Journey to Boston, and the Circumstances of His Death (part 2 of 3)
218 THE LIFE OF [PART WII.
agreeable to me; I looked on it as the end of toils, and an entrance into a place “where the weary are at rest.” I think also I had some relish of the entertainments of the heavenly state; so that by these I was allured and drawn, as well as driven by the fatigues of lite. How happy it is to be drawn by desires of a state of perfect holiness.
Saturday, April 4. Was sunk and dejected, very y restless and uneasy, by reason of the misimprovement of time. Yet I knew not what te do: I longed to spend time in fasting - and prayer, that I might be delivered from indoleace and
~coldness in the things of God; but alas, I had not bodily strength for these exercises. Oh how blessed a thing is it, to enjoy peace of conscience; but how dreadful is the want of inward peace and composure. It is impossible I find, to enjoy this happiness without redeeming time and maintaining a spiritual frame of mind.
Lord’s day, April 5. It grieved me to find myself so inconceivably barren. My soul thirsted for grace; but alas, how far was I from obtaining what | saw so exceeding excelent. I was ready to despair of ever being holy; yet my soul was desirous of “following hard after God. Never did 1 see myself so far from “ having apprehended, or being already perfect,” as at this time. The Lord’s supper being this day administered, I attended the ordinance: and though I saw io myself a dreadful emptiness and want of grace, and saw myself as it were at an infinite distance from that purity which is becoming the gospel; vet in the season of communion, especially in the time of the distribution of the bread, I enjoyed some warmth of affection, and felt a tender love to the brethren; and I think, to the glorious Redeemer, the —* first-born’ among them. I endeavoured then to bring forth mine and his enemies, and slay them before him; and found great freedom in begging deliverance from this spiritual death, as well as in asking divine favours for my friends, and congregation, and the church of Christ in general.
Tuesday, April 7. In the afternoon, rode to Newark, in order to marry the Rev. Mr. Dickinson ;* and in the even-
* The late learned and very excellent Mr, Jonathan Dickinson, pastor of a church in Elisabeth-Town, president of the college of New-Jersey, and one of the correspondents of the honourable society in Scotland for propagating Christian knowledge. He had a great esteem for Mr. Brainerd, and had kindly entertained him in his house during his sickness in the winter past; and after a short illness, died in the next ensuing October, two days before Mr. Brainerd.
Pattvi.). DAVID BRAINERD. 219
ing, performed the ‘ceremony. Afterwards, rodé home té Elisabeth-Town, in a pleasant frame, fall of compesare aad sweetness.
Thursday, April9. Attended the ordination of Mr. Tucker,* and afterwards the examination of Mr. Smith: was in @com-. fortable frame of mind this day, and enjoyed a degree of spirituality.
Friday, April 10. Spent the forenoon in Presbyterial business. - In ‘the’ afternoon, rode to Elisabeth Town; found ny brother John there,} and spent some time in conversation with him; but was extremely weak, and my mind dejected.
Monday, April 13. Assisted in examining my brother. In the evening, was in a solemn devout frame; but much overdone and oppressed with a violent head-ach.
Tuesday, April 14. Was able to do very little: spent Some time with Mr. Byram and other friends. This day my brother went to my people.
Wedn&day, April 15. Found some freedom at the throne of grace, several times this day. In the afternoon, was very Weak, and spent the time to very little purpose; but in -the evening, had some warmth and spiritual desires in prayer; my soul seemed to go forth after God, and take complacence in his divine perfections. _ But alas afterwards, awfully let down my watch, and grew careless and secure.
Thursday, April 16. Was in bitter anguish of soul iu the morning, such as I have seldom felt, with a sense of sin and guilt. 1 continued in distress the whole day, attempting te pray wherever 1 went, and indeed could not help so doing; but appeared to myself so vile, that { daved not look any body ia the face. Iwas even grieved that any body should shew
*-A worthy pious young gentleman, who lived in the minietty but a very short time. He died at Stratfield in Connecticut, the December following his ordination, being a little while after Mr. Brainerd’s death at Northampton. He was taken ill on a journey, returning from a visit to his friends at Milton im Massachussets, which was probably his native place, and Harvard-college the Plate of his education.
‘ t This brother of his had been sent for by the correspondente, to take care of and instruct Mr, Brainerd’s congregation of Indians, he being obliged by his illness to be absent from.them. And he continued te take care of them till Mr. Brainerd’s death; since then, he bas been ordained his successor in the mission, and to the charge of his congregation; which continues much to Gegrisk under his pastoral care.
of
220 THE LIFE OF 7 [PART VIF.
me any respect, at least that they should be so deceived as to think I deserved it.
Friday, April 17. In the evening, could not but think that God helped me to draw near to the throne of grace, though mest unworthy, and gave mea sense of his favour. This afforded me inexpressible support and encouragement, though I scarcely dared to hope the mercy was real, it appeared so great; yet could not but rejoice, that ever God should discover his reconciled face to such a vile sinner: Shame and confusion covered me, then hope and joy, and admiration of divine goodness gained the ascendant. Sometimes I could not but admire that the Lord had not let me fall into. al} the grossest acts of sin and open scandal that could be thought of, and felt myself so necessitated to praise God, that this was ready for a little while to swallow up my shame and pressure of spirit on account of my sins.
Monday, April 20.. Was in a very disordered state, an¢ kept my bed most of the day; but enjoyed a little more comfort than in several of the preceding days. This day I arrived at the age of twenty-nine years.
Tuesday, April 21. Iset out on my journey for Newe England, in order (if it might be the will of God) to recover my health by riding: travelled to New-York, and there lodged.
[This proved his final departure from New-Jersey. He travelled slowly, and arrived among his friends at East- Haddam, about the beginning of May. There is very little account in his diary, of the time. that passed from his setting out on this journey to May 10. He speaks of his sometimes rejoicing in the glorious perfections of God, and longing to live to him; but complains of the unfixedness of his thoughts, and their being easily diverted from divine subjects; and cries out of his leanness, as testifying against him, in the loudest manner. Concerning those diversions he was obliged _#to use for his health, he says that he sometimes found he
could use them with “singleness of heart,” aiming at the _ glory of God; but that he also found there was need of great care and watchfulness, lest he should lose that spiritual temper of mind in his diversions, and lest they should degenerate into what was merely selfish, without any suprente aim at the glory of God in them.]
Lord's day, May 10. At Had-Lime. I could not but feel some measure of gratitude to God at this time, (wherein Iwas much exercised,) that he had always disposed me, in my ministry, to insist on the great doctrines of regeneration, the new creature, faith in Christ, progressive sanctification, supreme love to God, living entirely to the glory of God, being not our own, and the like. God has helped me to see in the surest manner, from time to time, that these, and other doctrines necessarily connected with them, are the only foundation of safety for panishing sinners; and that those dispositions which correspond with them, are that holiness, “ without which no man shall see the Lord.” The exercise of these heavenly tempers, wherein the soul acts in a kind of concert with God, and would be and do every thing that is pleasing to-him; this I saw would stand by the soul in a dying hour; for God must, I think, deny myself, if he cast away his own image, even the soul that is one in desires with himself.
Lord’s day, May 17. At Millington. Spent the forenoon at home, being unable to attend public worship. At this time, God gave me some affecting sense of my own vileness, and the exceeding sinfulness of my heart; that there seemed to be nothing but sin and corruption within me. “ Innumerable evils compassed me about;” my want of spirituality
_and holy living, my neglect of God, and living to myself.
All the abominations of my heart and life seemed to be open
‘tomy view; and [ had nothing to say, but “ God be merci-
ful to me a sinner.”——-Towards noon, I saw that the grace of God in Christ is infinitely free towards sinners, and such sinners as 1 was; I also saw that God is the supreme good, that in his presence is life; and I began to long to die that 1 might be with him, in a state of freedom from all sin: Oh how a small glimpse of his excellency refreshed my soul. Oh how worthy is the blessed God to be loved, adored, and delighted in, for himself, for his own divine excellencies! Though I felt much dulness, and want of a spirit in prayer this week; yet 1 had some glimpses of the excellency of divine things. Especially one morning, in secret meditation and prayer, the excellency and beauty of holiness, as a_likeness to the glorious God, was so discovered to me, that I began to Jong earnestly to be in that world where holiness dwells in perfection; and 1 seemed to long for this perfect holiness, not so much for the sake of my own happiness, 922 THE LIFR.OF —. [part yus.
(although I saw clearly that this was the greatest, yea, the only happiness of the soul,) as that | might please God, live entirely to bim, and glorify him to the utmost stretch of my rational powers and capacities.
Lord's day, May 24. At Long-Meadow in a Springfield. Could not but think, as I have often remarked to others, that much more of true religion consists in deep humility, brokenness of heart, and an abasing sense of barrenness and want of. grace and holiness, than most who are called Christians, imagine; especially those who have been esteemed the converts of the late day, many of whom seem to know of no other religion but elevated joys and 2fections, arising only from some flights of imagination, or some suggestion made to their mind, of Christ’s being their’s, God's laving them, and the like.
(Thursday, May 28. He came from Long-Meadow to —Northampton, appearing much better than by his own account he had been in the winter; indeed so well that he was able to ride twenty-five miles in a day, and to walk half a mile. He also appeared cheerful, and free from melancholy; yet undoubtedly at that time in a confirmed, incurable consumption.
I had had much opportunity, before this, of particular information concerning him, from many who were well ‘acquainted with him; and had myself once an opportunity of considerable conversation and some acquaintance With him at New-Haven, near four years before, in the time of the Commencement, when he offered his confession to the rector of the college, already mentioned in this history. He was pleased indeed several times to consult me on that affair, _ but now I became more fully acquainted with 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 demureness, or affected singularity in speech or behaviour, and seeming to nauseate all such things, We enjoyed not only the benefit of his conversation, but had the comfort and advantage of hearing him pray in the family from time to time. His manner of praying was very agreeable, most becoming a worm of the dust, and a disciple. of Christ; addressing an infinitely great and holy God and, the Father of mercies, not with florid expressions ora studied eloquence, nat with any intemperate yehemence or indecent boldness; at the greatest distance from. any appearance of astentation, and from every thing that might look as though he meant to recommend himself to those who were about him,
‘ ar set himself off to their acceptance; free too from vain
Tepetitions, without impertinent excursions, or needless mule tiplying of words. He expressed himself with the strictest, propriety, with weight and pungency; and yet what his lips uttered seemed to flow from the fulness of his heart, as deeply impressed with a great and solemn sense of our necessities, unworthiness and dependance, aud of God’s infinite greatness, excellency and sufficiency, rather than merely from a warm and fruitful brain, pouring out good expressions. And [ | know not that ever I heard him so much as ask a blessing or —tetarn thanks at table, but there was. something remarkable to
_ be observed both in the matter and manner of the performance.
In his prayers, he dwelt much on the prosperity of Zion, the, advancement of Christ’s kingdom in the world, and the propagation of religion among the Indians. He generally made it one petition in his prayer, “ that we might not outlive. our usefulness.”].
Lord’s day, May 31. At Northampton. 1 had little inward sweetness in religion, during the week past; not realising and beholding spiritually the glory of God, and the blessed Redeemer, from whence always arise my comforts and joys in religion, if I have any at all; and if I cannot so behold the excellencies and perfections of God, as to cause me to rejoice in him for what he is in himself, | have no solid foundation for joey. To rejoice, only because } appre- - hend I have an interest in Christ, and shall be finally saved, is a poor mean business indeed.
[This week he consulted Dr. Mather at my house, concerning his illness; who plainly told him that there were great evidences of his being in a confirmed consumption, and that he could give him no encouragement that he should ever recover. But it seemed not to occasion the least discomposure in him, nor to make any manner of alteration as to. the cheerfulness and serenity of his mind, or the freedom and Pleasantness of his conversation.)
224. THE LIFE OF [PART VII;
Lords day, June 7. My attention was greatly engaged, - and my soul so drawn forth this day, by what I heard of the “ exceeding preciousness of the saving grace of God’s Spirit,” that it almost overcame me in my weak state. I saw that true grace is exceeding precious indeed, that it is very rare, and that there is but a small degree of it, even where the reality of it is to be found; at least, I saw this to be my case.
In the preceding week, I enjoyed some comfortable seasons of meditation. One morning, the cause of God appeared exceeding precious to me. The Redeemer’s kingdom is all that is valuable on earth, and I[ could not but long for its promotion. I saw also that this cause is God’s, that he has an infinitely greater regard and concern for it than | could possibly have; that if I have any true love to ‘ this blessed interest, it is only a drop derived from that ~ ocean; hence I was ready to lift up my head with joy, and conclude, ‘ Well, if God’s cause be so dear and precious to him, he will promote it.” Thus I rested as it were on God, that surely he would promote what was so agreeable to his own will, though the time when must still be left to his sovereign pleasure. 4
[He was advised by physicians still to continue riding, as what would tend above any other means to prolong his life. He was at a loss for some time which way-to bend his course, but finally determined to ride from hence to Boston; we having concluded that one of this family should go with him, and be helpful to him in his weak and low state.]
Tuesday, June 9. I set out on a journey from Northampton to Boston. Travelled slowly, and got acquainted with some ministers on the road. Having continued to ride for some considerable time, I felt myself much better than [ had formely done; and found that in proportion to the prospect 1 had of being restored to a state of usefulness, so I desired the continuance of life. Death however appeared inconceivably more desirable to me than a useless life; yet blessed be God, I found my heart at times fully resigned and reconciled to this greatest of afflictions, if God saw fit thus to deal with me.
Friday, July 12. 1 arrived in Boston this day, somewhat
oa ene“ ba
fatigued with my journey. Observed that there & no rest, but in God. Fatigues of body and anxieties of mind attend us, both in town and country; no place is exempted.
Lord’s day, June 14. I enjoyed some enlargement and sweetness in family-prayer, as well as in secret exercises. God appeared excellent, his ways full of pleasure and peace, ‘and all I wanted was a spirit of holy fervency to live to him. -
Wednesday, June 17. This and the two preceding days I spent chiefly in visiting the ministers of the town, and was treated with great respect by them.
Thursday, June 18. I was taken very ill, and brought to the ‘gates of death, by the breaking of small ulcers in my lungs, as my physician supposed. In this extreme weak state I continued for several weeks, and was frequently reduced se low as to be utterly speechless, and not able so much as to whisper a Wogd; and even after I had so far revived as to walk about the house, and to step out of doors, 1 had every day a fainting fit, which cog¢inued usually four or five hours. Though I was not utterly*speeobless at those times, but could say yes or no, yet I could not converse at all, nor speak one sentence without making stops for breath. My friends often gathered round my bed to see me breathe my last, which they looked for every moment, as I myself also did.
How I was the first day or two of my illness, with regard to the exercise of reason, I scarcely know; but believe I was something shattered with the violence of the fever at times. But the third day of my illness, and constantly afterwards, for fousypr five weeks together, I enjoyed as much serenity of mintPand clearness of thought as perhaps 1 ever did in my life; and think I never penetrated with so much ease and freedom into divine things, and never felt so capable of demonstrating the truth of many important doctrines of the gospel as now. And as I saw clearly the truth of those great doctrines, which are justly stiled the doctrines of grace; 80 1 saw with no less clearness that the essence of religion’ consisted in the soul’s conformity to God, and acting above all selfish views, for his glory, longing to be for him, to live to him, and please and honour Aim in all things; and this from a clear view of his infinite excellency and worthiness in himself, to be loved, adored, worshipped, and served by all intelligent creatures. Thus I saw, that when a soul loves
"Q 226 THE LIFE OF foaRT Vitt
God witht a supreme love, he therein acts like the blessed God himself, who most justly Joves himself in that manner: 30 when God’s interest and his are become one, and he longs that God should be glorified, and rejoices te think that he is unchangeably possessed of the highest glory and blessedness, herein also he acts in conformity to God: in like manner, when the soul is fully resigned ta, and rests satisfied and contented with the divine will, here it is also conformed to God. I saw further, that as this divine temper by which the soul exalts God, and treads self in the dust, is the effect of Ged’s discovering his own glorious perfections “in the face of Jesus Christ,” by the special influences of the holy Spirit, 20 he cannot but have regard to it as his own work; and as it is his image in the soul, he cannot but take delight i init. Ther * 4 saw again, that if God should slight and select bis own * moral image, he must needs deny himself; which he cazmot do. And thus I saw the stability and infallibility of this religion, and that those who are truly possessed of it have the most complete and satisfying evidence of their being interested in all the benefits of Christ’s redemption, having their hearts conformed to him; and that these, and these a only, are qualified for the employments and emtertainments of God's kingdom of glory. None but these have any relish for the business of heaven, which is to ascribe glory to God, and not to themselves; and that God (though I would speak it with great reverence of his name and perfections) cannot, without denying himself, finally cast such away.
The next thing I had then to do was to inquire,a whether this was my religion. Here God was pleased to help me to the most easy remembrance and critical review of what had passed, during several of the latter years of my life: and although I could discover much corruption attending my best duties,ymany selfish views and carnal ends, much spiritual pride and self-exaltation, and innumerable other evils which
‘-"tompassed me about; yet God was pleased, as 1 was reviewing, quickly to put this question out of doubt, by shewing me that I bad from time to time acted above the utmost influence of mere self-love, and had longed to please and glorify him as my highest happiness. This review was through grace attended with a present feeling of the same divine temper of mind, I now felt pleased to think of the Pant vusJ DAVID BRAINERD. 227
glery of God, and langed for heaven as a state wherein I “"ynight glorify his perfectly, rather than as a place of happi- > yess for myself. This feeling of the love of God in my heart, which I trust the holy Spirit excited in me afresh, was sufficient to give me full satisfaction, and make me long, as ‘* Thad many times before done, to be with Christ. I did not * pow want. any of the sudden suggestions which many are so pleased with, ‘ That Christ and his benefits are mine, that God loves me,’ in order to give me satisfaction about my. state. Wo, my soul now abhorred thape delusions of Satay, ‘which are thought to be the immediate witness of the Spirty while there is nothing but an empty suggestion of a certain fact, without any gracious discovery of the divine glory, or of the Spirit’s work in their own hearts. I saw the awful @elusion of this kind of confidence, as -well as of the whole of that religion which they usually spring from, or at least ate the attendants of,—the false religion of the late day, though a day of wondrous grace; the imaginations and impeessions made only on the animal affections, together with the sudden suggestions made to the mind by Satan, transe formed into an angel of light, of certain facts not revealed ia ‘scripture. These and many like things, I fear, have made* up the. gftpter part: of she religious appearance in mary %* Places.;
: These things I saw with great, clearness, when I wag thought to be dying. And God <give me great concern for his church and interest in the world at this time, not so much because the late remarkable influence upon the minds of people was abated, and almost wholly gone, as because that false religion, those heats of izhagination and wild and selfish commotions:of the animal affections, which attended the work of grace, had prevailed so far. This was what my mind ‘dwelt upon almost day and night; and this to amé was the darkest appearance, respecting religion, in the land; ‘for it was. os chiefly that. had prejudiced the world against true
I observed, the great misegy.of all was, that so few saw any manner of. difference been those exercises that were spiritual and holy, and those which have se/f- love only for their beginning, centre, and end,
As God was*‘pleased to afford me clearness of thought and composure of mind, almost continually, for several weeks together, under my great weakness; so he enabled me ‘in «
eg ’
928 THE LIFE OF [PART Wilt..
some measure to improve my time (as I hope) to valuable | purposes. I was enabled to write a number of impor | letters to friends in remote places ;* and sometimes“ I wrote 4 when I was speechless, or unable to maintain conversation with any body, though perhaps I was able to speak a word or two so as to be heard.—At this season also, while I was. confined at Boston, I read with care and attention seme papers of old Mr. Shepard’s, lately come to light, and designed for the press; and being desired and greatly urged, I made some corredions, where the sense was left dark for ant of a word or two.— Besides this, I had many visttants; with whom, when I was able to speak, I always conversed of the things of religion; and was peculiarly disposed and as- ‘sisted in distinguishing between the true and false religion of the times. There was scarcely any subject that has been lately a matter of debate, but what I was at one time or other brought to a sort of necessity to discourse upon, and to shew my opinion, and that frequently before numbers of people; and especially, I discoursed repeatedly on the nature and necessity of that humiliation, self-emptiness, or full conviction of a person’s being utterly undone in himself, which tis necessary in order to a saving faith; and the extreme “* difficulty of being brought to this, as well ag the great danger there is of persons taking up with some self-righteous appearances of it. The danger of this I especially dwelt upon, being persuaded that multitudes perish in this hidden way, and because so little is said from most pulpits to discover any danger here; so that persons being never effectually brought to die in themselves, are never truly united to Christ, and so perish. -I also discoursed much on what I take to be the essence of true religion, endeavouring plainly to describe that God-like temper and disposition, that holy covefsagion and behaviour, which may justly claim the honour of having God for its original and patron. And I have reason to hope that my way of discoursing and distinguishing was bleasgd to some, both ministers and pefiples so that my time was got wholly lost.
a
[He was visited, while in Boston, by .many eminent characters, and by some of the first rank; who shewed him
bi * Among these are the eighth, ninth, and tenth letters, at the end of this -_ history. aah ®
} PART VIiI.) DAVID BRAINERD. 229
uncommon respect, and appeared highly pleased and enter-
- tained with his conversation. Besides being honoured with the company and respect of ministers of the town, he was visited by several ministers from various parts of the country; and as he took all opportunities to discourse on the peculiar nature and distinguishing characters of true vital religion, and to bear his testimony against the various false appéatances of it, consisting in or arising from impressions on the imagination, and sudden and supposed immediate suggestions of truths, not contained in the scripture, and that faith which consists primarily in a person’s ‘ believing that Christ died> for him in particular ;’ so what he said was for the most part heard with uncommon attention and regard. His discourses. and reasonings appeared manifestly to have great weight and influence, with many that he conversed with, both ministers and others.*
Also the honourable Commissioners in Boston, of the incorporated. society in London for propagating the gospel in New-England’and parts adjacent, having newly had committed to them a legacy of the late reverend and famous Dr..
Dagigl Williams of London, for the support of Two Missides to. the Heathen, were pleased, while he was in Bos- ~ ton, to consult him about a mission to those Indians called: the Six Nations, particularly ab@&t the qualifications requisite in a missionary to those Indians; and were so satisfied with his sentim@nts on this head, and had that confidence in ~ his,judgment’ and discretion in things of this nature, that they desired him to undertake to find and recommend two persons fit to be employed in this business; and very much
left the matter with him.
Likewise certain pious and generously disposed gentlemen’ in Boston, being moved by the wonderful narrative of his labours and success among the Indians, in New-Jersey, and more especially by their conversation with him on the same subject, took opportunity to inquire more particularly into the siate and necessities of his congregation, and the school among the Indians, with a charitable intention of contributing
MB 0 the excellent design of advancing the interests of Chris-
an
* T have had the advantage of a more fall information of his conduct and. Conversation, the entertainment he met with, and what passed relating to him while in Boston; as he was constantly attended, during his continuance there, by gne of my children, in order to assist him in his illness.
Q 3 230. TAE LIFE OF .. [Pax ‘vinr.:
tianity among the Indians; and understanding that there was a want of Bibles for the school, three dozen were innme~ | diately procured, and 142. in bills of the old tenor given over | and above. Large benefactions were made afterwards, which } shall have occasion to mention in their proper place: Mr. Brainerd’s restoration from his extremely low state: is Boston, so as to go abroad again and to travel, was very tm expected to him and his friends My daughter who was with him, writes thus in a letter dated June 23. “ Ow Thursday he was ill with a violent fever, and extreme pain in his head and breast, and at times delirious. So he remained till ‘Saturday evening, when he seemed to be in the agonies of death; the family was up with him till one or two o'clock, expecting every hour would be his last. On Sabbath day he was a little revived, his head was better, but. very fall of pain, and exceeding sore at his breast, much pat to it for breath, Sc. Yesterday he was better; last wight he slept but hitle, and this morning he is much worse. Dr. Pynchon says, he has no hopes of his life, nor does He think it likely he will ever come out of the chamber; though he says, he may possibly be able to come to Northampton.” ey In another letter dated Jane 29, she says as follows. “ Mr. Brainerd has ngt so much pain nor fever, since I fast: wrote, as before; yet he is‘e&ktremely weak and low, and very faint, expecting every day will be his last. He says, It is impossible for him to live, for want of life. He has hardly vigour enough to draw his breath. I went «Ris morning,jito town, and when [ came home, Mr. Bromfield said, he never expected I should see him alive; for he lay two hours, as they thought, dying. One could scarcely tell whether he was alive or not; he was not able to speak for some time, but now is much as he was, before. The Doctor thinks he will. drop away in one of these fainting fits. Mr. Brainerd. says he never felt any thing so much like dissolution, a3 what he felt to-day; and that he never had any conception of its. being possible for any creature to be alive, and yet so weak as he is from day to day. Dr. Pynchon says he should not. be surprised, if he should so far recover as to. live half a year; ® nor would it surprise him, if he should die in half a day, Since | began to write, he is not so well, having had a fainting again: yet patient and resigned, having no distressing, fears, but the contrary.”.
5
af)
a When his. physician, the honourgble Joseph Pynchan, Esq. visited him in his extreme illness # Boston, he attributed his sinking so suddenly into a state so extremely low, and nigh ante death, to she breaking of ulcers, which had been long gathering in his lungs, (as Mr. Brainerd himself intimates in a forementioned passage in his diary,) and there discharging and diffusing their purulent matter; which, while nature was labouring and struggling to throw off, by a gradual straining of it through the smaller vessels, occasioned a high fever and violent coughing, and threw the whole frame into the utmost disorder, and brought it near to dissolution. The doctor sup posed, if the strength of nature held till the lungs had in this way gradually cleared themselves of the putrid matter, he might revive, and continue better, til]. new ulcers gathered ahd broke; but thea he woulgisink again, and there was no, hope of his recovery.
So it was ordered in divine providence; the strength of nature held out through this great conflict, so as just to escape the grave at that time; and then he revived, to the astonishment of all that knows his case. After he began to revive, he was visited by his youngest brother, Mr. Israel Brainerd, a student at Yale-College; who having heard of his extreme illnege,. went from thence to Boston in otder to see him, if he. might find him alive, which he but little expected.
This visit Was attended with a mixture of joy and sortow te Mr. Brainerd. He greatly rejoiced to see his brother, especially because he had desired an opportunity of some ree ligious conversation with him before he died. But this meeting was attended with sorrow, as his brother brought him the sorrowful tidings of his sister Spencer’s death at Haddam. A peculiarly tender affection and much religious intiifacy had long subsisted between Mr. Brainerd and his Sister, and he used to make ber house his hégre, whenever he went to Haddam, his native place. He had heard nothing of her sickness till this report of her death. But he had these comforts, together with the*tidings, viz. a confidence of her being gone to heaven, and an expectation of his soon meeting her there-—His brother continued with him till he left the town, and came with him from thence to Nor- ' thampton.;
24 | “6 ese THE LIFE OF [rail vir.
Concerning the last Sakbath Mr. Brainerd spent in Boston, he writes in his Diary as follows.]
Lord’s day, July 19. I was just able to attend public worship, being carried to the house of God in a chaise. Heard Dr. Sewall preach in the forenoon, and partook of the Lord’s supper. In this sacrament I saw astonishing divine wisdom displayed, such wisdom as required the tongues of angels and glorified saints to celebrate. It seemed to me that I never should do any thing in adoring the infinite wisdom of God, discovered in the contrivance of man’s redemption, until I arrived at a world of perfection. Yet I could not help’ striving to “ call upon my soul, and all within me to bless his holy name.” In the afternoon heard Mr. Prince preach. I saw more of God; in the wisdom discovered in the plan of man’s redemption, than I saw of “any other of his perfections, through the whole day.
[He left Boston the next day. But before he came away, he had occasion to bear a fudé,and open testimony against that opinion, that the essence of saving faith lies in believing that Christ died for me in particular, and that this is the first act of faith in a true believer's closing with Christ. He did it in a long conference with a gentleman, who has very publicly and strenuously appeared to defend that tenet. He had this discourse with him in the presence of a number of considerable persons, who came to visit Mr. Brainerd before he left the town, and to take their leave of him. In this debate he made this plain declaration, at the same time confirming what he said by many arguments,—That the essence of saving faith was wholly left out of the definition which that gentleman has published; that the faith which he had defined, had nothing of God init, nothing above nature, nor indeed above the power of the devils; and that all such
as had this faith, and had no better, though they might have this to never so high a degree, would surely perish. He declared also, thas, he fever had greater assurance of the falseness of the principles of those that maintained such a faith, and of their dangerous and destructive tendency, ora - more affecting sense of the great delusion and. misery of those who depended gn getting to heaven by sucha faith, (while they had no better,) than he lately had when he was,
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cal supposed to be at the point to die, and expected every minute to pass into eternity.—Mr. Brainerd’s discoursgegs this time, and the forcible reasonings by which he confirmed what he asserted, appeared to be greatly to the satisfaction of those present. This several of them expressed, before they took their leave of him.
When this conversation was ended, having bid an affectionate farewel to his friends, he set out in the cool of the afternoon, on his journey to Northampton, attended by his brother, and my daughter that went with him to Boston.. He would have been accompanied out of the town by a number of gentlemen, besides that honourable person who gave him his company for some miles on that occasion, as a testinrony of their esteem and respect, had not his aversion to any thing of pomp and shew prevented it.]
Saturday, y'25. I arrived here at Northampton; having set out from Boston on Monday, about four o’clack P. M. Ia this journey | rode about sixteen miles a day, one day with another. Was sometimes extremely tired and faint on the road, so that it seemed impossible for me to proceed any further: at other times I was considerably better, and felt some freedom both of body and mind.
Lord’s day, July 26. This day I saw clearly that | should never Be happy; yea, that God himself could not make me so, unless | could be in a capacity to “ please and glority him for ever.” Take away this, and admit me into all the fine heavens that can be conceived of by men or angels, and I should still be miserable for ever.
- [Though he was so revived as to bé able to travel thus farg yet he manifested no expectation of recovery: he supposed, as his physician did, that his being brought so near to death at Boston, was owing to the br eating of ulcers in his lungs. He told me that he had had several such attacks before, only not to an equal degree, but as he supposed, owing to the same cause, viz. the breaking of ulcers; and that he was. brought lower and lower every time. It appeared to
him, that in his last sickness in Boston he was brought as lovggy
as it was possible, and yet live; and that he had not t
least expectation of surviving the next return of this break-
ing of ulcers; but still appeared perfectly calm in the Pros: pect of death.
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