CHAPTER XLVI. INTERESTING PUBLIC SERVICE AT THE NEWARK ANNUAL CONFERENCE—FATHER BOEHM’S CENTENNIAL SERMON.

It has already been intimated in the prayer that this is an unusual occasion. It is one of those occurrences where extremes meet. We have been paying our tribute to the character and memory of the youthful ministers who died in the service of the Church and in the work of the pastorate. We expect to hear from the oldest minister of our Church. I hope it may not be his final message. I hope he may live to speak to us yet many times more before he shall close his glorious career on earth. Nevertheless, I presume none of us have ever heard a centennial sermon, and none of us, in all probability, will ever hear another one. The occasion, therefore, is novel, and I will add it is instructive and impressive. I have seen the longest rivers, the highest mountains, and the grandest cataracts of our wonderful country, but in all that I have seen of the beauty and grandeur of nature, I have never looked upon a physical object with so much interest as I look upon this human form here this morning. A human body so fearfully and wonderfully made, with so many and such delicate connections, performing so many offices, subject to so much exposure, to have been preserved for so many years in its healthfulness and in all its beauty, is to me the most wonderful physical object I have ever beheld. And then, it has been all this while the tabernacle of a rational spirit, the instrument by which that spirit has performed its wonderful works and secured its wonderful results. Well may we say with the poet this morning:

I have stood in the presence of kings and nobles, of scholars and divines in other countries, but I never have felt in all my experience such an interest and so profound a reverence as I feel in the presence of revered and beloved father in God, this aged servant of our Lord Jesus Christ. I revere him for his personal worth, his strictly moral youth. Converted to God in his early manhood, his life has been one of strict consistency and of great purity from that time until the present. It is forty-three years this month since I made his personal acquaintance; and, having been intimate with him from that time till now, I say in this presence I have never known a fellow-man in whom there was so little moral infirmity even as in this our father before us to-day. I venerate him for his associations. He was associated with those names that are dearest to us in our Church history—Asbury, Whatcoat, M’Kendree, Jesse Lee, Freeborn Garrettson, and Nathan Bangs; names that we hold in the highest regard; they were his associates. And then he has been associated with a great multitude of godly men and women who have composed our Church from that early period until now. What fellowships he has enjoyed!

And I revere him for his works. He was in the early councils of the Church. He helped to form the polity of our Church; he has seen its wonderful workings until this hour, and he has really witnessed the planting and growth of this branch of the Church of our Lord Jesus Christ until this present time. His ministry has been one of great excellence and of great usefulness, and his example one of great power and of great benefit. We cannot any of us look upon him but with the highest regard and with the greatest reverence, and even with awe. Considering the length of time when Enoch walked with God, which men then lived, and the length of human life now, he has walked with God as long as Enoch walked with God. And having been in these associations to which I have referred, having been in this holy ministry all of the nineteenth century—for I believe that is the fact—and having been living all these years in fellowship with the divine and the spiritual and the eternal, how sacred and grand and glorious is his character. It will be an era in my history to hear from him this morning, and I think it will be an incident in the life of everyone here which they will carry with them in rememberance to eternity. I pray that God may aid him in this effort, and that God may sanctify this occasion to the religious profiting of all of us who are permitted to enjoy it, both in the laity and in the ministry. Before Father Boehm speaks to you, the pastor of this Church will read the credentials that he has received, giving the dates of his offices.

“To whom it may concern: This is to authorize Henry Boehm to exercise the office of a preacher and travel Dorchester Circuit. Thomas Ware. January 5, 1800.”

“To whom it may concern: This is to authorize Henry Boehm to exercise the office of exhorter in the Methodist Episcopal Church. Given on the 16th of June, 1800, by Thomas Ware, Presiding Elder.”

He was authorized to preach on the presiding elder’s own authority, and sent to travel a circuit on January 5, 1800; and after the case came before the Quarterly Conference, he was licensed to exhort and travel the circuit. This [showing the parchment] is his ordination parchment of deacon. It reads a little differently from our parchments of to-day, though very little. It is signed by Richard Whatcoat, and is dated at Dock Creek, Del., May 4, 1803. This [showing the parchment] is his parchment as elder, and reads thus: “Ordained elder by Francis Asbury on the 5th day of May, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and five. Done at the Philadelphia Conference, held at Chestertown. Francis Asbury.”

I have been requested by Father Boehm to state that two weeks ago he was very ill, and it was feared that he would not recover. I was sent for in haste on that day to see him. I had great fears that he would not be able to be here. God has raised him up, and he is here to speak to us as he was requested to do at the last session of our Conference.

My Dear Brethren: I feel very dependent. I hope you will offer me up in prayer before the Lord that he may graciously assist me once more in proclaiming the precious truth. The passage of Scripture to which I invite your attention you will find recorded in Nahum, the first chapter and seventh verse: “The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him.”

There is a little difference in the German in this text! The beginning in the German reads, “Der Herr ist gietig,” the Lord is munificent, freely distributing his blessings and goodness. Now, then, to say that a person is munificent presupposes that he is good, and goodness produces munificence. O what a wonderful mercy-seat we have the privilege of approaching unto! The Lord is munificent in distributing his blessings, in showering down his goodness and mercy upon us. The Lord, then, is good. He is good in his mercy. Benevolence, kindness, long suffering, tender mercy, flow out through the mercy of God manifested to a fallen world. Yes, brethren, but for the goodness of the Lord where should we be? His goodness and mercy have spared us to the present period, and we have the privilege now of approaching to the mercy-seat in the name of Jesus Christ. The Lord is a stronghold, a strong tower, a strong fortification. He that entereth and dwelleth in this stronghold is safe in time of trouble, in time of distress, in time of need. God is present and ready to supply our wants. He is all-sufficient according to our need. He knoweth them that trust in him. He owns them. He acknowledges them to be his subjects, and to be influenced by his Holy Spirit. Yes, brethren, the Lord knows them; he dwells with them as such who trust in him, who walk in the light of his countenance. O blessed be the name of the Lord that he knows the heart and he looks upon the mind, the immortal mind! If we sincerely look to him he owns and acknowledges us as his own. He knoweth them that trust in him. Bless the Lord! O, the goodness of God—his mercy and long suffering! I bless God for his goodness that I realized in early life. Religion made my soul happy then. It kept me from evil; it directed me in the path of humble submission to the will of God, and it now in old age makes me feel lively. It supports and comforts me, and when I look forward to death I do not stop there. I look beyond it, and then it is all light, all peace, and joy, and triumph. O, glory be to God for his mercy and goodness in our privilege this day to meet together for his worship, for his services, and for his praise! Blessed be the name of the Lord! When I look at the changes—how population has extended, how Methodism has followed up—I am astonished. In 1809 I passed, with Bishop Asbury, through here from Newark and crossed over to New York, and there was no town here then at all—nothing but a ferry-house. What a change! Now there are several thousand inhabitants, and the best of all is the Lord is among the people, and many are happy in his salvation and rejoice in his gracious presence. Blessed be the name of the Lord! O what wonders hath God wrought! Newark was then a small town. There were two rows of houses, I think, in Newark in 1809. Now it has spread out into a large town. O may the Gospel go on in its power and glory, that multitudes may bow to the scepter of the Redeemer! and finally may we meet in heaven to rejoice in the Lord for ever and ever! Amen.

Dear Friends: You will all of you remember the text, and the sermon and the preacher. The text is one of the most sweet and precious in the Holy Bible; the exposition of it has been clear and forcible, though brief. To my mind the sermon has two especial excellences: one is, it was preached, and not read! and the other is that it was brief, and the preacher stopped when he got done—a beautiful example to us in those two respects, and I propose to profit by them. One of the most remarkable things in the character and history of our Father Boehm is that he has not reached his second childhood. He is just as manly as he ever has been, in any period of his past history, and his mental powers are preserved to him in their strength, in their harmony, and in their adaptation to the office and work in which he has spent his long and holy life. His physical strength is lessened. The great probability is that we shall not have his presence at a conference where most of us will be gathered again in this world. He may attend other annual conferences with us, but the most of this congregation, and probably some of these ministers, will not be present; and it seems to us fitting that he should now give us his benediction, and a few farewell words. In 1832 Bishop M’Kendree came this side of the mountains for the last time. He preached the sermon when I was ordained deacon. Bishop Hedding ordained me, but he preached the sermon. He was then quite as feeble as Brother Boehm is now. He went from the Philadelphia Conference at Wilmington to the General Conference which was held in Philadelphia. He assisted to some extent in the services of that session. A little before its close, feeling his infirmities and desiring to escape the excitement of the close of the conference, he took occasion to bid the conference farewell. He was assisted to the platform, where the bishops, secretaries, and representatives of other conferences were sitting, and he stood before them in all his patriarchal character, lifted up his hands, and simply said to that General Conference of ministers, “Little children, love one another,” bowed, and left the platform, the conference rising as he retired, went to his home in Nashville, and very soon died. Now if Father Boehm can say no more words than those, let us have his benediction this morning.

My Beloved Brethren: It is very probable this is the last time I shall be with you at an annual conference. If it is, I hope we shall meet up yonder when we go. I now take my leave of you, and ask the Lord to bless you, and bless you abundantly. May this year be a great year in the Newark Conference, as well as throughout the land and throughout the world! The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Ghost, be with you all ever more. Amen.

Mr. President, Fathers and Brethren, and Mothers and Sisters: I have come over to Jersey City this morning on a little private anniversary of my own. I am not a hundred years old by a good deal, but I have always really expected and hoped for the last twenty-five years of my ministry to preach on my one hundredth birthday, and I intend, God willing, to do it yet. Fathers and brethren, it is just thirty-five years ago when you were good enough, without seeing me, to take me into this conference as a preacher. It was a great peril, but you took the risks. I had preached on a circuit in New Jersey one year before I ever saw this conference. Then I saw this body thirty-four years ago in the city of Newark, and saw it to love it. At that time your Bishop Janes was Secretary of the American Bible Society; and somehow he seemed to have been born a bishop, because, ever since I knew any thing about him, he has been sending men all about the world. He picked me up off the hills of Warren County, and sent me down into North Carolina as Agent of the American Bible Society; and I have never seen the Newark Conference since until to-day.

It is a peculiarly happy circumstance that after these thirty-five years of ministry, in which I have been called to so many various positions in the Church of God, in the Methodist Church and elsewhere in the general work of Christianity, that I come back to meet your conference under the presidency of an old college-mate, always beloved from the days of our youth until now, beloved over the storm of war, beloved over the field of blood; and it is a happy thing that now I can be presented to you by Bishop Janes, who, having picked me up and sent me away, I determined that day, God willing, to help to make bishop; I fell to work among the southern delegations when they were going up to the General Conference, and when they came back they turned to me and said, “Well, we have made your friend bishop;” and the accounts were square. Now we owe nothing to one another, bishop, but to love one another, and now we will see who will pray best, quickest, fastest, richest, and be like our Lord, who is munificent. I thank God that I am a preacher of the Gospel of the Son of God. I thank God that with my advancing years I do love the work of preaching and of the pastorate. I do thank God that every week, more and more, without distinction of sect or nationality or other difference, I do more and more deeply love all that call and profess themselves Christians. I have no right to detain you, Mr. President, fathers, and brethren, any further with remarks of my own. Father Boehm hath seemed to come to say, “farewell.” I have come to say, Hail, brethren, hail! O, my brethren, life is full of these hails and farewells; but, blessed be God! every time there is a “farewell” spoken it is followed by a “hail.” As soon as Father Boehm shall say, “Farewell, farewell,” to all these bishops, old and young, on earth, how quickly thereafter he will say, “All hail! all hail!” to the blessed bishops that have gone before him into the skies! When I started this morning I told my family why I was coming; and it is a rare thing for me to leave my work. I started with a sense of joyousness and pleasure, but while I have been sitting at the foot of this pulpit I had a sense of awe and humiliation. Since I saw you last, brethren, I have had great opportunities, I have had great positions of usefulness; I have had troops of friends; I have had all that heart in this world could wish; I have had a perfect domestic circle; I have two children in heaven—one about to enter the ministry and taken up above. I have four children upon earth; they are all communicants of the Church of our Lord Jesus Christ, and two Sundays ago one of them preached his first sermon. I have had great opportunities, but as I sat to-day at the foot of this pulpit I have felt so humiliated that I have done so little for the cause of the Lord Jesus Christ. Brethren, I have written much, I have spoken much, and I want to tell you now that as I sat on this solemn occasion in which Father Boehm was preaching this centenarian sermon that I have this morning profoundly regretted all the time and all the talent that I have spent in any department of literature, or science, or public life which did not more and more qualify me to preach Jesus Christ and him crucified. I count it loss, and, by God’s grace, no more of my time shall be thus lost. We have but one work—to save souls; and I have no doubt that the hundred years looks very short to Father Boehm now. Brethren, the time is short, and we shall soon be in eternity. God grant that all the atmosphere of our lives may be so spent in his service that we shall finish our course with joy, and this ministry which we have received of the Lord Jesus. Then, whatever else will be unfinished, we shall have made a rounded and triumphant life. I thank you for your great kindness.

I indorse all that Bishop Janes said concerning our venerable and venerated father. I honor every gray hair upon that head, [turning to Father Boehm,] and believe one of the purest spirits ever formed by the Almighty dwells in that body. I have spent years with him: I am talking about what I know. I have known his inner life; and while I have been sitting here I have been thinking about that wonderful saying of the psalmist, blessing the Lord for forgiving our iniquities, healing all our diseases, keeping our eyes from tears and our feet from falling, satisfying our mouth with good things, and renewing our youth like the eagle’s. I heard an old lady say in love-feast one time, “I was left a poor widow with seven children; I did not know what would become of them or me either. God has been a husband to me and a father to my fatherless children. They are all converted. Now look at me. Time has shaken me by the hand; the strong man begins to bow himself; those that look out of the windows are darkened; the keepers of the house tremble; the grinders are ceasing because they are few. I have an old, feeble body, but, glory to God! I have a young soul.” Here, continued Dr. Wakeley, pointing to Father Boehm, “is a young soul.” Well, now, then, just think, just throw your mind back and remember you have heard a man preach that was born before the Republic was born, when we were colonies dependent on Great Britain, long before Washington was inaugurated President, having lived under every President from Washington down to Grant.

Here is a man who was born before the Methodist Episcopal Church existed; here is a man who heard Robert Strawbridge preach at his father’s house, who founded Methodism in Maryland, and was very near contemporary with Philip Embury. He heard Benjamin Abbott, that son of thunder, at his father’s house; and the people fell like dead men around him when the old man was preaching, for he always called for power when he preached. Well, just think that he was with Bishop Whatcoat when he was dying, and in his last days and hours ministered to his wants. Just think that he was with Jesse Lee in 1816, the first historian of Methodism, closed his eyes, and laid him quietly at rest. Think of his traveling one hundred thousand miles on horseback to preach the glorious Gospel of the blessed God. Think of his being five years the traveling companion of Bishop Asbury. Think of his living to see our Republic growing, till States have become as large as empires, and conference after conference has multiplied until the Atlantic speaks to the Pacific, and the Pacific answers back—deep answers unto deep. He has seen Annual Conferences established in India, in China, and in Germany, the land of Luther and the Reformation. I want you to understand that Father Boehm is not an old man who is disgusted with life, finding fault with the present age and comparing it invidiously with the former. No; he has kept up with the times; he reads the newspapers and knows what is going on in the Church and what is going on in the State. He has been a live man until this hour. I heard old Uncle Billy Hibbard say, “I want you to understand that Billy Hibbard don’t mean to die while he lives.” I assure you that you have listened to-day to the most marvelous man in the Methodist Episcopal Church, if not in the world’s history. O, think of a hundred years past! There were no railroads, nor steamboats, nor telegraphs, nor any thing of that kind when Father Boehm was a boy. [Turning to the patriarch,] Did you cross in an old scow from Jersey City to New York the first time?

Father Boehm. Yes.

Dr. Wakeley. There were no horse-boats or ferry-boats then?

Father Boehm. No.

Dr. Wakeley. Somebody, a colored man, I believe, used to come down on the New York side and blow a horn, telling them that the boat was going over. That is the way they traveled then. O, how the world has moved since then! Where are those to whom he preached in the different States? Where are the bishops that he knew? O how many have passed on to the other side of the river with whom our venerable father worshiped in the dwellings and in the churches! I thought while I listened here to-day of that beautiful sentiment of Charles Wesley, “God buries his workmen, but carries on his work.” Voltaire said, “Christianity is in its twilight.” He was correct, but he mistook the time of day. It was not the twilight of the evening that precedes the darkness of the night, but the twilight of the morning that precedes the brilliancy of an eternal day. Father Boehm may die, but the work will go on, and on, and on until the last son and daughter of Adam hears the story of the manger, the garden, and the Cross. I gave him a little advice fifteen years ago; I hope he has profited by it. I said, “Father Boehm, make up your mind to live to be a hundred years old.” He said he would try. “You might as well do it,” said I. Well, now, then, here he is, born the eighth of June, 1775. Think how the world has moved forward. A hundred years past—a hundred years to come! Where will we be a hundred years to come? Long before that our venerable father will be on the other side of the river. O that his last song on earth may be, “My heart and my flesh faileth, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever!” He has given us his blessing, and now we will give him our benediction. May the blessing of him whose blessing maketh rich and addeth no sorrow rest upon him; may God guide him a little longer by his counsel and afterward receive him to glory! O, how many you will meet up yonder that you knew here! A hundred years to come and all these bishops will be with Asbury, M’Kendree, and George. A hundred years to come and we will be walking with Jesus in white. A hundred years to come and we will be listening to the song of redemption before the throne. Good John Bunyan described the white-robed multitude, and he says: “Which when I saw them, I wished myself among them.” O, we shall soon be there, and I tell you it will be sweet to meet at Jesus’ feet those we love! It is said that Charles Wesley, when he met his old friends as we have met to-day, would always give out those two verses of his:—

So may we meet where we can die no more. I want to get to that world where they cannot die from disease, for nobody is sick; where they cannot die from old age, for nobody grows old; where they cannot die from care, for there are no care-worn cheeks. “Neither can they die any more,” says Jesus. They are under a divine restraint to live forever—immortal as Gabriel, immortal as the “King eternal, immortal, invisible.” They are equal to the angels of God in dignity, in purity, in felicity, and in immortality. There I hope to meet you, old patriarch of Methodism, and all these people who are here, where we can see with our own eyes the King in his beauty, and we will crown him Lord of all.

A Brother. “I want Brother Wakeley to advise Father Boehm to live a little longer, to see the celebration of the birthday of the nation.”