled, and almost resigned to God's sovereignty, the reading or thinking on this passage would make my enmity against the sovereignty of God appear. And when I came to reflect on my inward enmity

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and blasphemy that arose on this occasion, I was the more afraid of God, and driven farther from any hopes of recon- ciliation with him ; and it gave me such a dreadful view of myself, that I dreaded more than ever to see myself in God's hands, and at his sovereign disposal ; and it made me more opposite than ever to submit to his sovereignty — for I thought God designed my damnation.

All this time the Spirit of God was powerfully at work with me, and I was inwardly pressed to relinquish all self- confidence, all hopes of ever helping myself by any means whatsoever ; and the conviction of my lost estate was some- times so clear and manifest before my eyes, that it was as if it had been declared to me, in so many words — " It is done, it is done, it is for ever impossible to deliver yourself." Foi about three or four days, my soul was thus distressed, espe- cially at some turns, when for a few moments I seemed to myself lost and undone, but then would shrink back imme- diately from the sight, because I dared not venture myself into the hands of God, as wholly helpless, and at the dis- posal of his sovereign pleasure. 1 dared not see that impor- tant truth concerning myself, that I was dead in trespasses and sins. But when I had as it were thrust away these views of myself at any time, I felt distressed to have the same dis- coveries of myself again — for I greatly feared being given over of God to final stupidity. When I thought of putting it off to a more convenient season, the conviction was so close and powerful with regard to the present time, that it was the best time, and probably the only time, that I dared not put it off. It was the sight of the truth concerning myself — truth respecting my state, as a creature fallen and alienated from God, and that consequently could make no demands on God for mercy, but must subscribe to the absolute sovereignty of the Divine Being — it was the sight of the truth, I say, that my soul shrank away from, and trembled to think of beholding. Thus, " he that doth evil" (as all unregenerate men continually do) " hates the light of truth," neither cares to come to it, because it will reprove his deeds, and show him his just deserts. — (John iii. 20.) And though, some time before, I had taken much pains (as I thought) to submit to the sovereignty of God, yet I mistook the thing, and did not once imagine that seeing and being made experimentally sensible of this truth — which my soul now so much dreaded and trembled at a sense of — was the frame of soul that I had been so earnest in pursuit of heretofore: for I had ever

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hoped, that when I had attained to that humiliation which I supposed necessary to go before faith, then it would not be fair for God to cast me of; but now I saw it was so far from any goodness in me, to own myself spiritually dead and destitute of all goodness, that, on the contrary, my mouth would be for ever stopped by it ; and it looked as dreadful to me to see myself and the relation I stood in to God, as a sinner and a criminal, and he a great Judge and Sovereign, as it would be to a poor trembling creature to venture off some high precipice. And hence I put it off for a minute or two, and tried for better circumstances to do it in. Either I must read a passage or two, or pray first, or something of the like nature, or else put off my submission to God's sove- reignty, with an objection that I did not know how to sub- mit. But the truth was, I could see no safety in owning myself in the hands of a sovereign God, and that I could lav no claim to any thing better than damnation.

But — after a considerable time spent in such like exer- cises and distresses — one morning, while I was walking in a solitary place, as usual, I at once saw that all my contri- vances and projections to effect or procure deliverance and salvation for myself were utterly in vain ; I was brought entirely to a stand, as finding myself totally lost. I had thought many times before that the difficulties in my way were very great, but now I saw, in another and very dif- ferent light, that it was for ever impossible for me to do any thing towards helping or delivering myself. I then thought of blaming myself, that I had not done more and been more engaged, while I had opportunity (for it seemed now as if the season of doing was for ever over and gone) ; but I instantly saw, that let me have done what I would, it would no more have tended to my helping myself, than what I had done ; that I had made all the pleas I ever could have made to all eternity, and that all my pleas were vain. The tumult that had been before in my mind, was now quieted; and I was something eased of that distress which I felt, while struggling against a sight of myself and of the divine sove- reignty. I had the greatest certainty that my state was for ever miserable, for all that I could do ; and wondered, and was almost astonished, that I had never been sensible of it before.

In the time while I remained in this state, my notions re- specting my duties were quite different from what I had ever entertained in times past. Before this, the more I did in

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duty, the more I thought God was ohliged to me, or at least the more hard I thought it would be for God to cast me off : though at the same time I confessed, and thought I saw, that there was no goodness or merit in my duties. But now the more I did in prayer or any other duty, the more I saw I was indebted to God for allowing me to ask for mercy; for I saw it was self-interest had led me to pray, and that I had never once prayed from any respect to the glory of God. Now I saw there was no necessary connec- tion between my prayers and the bestowment of divine mercy — that they laid not the least obligation upon God to bestow his grace upon me — and that there was no more virtue or goodness in them, than there would be in my paddling with my hand in the water (which was the comparison I had then in my mind) — and this because they were not performed from any love or regard to God. I saw that I had been heaping up my devotions before God, fasting, praying, &c., pretending, and indeed really thinking, at some times, that I was aiming at the glory of God, whereas I never once truly intended it, but only my own happiness. I saw, that as I had never done any thing for God, I had no claim to lay to any thing from him, but perdition, on account of my hypocrisy and mockery. Oh, how different did rny duties now appear from what they used to do ! I used to charge them with sin and imperfection ; but this was only on ac- count of the wanderings and vain thoughts attending them, and' not because I had no regard to God in them ; for this I thought I had : but when I saw evidently that I had re- gard to nothing but self-interest, then they appeared vile mockery of God, self-worship, and a continual course of lies ; so that I saw now there was something worse had attended my duties than barely a few wanderings, for the whole was nothing but self- worship, and a horrid abuse of God.

I continued, as I remember, in this state of mind from Friday morning till the Sabbath evening following, July 12, 1739, when I was walking again in the same solitary place where I was brought to see myself lost and helpless (as was before mentioned) — and here, in a mournful, melancholy state, was attempting to pray, but found no heart to engage in that or any other duty. My former concern, and exer- cise, and religious affections were now gone. I thought the Spirit of God had quite left me, but still was not distressed, yet disconsolate, as if there was nothing in heaven or earth could make me happy. And having been thus endeavouring

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to pray (though being, as I thought, very stupid and sense- less) for near half an hour (and by this time the sun was about half an hour high, as I remember), then — as I was walking in a dark thick grove — unspeakable glory seemed to open to the view and apprehension of my soul: I do not mean any external brightness, for I saw no such thing — nor do I intend any imagination of a body of light, some where away in the third heavens, or any thing of that nature — but it was a new inward apprehension or view that I had of God, such as I never had before, nor any thing which had the least resemblance to it. I stood still and wondered and admired ! I knew that I never had seen before any thing comparable to it for excellency and beauty ; it was widely different from all the conceptions that ever I had bad of God, or things divine. I had no particular apprehension of any one person in the Trinity, either the Father, the Son, or the Holy Ghost ; but it appeared to be divine glory that I then beheld : and my soul rejoiced with joy unspeakable to see such a God, such a glorious Divine Being ; and I was inwardly pleased and satisfied, that he should be Ood over all for ever and ever. My soul was so captivated and de- lighted with the excellency, loveliness, greatness, and other perfections of God, that I was even swallowed up in him ; at least to that degree, that I had no thought (as I remember) at first about my own salvation, and scarce reflected there was such a creature as myself. Thus God, I trust, brought ine to a hearty disposition to exalt him, and set him on the throne, and principally and ultimately to aim at his honour and glory, as King of the universe.

I continued in this state of inward joy and peace, yet astonishment, till near dark, without any sensible abatement, and then began to think and examine what I had seen, and felt sweetly composed in my mind all the evening following. I felt myself in a new world, and every thing about me ap- peared with a different aspect from what it was wont to do.

At this time, the way of salvation opened to me with such infinite wisdom, suitableness, and excellency, that I won- dered I should ever think of any other way of salvation — was amazed that I had not dropped my own contrivances, and complied with this lovely, blessed, and excellent way before. If I could have been saved by my own duties, or any other way that I had formerly contrived, my whole soul would now have refused. I wondered that all the world did not see and comply with this way of salvation, entirely

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by the righteousness of Christ. The sweet relish of what I then felt, continued with me for several days, almost con- stantly, in a greater or less degree ; I could not but sweetly rejoice in God, lying down and rising up. The next Lord's day I felt something of the same kind, though not so power- ful as before. But, not long after, I was again involved in thick darkness and under great distress, yet not of the same kind with my distress under convictions. I was guilty, afraid, and ashamed to come before God ; was exceedingly pressed with a sense of guilt: but it was not long before I felt (I trust) true repentance and joy in God.

About the latter end of August, I again fell under great darkness ; it seemed as if the presence of God was clean gone for ever; though I was not so much distressed about my spiritual state, as at my being shut out from God's presence, as I then sensibly was. But it pleased the Lord to return graciously to me, not long after.

In the beginning of September I went to college,* and entered there, but with some degree of reluctancy, fearing lest I should not be able to lead a life of strict religion, in the midst of so many temptations. After this, in the vacancy, before I went to tarry at college, it pleased God to visit my soul with clearer manifestations of himself and his grace. I was spending some time in prayer and self-examination, and the Lord by his grace so shined into my heart, that I en- joyed full assurance of his favour for that time, and my soul was unspeakably refreshed with divine and heavenly enjoy- ments. At this time especially, as well as some others, sun- dry passages of God's Word opened to my soul with divine clearness, power, and sweetness, so as to appear exceeding precious, and with clear and certain evidence of its being the Word of God. I enjoyed considerable sweetness in religion all the winter following.

In Jan. 1739-40, the measles spread much in college, and I having taken the distemper, went home to Haddam. But some days before I was taken sick, I seemed to be greatly deserted, and my soul mourned the absence of the Comforter exceedingly : it seemed to me all comfort was for ever gone ; I prayed and cried to God for help, yet found no present comfort or relief. But, through divine goodness, a night or two before I was taken ill, while I was walking alone in a very retired place, and engaged in meditation and prayer, I enjoyed a sweet refreshing visit, as I trust, from above, so * X"iile- College in New- Haven.

DATID BRAINERD. 15

that my soul was raised far above the fears of death ; indeed I rather longed for death, than feared it. O, how much more refreshing this one season was, than all the pleasures and delights that earth can afford! After a day or two, I was taken with the measles, and was very ill indeed, so that I almost despaired of life, but had no distressing fears of death at all. However, through divine goodness I soon re- covered : yet, by reason of hard and close studies, and being much exposed on account of my freshmanship, I had but little time for spiritual duties ; my soul often mourned for want of more time and opportunity to be alone with God. In the spring and summer following, I had better advan- tages for retirement, and enjoyed more comfort in religion. Though indeed my ambition in my studies greatly wronged the activity and vigour of my spiritual life, yet this was usually the case with me, that " in the multitude of my thoughts within me, God's comforts principally delighted my soul." These were my greatest consolations day by day.

One day I remember in particular (I think it was in June 1740), I walked to a considerable distance from the college, in the fields alone at noon, and in prayer found such unspeak- able sweetness and delight in God, that I thought if I must continue still in this evil world, I wanted always to be there, to behold God's glory : my soul dearly loved all mankind, and longed exceedingly that they should enjoy what I enjoyed. It seemed to be a little resemblance of heaven.

On Lord's day, July 6, being sacrament. day, I found some divine life and spiritual refreshment in that holy ordinance. When I came from the Lord's table, I wondered how my fellow-students could live as I was sensible most did. Next Lord's day, July 13, I had some special sweetness in religion. Again, Lord's day, July 20, my soul was in a sweet and pre- cious frame.

Some time in August following, I became so weakly and disordered, by too close application to my studies, that I was advised by my tutor to go home, and disengage my mind from study, as much as I could ; for I was grown so weak, that I began to spit blood. I took his advice, and endea- voured to lay aside my studies. But being brought very low, I looked death in the face more steadfastly, and the Lord was pleased to give me renewedly a sweet sense and relish of divine things.

Sat. Oct. 18 — In my morning devotions, my soul was exceedingly melted for, and bitterly mourned over, my ex- B

16 THE LIFE Or

ceeding sinfulness and mleness. I never before had felt so pungent and deep a sense of the odious nature of sin, as at this time. My soul was then unusually carried forth in love to God, and had a lively sense of God's Jove to me ; and this love and hope, at that time, cast out fear. Both morning and evening I spent some time in self-examination, to find the truth of grace, as also my fitness to approach to God at his table the next day ; and through infinite grace, found the Holy Spirit influencing my soul with love to God, as a wit- ness within myself.

Lord's day, Oct. 19. — In the morning I felt my soul hun- gering and thirsting after righteousness. In the forenoon, while I was looking on the sacramental elements, and think- ing that Jesus Christ would soon be " set forth crucified be- fore me," my soul was filled with light and love, so that I was almost in an ecstasy : my body was so weak, I could scarcely stand. I felt at the same time an exceeding tender- ness and most fervent love towards all mankind, so that mj soul and all the powers of it seemed, as it were, to melt into softness and sweetness. But in the season of the communion, there was some abatement of this sweet life and fervour. This love and joy cast out fear, and my soul longed for per- fect grace and glory. This sweet frame continued till the evening, when my soul was sweetly spiritual in secret duties.

Mon., Oct. 20. — I again found the sweet assistance of the Holy Spirit in secret duties, both morning and evening, and life and comfort in religion through the whole day.

Tues., Oct. 21. — I had likewise experience of the goodness of God in " shedding abroad his love in my heart," and giv- ing me delight and consolation in religious duties ; and all the remaining part of the week, my soul seemed to be taken up with divine things. I now so longed after God, and to be freed from sin, that when I felt myself recovering, and thought I must return to college again, which had proved so hurtful to my spiritual interest the year past, I could not but be grieved, and I thought I had much rather have died ; for it distressed me to think of getting away from God. But before I went, I enjoyed several other sweet and precious seasons of communion with God (particularly October 30 and November 4), wherein my soul enjoyed unspeakable comfort.

I returned to college about November 6, and through the goodness of God, felt the power of religion almost daily, for the space of six weeks.

DAVID BRAINERD. 17

Nov. 28. — In my evening devotion, I enjoyed precious dis- coveries of God, and was unspeakably refreshed with that passage, Heb. xii. 22-24, so that my soul longed to wing away for the paradise of God ; I longed to be conformed to God in all things. A day or two after, I enjoyed much of the light of God's countenance, most of the day, and my soul rested in God.

Tues., Dec. 9. — I was in a comfortable frame of soul most of the day, but especially in evening devotions, when God was pleased wonderfully to assist and strengthen me, so that I thought nothing should ever move me from the love of God in Christ Jesus my Lord. O ! one hour with God infi- nitely exceeds all the pleasures and delights of this lower world !

Some time towards the latter end of January 1740-41, I grew more cold and dull in matters of religion, by means of my old temptation, viz. ambition in my studies. But through divine goodness, a great and general awakening spread itself over the college, about the latter end of February, in which I was much quickened, and more abundantly engaged in re- ligion.

This awakening here spoken of, was at the beginning of that extraordinary religious commotion through the land, which is fresh in every one's memory. It was for a time very great and general at New-Haven, and the college had no small share in it : the students in general became serious, and many of them remarkably so, and much engaged in the concerns of their eternal salvation. And however undesir- able the issue of the awakenings of that day have appeared in many others, there have been manifestly happy and abid- ing effects of the impressions then made on the minds of many of the members of that college. And by all that I can learn concerning Mr Brainerd, there can be no reason to doubt but that he had much of God's gracious presence, and of the lively actings of true grace, at that time : but yet he was afterwards abundantly sensible, that his religious expe- riences and affections at that time were not free from a cor- rupt mixture, nor his conduct to be acquitted from many things that were imprudent and blameable ; which he greatly lamented himself, and was willing that others should forget, that none might make an ill improvement of such an example. And therefore, although in the time of it he kept a constant diary containing a very particular account of what passed

18 THE LIFE OP

from day to day for the next thirteen months (from the latter end of January 1740-41 fore-mentioned), in two small books, which he called the two first volumes of his diary, — following the account before given of his convictions, conver- sion, and consequent comfort, — yet, when he lay on his deathbed, he gave orders (unknown to me till after his death) that these two volumes should be destroyed, and in the beginning of the third book of his diary, he wrote thus (by the hand of another, he not being able to write himself), "The two preceding volumes, immediately following the account of the author's conversion, are lost. If any are desirous to know how the author lived, in general, during that space of time, let them read the first thirty pages of this volume, where they will find something of a specimen of his ordinary manner of living, through that whole space of time, which was about thirteen months, excepting that here he was more refined from some imprudencies and indecent heats, than there ; but the spirit of devotion running through the whole was the same."

It could not be otherwise than that one whose heart had been so prepared and drawn to God, as Mr Brainerd's had been, should be mightily enlarged, animated, and engaged at the sight of such an alteration made in the college, the town, and land, and so great an appearance of men's reforming their lives, and turning from their profaneness and immorality, to seriousness and concern for their salvation, and of reli- gion's reviving and flourishing almost every where. But as an intemperate, imprudent zeal, and a degree of enthusiasm soon crept in, and mingled itself with that revival of religion ; and so great and general an awakening being quite a new thing in the land, at least as to all the living inhabitants of it — neither people nor ministers had learned thoroughly to distinguish between solid religion and its delusive counter- feits. Even many ministers of the gospel, of long standing and the best reputation, were for a time overpowered with the glaring appearances of the latter. And therefore surely it was not to be wondered at that young Brainerd, but a sophi- more at college, should be so ; who was not only young in years, but very young in religion and experience, and had had but little opportunity for the study of divinity, and still less for observation of the circumstances and events of such an extraordinary state of things. In these disadvantageous cir- cumstances, Brainerd had the unhappiness to have a tincture of that intemperate, indiscreet zeal, which was at that time

DAVID BRAINEED. 19

too prevalent ; and was led, from his high opinion of others that he looked upon as better than himself, into such errors as were really contrary to the habitual temper of his mind. One instance of his misconduct at that time gave great offence to the rulers of the college, even to that degree that they expelled him the society ; which it is necessary should here be parti- cularly related, with its circumstances.

In the time of the awakening at college, there were several religious students that associated themselves one with another for mutual conversation and assistance in spiritual things, who were wont freely to open themselves one to another, as special and intimate friends. Brainerd was one of this com- pany. And it once happened, that he and two or three more of these his intimate friends were in the hall together, after Mr Whittelsey, one of the tutors, had been to prayer there with the scholars; no other person now remaining in the hall, but Brainerd and these his companions. Mr Whittelsey having been unusually pathetical in his prayer, one of Brainerd's friends on this occasion asked him what he thought of Mr Whittelsey ; he made answer, " He has no more grace than this chair." One of the freshmen happening at that time to be near the hall (though not in the room) overheard those words of his, though he heard no name mentioned, and knew not who the person was that was thus censured. And he informed a certain woman that belonged to the town, telling her his own suspicion, viz. that he believed Brainerd said this of some one or other of the rulers of the college. Whereupon she went and informed the rector, who sent for this freshman, and examined him ; and he told the rector the words that he heard Brainerd utter, and informed him who were in the room with him at that time. Upon which the rector sent for them: they were very backward to inform against their friend, of that which they looked upon as private conversation, and especially as none but they had heard or knew of whom he had uttered those words ; yet the rector compelled them to declare what he said, and of whom he said it. Brainerd looked on himself as greatly abused in the management of this affair, and thought what he said in private was injuriously extorted from his friends, and that then it was injuriously required of him (as it was wont to be of such as had been guilty of some open notorious crime) to make a public confession, and to humble himself before the whole college in the hall, for what he had said

20 THE LIFE OF

only in private conversation. He not complying with this demand, and having gone once to the separate meeting at New-Haven, when forbidden by the rector, and also having been accused by one person of saying concerning the rector, that he wondered he did not expect to drop down dead for fining the scholars who followed Mr Tennent to Milford, though there was no proof of it (and Mr Brainerd ever pro- fessed that he did not remember his saying any thing to that purpose) — for these things he was expelled the college.

Now, how far the circumstances and exigences of that day might justify such great severity in the governors of the college, I will not undertake to determine ; it being my aim, not to bring reproach on the authority of the college, but only to do justice to the memory of a person, whom I think to be eminently one of those whose memory is blessed. The reader will see, in the sequel of the story of -Mr Brainerd's life,* what his own thoughts afterwards were of his behaviour in these things, and in how Christian a manner he conducted himself with respect to this affair : though he ever, as long as he lived, supposed himself much abused in the manage- ment of it, and in what he suffered in it.

His expulsion was in the winter anno 1741-2, while ha was in his third year in college.

PART II.

FROM ABOUT THE TIME THAT HE FIRST BEGAN TO DEVOTE HIMSELF MORE ESPECIALLY TO THE STUDY OF DIVINITY, TILL HE WAS EXAMINED AND LICENSED TO PREACH.

Mr BRAINERD, the spring after his expulsion, went to live with the Rev. Mr Mills of Ripton, to follow his studies with him, in order to his being fitted for the work of the ministry; where he spent the greater part of the time till the associa- tion of ministers belonging to the eastern district of the county of Fairfield in Connecticut licensed him to preach ; but frequently rode to visit the neighbouring ministers, par- ticularly Mr Cooke of Stratneld, Mr Graham of Southbury, and Mr Bellamy of Bethlehem.

• Particularly under the date Wednesday, Sept. 14, 1743.

DAVID BRAINERD. 21

Here (at Mr Mills's) he began the third book of his diary, in which the account he wrote of himself is as fol- lows : —

Thurs.,Ap. 1, 1742. — I seem to be declining with respect to my life and warmth in divine things; had not so free access to God in prayer as usual of late. O that God would humble me deeply in the dust before him ! I deserve hell every day for not loving my Lord more, " who has (I trust) loved me, and given himself for me ;" and every time I am enabled to exercise any grace renewedly, I am renewedly indebted to the God of all grace for special assistance. " Where then is boasting ? " Surely " it is excluded," when we think how we are dependent on God for the being and every act of grace. 0, if ever I get to heaven, it will be because God will, and nothing else; for I never did any thing of myself, but get away from God ! My soul will be aston- ished at the unsearchable riches of divine grace, when I arrive at the mansions which the blessed Saviour is gone before to prepare.

Fri.t Ap. 2. — In the afternoon I felt something sweetly in secret prayer — much resigned, calm, and serene. What are all the storms of this lower world, if Jesus by his Spirit does but come walking on the seas! Some time past, I had much pleasure in the prospect of the heathen's being brought home to Christ, and desired that the Lord would improve me in that work : but now my soul more frequently desires to die, to be with Christ. O that my soul were wrapt up in divine love, and my longing desires after God increased ! In the evening, was refreshed in prayer with the hopes of the advancement of Christ's kingdom in the world.

Sat.,Ap. 3. — Was very much amiss this morning, and had an ill night last night. I thought if God would take me to himself now, my soul would exceedingly rejoice. O that I may be always humble and resigned to God, and that God would cause my soul to be more fixed on himself, that I may be more fitted Both for doing and suffering !

Lords-day., Ap. 4. — My heart was wandering and lifeless. In the evening God gave me faith in prayer, and made my soul melt in some measure, and gave me to taste a divine sweetness. 0 my blessed God ! Let me climb up near to him, and love, and long, and plead, and wrestle, and reach, and stretch after him, and for deliverance from the body of gin and death. Alas ! my soul mourned to think I should

22 THE LIFE OP

ever lose sight of its beloved again. " 0 come, Lord Jesus. Amen."

On the evening of the next day, he complains that he seemed to be void of all relish for divine things, felt much of the prevalence of corruption, and saw in himself a disposition to all manner of sin ; which brought a very great gloom on his mind, and cast him down into the depths of melancholv — so that he speaks of himself as astonished, amazed, having no comfort, being filled with horror, seeing no comfort in heaven or earth.

Tues., Ap. 6. — I walked out this morning to the same place where I was last night, and felt something as I did then ; but was something relieved by reading some passages in my diary, and seemed to feel as if I might pray to the great God again with freedom ; but was suddenly struck with a damp, from the sense I had of my own vileness. Then I cried to God to wash my soul, and cleanse me from my ex- ceeding filthiness, to give me repentance and pardon ; and it began to be something sweet to pray. And I could think of undergoing the greatest sufferings in the cause of Christ with pleasure, and found myself willing (if God should so order it) to suffer banishment from my native land, among the heathen, that I might do something for their souls' salva- tion, in distresses and deaths of any kind. Then God gave me to wrestle earnestly for others, for the kingdom of Christ in the world, and for dear Christian friends. I felt weaned from the world, and from my own reputation amongst men, willing to be despised, and to be a gazing-stock for the world to behold. It is impossible for me to express how I then felt: I had not much joy, but some sense of the majesty of God, which made me as it were tremble : I saw myself mean and vile, which made me more willing that God should do what he would with me ; it was all infinitely reasonable.

Wed., Ap. 7. — I had not so much fervency, but felt some- thing as I did yesterday morning, in prayer. At noon I spent some time in secret, with some fervency, but scarce any sweet- ness ; and felt very dull in the evening.

Thurs., Ap. 8. — Had raised hopes to-day respecting the heathen. O that God would bring in great numbers of them to Jesus Christ! I cannot but hope I shall see that glorious day. Every thing in this world seems exceeding vile and little to me. I look so to myself. I had some little dawn of comfort to-day in prayer; but especially to-night I think I

DAVID BRAINERD. 23

had some faith and power of intercession with God, was enabled to plead with God for the growth of grace in my- self, and many of the dear children of God then lay with weight upon my soul. Blessed be the Lord ! it is good to wrestle for divine blessings.

Fri., Ap. 9. — Most of my time in morning devotion was spent without sensible sweetness, yet I had one delightful prospect of arriving at the heavenly world. I am more amazed than ever at such thoughts, for I see myself infinitely vile and unworthy. I feel very heartless and dull ; and though I long for the presence of God, and seem constantly to reach towards God in desires, yet I cannot feel that divine and heavenly sweetness that I used to enjoy. No poor creature stands in need of divine grace more than I, and none abuse it more than I have done, and still do.

Sat., Ap. 10. — Spent much time in secret prayer this morning, and not without some comfort in divine things, and I hope had some faith in exercise : but am so low, and feel so little of the sensible presence of God, that I hardly know what to call faith, and am made to " possess the sins of my youth," and the dreadful sin of rny nature, and am all sin ; I cannot think, nor act, but every motion is sin. I feel some faint hopes that God will, of his infinite mercy, return again with showers of converting grace to poor gospel-abusing sinners ; and my hopes of being improved in the cause of God, which of late have been almost extinct, seem now a little revived. 0 that all my late distresses and awful appre- hensions might prove but Christ's school, to make me fit for greater service, by learning me the great lesson of humility!

Lord's day, Ap. 11. — In the morning felt but little life, excepting that my heart was something drawn out in thank- fulness to God for his amazing grace and condescension to me, in past influences and assistances of his Spirit. After- wards had some sweetness in the thoughts of arriving at the heavenly world. 0 for the happy day! After public wor- ship God gave me special assistance in prayer ; I wrestled with my dear Lord, with much sweetness ; and intercession was made a sweet and delightful employment to me. In the evening, as I was viewing the light in the north, was delighted in contemplation on the glorious morning of the resurrection.

Mon., Ap. 12. — This morning the Lord was pleased to lift up the light of his countenance upon me in secret prayer, and made the season very precious to my soul. And though I have been so depressed of late, respecting my hopes of

24 THE LIFE OP

future serviceableness in the cause of God, yet now I had much encouragement respecting that matter. I was specially assisted to intercede and plead for poor souls, and for the enlargement of Christ's kingdom in the world, and for special grace for myself to fit me for special services. I felt exceed- ing calm, and quite resigned to God, respecting my future improvement, when and where he pleased : my faith lifted me above the world, and removed all those mountains that I could not look over of late : I thought I wanted not the favour of man to lean upon, for I knew Christ's favour was infinitely better, and that it was no matter when, nor where, nor how Christ should send me, nor what trials he should still exercise me with, if I might be prepared for his work and will. I now found sweetly revived in my mind the won- derful discovery of infinite wisdom in all the dispensations of God towards me, which I had a little before I met with my .great trial at college ; every thing appeared full of the wis- dom of God.

Tues., Ap. 13. — Saw myself to be very mean and vile; wondered at those that showed me respect. Afterwards was something comforted in secret retirement, and was assisted to wrestle with God with some power, spirituality, and sweet- ness. Blessed be the Lord, he is never unmindful of me, but always sends me needed supplies, and from time to time, when I am like one dead, raises me to life. O that I may never distrust infinite goodness !

Wed., Ap. 14. — My soul longed for communion with Christ, and for the mortification of indwelling corruption, especially spiritual pride. O, there is a sweet day coming, wherein " the weary will be at rest ! " My soul has enjoyed much sweetness this day, in the hopes of its speedy arrival.

Thurs., Ap. 15. — My desires apparently centred in God, and I found a sensible attraction of soul after him sundry times to-day : I know / long for God, and a conformity to his will in inward purity and holiness, ten thousand times more than for any thing here below.

Fri. and Sat., Ap. 16, 17. — Seldom prayed without some sensible sweetness and joy in the Lord. Sometimes I longed much " to be dissolved, and to be with Christ." O that God would enable me to grow in grace every day ! Alas ! my barrenness is such, that God might well say, ""Cut it down." I am afraid of a dead heart on the Sabbath now begun : O that God would quicken me by his grace !

Lord's day, Ap. 18. — Retired early this morning into the

DAVID BRAINERD. 25

woods for prayer ; had the assistance of God's Spirit, and fa4th in exercise, and was enabled to plead with fervency for the advancement of Christ's kingdom in the world, and to intercede for dear absent friends. At noon, God enabled me to wrestle with him, and to feel (as I trust) the power of divine love in prayer. At night, saw myself infinitely indebted to God, and had" a view of my shortcomings. It seemed to me that I had done as it were nothing for God, and that I never had lived to him but a few hours of my life.

Mon., Ap. 19. — I set apart this day for fasting and prayer to God for his grace, especially to prepare me for the work of the ministry, to give me divine aid and direction in my preparations for that great work, and in his own time to " send me into his harvest." Accordingly, in the morning, endeavoured to plead for the divine presence for the day — and not without some life. In the forenoon, I felt a power of intercession for precious immortal souls, for the advance- ment of the kingdom of my dear Lord and Saviour in the world, and withal a most sweet resignation, and even con- solation and joy, in the thoughts of suffering hardships, dis- tresses, and even death itself, in the promotion of it: and had special enlargement in pleading for the enlightening and conversion of the .poor heathen. In the afternoon, " God was with me of a truth." O it was blessed company indeed! God enabled me so to agonize in prayer, that I was quite wet with sweat, though in the shade, and the wind cool. My soul was drawn out very much for the world : I grasped for multitudes of souls. I 'think I had more enlargement for sinners than for the children of God, though I felt as if I could spend my life in cries for both. I enjoyed great sweet- ness in communion with my dear Saviour. I think I never in my life felt such an entire weanedness from this world, and so much resigned to God in every thing. O that I may always live to and upon my blessed God ! Amen, Amen.

Tues., Ap. 20. — This day I am twenty-four years of .'age. O how much mercy have I received the year 'past! How often has God " caused his goodness to pass before me ! " And how poorly have I answered the vows I made this time twelvemonth, to be wholly the Lord's, to be for ever devoted to his service ! The Lord help me to live more to his glory for time to come. This has been a sweet, a happy day to me : blessed be God. I think my soul was never so drawn out in intercession for others, as it has been this night. Had a most fervent wrestle with the Lord to-night for my enemies,

26 THE LIFE OP1

and I hardly ever so longed to live to God, and to be alto- gether devoted to him ; I wanted to wear out my life in his service, and for his glory.

Wed., Ap. 21. — Felt much calmness and resignation, and God again enabled me to wrestle for numbers of souls, and had much fervency in the sweet duty of intercession. I enjoy of late more sweetness in intercession for others than in any other part of prayer. My blessed Lord really lets me '* come near to him, and plead with him."

The frame of mind, and exercises of soul, that he ex- presses the next three days, Thursday, Friday, and Satur- day, are much of the same kind with those expressed the two days past.

Lord's day, Ap. 25. — This morning spent about two hours in secret duties, and was enabled more than ordinarily to agonize for immortal souls. Though it was^arly in the morning, and the sun scarcely shined at all, yet my body was quite wet with sweat. Felt much pressed now, as fre- quently of late, to plead for the meekness and calmness of the Lamb of God in my soul ; through divine goodness felt much of it this morning. O it is a sweet disposition, heartily to forgive all injuries done us, to wish our greatest enemies as well as we do our own souls ! Blessed Jesus, may I daily be more and more conformed to thee! At night was exceed- ingly melted with divine love, and had some feeling sense of the blessedness of the upper world. Those words hung upon me with much divine sweetness, Ps. Ixxxiv. 7, " They go from strength to strength, every one of them in Zion ap- peareth before God." O the near access that God some- times gives us in our addresses to him! This may well be termed appearing before God: it is so indeed, in the true spiritual sense, and in the sweetest sense. I think I have not had such power of intercession these many months, both for God's children, and for dead sinners, as I have had this evening. I wished and longed for the coining of my dear Lord : I longed to join the angelic hosts in praises, vv holly free from imperfection. O the blessed moment hastens ! All I want is to be more holy, more like my dear Lord. O for sanctification ! My very soul pants for the complete restora- tion of the blessed image of my sweet Saviour ; that I may be fit for the blessed enjoyments and employments of the heavenly world.

DAVID BRAINERD. 27

" Farewell, vain world, my soul can bid adieu : My Saviour's taught me to abandon you. Your charms may gratify a sensual mind. Not please a soul wholly for God designed ; Forbear t'entice, cease then my soul to call. 'Tis fix'd through grace ; my God shall be my all. While he thus lets me heavenly glories view, Your beauties fade, my heart's no room for you."

The Lord refreshed my soul with many sweet passages of his word. O the new Jerusalem ! my soul longed for it.

0 the song of Moses and the Lamb ! And that blessed song, that no man can learn, but they that are " redeemed from the earth !" and the glorious white robes that were given to ** the souls under the altar ! "

" Lord, I'm a stranger here alone ; Earth no true comforts can afford : Yet, absent from my dearest one, My soul delights to cry, My Lord ! Jesus, my Lord, my only love, Possess my soul, nor thence depart : Grant me kind visits, heavenly dove, My God shall then have all my heart."

Mon., Ap. 26. — Continued in a sweet frame of mind; but in the afternoon felt something of spiritual pride stir- ring. God was pleased to make it a humbling season at first, though afterwards he gave me sweetness. O my soul exceedingly longs for that blessed state of perfection of deliverance from all sin ! At night, God enabled me to give my soul up to him, to cast myself upon him, to be ordered and disposed of according to his sovereign pleasure, and I enjoyed great peace and consolation in so doing. My soul took sweet delight in God to-night : my thoughts freely and sweetly centred in him. O that I could spend every moment of my life to his glory !

Tues., Ap. 27. — Retired pretty early for secret devo- tions, and in prayer God was pleased to pour such ineffable comforts into my soul, that I could do nothing for some time but say over and over^ " 0 my sweet Saviour ! O my sweet Saviour ! whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee." If I had had a thousand lives, my soul would gladly have laid them all down at once to have been with Christ. My soul never enjoyed so much of heaven before ; it was the most refined and most spiritual season of communion with God I ever yet felt ; I never felt so great a degree of resignation in my life.

1 felt very sweetly all the forenoon. In the afternoon I

28 THE LITE OP

withdrew to meet with my God, but found myself much declined, and God made it a humbling season to my soul : I mourned over the body of death that is in me: it grieved me exceedingly, that I could not pray to and praise God with my heart full of divine, heavenly love. O that my soul might never offer any dead cold services to my God ! In the even- ing had not so much sweet divine love as in the morning, but had a sweet season of fervent intercession.

Wed., Ap., 28. — Withdrew to my usual place of re- tirement in great peace and tranquillity, and spent about two hours in secret duties. I felt much as I did yesterday morning, only weaker and more overcome. I seemed to hang and depend wholly on my dear Lord, wholly weaned from all other dependences. I knew not what to say to my God, but only lean on Ms bosom, as it were, and breathe out my desires after a perfect conformity to him in all things. Thirsting desires and insatiable longings after perfect holi- ness possessed my soul: God was so., precious to my soul, that the world with all its enjoyments was infinitely vile : I had no more value for the favour of men, than for pebbles. The LORD was my ALL, and he overruled all; which greatly delighted me. I think my faith and dependence on God scarce ever rose so high. I saw him such a fountain of goodness, that it seemed impossible I should distrust him again, or be any way anxious about any thing that should happen to me. I now enjoyed great sweetness in praying for absent friends, and for the enlargement of Christ's king- dom in the world. Much of the power of these divine enjoy- ments remained with me through the day. In the evening my heart seemed sweetly to melt, and, I trust, was really humbled for indwelling corruption, and I " mourned like a dove." I felt that all my unhappiness arose from my being a sinner, for with resignation I could bid welcome all other trials ; but sin hung heavy upon me, for God discovered to me the corruption of my heart — so that I went to bed with a heavy heart, because I was a sinner, though I did not in the least doubt of God's love. O that God would " purge away my dross, and take away my tin," and make me seven times refined !

Thurs., Ap. 29.— Was kept off at a distance from God, but had some enlargement in intercession for precious souls.

Fri.9 Ap. 30 — Was something dejected in spirit: no- thing grieves me so much, as that I cannot live constantly to God's glory. I could bear any desertion or spiritual con-

DAVID BIUINERD. 29

flicts, if I could but have my heart all the while burning within me with love to God and desires of his glory. But this is impossible ; for when I feel these, I cannot be dejected in my soul, but only rejoice in my Saviour, who has delivered me from the reigning power, and will shortly deliver me from the indwelling of sin.

Sat., May 1. — Was enabled to cry to God with fer- vency for ministerial qualifications, and that God would ap- pear for the advancement of his own kingdom, and that he would bring in the heathen world, &c. Had much assist- ance in my studies. This' has been a profitable week to me ; I have enjoyed many communications of the blessed Spirit in my soul.

Lord's day, May 2. — God was pleased this morning to give me such a sight of myself, as made me appear very vile in my own eyes : I felt corruption stirring in my heart, which I could by no means suppress : felt more and more desert- ed : was exceeding weak, and almost sick with my inward trials.

Mon., May 3. — Had a sense of vile ingratitude. In the morning I withdrew to my usual place of retirement, and mourned for my abuse of my dear Lord : spent the day in fasting and prayer : God gave me much power of wrestling for his cause and kingdom, and it was a happy day to my soul. God was with me all the day, and I was more above the world, than ever in my life.

Through the remaining part of this week, and the next, he complains almost every day of desertion, and inward trials and conflicts, attended with dejection of spirit ; but yet speaks of times of relief and sweetness, and daily refreshing visits of the Divine Spirit, affording special assistance and comfort, and enabling, at some times, to much fervency and enlarge- ment in religious duties.

Fri.9 May 14. — Waited on a council of ministers con- vened at Hartford, and spread before them the treatment I had met with from the rector and tutors of Yale College ; who thought it advisable to intercede for me with the rector and trustees, and to intreat them to restore me to my former privileges in college.* After this, spent some time in reli- gious exercises with Christian friends.

* The application which was then made on his behalf, had not the de- sired success.

30 THE LIFE OF

Sat., May 15. — Rode from Hartford to Hebron ; was something dejected on the road ; appeared exceeding vile in my own eyes, saw much pride and stubbornness in my heart. Indeed I never saw such a week before as this ; for I have been almost ready to die with the view of the wickedness of my heart. I could not have thought I had such a body of death in me. O that God would deliver my soul!

The next three days (which he spent at Hebron, Lebanon, and Norwich) he complains still of dulness and desertion, and expresses a sense of his \iileness, and longing to hide himself in some cave or den of the earth : but yet speaks of some intervals of comfort and soul-refreshment each day.

Wed.9 May 19. — [At Millington] I was so amazingly de- serted this morning, that I seemed to feel a sort of horror in my soul. Alas ! when God withdraws, what is there that can afford any comfort to the soul !

Through the next eight days he expresses more calmness and comfort, and considerable life, fervency, and sweetness in religion.

Fri., May 28.— [At New-Haven] I think I scarce ever felt so calm in my life ; I rejoiced in resignation, and giving myself up to God, to be wholly and entirely devoted to him for ever.

On the three following days, there was, by the account he gives, a continuance of the same excellent frame of mind last expressed: but it seems not to have been altogether to so great a degree.

Tues.j June 1. — Had much of the presence of God in family- prayer, and had some comfort in secret. I was greatly re- freshed from the Word of God this morning, which appeared exceeding sweet to me : some things that appeared myste- rious were opened to me. O that the kingdom of the dear Saviour might come with power, and the healing waters of the sanctuary spread far and wide for the healing of the nations 1 Came to Ripton, but was very weak. However, being visited by a number of young people in the evening, I prayed with them.

DAVID BRAINERD 31

The remaining part of this week, he speaks of being much diverted and hindered in the business of religion, by great weakness of body and necessary affairs that he had to attend to, and complains of having but little power ir. religion ; but signifies, that God hereby showed him he was like a helpless infant cast out in the open field.

Lord's day, June 6. — I feel much deserted: but all this teaches me my nothingness and vileness more than ever.

Man., June 7. — Felt still powerless in secret prayer. Af- terwards I prayed and conversed with some little life. God feeds me with crumbs : blessed be his name for any thing. 1 felt a great desire, that all God's people might know how mean and little and vile I am : that they might see I am nothing, that so they may pray for me aright, and not have the least dependence upon me.

Tues., June 8. — I enjoyed one sweet and precious season this day : I never felt it so sweet to be nothing, and less than .nothing, and to be accounted nothing.

The next three days he complains of desertion, and want of fervency in religion ; but yet his diary shows that every day his heart was engaged in religion, as his great, and, as it were, only business.

Sat., June -12. — Spent much time in prayer this morning, and enjoyed much sweetness. Felt insatiable longings after God much of the day : I wondered how poor souls live that have no God. The world, with all its enjoyments, quite vanished. I see myself very helpless : but I have a blessed God to go to. I longed exceedingly " to be dissolved, and to be with Christ, to behold his glory." Oh, my weak weary soul longs to arrive at my Father's house I

Lords day, June 13. — Felt something calm and resigned in the public worship : at the sacrament saw myself very vile and worthless. O that I may always lie low in the dust. My soul seemed steadily to go forth after God, in longing desires to live upon him.

Man., June 14. — Felt something of the sweetness of com- munion with God, and the constraining force of his love : how admirably it captivates the soul, and makes all the desires and affections to centre in God ! I set apart this day for secret fasting and prayer, to intreat God to direct and bless C

32 THE LIFE OF

me with regard to the great work I have in yiew, of preach- ing the gospel, and that the Lord would return to me, and " show me the light of his countenance/' Had little life and power in the forenoon. Near the middle of the afternoon, God enabled me to wrestle ardently in intercession for absent friends. But just at night, the Lord visited me marvellously in prayer ; I think my soul never was in such an agony be- fore; I felt no restraint, for the treasures of divine grace were opened to me ; I wrestled for absent friends, for the ingathering of souls, for multitudes of poor souls, and for many that I thought were the children of God, personally, in many distant places. I was in such an agony, from sun half an hour high, till near dark, that I was all over wet with sweat ; but yet it seemed to me that I had wasted away the day, and had done nothing. Oh, my dear Jesus did sweat blood for poor souls ! I longed for more compassion towards them. Felt still in a sweet frame, under a sense of divine love and grace ; and went to bed in such a frame, with my heart set on God.

Tues.j June 15. — Had the most ardent longings after God that ever I felt in my life: at noon, in my secret retirement, I could do nothing but tell my dear Lord, in a sweet calm, that he knew I longed for nothing but himself, nothing but holiness, that he had given me these desires, and he only could give me the thing desired. I never seemed to be so unhinged from myself, and to be so wholly devoted to God. My heart was swallowed up in God most of the day. In the evening I had such a view of the soul's being, as it were, enlarged to contain more holiness, that my soul seemed ready to separate from my body, and stretch to obtain it. I then wrestled in an agony for divine blessings ; had my heart drawn out in prayer for some Christian friends, beyond what I ever had before. I feel differently now from what I ever did under any sweet enjoyments before, more engaged to live to God for ever, and less pleased with my own frames : I am not satisfied with my frames, nor feel at all more easy after such sweet strugglings than before ; for it seems far too little, if I could always be so. Oh, how short do I fall of my duty in my sweetest moments 1

In his diary for the next two days, he expresses something of the same frame, but in a far less degree.*

* Here etui the first 30 pages of tlie third volume of his diarv, which he speaks of in tlie beginning of this volume (as was observed before >, a»»

DAVID BRAINERD. 33

Fri., June 18. — Considering my great unntness for the work of the ministry, my present deadness, and total inability to do any thing for the glory of God that way, feeling my- self very helpless, and at a great loss " what the Lord would have me to do," I set apart this day for prayer to God, and spent most of the day in that duty, hut was amazingly de- serted most of the day. Yet I found God graciously near ; once in particular, while I was pleading for more compassion for immortal souls, my heart seemed to be opened at once, and I was enabled to cry with great ardency, for a few minutes.

O I was distressed to think that I should offer such dead, cold services to the living God! My soul seemed to breathe after holiness — a life of constant devotedness to God. But I am almost lost sometimes in the pursuit of this blessedness, and ready to sink because I continually fall short and miss of my desire. O that the Lord would help me to hold out yet a little while, till the happy hour of deliverance comes!

Sat.t June 19. — Felt much disordered; my spirits were yery low, but yet enjoyed some freedom and sweetness in the duties of religion. Blessed be God.

Lord's day, June 20. — Spent much time alone. My soul longed to be holy and reached after God, but seemed not to obtain my desire : I hungered and thirsted, but was not sweetly refreshed and satisfied. My soul hung on God as my only portion. O that I could grow in grace more abun- dantly every day !

The next day he speaks of his having assistance in his studies, and power, fervency, and comfort in prayer.

Tues., June 22. — In the morning, spent about two hours in prayer and meditation, with considerable delight. Towards night, felt my soul go out in longing desires after God, in secret retirement. In the evening, was sweetly composed and resigned to God's will, was enabled to leave myself and all my concerns with him, and to have my whole dependence upon him. My secret retirement was very refreshing to my soul ; it appeared such a happiness to have God for my por- tion, that I had rather be any other creature in this lower creation, than not come to the enjoyment of God. I had

containing a specimen of his ordinary manner of living, through the whole space of time, from the beginning of those two volumes that were destroyed.

31 THE LIFE OP

rather be a beast, than a man without God, if I were to live here to eternity. Lord, endear thyself more to me !

In his diary for the next seven days, he expresses a variety of exercises of mind : he speaks of great longings after God and holiness, and earnest desires for the conversion of others, of fervency in prayer, and power to wrestle with God, and of composure, comfort, and sweetness, from time to time : but expresses a sense of the vile abomination of his heart, and bitterly complains of his barrenness, and the pressing body of death, and says, he " saw clearly that whatever he enjoyed, better than hell, was free grace." Complains of his being exceeding low, much below the character of a child of God, and is sometimes very disconsolate and dejected.

Wed., June 30. — Spent this day alone in the woods, in fasting and prayer ; underwent the most dreadful conflicts in my soul that ever I felt, in some respects. I saw myself so vile, that I was ready to say, " I shall now perish by the hand of Saul." I thought, and almost concluded, I had no power to stand for the cause of God, but was almost " afraid of the shaking of a leaf." Spent almost the whole day in prayer, incessantly. I could not bear to think of Christians show- ing me any respect. I almost despaired of doing any service in the world. I could not feel any hope or comfort respect- ing the heathen, which used to afford me some refreshment in the darkest hours of this nature. I spent away the day in the bitterness of my soul. Near night I felt a little better, ' and afterwards enjoyed some sweetness in secret prayer.

Thurs., July 1. — Had some sweetness in prayer this morn- ing. Felt exceeding sweetly in secret prayer to-night, and desired nothing so ardently as that God should do with me just as he pleased.

Fri., July 2. — Felt composed in secret prayer in the morn- ing. My desires sweetly ascended to God this day, as I was travelling ; and was comfortable in the evening. Blessed be God for all my consolations.

Sat., July 3. — My heart seemed again to sink. The dis- grace I was laid under at college seemed to damp me, as it opens the mouths of opposers. I had no refuge but in God only. Blessed be his name, that I may go to him at all times, and find him a present help.

Lord's day, July 4. — Had considerable assistance. In the evening I withdrew and enjoyed a happy season in secret

DAVID BRAINERD. 35

prayer : God was pleased to give me the exercise of faith, and thereby brought the invisible and eternal world near to my soul, which appeared sweetly to me. I hoped that my weary pilgrimage in the world would be short, and that it would not be long before I was brought to my heavenly home and Father's house. I was sweetly resigned to God's will, to tarry his time, to do his work, and suffer his pleasure. I felt thankfulness to God for all my pressing desertions of late ; for I am persuaded they have been made a means of making me more humble, and much more resigned. I felt pleased to be little, to be nothing, and to lie in the dust. I enjoyed life and sweet consolation in pleading for the dear children of God and the kingdom of Christ in the world ; and my soul earnestly breathed after holiness, and the enjoy- ment of God. " 0 come, Lord Jesus! come quickly. Amen."

By his diary for the remaining days of this week, it appears that he enjoyed considerable composure and tranquillity, and had sweetness and fervency of spirit in prayer from day to day.

Lord's day, July 11.— Was deserted and exceeding dejected in the morning. In the afternoon had some life and assist- ance, and felt resigned ; I saw myself exceeding vile.

On the next two days he expresses inward comfort, resigna- tion, and strength in God.

Wed., July 14. — Felt a kind of humble, resigned sweet- ness : spent a considerable time in secret, giving myself up wholly to the Lord. Heard Mr Bellamy preach towards night ; felt very sweetly part of the time ; longed for nearer access to God.

The next four days he expresses considerable comfort and fervency of spirit in Christian conversation and religious exercises.

Mon., July 19. — My desires seem especially to be carried out after weanedness from the world, perfect deadness to it, and to be even crucified to all its allurements/ My soul longs to feel itself more of a pilgrim and stranger here below, that nothing may divert me from pressing through the lonely desert, till I arrive at my Father's house.

36 THE LIFE OF

.y July 20. — It was sweet to give away myself to God, to be disposed of at his pleasure ; and had some feeling sense of the sweetness of being a pilgrim on earth.

The next day he expresses himself as determined to be wholly devoted to God, and it appears by his diary, that he spent the whole day in a most diligent exercise of religion, and exceeding comfortably.

Thurs., July 22. — Journeying from Southbury to Ripton, called at a house by the way, where being very kindly enter- tained and refreshed, I was filled with amazement and shame, that God should stir up the hearts of any to show so much kindness to such a dead dog as I ; was made sensible, in some measure, how exceeding vile it is, not to be wholly devoted to God. I wondered that God would suffer any of his crea- tures to feed and sustain me from time to time.

In his diary for the next six days, are expressed various exercises and experiences, such as sweet composure and fer- vency of spirit in meditation and prayer, weanedness from the world, being sensibly a pilgrim and stranger on the earth, engagedness of mind to spend every inch of time for God, &c.

Thurs.j July 29. — Was examined by the association met at Danbury, as to my learning and also my experiences in religion, and received a licence from them to preach the gospel of Christ. Afterwards felt much devoted to God ; joined in prayer with one of the ministers, my peculiar friend, in a convenient place ; went to bed resolving to live devoted to God all my days.

TART HI.

FROM THE TIME OF HIS BEING LICENSED TO PREACH, TILL HE WAS APPOINTED MISSIONARY TO THE INDIANS.

Fri., July 30, 1742.— Rode from Danbury to Southbury; preached there from 1 Pet. iv. 8. Had much of the com-

DAVID BRAINERD. 37

fortable presence of God in the exercise. I seemed to have power with God in prayer, and power to get hold of the hearts of the people in preaching.

Sat., July 31. — Exceeding calm and composed, and was greatly refreshed and encouraged.

It appears by his diary, that he continued in this sweet- ness and tranquillity almost through the whole of the next week.

Lord's day, Aug. 8. — In the morning felt comfortably in secret prayer ; my soul was refreshed with the hopes of the heathen's coming home to Christ; was much resigned to God — I thought it was no matter what became of me. Preached both parts of the day at Bethlehem, from Job xiv. 14. It was sweet to me to meditate on death. In the even- ing- felt very comfortably, and cried to God fervently in secret prayer.

It appears by his diary that he continued, through the next three days, -engaged with all his might in the business of religion, and in almost a constant enjoyment of the com- forts of it.

Thurs., Aug. 12. — This morning and last night was exer- cised with sore inward trials; ^[ had no power to pray, but seemed shut out from God. 1 had in a great measure lost my hopes of God's sending me among the heathen afar off, and of seeing them flock home to Christ. I saw so much of my hellish vileness, that I appeared worse to myself than any devil, I wondered that God would let me live, and won- dered that people did not stone me, much more that they would ever hear me preach ! It seemed as though I never could nor should preach any more ; yet about nine or ten o'clock, the people came over, and I was forced to preach. And blessed be God, he gave me his presence and Spirit in prayer and preaching, so that I was much assisted, and spake with power from Job xiv. 14. Some Indians cried out in great distress,* and all appeared greatly concerned. After we bad prayed and exhorted them to seek the Lord with constancy, and hired an English woman to keep a kind of school among them, we came away about one o'clock, and

* It was in a place near Kent, in the western borders of Connecticut, where there is a number of Indians.

38 THE LIFE OF

came to Judea, about fifteen or sixteen miles. There God was pleased to visit my soul with much comfort. Blessed be the Lord for all things I meet with.

It appears that the next two days he had much comfort, and had his heart much engaged in religion.

Lord's day, Aug. 13. — Felt much comfort and devotedness to God this day. At night, it was refreshing to get alone with God, and pour out my soul. O who can conceive of the sweetness of communion with the blessed God, but those that have experience of it ! Glory to God for ever, that I may taste heaven below.

Mon., Aug. 16. — Had some comfort in secret prayer in the morning. Felt sweetly sundry times in prayer this day ; but was much perplexed in the evening with vain conver- sation.

Tues., Aug. 17. — Exceedingly depressed in spirit, it cuts and wounds my heart to think how much self-exaltation, spiritual pride, and warmth of temper, I have formerly had intermingled with my endeavours to promote God's work ; and sometimes I long to lie down at the feet of op- posers, and confess what a poor imperfect creature I have been and still am. O the Lord forgive me, and make me for the future " wise as a serpent, and harmless as a dove ! " Afterwards enjoyed considerable comfort and delight of soul.

Wed., Aug. 18. — Spent most of this day in prayer and reading. I see so much of my own extreme vileness, that I feel ashamed and guilty before God and man ; I look to my- self like the vilest fellow in the land, I wonder that God stirs up his people to be so kind to me.

Thurs., Aug. 19. — This day, being about to go from Mr Bellamy's at Bethlehem, where I had resided some time, prayed with him and two or three other Christian friends, and gave ourselves to God with all our hearts, to be his for ever. Eternity looked very near to me, while I was praying. If I never should see these Christians again in this world, it seemed but a few moments before I should meet them in an- other world. Parted with them sweetly.

Fri., Aug. 20. — I appeared so vile to myself, that I hardly dared to think of being seen, especially on account of spiritual pride. However, to-night I enjoyed a sweet hour alone with God (at Ripton) : I was lifted above the frowns and flatteries of this lower world, had a sweet relish of heavenly joys, and

DAVID BRAINErm. 39

my soul did, as it were, get into the eternal world and really taste of heaven. I had a sweet season of intercession for dear friends in Christ, and God helped me to cry fer- vently for Zion. Blessed be God for this season.

Sat. 9 Aug. 21. — Was much perplexed in the morning. Towards noon enjoyed more of God in secret, was enabled to see that it was best to throw myself into the hands of God, to be disposed of according to his pleasure, and rejoiced in such thoughts. In the afternoon rode to New Haven ; was much confused all the way. Just at night, underwent such a dread- ful conflict as I have scarce ever felt. I saw myself exceeding vile and unworthy — so that I was guilty, and ashamed that anybody should bestow any favour on me, or show me any respect.

Lord's day, Aug. 22. — In the morning, continued still in perplexity. In the evening, enjoyed that comfort that seemed to me sufficient to overbalance all my late distresses. I saw that God is the only soul-satisfying portion, and I really found satisfaction in him : my soul was much enlarged in sweet in- tercession for my fellow-men every where, and for many Chris- tian friends, in particular, in distant places.

Man., Aug. 23. — Had a sweet season in secret prayer: the Lord drew near to my soul, and filled me with peace and di- vine consolation. O my soul tasted the sweetness of the upper world, and was sweetly drawn out in prayer for the world, that it might come home to Christ ! Had much comfort in the thoughts and hopes of the ingathering of the heathen ; was greatly assisted in intercession for Christian friends.

He continued still in the same frame of mind the next day, but in a lesser degree.

Wed., Aug. 25. — In family prayer, God helped me to climb up near him, so that I scarce ever got nearer.

The next four days, he appears to have been the subject of desertion and of comfort and fervency in religion inter- changeably, together with a sense of vileness and unpronU ableness.

Mon., Aug. 30. — Felt something comfortably in the morn- ing ; conversed sweetly with some friends ; was in a serious composed frame ; prayed at a certain house with some degree of sweetness. Afterwards, at another house, prayed privately

40 THE LIFE OF

with a dear Christian friend or two, and I think I scarce ever launched so far into the eternal world as then ; I got so far out on the broad ocean, that my soul with joy triumphed over all the -evils on the shores of mortality. I think time, and all its gay amusements and cruel disappointments, never appeared so inconsiderable to me before: I was in a sweet frame: I saw myself nothing, and my soul reached after God with intense desire. O ! I saw what I owed to God, in such a manner as I scarce ever did ; I knew I had never lived a moment to him as I should do ; indeed, it appeared to me I had never done any thing in Christianity ; my soul longed with a vehement desire to live to God. In the evening, sung and prayed with a number of Christians ; felt " the powers of the world to come " in my soul, in prayer. Afterwards prayed again privately with a dear Christian or two, and found the presence of God ; was something humbled in my secret retirement; felt my ingratitude, because I was not wholly swallowed up in God.

He was in a sweet frame great part of the next day.

Wed,, Sept. 1. — Went to Judea to the ordination of Mi1 Judd. Dear Mr Bellamy preached from Matt. xxiv. 46, " Blessed is that servant," &c. I felt very solemnly and very sweetly most of the time ; had my thoughts much on that time when our Lord will come; that time refreshed my soul much, only I was afraid I should not be found faithful, be- cause I have so vile a heart. My thoughts were much in eternity, where I love to dwell. Blessed be God for this solemn season. Rode home to-night with Mr Bellamy ; felt something sweetly on the road ; conversed with some friends till it was very late, and then retired to rest in a comfortable frame.

Thurs., Sept. 2. — About two in the afternoon, I preached from John vi. 67, and God assisted me in some comfortable degree, but more especially in my first prayer ; my soul seemed then to launch quite into the eternal world, and to be as it were separated from this lower world. Afterwards preached again from Isa. v. 4. God gave me some assist- ance ; but I saw myself a poor worm.

On Friday, Sept. 3, he complains of having but little life in the things of God in the former part of the day, but after- wards speaks of sweetness and enlargement.

DAVID BRAINERD. 41

Sat., Sept. 4. — Much out of health, and exceedingly de- pressed in ray soul, and was at an awful distance from God. Towards night, spent some time in profitable thoughts on Rom. viii. 2. Near night, had a very sweet season in prayer ; God enabled me to wrestle ardently for the advancement of the Redeemer's kingdom ; pleaded earnestly for my own dear brother John, that God would make him more of a pilgrim and stranger on the earth, and fit him for singular service- ableness in the world ; and my heart sweetly exulted in the Lord, in the thoughts of any distresses that might alight on him or me, in the advancement of Christ's kingdom. It was a sweet and comfortable hour unto my soul, while I was in- dulged freedom to plead' not only for myself but for many other souls.

Lord's day, Sept. 5. — Preached all day : was something strengthened and assisted in the after noon, more especially in the evening : had a sense of my unspeakable shortcomings in all my duties. I found, alas ! that I had never lived to God in my life.

Mon., Sept. 6. — Was informed that they only waited for an opportunity to apprehend me for preaching at New Haven lately, that so they might imprison me. This made me more solemn and serious, and to quit all hopes of the world's friendship : it brought me to a further sense of my vileness, and just desert of this and much more from the hand of God, though not from the hand of man. Retired into a convenient place in the woods, and spread the matter before God.

Tues., Sept. 7. — Had some relish of divine things in the morning. Afterwards felt more barren and melancholy. Rode to New Haven, to a friend's house at a distance from the town : that I may remain undiscovered, and yet have opportunity to do business privately with friends that come to Commencement.

Wed., Sept. 8. — Felt very sweetly when I first rose in the morning. In family prayer had some enlargement, but not much spirituality till eternity came up before me and looked near ; I found some sweetness in the thoughts of bidding a dying farewell to this tiresome world. Though sometime ago I reckoned upon seeing my dear friend? at Commence- ment, yet being now denied the opportunity for fear of im- prisonment, I felt totally resigned and as contented to spend this day alone in the woods, as I could have done if I had been allowed to go to town. Felt exceedingly weaned from the world to-day. In the afternoon discoursed something on

42 THE LIFE OF

some divine things with a dear Christian friend, whereby we were both refreshed. Then I prayed, with a sweet sense of the blessedness of communion with God : I think I scarce ever enjoyed more of God in any one prayer. O it was a blessed season indeed to my soul ! I knew not that ever I saw so much of my own nothingness in my life ; never wondered so that God allowed me to preach his Word ; never was so astonished as now. This has been a sweet and comfortable day to my soul. Blessed be God. Prayed again with my dear friend, with something of the divine presence. I long to be wholly conformed to God and transformed into his image.

Thurs., Sept. 9. — Spent much of the day alone; enjoyed the presence of God in some comfortable degree; was visited by some dear friends, and prayed with them ; wrote sundry letters to friends ; felt religion in my soul while writing ; en- joyed some sweet meditations on some scriptures. In the evening, went very privately into town from the place of my residence at the farms, and conversed with some dear friends ; felt sweetly in singing hymns with them, and made my escape to the farms again, without being discovered by any enemies, as I knew of. Thus the Lord preserves me continually.

FrL, Sept. 10. — Longed with intense desire after God: my whole soul seemed impatient to be conformed to him, and to become "holy, as he is holy." In the afternoon, prayed with a dear friend privately, and had the presence of God with us ; our souls united together to reach after a blessed immortality, to be unclothed of the body of sin and death, and to enter the blessed world where no unclean thing enters. O, with what intense desire did our souls long for that blessed day, that we might be freed from sin, and for ever live to and in our God ! In the evening, took leave of that house, but first kneeled down and prayed ; the Lord was of a truth in the midst of us ; it was a sweet parting season ; felt in myself much sweetness and affection in the things of God. Blessed be God for every such divine gale of his Spirit, to speed me on in my way to the new Jerusalem ! Felt some sweetness afterwards, and spent the evening in conversation with friends, and prayed with some life, and retired to rest very late.

The next five days, he appears for the most part to have been in an exceeding comfortable, sweet frame of mind, and to have been the subject of the like heavenly exercises as are

DAVID BRAINERD. 43

often expressed in preceding passages of his diary : such as, having his heart much engaged for God, wrestling with God in prayer with power and ardency, enjoying at times sweet calmness and composure of mind, giving himself up to God to be his for ever, with great complacence of mind, being wholly resigned to the will of God, that God might do with him what he pleased, longing well to improve time, having the eternal world as it were brought nigh, longing after God and holiness, earnestly desiring a complete conformity to him, and wondering how poor souls do to exist without God.

TJmrs., Sept. 16. — At night felt exceeding sweetly; en- joyed much of God in secret prayer ; felt an uncommon re- signation, to be and do what God pleased. Some days past, I felt great perplexity on account of my past conduct ; my bitterness, and want of Christian kindness and love, has been very distressing to my soul ; the Lord forgive me my un- christian ivarmth, and want of a spirit of meekness !

The next day, he speaks of much resignation, calmness, and peace of mind, and near views of the eternal world.

Sat., Sept. 18. — Felt some compassion for souls, and mourned I had no more. I feel much more kindness, meek- ness, gentleness, and love towards all mankind, than ever. I long to be at the feet of my enemies and persecutors. Enjoyed some sweetness, in feeling my soul conformed to Christ Jesus and given away to him for ever, in prayer to-day.

The next day he speaks of much dejection and discourage- ment, from an apprehension of his own unfitness ever to do any good in preaching, but blesses God for all dispensations of providence and grace, finding that by all God weaned him more from the world, and made him more resigned.

The next ten days, he appears to have been for the most part under great degrees of melancholy, exceedingly dejected and discouraged : speaks of his being ready to give up all for gone respecting the cause of Christ, and exceedingly longing to die ; yet had some sweet seasons and intervals of comfort, and special assistance and enlargement in the duties of reli- gion, and in performing public services, and considerable success in them.

Thurs., Sept. 30. — Still very low in spirits, and did not

44 THE LIFE OF

know how to engage in any work or business, especially to correct some disorders among Christians; felt as though I had no power to be faithful in that regard. However, to- wards noon, preached from Dent. viii. 2, and was enabled with freedom to reprove some things in Christians' conduct, that I thought very unsuitable and irregular ; insisted near two hours on this subject.

Through this, and the two following weeks, he passed through a variety of exercises : he was frequently dejected, and felt inward distresses, and sometimes sunk into the depths of melancholy ; at which turns, he was not exercised about the state of his soul with regard to the favour of God and his interest in Christ, but about his own sinful infirmities and unfitness for God's service. His mind appears some- times extremely depressed and sunk with a sense of inexpres- sible vileness. But, in the mean time, he speaks of many seasons of comfort and spiritual refreshment, wherein his heart was encouraged and strengthened in God, and sweetly resigned to his will, and of some seasons of very high degrees of spiritual consolation, and of his great longings after holi- ness and conformity to God, of his great fear of offending God, of his heart being sweetly melted in religious duties, of his longing for the advancement of Christ's kingdom, and of his having at some times much assistance in preaching, and of remarkable effects on the auditory.

Lord's day, Oct. 17. — Had a considerable sense of my helplessness and inability ; saw that I must be dependent on God for all I want ; and especially when I went to the place of public worship, I found I could not speak a word for (rod without his special help and assistance : I went into the assembly trembling, as I frequently do, under a sense of my insufficiency to do any thing in the cause of God, as I ought to do. But it pleased God to afford me much assistance, and there seemed to be a considerable effect on the hearers. In the evening, I felt a disposition to praise God for his goodness to me ; in special, that he had enabled me in some measure to be faithful ; and my soul rejoiced to think that I had thus performed the work of one day more, and was one day nearer my eternal and (I trust) my heavenly home. O that I might be " faithful to the death, fulfilling as an hireling my day," till the shades of the evening of life shall free my soul from the toils of the day ! This evening, in secret prayer, I

DAVID BllAINERD. 45

felt exceeding solemn, and such longing desires after deliver- ance from sin and after conformity to God, as melted my heart. O I longed to be " delivered from this body of death !" I felt inward pleasing pain, that I could not be conformed to God entirely, fully, and for ever. I scarce ever preach without being first visited with inward conflicts and sore trials. Blessed be the Lord, for these trials and dis- tresses, as they are blessed for my humbling.

Mon., Oct. 18. — In the morning felt some sweetness, but still pressed through some trials of soul. My life is a con- stant mixture of consolations and conflicts, and will be so till I arrive at the world of spirits.

Tues., Oct. 19. — This morning and last night, felt a sweet longing in my soul after holiness : my soul seemed so to reach and stretch towards the mark of perfect sanctity, that it was ready to break with longings.

Wed., Oct. 20. — Exceeding infirm in body, exercised with much pain, and very lifeless in divine things. Felt a little sweetness in the evening.

Thurs., Oct. 21. — Had a very deep sense of the vanity of the world, most of the day ; had little more regard to it than if I had been to go into eternity the next hour. Through divine goodness, I felt very serious and solemn. O I love to live on the brink of eternity, in my views and meditations ! This gives me a sweet, awful, and reverential sense and ap- prehension of God and divine things, when I see myself as it were standing before the judgment-seat of Clirist.

Fri., Oct. 22. — Uncommonly weaned from the world to- day ; my soul delighted to be a stranger and pilgrim on the earth ; I felt a disposition in me never to have any thing to do with this world. The character given of some of the ancient people of God, in Heb. xi. 13, was very pleasing to me — " They confessed that they were pilgrims and strangers on the earth," by their daily practice ; and O that I could always do so ! Spent some considerable time, in a pleasant grove, in prayer and meditation. O it is sweet to be thus weaned from friends and from myself, and dead to the pre- sent world, that so I may live wholly to and upon the blessed God ! Saw myself little, low, and vile in myself. In the afternoon, preached at Bethlehem, from Deut. viii. 2, and felt sweetly both in prayer and preaching : God helped me to speak to the hearts of dear Christians. Blessed be the Lord for this season : 1 trust, they and I shall rejoice on this ac- count to all eternity. Dear Mr Bellamy came in while 1

46 TIIE LIFE OP

was making the £rst prayer (being returned home from a journey), and after meeting, we walked away together and spent the evening in sweetly conversing on divine things, and praying together with sweet and tender love to each other, and returned to rest with our hearts in a serious spiritual frame.

Sat., Oct. 23. — Something perplexed and confused. Rode this day from Bethlehem to Simsbury.

Lord's day, Oct. 24. — Felt so vile and unworthy, that I scarce knew how to converse with human creatures.

Mon., Oct. 25. — [At Turkey-Hills.] In the evening en- joyed the divine presence in secret prayer; it was a sweet and comfortable season to me ; my soul longed for God, for the living God ; enjoyed a sweet solemnity of spirit, and long- ing desire after the recovery of the divine image in my soul. " Then shall I be satisfied, when I shall awake in God's like- ness," and never before.

Tues., Oct. 26.— [At West-Suffield.j Underwent the most dreadful distresses, under a sense of my own unworthiness : it seemed to me I deserved rather to be driven out of the place, than to have anybody treat me with any kindness or come to hear me preach. And verily my spirits were so depressed at this time, as well as at many others, that it was impos- sible I should treat immortal souls with faithfulness ; I could not deal closely and faithfully with them, I felt so infinitely vile in myself. O what dust and ashes I am, to think of preaching the gospel to others ! Indeed I never can be faithful for one moment, but shall certainly " daub with untempered mortar," if God do not grant me special help. In the evening I went to the meeting-house, and it looked to me near as easy for one to rise out of the grave and preach, as for me. However, God afforded me some life and power both in prayer and sermon, God was pleased to lift me up and show me that he could enable me to preach. O the wonderful goodness of God to so vile a sinner ! Returned to my quarters, and enjoyed some sweetness in prayer alone, and mourned that I could not live more to God.

Wed., Oct. 27. — Spent the forenoon in prayer and medita- tion ; was not a little concerned about preaching in the afternoon ; felt exceedingly without strength, and very help- less indeed ; went into the meeting-house ashamed to see any come to hear such an unspeakably worthless wretch. However, God enabled me to speak with clearness, power, and pungency. But there was some noise and tumult in the

DAVID BKAINEKD. 47

assembly, that I did not well like, and endeavoured to bear public testimony against, with moderation and mildness, through the current of my discourse. In the evening, was enabled to be in some measure thankful and devoted to God.

The frames and exercises of his mind, during the next four days, were mostly very similar to those of the two days past, excepting intervals of considerable degrees of divine peace and consolation.

Thur8.t Nov. 4. — [At Lebanon.] Saw much of my nothing- ness most of this day, but felt concerned that I had no more sense of my insufficiency and unworthiness. O it is sweet lying in the dust! But it is distressing to feel in my soul that hell of corruption, which still remains in me. In the afternoon, had a sense of the sweetness of a strict, close, and constant devotedness to God, and my soul was comforted with the consolations of God ; my soul felt a pleasing yet painful concern lest I should spend some moments without God. O may I always live to God! In the evening, was visited by some friends, and spent the time in prayer and such conversation as tended to our edification. It was a comfortable season to my soul : I felt an intense desire to spend every moment for God. God is unspeakably gracious to me continually : in times past, he has given me inexpres- sible sweetness in the performance of duty, frequently my soul has enjoyed much of God, but has been ready to sav, " Lord, it is good to be here," and so to indulge sloth, while I have lived on the sweetness of my feelings. But of late, God has been pleased to keep my soul hungry almost conti- nually, so that I have been filled with a kind of a pleasing pain. When I really enjoy God, I feel my desires of him the more insatiable, and my thirstings after holiness the more unquenchable, and the Lord will not allow me to feel as though I were fully supplied and satisfied, but keeps me still reaching forward ; and I feel barren and empty, as though I could not live without more of God in me ; I feel ashamed and guilty before God. O ! I see " the law is spiritual, but I am carnal." I do not, I cannot live to God. O for holiness ! O for more of God in my soul ! O this pleasing pain ! It makes my soul press after God : the language of it is, " Then shall I be satisfied, when I awake in God's like- ness" (Ps. xvii. 15), but never, never before: and consequently I am engaged to " press towards the mark," day by day. O D

48 THE LIFE OF

that I may feel this continual hunger, and not be retarded but rather animated by every cluster from Canaan, to reach forward in the narrow way, for the full enjoyment and pos- session of the heavenly inheritance ! O that I may never loiter in my heavenly journey !

These insatiable desires after God and holiness continued the next two days, with a great sense of his own exceeding unworthiness and the nothingness of the things of this world.

Lord's day, Nov. 7. — [At Millington.] It seemed as if such an unholy wretch as I never could arrive at that blessedness — to be "holy, as God is holy." At noon, I longed for sanctification and conformity to God. Oh, that is THE ALL, THE ALL ! The Lord help me to press after God for ever.

Mon.j Nov. 8. — Towards night, enjoyed much sweetness in secret prayer, so that my soul longed for an arrival in the heavenly country, the blessed paradise of God. Through divine goodness, I have scarce seen the day for two months, but death has looked so pleasant to me at one time or other of the day, that I could have rejoiced the present should be my last, notwithstanding my pressing inward trials and con- flicts : and I trust the Lord will finally make me a conqueror, and more than so, that I shall be able 'to use that triumphant language, " O death, where is thy sting I" and, " O grave, where is thy victory!"

Within the next ten days, the following things are ex- pressed: longing and wrestling to be holy, and to live to God ; a desire that every single thought might be for God ; feeling guilty that his thoughts were no more swallowed up in God ; sweet solemnity and calmness of mind ; submission and resignation to God ; great weanedness from the world ; abasement in the dust ; grief at some vain conversation that was observed ; sweetness from time to time in secret prayer, and in conversing and praying with Christian friends. And every day he appears to have been greatly engaged in the great business of religion and living to God, without interruption.

Fri., Nov. 19. — [At New Haven.] Received a letter from the Rev. Mr Pemberton of New York, desiring me speedily to go down thither, and consult about the Indian affairs in those parts, and to meet certain gentlemen there that were intrusted with those affairs. My mind was instantly seized

DAVID BRAINERU. 49

with concern, so I retired with two or three Christian friends and prayed, and indeed it was a sweet time with me ; I was enabled to leave myself and all my concerns with God ; and taking leave of friends, I rode to Ripton, and was comforted in an opportunity to see and converse with dear Mr Mills.

In the next four days, he was sometimes oppressed with the weight of that great affair, about which Mr Pemberton had written to him ; but was enabled from time to time to "cast his burden on the Lord," and to commit himself and all his concerns to him ; and he continued still in a sense of the excellency of holiness, and longings after it. and earnest desires for the advancement of Christ's kingdom in the world ; and had from time to time sweet comfort in meditation and prayer.

Wed., Nov. 24 — Came to New York ; felt still much con- cerned about the importance of my business ; put up many earnest requests to God for his help and direction ; was con- fused with the noise and tumult of the city; enjoyed but little time alone with God, but my soul longed after him.

Thurs., Nov. 25. — Spent much time in prayer and suppli- cation. Was examined by some gentlemen of my Christian experiences, and my acquaintance with divinity, and some other studies, in order to my improvement in that important affair of gospelizing the heathen.* Was made sensible of my great ignorance and unfitness for public service : I had the most abasing thoughts of myself, I think, that ever I had : I thought myself the worst wretch that ever lived : it hurt me, and pained my very heart, that anybody should show me any respect. Alas, methought, how sadly they are de- ceived in me ! how miserably would they be disappointed, if they knew my inside ! Oh, my heart ! And in this depressed condition, I was forced to go and preach to a considerable assembly, before some grave and learned ministers ; but felt such a pressure from a sense of my vileness. ignorance, and unfitness to appear in public, that I was almost overcome with it ; my soul was grieved for the congregation, that they should sit there to hear such a dead dog as I preach; I

* These gentlemen that examined Mr Brainerd, were the correspon- dents in New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania, of the honourable so- ciety in Scotland for propagating Christian knowledge, to whom was committed the management of their affairs iu those parts, and who were now met at New York.

50 THE LIFE OF

thought myself infinitely indebted to the people, and longed that God would reward them with the rewards of his grace. I spent much of the evening alone.

PART IV.

FROM THE TIME OF HIS APPOINTMENT AS A MISSIONARY TO HIS FIRST ENTRANCE ON HIS MISSION AMONG THE INDIANS AT KAUNAUMEEK.

Fri., Nov. 26. — Had still a sense of my great vileness, and endeavoured as much as I could to keep alone. O what a nothing, what dust and ashes am I! Enjoyed some peace and comfort in spreading my complaints before the God of all grace.

Sat., Nov. 27. — Committed my soul to God with some degree of comfort ; left New York about nine in the morn- ing ; came away with a distressing sense still of my unspeak- able unworthiness. Surely I may well love all my brethren, for none of them all is so vile as I ; whatever they do out- wardly, yet it seems to me none is conscious of so much guilt before God. O my leanness, my barrenness, my carnality, and past bitterness, and want of a gospel temper ! These things oppress my soul. Rode from New York, thirty miles, to White Plains, and most of the way continued lifting up my heart to God for mercy and purifying grace, and spent the evening much dejected in spirit.

The next three days he continued in this frame, in a great sense of his own vileness, with an evident mixture of melan- choly, in no small degree ; but had some intervals of comfort, and God's sensible presence with him.

Wed., Dec. 1.— My soul breathed after God, in sweet spiritual and longing desires of conformity to him ; my soul was brought to rest itself and all on his rich grace, and felt strength and encouragement to do or suffer any thing that divine providence should allot me. Rode about twenty miles from Stratfield to Newton.

Within the space of the next nine days, he went a journey

DAVID BRAINERD. 51

from Newton to Haddam, his native town ; and after staying there some days, returned again into the western part of Connecticut, and came to Southbury.

Sat., Dec. 11. — Conversed with a dear friend, to whom I had thought of giving a liberal education, and being at the whole charge of it, that he might be fitted for the gospel ministry.* I aquainted him with my thoughts in that matter, and so left him to consider of it, till I should see him again. Then I rode to Bethlehem, and so came to Mr Bel- lamy's lodgings ; spent the evening with him in sweet conver- sation and prayer ; we recommended the important concern before mentioned (of sending my friend to college) unto the God of all grace. Blessed be the Lord for this evening's op- portunity together.

Lord's day, Dec. 12. — I felt in the morning as if I had , little or no power either to pray or preach, and felt a dis- tressing need of divine help. I went to meeting trembling; but it pleased God to assist me in prayer and sermon ; I think my soul scarce ever penetrated so far into the immaterial world, in any one prayer that ever I made, nor were my de- votions ever so much refined, and free from gross concep- tions and imaginations framed from beholding material ob- jects. I preached with some sweetness, from Matt. vi. 33> "But seek ye first the kingdom of God," &c. ; and in the afternoon from Rom. xv. 30, "And now I beseech you, brethren," &c. There was much affection in the assembly. This has been a sweet Sabbath to me, and blessed be God, I have reason to think that my religion is become more refined and spiritual, by means of my late inward conflicts. Amen. May I always be willing that God should use his own methods with me!

* Mr Brainerd having now undertaken the business of a missionary to the Indians, and expecting in a little time to leave his native country, to go among the savages into the fav distant wilderness, and spend the re- mainder of his life among them, and having some estate left him by his father, and thinking he should have no occasion for it .among them (though afterwards, as he told me, he found himself mistaken), he set himself to think which way he might spend it most to the glory of God; and no way presenting itself to his thoughts, wherein he could do more good with it, than by being ac the charge of educating some young per- son for the ministry, that appeared to be of good abilities and well-dis- posed, he pitched upon this person here spoken of to this end, who ac. cordingly was soon put to learning, and Mr Brainerd continued to be at the charge of his education from year to year, so long as he (Mr Brainerd) lived, which was till this young mail was carried through his third year in college.

52 THE LIFE OF

Mon., Dec. 13. — Joined in prayer with Mr Bellamy, and found sweetness and composure in parting with him, who went a journey. Enjoyed some sweetness through the day, and just at night rode down to Woodbury.

Tues.t Dec. 14. — Some perplexity hung on my mind ; was distressed last night and this morning for the interest of Zion, especially on account of the false appearances of reli- gion, that do but rather breed confusion, especially in some places. I cried to God for help, to enable me to bear testi- mony against those things, which, instead of promoting, do but hinder the progress of vital piety. In the afternoon, rode down to Southbury, and conversed again with my friend about the important affair of his following the work of the ministry, and he appeared much inclined to devote himself to that work, if God should succeed his attempts to qualify him- self for so great a work. In the evening I preached from 1 Thess. iv. 8, and endeavoured, though with tenderness, to undermine false religion. The Lord gave me some assistance ; but, however, I seemed so vile, I was ashamed to be seen when I came out of the meeting-house.

Wed., Dec. 15 — Enjoyed something of God to-day, both in secret and social prayer ; but was sensible of much barren- ness and defect in duty, as well as my inability to help myself for the time to come, or to perform the work and business I have to do. Afterwards felt much of the sweetness of reli- on arid the tenderness of the gospel temper, was far from itterness, and found a dear love to all mankind, and was afraid of scarcely any thing so much as lest some motion of anger or resentment should, some time or other, creep into my heart. Had some comforting, soul-refreshing discourse with some dear friends, just as we took our leave of each other, and supposed it might be likely we should not meet again till we came to the eternal world.* But I doubt not, through grace, but that some of us shall have a happy meet- ing there, and bless God for this season, as well as for many others. Amen. «

Thurs.) Dec. 16. — Rode down to Derby; had some sweet thoughts on the road ; my thoughts were very clear, especially

* It had been determined by the commissioners, who employed Mr Brainerd as a missionary, that he should go, as soon as might be con- veniently, to the Indians living near the Forks of Delaware river in Penn- sylvania, and the Indians on Susquehannah river ; and this being far off, where he would be exposed to many hardships and dangers, was the oc- caaioD of his taking leave of his friends in this manner.

gi bi

DAVID BRAINERD. 53

on the essence of our salvation by Christ, from those words, " Thou shall call his name Jesus."

Fri., Dec. 17. — Spent much time in sweet conversation on spiritual things with dear Mr Humphreys. Rode to Kipton ; spent some time in prayer with dear Christian friends.

Sat., Dec. 18. — Spent much time in prayer in the woods; seemed raised above the things of the world ; my soul was strong in the Lord of hosts ; but was sensible of great bar- renness.

Lord's day, Dec. 19. — At the sacrament of the Lord's Supper seemed strong in the Lord, and the world, with all its frowns and flatteries, in a great measure disappeared, so that my soul had nothing to do with them, and 1 felt a dis- position to be wholly and for ever the Lord's. In the even- ing, enjoyed something the divine presence ; had a humbling sense of my vileness, barrenness, and sinfulness. O, it wounded me to think of the misimprovement of time! " God be merciful to me a sinner/'

Mon., Dec. 20. — Spent this day in prayer, reading, and writing; and enjoyed some assistance, especially in correct- ing some thoughts on a certain subject ; but had" a mournful sense of my barrenness.

Tues.,Dec. 21. — Had a sense of my insufficiency for any public work and business, as well as to live to God. I rode over to Derby, and preached there : it pleased God to give me very sweet assistance and enlargement, and to enable me to speak with a soft and tender power and energy. We had afterwards a comfortable evening in singing and prayer ; God enabled me to pray with as much spirituality and sweetness as I have done for some time ; my mind seemed to be un- clothed of sense and imagination, and was in a measure let into the immaterial world of spirits. This day and evening was, I trust, through infinite goodness, made very profitable to a number of us, to advance our souls in holiness and con- formity to God ; the glory be to him for ever. Amen. How blessed it is to grow more and more like God!

Wed., Dec. 22. — Enjoyed some assistance in preaching at Kipton ; but my soul mourned within me for my barrenness.

Thurs., Dec. 23. — Enjoyed, I trust, something of God this morning in secret. O how divinely sweet is it to come into the secret of his presence, and abide in his pavilion! Took an affectionate leave of iriends, not expecting to see them again for a very considerable time, if ever in this world. Rode with Mr Humphreys to his house at Derby ; spent the

54 THE LIFE OF

time in sweet conversation; my soul was refreshed and sweetly melted with divine things. Oh that I was always consecrated to God ! Near night, I rode to New Haven, and there enjoyed some sweetness in prayer and conversation, with some dear Christian friends. My mind was sweetly serious and composed ; but alas ! I too much lost the sense of divine things.

He continued much in the same frame of mind, and in like exercises, the two following days.

Lord's day, Dec. 26. — Felt much sweetness and tenderness in prayer, especially my whole soul seemed to love my worst enemies, and was enabfed to pray for those that are strangers and enemies to God with a great degree of softness and pa- thetic fervour. In the evening rode from New Haven to Bran- ford, after I had kneeled down and prayed with a number of dear Christian friends in a very retired place in the woods, and so parted.

Mon.9 Dec. 27. — Enjoyed a precious season indeed ; had a sweet melting sense of divine things, of the pure spirituality of the religion of Christ Jesus. In the evening I preached from Matt. vi. 33, with much freedom, and sweet power and pungency; the presence of God attended our meeting. O the sweetness, the tenderness I felt in my soul! if ever I felt the temper of Christ, I had some sense of it now. Blessed be my God, I have seldom enjoyed a more comfortable and profitable day than this. O that I could spend all my time for God !

Tues., Dec. 28. — Rode from Branford to Haddam. In the morning, my clearness and sweetness in divine things continued, but afterwards my spiritual life sensibly declined.

The next twelve days, he was for the most part extremely dejected, discouraged, and distressed, and was evidently very much under the power of melancholy ; and there are from day to day most bitter complaints of exceeding vileness, ig- norance, corruption, an amazing load of guilt, unworthiness to creep on God's earth, everlasting uselessness, fitness for nothing, &c. ; and sometimes expressions even of horror at the thoughts of ever preaching again. But yet in this time of great dejection, he speaks of several intervals of divine help and comfort.

The next three days, which were spent at Hebron and the

DAVID BRA1NEKD. C5

Crank (a parish in Lebanon), he had relief, and enjoyed con- siderable comfort.

Fri., Jan. 14, 1742-3. — My spiritual conflicts to-day were unspeakably dreadful, heavier than the mountains and over- flowing floods. I seemed inclosed, as it were, in hell itself: I was deprived of all sense of God, even of the being of a God: and that was my misery. I had no awful apprehen- sions of God as angry. This was distress, the nearest akin to the damned's torments, that I ever endured. Their tor- ment, I am sure, will consist much in a privation of God, and consequently of all good. This taught me the absolute de- pendence of a creature upon God the Creator, for every crumb of happiness it enjoys. Oh ! I feel that if there is no God, though I might live for ever here, and enjoy not only this but all other worlds, I should be ten thousand times more miser- able than a toad. My soul was in such anguish I could not eat, but felt, as I supposed a poor wretch would that is just going to the place of execution. I was almost swallowed up with an- guish, when I saw people gathering together to hear me preach. However, I went in that distress to the house of God, and found not much relief in the first prayer; it seemed as if God would let loose the people upon me to destroy me ; nor were the thoughts of death distressing to me, like my own vileness. But afterwards in my discourse from Deut. viii. 2, God was pleased to give me some freedom and enlargement, some power and spirituality, and I spent the evening something comfortably.

The next two days, his comfort continues, and he seems to enjoy an almost continual sweetness of soul in the duties and exercises of religion and Christian conversation. On Mon- day was a return of the gloom he had been under the Friday before. He rode to Coventry this day, and the latter part of the day had more freedom. On Tuesday he rode to Canter- bury, and continued more comfortable.

Wed., Jan. 19. — [At Canterbury.] — In the afternoon preached the lecture at the meeting-house: felt some tender- ness, and something of the gospel-temper: exhorted the people to love one another, and not to set up their own frames as a standard to try all their brethren by ; but was much pressed, most of the day, with a sense of my own bad- ness, inward impurity, and unspeakable corruption. Spent the 3vening in loving Christian conversation.

C(5 THE LIFE OF

Thurs., Jan. 20. — Rode to my brother's house between Norwich and Lebanon, and preached in the evening to a number of people: enjoyed neither freedom nor spirituality, but saw myself exceeding unworthy.

Fri., Jan. 21. — Had great inward conflicts; enjoyed but little comfort. Went to see Mr Williams of Lebanon, spent several hours with him, and was greatly delighted with his serious, deliberate, and impartial way of discourse about religion.

The next day, he was much dejected.

Lord's day., Jan. 23. — Scarce ever felt myself so unfit to exist as now : I saw I was not worthy of a place among the Indians, where I am going, if God permit: I thought I should be ashamed to look them in the face, and much more to have any respect shown me there. Indeed I felt myself banished from the earth, as if all places were too good for such a wretch as I : I thought I should be ashamed to go among the very savages of Africa ; I appeared to myself a creature fit for nothing, neither heaven nor earth. None knows, but those that feel it, what the soul endures that is sensibly shut out from the presence of God : alas ! it is more bitter than death.

On Monday, he rode to Stoningtown, Mr Fish's parish. On Tuesday he expresses considerable degrees of spiritual comfort and refreshment.

Wed., Jan. 26. — Preached to a pretty large assembly at Mr Fish's meeting-house: insisted on humility, and stead- fastness in keeping God's commands, and that through humi- lity we should prefer one another in love, and not make our own frames the rule by which we judge others. I felt sweetly calm, and