Memoirs of the Rev. Joseph Eastburn, stated preacher in the Mariner's church, Philadelphia ...

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MEMOIRS

CHAPTER I. Page His Parentage, Education, and first Religious Exercises . . 1

CHAPTER n.

Remarks on Mr. Eastbum's narrative — his marriage and the character of his wife — his exile from and return to Philadelphia — his bearing arms — his son — is refused to be taken on trials for the gospel ministry, by the Synod of New- York and Philadelphia — his rebaptization 14

CHAPTER HI.

Mr. Eastburn enters into partnership — character of his partner — situation of his workshop, and conversations in it — ■ his long and unabated struggle with adverse worldly circumstances — his conduct and sufferings in several seasons of pestilence — his kind attentions to the afflicted family of Dr. Sprout — the way providentially opened for his deiiverance from worldly embarrassment, and for his becoming a religious teacher — plan for his services in the Northern Liberties of Philadelphia — he departs from that plan, and remarks on the subject ......... 25

CHAPTER IV.

Unhappy consequences of Mr. Eastbum's acting as a catechist and exhorter without a regular designation; the manner in which the evil was arrested; Mr. E.'s examination and quaUfied licensure by the Presbytery of Philadelphia , 38

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CHAPTER V.

Pag« Hi8 license entirely satisfactory to himself— his fidelity and

success in the Hospital, Aims-House, and Prison of Philadelphia — his labors, various and incessant, and acceptable to different denominations — he is principally instrumental in forming a congregation — death of his wife, and entire relinquishment of his mechanical business 46

CHAPTER VI.

Continues to preach to the sailors, and in various other places — sickness and death » ... 76

CHAPTER VH.

Miscellaneous particulars and remarks — Conclusion . . .107

FIRST APPENDIX.

Letters 129

Narratives and Anecdotes, extracted from Mr. Eastburn's

Manuscripts 164

Mr. Eastburn's Will 177

SECOND APPENDIX.

A Faithful Narrative of the many Dangers and Sufferings, as w^ell as wonderful deliverances, of Robert Eastburn, during his late Captivity among the Indians 181

CHAPTER I.

His Parentage^ Education^ and first Religious Exercises,

The name and virtues of Joseph Eastburn, have probably been already celebrated in the four quarters of the globe. The last ten years of his life were so disinterestedly, assiduously, and atfectionately, devoted to all the best interests of seamen, that a large number of them regarded him with the veneration and attachment which dutiful children bear to a worthy parent ; and with their characteristic warmth of feeling, there is littie reason to doubt that they have proclaimed his praise, in every region to which their vocation has called them. Not only in many of the sea-ports of our own continent, but on the coasts of Asia and Africa, and in various parts of Europe, we may believe that they have extolled his piety, commended his benevolence, and exhibited him as an example. In Britain especially, the religious journals which are occupied with the concerns of mariners, give abundant evidence of the high estimation in which he was held in that country.

But the best evidence of a man's real character is derived from the public sentiment, in the place of his stated residence, and where of course he is most fully known. Of this sentiment there was a striking expression, in reference to Mr. Eastburn, when his obsequies were solemnized, in the city where he was born, aiid where he had lived till he had entered his ei^iihtieth year. More than five thousand persons, it is believed, came to see, and many of them to weep over, his remains, before the coffin was closed upon them. And although his funeral was of the plainest kind, without gloves, scarfs, pall, or hearse ; and although a copious fall of rain descended without intermission, while the procession was moving from his residence to the place of interment ; yet a multitude of all characters, from the highest to the lowest, and of all ages, and both sexes, })rr duced such a throng, through five squares of the cit}, that it was frequently necessary to stop, till an opening could be made through the crowd for the passage of the corj^se. The feeling of resj-ect for the deceased, manifested on that occasion, taken in all its circumstances, was certainly of a ver} singular and most extraordinary character.

And how, it may be asked, was this celebrity and affectionate attachment obtained? Was it acquired by an illustrious parentage, by splendid genius, by great talents, by distinguished erudition, or by munificent donatives ? Nothing, not an iota, of all this. The individual concerned was of humble birth, he had no pretensions to genius, no eminence of intellectual powers or attainments, little learning, and but a scanty property. The -whole must be attributed to simple, genuine, consistent, fervent, active, eminent piety. Of the influence and esteem which such a piety may secure to its possessor, by manifesting itself in all the forms in which it will, without seeking or expecting such an effect, become conspicuous, Mr. Eastburn was one of the most striking instances that the world has ever seen. To show what such a piety may effect, is a principal object of the present memoir ; and what it has effected, has therefore been summarily stated at the entrance; that the whole of the subsequent narrative may illustrate and impress a fact, honourable to religion, and calculated to promote its influence and extension.

Autobiography, or a man's life written by himself, has become fashionable ; and doubtless it has some advantages. An individual is not only able, but permitted, to say of himself, a number of things which no one else could, or ought, to say of him. Till the writer of this memoir had engaged to draw it up, he did not know or suspect that the subject of it had penned an accoui^t of the first part of his own life. It was however a very agreeable surprise when he found that this had been done ; and as soon as the paper was perused, the resolution was taken to insert it, without the addition or suppression of a single thought, and with as little alteration as possible of the language. If the fastidious should censure him for this, he is willing to bear it. He believes that if he had new cast the whole, he would not have been able to present a view of Mr. Eastburn's early life, and especially of his first religious exercises, nearly so interesting or so useful to the pious reader, as that which he will now find. It was desirable, besides, to show, as far as practicable, this excellent man precisely such as he loas; and this was partly to be done by letting the reader see how he spoke of himself, and in what manner he expressed his thoughts in writing. He was, in no respect, an imitator ; but he seems to have read the works of the inimitable John Bunyan, till he had unknowingly caught something of his manner. His narrative is as follows :

"At the pressing request of some of my religious friends that I should give some account of my life and religious experience, it is with reluctance I now make an attempt to comply — truly willing that my name should be buried with my body, as to the opinion of my fellow-men ; for I do know and feel that in all things I have come short.

"As to my parentage, my father, Robert Eastburn,* came from old England when quite young, of a strict Quaker family, and continued for some time in that connexion, and was married in their public meeting, in their way. My mother also belonged to the same denomina-

* A memorandum found among Mr. Eastburn's papers, furnishes the following information :

Robert Eastburn was bom in Old England, in the year 1710. He came to America with his parents, when he was four years old. He was married in the year 1733, to Agnes Jones of Germantown. She was born in the year 1713. — Robert Eastburn died Jan. 22d, 1778; his wife, Sept. 27th, 1784. They had six children — Sarah, Hannah, Thomas, Robert, John, and Joseph. Sarah lived to the age of 83 years, and died in Sept. 1818. Hannah died in 1773. Thomas in 1802. Robert in 1815. John in 1806.— We here add, Joseph died on the 30th of January, 1828, — having entered his 80th year on the nth or the preceding August,

4 aiEMOIRS OF THE REV. JOSEPH EASTBURN.

tion, and continued in their society until Mr. George Wliitiield first came to America. My father had been under serious concern about his soul for some time before ; but could get no reHef, until hearing him preach. He went, as he said, with prejudice, to hear a young priest, but found he had been taught of the Lord, and could tell him the exercises of his heart ; and his heart was now opened to attend to the preaching of the gospel by him, and this was the means of his spiritual comfort — Mr. Whitfield used to call him his first fruit in America. My mother, being of a meek and humble temper, and seriously disposed, and being also benefited by his preaching, left the Quakers and united with my father to follow him ; which soon brought upon them severe trials from their parents and their former friends, which I do not wish to enumerate. Many of the followers of Mr. Whitfield united together, and erected a large building for worship, (now the old academy,) and by his advice called the Rev. Gilbert Tennant to be their stated minister, and became a regular congregation. My father was chosen deacon, and was very active in promoting the interest of the society, and in attending religious meetings in many places through the city.

I was born, according to the date in my father's Bible, on the eleventh day of August, 1748, in Philadelphia, the youngest of his children ; and experienced the tender care of my kind parents, and the watchful providence of my heavenly Father. When an infant in my cradle, a cat had nearly drawn out my breath, when she was caught by my father, and just saved my life. When beginning to walk, I had followed my brother to the river, and fell in and narrowly escaped being drowned. I was early put to school, and had serious impressions on my mind when young ; so that I would retire from school and go to the garret of the house alone to pray, and would weep freely. My parents finding me at times serious, and like to make a scholar, were desirous that I might have an education ; hoping 1 might be useful to my fellow-men in the work of the ministry. But it was a time of war, and my father having been a prisoner amorjj^the Ifidians, brought their circumstances too low to afford mcr more than a common English education. At fourteen years of age I was put apprentice to the cabinet-maker's business, in a large shop of seventeen lads and young men — all thoughtless about eternal concerns, and making the sabbath a day of idle amusement. I was tempted to go with them to skate on the Schuylkill ; but had not gone far before my conscience so accused me of doing wrong, that I left them, ran back, hid my skates, and went to meeting. Thus I was an evidence of the truth of those words, ' Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.' I now quieted my conscience, and thought, by my regular conduct, praying in secret, and shedding a few tears at times, I should do well enough. But ' evil communications corrupt good manners.' I was by degrees drawn into vain company. I had committed many trifling, jovial songs to memory, and having something of a turn for singing, I was often pressed to sing in company. I found I was going fast to ruin, and that a horrid snare was laid for my destruction ; but the Lord was pleased to pluck me as a brand from the burning, and through his blessed restraints I was preserved from all scandalous outbreaking sins.

" I was now awfully alarmed with a view of eternity and the danger of losing my soul, which determined me to leave all vain company, and try afresh to seek salvation. But I found it hard to stand their solicitations, and afterwards their persecution ; for they would come with great pretensions of friendship, and beg I would not leave them, or deprive myself of all the happiness of youthful pleasure ; for Solomon, they told me, had said, there ' was a time for all things ;' and the time to be merry certainly was, when we were young ; and they said I could not pretend to be more holy than David, and he danced. My reply was, that we had been merry, but as we did not know how soon death might call us, as he did many as young as we, our time to mourn might soon begin, and never end ; and I thought it high time for us all to cry for mercy, before it was too late. What mac^Miy alarm so great and lasting was, the views I now had dreternity, from one of Mr. Davis's Sermons. These words were fixed in my mind, 'Oh! Eternity, Eternity! how will this awful sound echo through the vaults of hell !' — It was upon my mind day and night. I thought if I could live as long as Methuselah, and be in as much misery as it was possible to bear, all the time, I would be willing to bear it, if I could have hope of happiness afterward. Finding they could not persuade me to return to them, they turned to be cruel persecutors, mocking and treating me with contempt : and if they found my place of retirement, they would be sure to disturb me, throwing stones where they only suspected I might be.

For a long time I used to rise at midnight, when they were asleep, and spend the time in prayer for mercy. One of them happening to hear me, was so much affected, he could not conceal his cries ; and said, if I was afraid of going to hell, what would become of him and the rest of them. From that time he ceased his opposition, and became my friend till his death. But I had severe opposition, from a man in the shop, who had made a profession and turned back, and afterwards died in a bad way. " I had at this time no rehgious acquaintance, for my father had moved from the city to Neshaminy. I attended worship on sabbath days, and every opportunity I could have, with great care. I worked hard, and was trying to gain a righteousness of my own. Having done overwork in my trade, I had gained a day clear, which I devoted to fasting and prayer alone. About this time I received a letter from a brother in New- York, in which he informed me he had been under soul-concern for some short time, and had obtained comfort. I thought he had not been so long nor so much engaged as I had been, and yet I had not the least comfort. I then began to think the Lord dealt hard with me, and I was displeased with his sovereignty. The ninth chapter of the Romans filled me with discouragement — that it was ' not of him that willeth, or of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy.' 1 feared I was not elected, and therefore would be lost after all. I went to the Episcopal Church, and when they read prayers and thanked God for their creation, my heart replied, I do not; for I wished I hadg^ver been born, and often wished I was a brute, a stoclfror a

MEiMOlRS OF THE REV. JOSEPH EASTBURN. 1

Stone, rather than an accountable creature. I envied the httle birds their happiness. 1 found fault with the imputation of Adam's sin, and that through his fall we were rendered helpless and yet condemned. My wicked heart rose in horrid rebellion, and would wish there was no power that could punish me in hell for ever. I continued a long time in this awful state of mind, and found truly that ' the carnal mind is indeed enmity against God.' I thought I had the very spirit of Satan, and began to wonder that the Lord did not strike me dead, and fix my place among the fiends in hell, for my dreadful rebellion against his awful majesty. And I did expect that must be the case at last, for I thought so vile a creature as I saw myself to be, could never be admitted into his presence ; and often have I feared to close my eyes in sleep, fearing I should awake in torment.

"About this time my father returned to the city; but I could not for a long time open my mind to him ; but he, observing my distressed countenance, insisted upon knowing what was my trouble. I then made it known to him, and he did all he could to encourage me. He took me to see pious ministers; a Mr. Strain was often in town at that time, to whom I made my case known. He gave the advice Paul gave to the jailer, and pressed me to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, immediately; warning me against false resting-places, and insisted upon it I was now doing so, and said while I hoped to be saved in any other way but through Jesus, I was practically calling God a bar, who declared there was no other way. That evening a strange minister preached upon the sin of unbelief. I determined then that I would never close my eyes in sleep again, until 1 had made the attempt ; and I spent the night in a solitary place alone, trying to realize my need of a Saviour, as a guilty, polluted, lost sinner ; and then thinking of the offices, fulness, and invitations of the Saviour — trying to give up myself to him, and praying to be accepted by him, but I could find no relief. I thought 1 could as easily clasp the moon with my hands, which was then shining over my head, as I could believe so as, to obtain comtbrt to my soul ; not realizing that faith was the gift of God. 1 wondered that ministers B g MEMOIRS OF THE REV. JOSEPH EASTBURNo

would press people to do what was impossible ; or thought that I was not like any one else, for I could not believe. Here my carnal heart again began to find fault, that I was required to do what I could not ; and therefore must be lost and could not help it. But my rebellious murmuring was silenced with a thought of who it was I was thus censuring ; and I began to wonder he did not strike me dead, and send me to dwell among the wicked spirits in hell, which I often thought must finally be my place. But now that passage in the 9th of Romans came again to my mind, in quite a different way from what I took it up before — ' It is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy,' was now my only encouragement. For if it was for any goodness or merit in the creature, I of all mankind must, it seemed to me, for ever despair ; for I could deserve no favor from the Lord. But if he did it for his own mercy's sake, who could tell but I might yet experience his power to save me? and therefore I again resolved I would try to wait in the use of means, and not give over until he might please to reveal the way of salvation to me, a lost creature.

" I now took much care to get spiritual instruction, tried to remember the sermons I heard, wrote down the texts, and what I could retain of them ; but still found myself awfully stupid, and felt all to be a task and burdensome; yet I thought I must wait until the Spirit of the Lord would come powerfully, and then would be my time to strive. My apprenticeship was now expiring, and the man with whom I learned my trade, through improper conduct, had become bankrupt. I had a new place to seek, and the kind notice of Providence surprised me. I had friends raised up beyond my expectation. My master's brother presented me with a complete good suit of clothes ; a place was provided for me to eai-n my living; I was favored with health and plenty of business, and could work well. I wondered that the Lord should regard my mean concerns, and show me any favor ; and as he had taken care of my temporal concerns, 1 thought it was an encouragement for me to cast my souPs concerns upon him. But my wicked unbelieving heart w^ould not go to that kind and gracious Father, who was manifesting his tender pity for such a poor wretch as I was. Instead of this, my unbeUef still increased, and the abominable corruptions of my vile, sinful nature, seemed as if they would overpower all my resolutions to do any thing that was good. I confined myself to attend on the means of grace in public, and also attended society meetings, but found no pleasure in them ; but awful hardness of heart, and vile thoughts, would continually possess me, I thought there never was so hardened and yet stupid creature, as I was, which made me conclude the Lord had given me up ; that I had so grieved the Holy Spirit that he would no longer strive with me ; and that I had sinned the unpardonable sin, and there could be no mercy for me.

Now I ceased to pray, for I believed that the Lord would strike me dead, if I dared to call upon him. I therefore looked for his judgments to follow me ; and hardly dared to close my eyes in sleep, fearing I should awake in hell. I would dream I was there blaspheming, and awake in horror, but dared not ask to be saved from it : and now, as I feared I should become a scandal to my parents and family, I resolved to keep alone, or to go to places of worship only to keep out of the way of temptation ; not daring to hope ever to have a word of encouragement spoken to me again. But I worked hard at my trade, to divert my mind, which I found was my best way. I said little to any one, and told no one of my dismal fears and horrors. I did once ask my father what he believed the unpardonable sin to be, without telling him my apprehension of my having committed it ; and his explanation seemed to confirm my belief that it was really my case. I still went to places of worship, and when any encouragement was presented to distressed souls, I would think — there now, I might have some relief, if I had not sinned that sin, which is unto death, and cannot be forgiven. But one sabbath evening, going to the Baptist meeting, a stranger of the name of Sutton preached, and remarked that some were tempted to believe that they had sinned the unpardonable sin, and were greatly distressed about it ; which he declared was an evidence that it was not their case, or they would be iO MEMOIRS OP THE REV. JOSEPH EASTBURN.

hardened and careless. This coming from one who 1 beheved knew nothing about me, I did beheve the Lord had directed it for me, and it greatly relieved my mind, I then resolved I would again betake myself to prayer, and if I perished, it should be at the throne of grace with the publican, crying as he did for mercy, and 1 was enabled to continue so to do, until at last, when just sinking, I was relieved ; which was in the following way :

" I frequently had a word of encouragement in sermons from my precious friend Dr. Sproat, and from dear Mr. Robert Smith of Pequea, who pointed out my convictions to be those of the Spirit of the Lord, which were commonly followed with manifestations of divine favor : also from several pious people, with whom I had now become acquainted, who were much interested in my case, and were, I believe, much engaged in prayer for me. But still my mind was overpowered with unbelief, until one sabbath morning, about the break of day. I was then thinking about my miserable state of soul — guilty, filthy, wretched, and helpless, and that a Saviour was appointed, and Jesus was inviting me to come to him, and if I did, 1 should obtain relief. I found the hindrance was in myself, and that none but the Lord could remove it. I then fell on my knees, crying to him to undertake for me. I tried to present all my wants to him, and besought him that whatever it was that hindered my closing with Jesus, he would remove it out of the way ; and that he would be pleased to work true faith in me, that I might believe. And while I was thus pouring out my heart to the Lord for his grace, that blessed counsel of the precious Saviour was powerfully impressed on my mind, contained in the third chapter of the Revelations and 18th verse — '1 counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire that thou mayest be rich, and white raiment that thou mayest be clothed, and that the shame of thy nakedness do not appear; and anoint thine eyes with eye-salve that thou mayest see.'' Now a perfect suitableness appeared in this blessed provision to answer all my wants; for I knew 1 was truly poor, and deep in debt to divine justice, and had nothing of my own to pay.

But the white raiment was what I stood in particular need of, for I had oft^n been filled with horror at the thought of appearing a guilty, vile, filthy spirit, before the bar of a holy and just God ; but if arrayed in this glorious white raiment I might appear there to divine acceptance, and all my filthy garments be cast away. The enlightening of the mind with this eye-salve of the Holy Spirit, was what I was likewise deeply sensible 1 greatly needed ; so that before I was aware of a change in my mind, my soul cried out — O Lord ! I accept this gracious counsel, and do bless thee for it. My heart was filled with comfort, and 1 could now call the Lord my dear father, and felt my very soul going out to him in love, whom before I had so much dreaded as my awful judge. I know not that any creature heard me, in all or any of my private exercises, or how long I continued in this ; hut when I came down to my father's family, with whom I then boarded, my father saw such a change in my countenance, that he directly desired me to lead in family worship, which I felt a willingness to do. But I did not mention any thing to any one of my joy, but went to meeting with great pleasure ; when Mr. Caldwell, from Elizabethtown, preached from the 73d Psalm, first part of the 28th verse — ' But it is good for me to draw nigh to God.' He showed that no one could draw nigh to God, in the sense of that text, without having experienced a change of heart, and a true heart-love to him ; and then described how the soul was delighted with a sense of his gracious presence and fatherly love ; and how it could call him my Father. I was fully satisfied that such had been the exercise of my soul that happy morning, and therefore did relate to my father what had passed in my mind. He then went with me to see Mr. Sproat, and desired me to relate the same to him, which I did, at their request. He inquired if I thought the Lord had shown me this favor for any goodness of my own ; which I protested I did not, but only of his pure, undeserved mercy. He then encouraged me to believe it was a work of divine grace, and now invited me to join in the communion of the church, which I never dared to do before, although often desired to do it " But my first comfort was of short duration. I soon began to fear 1 was deceiving myself with false hopes; B2

12 MEMOIRS OF THE REV. JOSEPH EASTBLRN.

and that it had been but a mere imagination of ray own. Here I was much cast down, and feared I never should have a sohd hope : and the loss of that comfort I had enjoyed for the short time I felt it, left upon me for a few days a most distressing sensation. I told my friends my distress, but could find no relief. I tried to pray that the Lord would satisfy me whether it was his work or not ; and the cry of my heart was constantly through the day — -