CHAPTER XL. DEATH OF JESSE LEE—HIS CHARACTER.

During the summer of 1816 I held several camp-meetings that were greatly honored of God. The fourth was in Hillsborough, Maryland. It commenced the 22d of August. Jesse Lee preached the second sermon from 1 Peter ii, 5, on the lively stones and the spiritual house. I wrote: “He preached with life and power, and many of the people were much refreshed and built up in the faith of the Gospel.” Some of his illustrations were very quaint. He said, “If you cannot be a stone in the building you may be a nail to hold on a shingle.” He preached again on “Grow in grace.” In announcing his subject he said, “In the last verse of the last chapter of the last Epistle of Peter you may find my text, and this may be my last sermon.” And so it proved. That voice which had rung through so many groves, offering salvation to the lost, was then heard for the last time. He who introduced camp-meetings into the East fell at one of them sword in hand. He had been taken sick the day before, and he suffered much while delivering this his last message. After preaching he was removed to the house of Brother Henry D. Sellers, brother-in-law of Bishop Emory.⁠[47] Brother Sellers and his wife were at this time summoned to Baltimore to see a son who was very sick. They reluctantly left home when Brother Lee was so ill, but yielded to the prior claims of a dying son. They left word to have everything possible done for the comfort of the sick man. While absent they buried their son, and when they returned home found Jesse Lee in his grave.

The camp-meeting was one of great power and interest. God honored his word, and a great number believed and turned to the Lord. On Tuesday we parted till we pitch our tents in the groves of Paradise. Then I went to attend to our beloved Brother Lee.

Before he left Annapolis Mr. Lee knocked off a little skin from his leg. He thought nothing of it at the time, but it became inflamed, and he had quite a fever. He grew worse and worse till mortification took place, and death came to his relief. On Tuesday, at 10 o’clock, while we were praying with him, the room was filled with glory. He was graciously visited by the Lord, and broke out in ecstacies, “Glory, Glory, Jesus reigns! heaven is just before me!”

The next day he was “filled with the Spirit,” so that he shouted the praises of God. He had said but little during the early part of his sickness; but now heaven was opened and glory revealed. All present were deeply affected, and felt it a hallowed place. He suffered intensely, but grace triumphed over pain of body.

On Wednesday strong symptoms of dissolution appeared, and the doctor was frank and told him he might not live twelve hours. This did not at all alarm him. He shouted aloud the praises of God, and deliberately set his house in order. He wished me to write to his brother Ned, and tell him he “died happy.” He also said, “Give my respects to Bishop M’Kendree; tell him that I die in love with all the preachers, and that he lives in my heart.” Then he bade all present farewell and requested us to pray. We did so. It was a solemn hour and place. On Thursday he lost the power of speech, but retained his reason and gave signs that all was well. In the evening, at half past seven, the great and good man fell asleep.

I watched over him nearly two weeks; he would not allow me to leave him. I went down stairs to shave one day, and he was very uneasy, and sent two or three messengers for me before I could finish. He had an idea that no other person could do as well for him, therefore he constantly looked for me. I hardly took off my clothes day or night for nearly two weeks, he needed such constant attention. The family being absent, the great care fell upon me. He said to me, “Brother Boehm, when I die I wish you to close my eyes.” I did so. I placed the muffler about his face and laid him out, and put his shroud upon him. I helped place him in his coffin, then committed his remains to the grave, and performed the funeral service. We buried him in the family burying-ground of Father Henry Downs.

Two days after, while I was absent, some brethren came from Baltimore and disinterred the remains and removed them to that city, and laid him to rest in the old Methodist burying-ground. He was taken sick the 24th of August, and died the 12th of September, 1816.

I complied with his dying request, sending his final messages to those he loved. I wrote to his brother Edward, (father of Rev. Leroy M. Lee,) who lived at Petersburgh, and gave him the particulars of Jesse’s illness and death. I also wrote to Bishop M’Kendree, giving him the message of the dying minister as well as the particulars of his last sickness and death. This account was given in Jesse Lee’s obituary in the Minutes, with my name connected with it. In Dr. Bangs’s History of Methodism, and Leroy M. Lee’s life of his uncle, my name is omitted. They could have had no correct description of his last days and hours unless I had furnished it.

I must conclude this chapter by noticing his character. My own opinion is that injustice has been done to the name and fame of Jesse Lee. I was acquainted with him for many years. He was at my father’s in 1799. I saw him at the General Conference of 1800, 1808, and 1812; also at the Annual Conferences and at camp-meetings. Mr. Lee was one of the most efficient and useful men we ever had. Like Paul, he was “in labors more abundant.”

He was shrewd, witty, and ready at repartee. There are those who think he was nothing but a bundle of fun; that this was the element in which he moved; and that he considered a rich joke a means of grace. Such have altogether mistaken his character. Mr. Lee had a rich vein of spiritual wit, he had a keen sense of the ludicrous, he knew how to answer a fool according to his folly; but he made his wit subservient to the cause of truth and to silence cavilers. He had “higher excellences than wit, holier instincts than mirth.” He made great sacrifices, and devoted his life to the promotion of the cause of truth.

Jesse Lee was an excellent preacher. I must have heard him thirty times. He exhibited great wisdom in the selection of his texts. In General and Annual Conferences he was a prominent man. He was an able debater, and those who encountered him found they were grappling with a giant. At the General Conference of 1800 he came near being elected bishop. He was worthy of the episcopal office, and doubtless would have filled it with honor to himself and benefit to the Church. Some one told him he would have been elected if he had been sufficiently grave. Said he, “Would it not have been premature to assume the gravity of the office previous to my election?”

As the apostle of Methodism in the East he can never be forgotten. He was the pioneer of a noble army of Methodist preachers who have revolutionized New England and New England theology. All over its hills and valleys he has written his name in characters that will be read by succeeding generations until the end of time. As the first historian of American Methodism he will ever be remembered. His work is valuable as a repository of facts to which his successors have all been largely indebted. He achieved many triumphs, but the greatest of all was his victory over “the last enemy.”