CHAPTER XLIII. LAST VISIT TO MY NATIVE PLACE—WESTERN TOUR.

Many years had passed away since I had seen the home of my childhood, and my advanced age admonish me that I must do so soon or never. On February 15, 1856, I left my home on Staten Island and went to Pemberton, N. J. For four years Pemberton was my residence. I was glad to see my old friends, and preached for them twice. Thence I went to Mount Holly, a place of rare beauty. Here lived my old friend, Judge Monroe, father of Rev. Samuel Y. Monroe, D.D.

Reaching Camden, I found it greatly changed since I first saw it. Then there was only a ferry-house, now a large city with three flourishing Methodist Churches. A few years ago I preached the half century sermon of the introduction of Methodism in Camden. By request it was published.

I hastened on to Lancaster, where I was heartily welcomed by John Boehm’s widow. He was my nephew, and yet we were about the same age, were converted at the same time, and were life-time friends. He did much for Methodism in Lancaster and Lancaster County. I spent several weeks in the vicinity visiting old friends and preaching the Gospel. There was quite a contrast to the state of things in 1805, when I preached there on a butcher’s block in the market.

To my great joy I found Philip Benedict and his wife living. It was in their house I formed the first class in 1807. We talked over the early struggles and triumphs of Methodism in Lancaster. He was eighty-four years old, his wife about the same age. The Church in Lancaster is greatly indebted to this old patriarch and his excellent wife.

I went to Little Britain, twenty-two miles from Lancaster, celebrated as the birthplace of Robert Fulton. The old homestead where he was born was still standing. What gave it additional interest to me was, that there, in 1814, I formed the first Methodist class in the town. We have now a fine society and a beautiful church edifice.

I went to Columbia, and was the guest of Abraham Brunner, son of Owen. Here I met Alfred Cookman, who had married into the family, and his children are the fifth generation that I have preached to in this family. I went to the old Boehm’s Chapel and the old house where I was born. My eye lighted upon the place in the gallery where in 1798 I gave my heart to God. Well did I exclaim,

What sermons had I heard in that chapel! The venerable forms of Asbury, Whatcoat, M’Kendree, and others I had heard preach came up before me. It was Easter Sabbath, and I preached on the resurrection of Jesus. It was forty-four years that day since my father died. From the window I could see his grave and those of my mother and the other loved ones. My mind went forward to the time when the sleepers should awake at the sound of the trump and rise to life immortal.

My feelings well nigh overcame me. The friends of my youth were gone. There were none of my name remaining in that neighborhood. Generations had passed away, new ones had risen that knew me not. I wandered among the tombs in the old burying ground, then bade adieu to the old grave-yard, to the old chapel, to the old homestead, hallowed by so many pleasing recollections, exclaiming,

On my return I visited the Philadelphia Conference, then sitting in Trinity Church, Philadelphia. I had not attended it for twenty years, and had long desired to see it once more. Bishop Waugh presided, and at his request I made an address. I contrasted the past with the present. I told them not one remained who had belonged to the conference when I joined it. I always loved the Philadelphia Conference: within its bounds I was born, converted, licensed to preach, and ordained; with them I had spent my youth and the prime of my manhood; here I had toiled the hardest and had the greatest success; here were the scenes of my trials and triumphs, and within its bounds I was married and my children born. I never belonged to any other, the New Jersey and Newark Conferences being portions of the Philadelphia Conference when I joined it. I bade farewell to the Philadelphia brethren and returned to my island home after an absence of two months.

On my return home I attended the New Jersey Conference in Broad-street Chapel, Newark. How strangely this magnificent edifice contrasted with Boehm’s Chapel! and what a change in Newark since I visited it with Bishop Asbury in 1809, when we had no house of worship there, and Richard Leaycraft, who had moved from New York, was the only one to entertain the itinerants!

Having relatives in Ohio whom I had not seen for nearly half a century, I concluded, though over fourscore, to visit them. In January, 1859, I went to Baltimore, where I had not been for forty-two years. We received a hearty welcome from Dr. Roberts, the distinguished Methodist antiquarian and father of the Methodist Historical Society. Multitudes are the relics he has preserved, which will enrich the history of our Church in future years.

Most of my old friends in Baltimore were dead; only a few recognized me. I went to Mount Olivet Cemetery, where sleep the remains of Bishops Asbury, George, Emory, and Waugh. Standing by the grave of the first the image of the patriarch came up before me, and I vainly attempted to keep back the tears that rolled down my cheeks. The other bishops also I had known intimately. Two of them were much younger than myself, and I was present when they were received into the conference.

My next visit was to “Pilgrim’s Rest,” to see my old friend and brother, the Rev. Henry Smith. We had known each other half a century. He was one of the purest and best men that I ever knew. I had a charming visit with him, and when reviewing the past we lived over a great many years in a few hours. He was over ninety, and had been in the ministry sixty-five years. We prayed and wept together, and then we parted to meet in the “Pilgrim’s Rest” on the other side of Jordan. He has since entered there.

Leaving Baltimore for Ohio, we crossed the Potomac at Harper’s Ferry and then went over the Alleghanies. Rushing over in the cars was very different from the slow manner Bishop Asbury and I crawled over them forty-seven years before. I could not help wondering what the bishop would think if he could return and go over them as we do now, the contrast is so great in ease, comfort, and saving of time. Towns, cities, and states have been born since that time we went to Zanesville.

Cincinnati was so changed that I could scarcely recognize in the Queen City of the West the little village I had visited nearly fifty years before; but when I beheld the Licking River everything came to my mind, and I began to feel quite at home. When with Bishop Asbury we put up with Brother Lines, an excellent local preacher. I was pleased to see two of his daughters, Mrs. Widow Smith and the wife of Doctor Phillips. Edward Sargent, son of my old friend, Rev. Thomas F. Sargent, M.D., married a daughter of Widow Smith. In the society of these friends I took great delight.

Not only had the city grown immensely, but Methodism also. At the time of my former visit there was only one Methodist church edifice, “The Stone Chapel;” that had given way to a noble structure, “Wesley Chapel,” and had become also the mother of a large and healthy family of children, most of them named after bishops or other prominent ministers, as Asbury Chapel, M’Kendree, Morris, Raper, Christie, Finlay, etc. Then the large Book Concern with its Western Christian Advocate, Ladies’ Repository, and other widely circulated publications. But what filled me with the greatest delight, and made my old soul rejoice with exceeding joy, was to behold what God had done for the Germans. I found four German Methodist Churches in Cincinnati, with several hundred members; also a German newspaper, the Christian Apologist, one of the most able papers I have ever read, and edited by that great and good man, Dr. Nast, and a long list of books and tracts in the German language. What a change since 1807, when I had the Methodist Discipline translated into German, and 1808, when I preached the first Methodist sermon in German in Cincinnati, and when Bishop Asbury and I had two tracts printed in the German language, that we scattered over the mountains and valleys as we rode round his large diocese!

A German love-feast was held in order that I might hear in my mother tongue the wonderful work that God had wrought. Several hundred were present, including members from all the German churches. Their testimonies were thrilling, and their singing exquisite. They sung as Mr. Wesley said, “lustily.” At the conclusion of a glorious love-feast, Dr. Nast said, “We will sing Martin Luther’s Hymn, tune Old Hundred,” and then they sung as I never heard it before that good old doxology, “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow,” etc.

I had a delightful interview with Judge M’Lean, one of our noblest men, a spiritual son of John Collins. He remembered hearing me preach in Lebanon in 1810. It was with deep regret that I afterward heard of his death. He left a pure record both as a man and a statesman.

I went to Dayton, which was a small place when I was there before, but has now thirty thousand inhabitants. The “United Brethren in Christ” have a publishing house here. When I entered their building and looked upon the wall I saw a portrait of my father. I had not seen it in fifty years, nor did I know it had been preserved, or that there was an image of him in existence. There he was with his German visage, his gray locks and venerable beard. It was a very good likeness, painted by a German artist for my nephew, Martin Boehm, who carried it West when he removed to Ohio. At his death it was presented to “The United Brethren in Christ,” who were glad to get such a relic to adorn the walls of their publishing house. Here also I saw an excellent likeness of Father Otterbein.

I visited my relative, Samuel Binkley, who formerly lived near my father’s. Here a cane was presented to me that I highly prize on account of its historic associations, for it originally belonged to Father Otterbein, who gave it to Bishop Asbury; the bishop gave it to Samuel Binkley, and he presented it to my daughter.

After my return home I again visited the West, and spent a year in Cincinnati. I preached before the conference in Xenia, and was present at the marriage of General Grant’s sister in Covington, Kentucky, to a German preacher stationed in Cincinnati.

In May, 1800, I was present at the General Conference in Baltimore; in May, 1864, I attended the General Conference in Union Church, Philadelphia. With perhaps two exceptions, Drs. C. Elliott and G. Peck, all the delegates to the latter body were born during the intervening period; and the senior bishop, Thomas A. Morris, was, in 1800, a prattling boy of five years. I rejoiced that God had raised up so many strong men to be pillars in the Church. Some were from the further West, California, Oregon, and regions which in my early days were almost a terra incognita, and were uninhabited except by wandering tribes of Indians. The bishops and members seemed to regard me as an old Methodist patriarch, and honored me with a seat on the platform.

The nation was then struggling for life, having to contend both with open enemies and secret foes. But a more loyal body than the men who represented the Church in that conference never assembled. What interested me most, however, was the fraternal interchange of delegates between our General Conference and that of the African Methodist Episcopal Church, which was sitting in Philadelphia at the same time. The colored delegates were received by our conference on May 13, and delivered addresses that would have done honor to men of any land. The utmost enthusiasm prevailed, and the Union Church rang with shouts of applause. At the conclusion of one of the most thrilling scenes ever witnessed I was honored with delivering an address, of which the following report appeared in the Daily Advocate of May 14:

“Mr. President, I thought it was but proper that I should express some of my feelings and recollections as appropriate to this occasion. It fell to my lot to have charge of this district in 1813 and 1814. It was then called the Schuylkill District, and embraced the whole region between the Delaware and the Susquehanna Rivers, including Wilmington, and north by the mountains. During that period Robert R. Roberts, afterward Bishop Roberts, was stationed at St. George’s, and John Emory, afterward Bishop Emory, at this church. During these two years, in either 1813 or 1814, he would not be positive which, the separation of the colored brethren took place. There was some friction between the founder of the present African Methodist Episcopal Church and us, and they drew off. But it was prudently managed, and they passed quietly off. We feared then that it was an unfortunate change; but I confess to you that my heart has been touched. I have been very much affected in hearing our colored brethren testify here, and state their influence and progress. I admire the providence of God in this instance. We then considered it an unfortunate case; but God has overruled it, and I hope he will continue to overrule it and superintend it, and that it will react and spread its evangelizing and saving influence south and south-west, and all over the world. God grant that this may be the case. [Numerous responses of Amen.] I thought it would be appropriate for me to express my feelings thus, and I rejoice and give glory to God for his goodness and his power.”

“The venerable patriarch sat down with swimming eyes, while many in the audience wept with sympathy and joy. It is certainly a singular coincidence that the man who was the Church officer charged with the administration of the Discipline upon this district when the founders of the African Methodist Episcopal Church withdrew from our connection, previous to organizing their own, should, after a period of at least fifty years, be present to witness the first fraternal reception of their official representatives by the General Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and that assembled in the Union Church, Philadelphia, the very scene of the events of half a century ago.”

I cannot refrain from referring to the amazing growth of our Church since the period when I joined it. We had then in America two hundred and sixty-six traveling preachers, and sixty-five thousand nine hundred and eighty members. Church edifices were scarce, and parsonages comparatively unknown. We had no colleges or seminaries; no Biblical Institutes, no periodicals, and were almost without a literature; indeed wholly so, except a Hymn Book, Discipline, and a few tracts and other small publications. Now we have nearly seven thousand traveling preachers, and more than nine hundred thousand church members, (besides those in the South,) with over ten thousand church edifices, and nearly three thousand parsonages. Our numerous colleges and other institutions of learning, and the extended operations of our Book Concerns in the East and the West, bear witness to the success with which we have labored in the cause of education and religious literature.

In some matters I cannot but think that, as a Church, we have retrograded. The people and preachers in that day were patterns of plainness; we conform more to the world, and have lost much of the spirit of self-denial they possessed. Our fathers paid great attention to Church discipline, and their preaching was more direct; they aimed at the heart, and looked for more immediate results than we of the present day.

But if there are some things to lament, there is much that calls for gratitude. If we remain true to Methodism, “walking by the same rule and minding the same things” our fathers did, then our future will be grand and glorious as the past, and the result such as to meet the expectations of the most ardent among us.

And now, having seen what great things God has done for us as a Church, and the salvation which he has wrought out for us as a nation in the overthrow of the great rebellion, I feel like saying with Simeon of old, “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.” On this side the river I patiently wait till the Master shall bid me pass over Jordan and rejoin the sainted Asbury and other of my fellow-laborers and companions in tribulation who have preceded me to the climes of bliss.

THE END