The life of David Brainerd, missionary to the Indians, with an abridgment of his diary and journal

Front matter

Class

THE

LIFE

Chap. II

His going to college. The state of the college at that time. The revival there. Religious zeal. The danger of a zeal not according to knowledge. Brainerd's case. The painful result. The rector and superiors of Yale College. Dangerous to offend some men. An unforgiving spirit. The use which a real Christian will

j make of persecution and hatred 12

CHAP. Ill,

His removal to Mr. Mills's, at Ripton . The preparatory steps to his becoming a preacher, and a missionary . . 21

Chap. IV

The state of his mind previous to entering upon his great undertaking. Probable reasons of his dejection and •*> mental exercises. His destination as a missionary. His visiting the Indians at Kaunaumeek 28

r>

Chap. V. •j

^The arduous nature of a missionary's work. Mr. Brainerd's residence with the Indians. His method of instructing them. The state of his mind. His success. His ordination , 38

CONTENTS.

PAGE

Chap. VI

Mr. Brainerd's return to Delaware. Extracts from his diary. His journeys to different places. His preaching and success, as related by himself, as far as to the close of his first journey to Susquahannah river. Another journey to New England. Its object. A second journey to Susquahannah. His return. His arrival at Crosweeksung 71

Containing some reflections and observations on the memoirs of Mr. Brainerd, by President Edwards . . 248

Preface

The religious public are already acquainted with a very copious life of David Brainerd, written by the late Presi* dent Edwards, and with an abridgment of that perform^ ance by the founder of Methodism, the Rev. John Wesley. It will therefore be expected that I should give some account of the following work, and assign the reasons which induced me to undertake it. The Life by Edwards has been supposed to contain much unimportant and exuberant matter, and a too frequent recurrence of the same things : this arose, no doubt, from the worthy author's not using sufficiently the pruning knife, while preparing the private diary of Mr. Brainerd for the press. As the work is now becoming scarce, a re-publication was at first proposed. But a learned and excellent friend, in whose judgment I have implicit confidence, suggested, that to re-write the life, and judiciously to select from the original volume the most important and interesting portions of the diary and journal, would be conferring upon the public a real benefit, as it would greatly reduce the book both in size and price, without at all diminishing its intrinsic worth. This task I was requested to undertake, and I engaged in it the more readily, as I hoped, by cultivating a close intimacy with the spirit of this exemplary missionary, I might greatly improve my own. At this time I was not acquainted with Mr. Wesley's abridgment, which therefore I thought it necessary to peruse, that I might avoid engaging in a needless labour. By this perusal I was rather induced to proceed in my undertaking, than influenced to lay it aside : and whatever imperfections may mark the present volume, I can venture to declare, that it is a faithful record of Brainerd's principles, conduct, and experience as a Christian and a missionary.

For the materials I am indebted to President Edwards ; and for the extracts in their abridged form, after I had

VUI

PREFACE.

compared them with the original, I have to express my obligations to Mr. Wesley. Frequently I have indulged myself in reflection and remark; this perhaps may relieve and enliven the uniformity of the narrative. I have taken pains to render the whole interesting and useful ; and I trust that the volume will prove an acceptable addition to the devotional library of younger Christians and students for the ministry. If any thing will quicken diligence, animate zeal, and spiritualize the affections, the diary and journal of Mr. Brainerd will not fail of success. His early departure from the field of labour, is an affecting consideration, and may teach the ministers of Christ the importance of doing immediately whatsoever their hands find to do ; we may have but little time to live, and we have much to perform. Souls are perishing; every moment they are rushing in multitudes to that world " where there is no reviving Spirit, and where the blood of Christ has no efficacy."

The remarks of President Edwards, at the close of his narrative, form so valuable e. portion of his work, that I could not persuade myself to close this volume without subjoining them, somewhat abridged, as an appendix. His observations on the " Witness of the Spirit/' should, in this age of antinomian delusion, be seriously read and deeply considered by Christians of all denominations : and that class in the religious world, who think themselves at the farthest possible remove from the immoral influence of antinomian heresy, would do well to examine how far their notions of distinct and immediate testimony have the same tendency with the principles of those whose spirit and conduct they so justly abhor. The sentiments of President Edwards, on this subject, are the sentiments of all rational and consistent Calvinists ; and if ever the preachers of this denomination in the Christian church, abandon these views of the nature of divine operations upon the mind, they will throw wide open the floodgates of fanaticism and licentiousness,

J, S«

THE

LIFE OF BRAINERD.

Chap. I

His birth. His early concern about religion. The peculiar exercises of his mind. His desire to be* come a student for the ministry.

Va rio us are the methods which wise and good men have employed in defence of Christianity ; the infidel has been assailed by evidence, which nothing but determined hostility to the Christian cause could enable him to resist. One champion has chosen this weapon, another has preferred that : each has been excellent of its kind, and with respect to its particular object, has vanquished " the ignorance of foolish men." But the vital influence of divine principles on the heart and life of a real Christian, is with me an argument of matchless power; which defends not a fact or individual circumstance only, but which is an adamantine shield to the entire system. It protects not merely a single entrance, it renders, on every side, the citadel secure. In this view, the life of David Brainerd has always appeared to me to contain the most luminous proofs of the divine reality and incal- Brai. a culable worth of the Gospel of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

This distinguished man, an apostle in labours and in u infirmities/' was a descendant of pious and respectable parents : he was born at Haddain, in Connecticut, one of the American colonies, on April 20, 17 18. From his earliest youth he was remarkably serious and thoughtful. His natural constitution was tinctured with melancholy, which, notwithstanding the power and influence of Christianity in ( his heart, often embittered his life, and covered his

./ mind with doubt and gloom : against this natural

infirmity he had to struggle to his dying day; and when this is considered, his abundant labours, indefatigable application, and ardent zeal, are indeed surprising : they forcibly illustrate the truth of the divine promise — u My strength is made perfect in weakness." It does not appear that this excellent man was, by his parents, designed for the work of the ministry. The pursuits of husbandry occupied his attention, and he laboured with his hands for one year upon his own farm at Durham. But the employment of a farmer was not congenial with his disposition : his mind thirsted for intellectual improvement, and at the age of twenty he commenced a life of study, attending at the same time with the greatest punctuality to the duties of religion, in the performance of which he thought a minister, and a candidate for the ministerial office, should be remarkably strict ; and it were to be wished, that all who assume the sacred character felt thus concerned to maintain its real dignity.

Perhaps no person ever presented a more striking instance of the subtlety and influence of a self-righteous spirit, and the bondage and misery into which it brings the soul, than David Brainerd : numerous and painful were his struggles with this adversary : — this was the canker-worm at the root of ail his religion; and long did he retain " a

OF BRAINERD.

secret latent hope of recommending himself to God by his religious duties." It was no easy thing to sweep away this refuge of lies; his heart clung to it till he had been nearly involved in its ruins. Like a drowning creature, yet disdaining to accept any offer of assistance, he made every effort to reach the shore in his own strength ; and it was not till he was " weaned in the greatness of his way/' till his own weakness, and entire helplessness, stared him in the face, and pressed upon him on every side, that he could say, there is no hope, " Save, Lord, or I perish."

The account which he has himself given of the manner in which he was brought to acquiesce, with all his heart, in the Gospel-method of salvation, and the mental difficulties with which he struggled previous to this, is striking and affecting.

" I was, I think, from my youth something sober, and inclined to melancholy, but do not remember any conviction of sin, worthy of remark, until I was seven or eight years of age, when I grew terrified at the thoughts of death, and was driven to the performance of duties; this religious concern was shortlived. However, I sometimes attended secret prayer; and thus lived at ' ease in Zion, though without God in the world/ till I was above thirteen years of age. But in the winter, 1732, I was something roused by the prevailing of a mortal sickness in Haddam- 1 was frequent, constant, and something fervent in duties, and took delight in reading, especially Mr. Janeway's 4 Token for Children I was sometimes much melted in duties, and took great delight in the performance of them. The Spirit of God at this time proceeded far with me ; 1 w r as remarkably dead to the world, and my thoughts were almost wholly employed about my soul's concerns ; I may indeed say, f almost I was persuaded to be a Christian/ I was also exceedingly distressed at the death of my mother, in March, 1732. But afterwards, my religious concern declined, and I, by degrees, fell back into security, though I still attended to secret prayer.

" About the loth of April, 1733, I removed from my father's house to East-Haddam, where I spent four years. Here I went in a round of secret duty. I was not much addicted to young company ; but when I did go into it, I never returned with so good a conscience as 1 went ; it always added new guilt to me, and made me afraid to come to the throne of grace.

« About the latter end of April, 1737, being full nineteen, I removed to Durham, and began to work on my farm, and so continued till 1 was twenty years old, though frequently longing after a liberal education. When I was about twenty, I applied myself to study, and was engaged more than ever in the duties of religion. I became very watchful over my thoughts, words, and actions ; and thought I must be so, because I designed to devote myself to the ministry.

" Some time in April, 1738, I went to Mr. Fiske's, and lived with him during his life. And I remember he advised me wholly to abandon young company, and associate myself with grave elderly people : which counsel I followed ; and my manner of life was now exceeding regular. I read my Bible more than twice through in less than a year. I spent much time every day in secret prayer, and other secret duties : I gave great attention to the word preached, and endeavoured, to my utmost, to retain »it. So much concerned was I about religion, that I agreed with some young persons to meet privately on Sabbath evenings for religious exercises ; and afier our meeting was ended, I used to repeat the discourses of the day to myself, and recollect what I could, though sometimes it was late in the night. Again on Monday mornings I used sometimes to recollect the same sermons. And I had sometimes

OF BRAINERD.

considerable movings of affections in duties, and much pleasure therein.

" After Mr. Fiske's death, I proceeded in my learning with my brother, and was still very constant in religious duties. Thus I proceeded on a self- righteous foundation, and should still, had not the mere mercy of God prevented.

Ifi Some time in the beginning of winter, 1738, it pleased God ? on one Sabbath-day morning, as I was walking out for some secret duties, to give me, on a sudden, such a sense of my danger, and the wrath of God, that I stood amazed, and was much distressed all that day, fearing the vengeance of God would soon overtake me ; I kept much aione, and sometimes grudged the birds and beasts their happiness, because they were not exposed to eternal misery, as 1 saw I was. And thus I lived, from day to day, in great distress : sometimes there appeared mountains before me, to obstruct my hopes of mercy ; but I used, however, to pray and cry to God; and perform other duties with great earnestness.

6< Some time in February, 1738-9? I set apart a day for secret fasting and prayer, and spent the day in almost incessant cries to God for mercy, that he would open my eyes to see the evil of sin, and the way of life by Jesus Christ. And God was pleased that day to make considerable discoveries of my heart to me, and to make my endeavours a means to show me my helplessness in some measure. I constantly strove after whatever qualifications I imagined others obtained before die reception of Christ. Sometimes I felt the power of a hard heart , and supposed it must be softened before Christ would accept of me : and when I felt any meltings of heart, I hoped now the work was almost done ; and hence, when my distress still remained, I was wont to murmur at God's dealings with me ; and thought, when others felt their hearts

THE

LIFE softened, God shewed them mercy ; but my distress remained still.

" Sometimes I grew remiss and sluggish., without any great convictions of sin, for a considerable time together : but after such a season, convictions seized me more violently. One night in particular, when I was walking solitarily abroad, 1 had such a view of my sin, that I feared the ground w T ould cleave asunder, and send my soul quick into hell. And though I was forced to go to bed, lest my distress should be discovered by others, which I much feared, yet I scarce durst sleep at all, for I thought it would be a great wonder if I should be out of hell in the morning. But though my distress was thus great, yet I dreaded the loss of convictions, and returning back to a state of security, and to my former insensibility of impending wrath ; which made me exceedingly exact in my behaviour, lest I should stifle the motions of God's Spirit.

(6 The many disappointments and distresses I met with, put me into a most horrible frame of contesting with the Almighty; with an inward vehemence, finding fault with his ways of dealing with mankind. I found great fault with the imputation of Adam's sin to his posterity ; and my wicked heart often wished for some, other way of salvation than by Jesus Christ. I wished sometimes there was no God, or that there was some other God that could controul him. These thoughts were frequently acted before I was aware ; but when I considered this, it distressed me to think, that my heart was so full of enmity against God; and it made me tremble, lest God's vengeance should suddenly fall upon me. I used before to imagine my heart was not so bad as the Scriptures represented. Sometimes I used to take much pains to work it into a humble submissive disposition; but on a sudden, the thoughts of the strictness of the law 7 , or the sovereignty of God, would so irritate the corruptions of my heart 3 that;

OF BRAINERD.

it would break over all bounds, and burst forth on all sides, like floods of waters when they break down their dam.

u While I was in this distressed state of mind, the corruption of my heart was especially irritated with these things following: —

" 1. The strictness of the divine law. For I found it was impossible for me (after my utmost pains) to answer the demands of it. 1 often made resolutions, and as often broke them. I imputed the whole to want of being more watchful, and used to call myself a fool for my negligence. But when, upon a stronger resolution, and greater endeavours, fasting and prayer, I found all attempts fail, then I quarrelled with the law of God, as unreasonably rigid. I thought if it extended only to my outward actions, I could bear with it: but I found it condemned me for the sins of my heart, which I could not possibly prevent. I was extremely loath to give out, and own my own utter helplessness ; but after repeated disappointments, thought that rather than perish, I could do a little more still; especially if such and such circumstances might but attend my endeavours ; I hoped that I should strive more earnestly than ever : and this hope of future more favourable circumstances, and of doing something hereafter, kept me from utter despair of myself, and from seeing myself fallen in the hand of God, and dependant on nothing but boundless grace.

" 2. Another thing was, that faith alone was the condition* of salvation, and that God would not come down to lower terms ; that he would not promise life and salvation upon my sincere prayers and endeavours. That word, (Mark xvi. 16.) u He that believeth not shall be damned/' cut off all hope there ; and I found faith was the gift of God ; that

* The word condition is very alarming to the minds of some good people; but all that Mr. Brainerd meant by it, and many others who use it is, that there is no salvation without faith.

TfiE Lift

I could not get it of myself, and could not oblige God to bestow it upon roe, by any of my performances. (Eph. ii. 1, 8.) This, I was ready to say^ <s Is a hard saying, who can bear it?" 1 could not bear, that all I had done should stand for mere nothing, who had been very conscientious in duty, and had been exceedingly religious a great while, and had. as I thought, done much more than many 6th srs that had obtained mercy. I confessed, indeed, the viieness of my duties ; but then, what made them at that time seem vile, was my wandering thoughts in them ; not because I was all over defiled, and the principle corrupt from whence they flowed, so that I could not possibly do any thing that was good. And therefore I called what I did by the name of faithful endeavours; and could not bear it, that God had made no promises of salvation to them.

" 3. Another thing was, that I could not find out how to come to Christ. I read the calls of Christ, made to the weary and heavy-laden; but could find no way chat he directed them to come in. I thought I would gladly come, if I knew how, though the path of duty directed to was never so difficult. Mr. Stoddard's Guide to Christ did not tell me any thing I could do, that would bring me to Christ, but left me, as it were, with a great gulph between me and Christ, without any direction to get through, For I was not yet experimentally taught, that there could be no way prescribed, whereby a natural man could, of his own strength, obtain that which is supernatural, and which the highest angel cannot give.

u All this time the Spirit of God was powerfully at work with me ; and I was inwardly pressed to relinquish all self-confidence, all hopes of ever helping myself by any means whatsoever; and the conviction of my lost estate was sometimes so clear, that it was as if it had been declared to me in so many

OF BRAINERD.

words, u It is done ; it is for ever impossible to deliver yourself." For about three or four days, my soul was thus distressed, especially at some turns, when, for a few moments, I seemed to myself lost and undone; but then would shrink back immediately from the sight, because I dared not venture myself into the hands of God as wholly helpless. I dared not see that important truth, that I was dead in trespasses and sins. But when I had thrust away these views of myself at any time, I was distressed to have the same discoveries again : for I greatly feared being given over of God to final stupidity. When I thought of putting it off to a more convenient season, the conviction was so powerful, with regard to the present time, that it was the best time, and probably the only time, that I dared not to put it off. Yet my soul shrunk away from it : I could see no safety in throwing myself into the hands of God, and that I could lay no claim to any thing better than damnation.

a But after a considerable time spent in such dis» tresses, one morning, while I was walking in a solitary place as usual, I at once saw that all my contrivances to procure salvation for myself were utterly in vain: I was brought quite to a stand, as finding myself totally lost. I had thought many times, that the difficulties were very great; but now I saw them in a very different light, that it was for ever impossible for me to do any thing towards delivering myself. I then thought of blaming myself, that I had not done more while I had an opportunity, (for it seemed now as if the season of doing was for ever over and gone;) but I instantly saw, that let me have done what I would, it would no more have tended to my helping myself than what I had done ; that I had made all the pleas I ever could have made to all eternity, and that all my pleas were vain. The tumult that had been before in my mind was now quieted; and I was something eased of that distress,

A 5 which I felt whilst struggling against a sight of myself. I had the greatest certainty that my state was for ever miserable for all that I could do ; and was almost astonished that I had never been sensible of it before.

u In the time while I remained in this state, my notions respecting my duties^ were quite different from what I had entertained in times past. Now I saw there was no necessary connexion between my prayers and the divine mercy : that they laid not the least obligation upon God to bestow his grace upon me ; and that there was no more goodness in them than there would be in my paddling in the water (which was the comparison I had then in my mind :) and this because they were not performed from any love to God. I saw that I had heaped up my devotions before God, fasting, praying, &c. really thinking I was aiming at the glory of God ; whereas I never once truly intended it.

I continued in this state of mind from Friday morning till the Sabbath evening following, July 12, 1739? when I was walking again in the same solitary place, and attempting to pray, but found no heart to engage in that, or any other duty. Having been thus endeavouring to pray for near half an hour, (and by this time the sun was about half an hour high,) as I was walking in a dark thick grove, unspeakable glory seemed to open to the view of my soul : I do not mean any external brightness, nor any imagination of a body of light, or any thing of that nature ; but it was a new inward apprehension, or view that 1 had of God, such as I never had before. I stood still, and admired. I knew that I had never seen before any thing comparable to it for excellency and beauty ; it was widely different from all the conceptions that ever I had of God, or things divine. 1 had no particular apprehension of any one Person in the Trinity, either the Father, the Son, or the Holy Ghost; but it appeared to be divine glory that I then beheld ; and my soul rejoiced with joy unspeakable to see such a glo-

OF BRAINEBD* nous Divine Being ; and I was inwardly pleased and satisfied that he should be God-over all for ever and ever. My soul was so captivated and delighted with the excellency, loveliness, greatness, and other perfections of God, that I was even swallowed up in him to that degree, that, at first, I scarce reflected there was such a creature as myself,

H Thus God, I trust, brought me to a hearty disposition to exalt him and set him upon the throne, and ultimately to aim at his honour and glory as King of the universe.

u I continued in this state until near dark without any sensible abatement, and then began to think what I had seen, and was sweetly composed all the evening following. I felt myself in a new world, and every thing about me appeared with a different aspect from what it w as wont to do.

u At this time the way of salvation opened to me with such infinite wisdom, suitableness, and excellency, that I wondered I should ever think of any other way of salvation : was amazed that I had not dropped my own contrivances, and complied with this blessed and excellent way before. If I could have been saved by my own duties, or any other way that I had formerly contrived, my whole soul would now have refused. I wondered that the whole world did not see and comply with this way of salvation entirely by the righteousness of Christ"

1£

THE U$3

Chap. II

Ms going to college. The state of the college at that time. The revival there. Religious zeal. The danger of a zeal not according to knowledge. Brainerd's case. The painful result. The rector and superiors of Yale College. Dangerous to offend some men. An unforgiving spirit. The use which a real Christian will make of persecution and hatred.

The most essential qualification for the ministerial office is personal religion ; and it is justly expected from the man of God, that he should be eminently holy. A graceless minister is the most shocking character in the world : and a minister, whose religion is doubtful, whose spirit and conduct demand every allowance which the most liberal Christian charity is disposed to make, will never be extensively useful, or exceedingly happy . Those ministers who have been u burning; and shining lights" in the world, have been men taught of Gud, who have seen in their hearts, as in a glass, the en lire depravity of human nature : they have been led through the deep waters, and their souls have been exercised with severe spiritual trials. An attentive observer will easily perceive in the preceding account, which Mr. Biainerd has written, of the painful exercises of his mind, and the manner in which he was led to embrace the Saviour, that the Lord was preparing him for great usefulness; and that he was designated, by the Head of the Church, " to preach the Gospel to the poor; to heal the broken in heart; and to open the prison to them that are bound." That this was to be his delightful employment, he was himself convinced 5

OV BRA1NERD, and in the beginning of September, 1739> when he was a little more than twenty-one years of age, he entered himself as a graduate at Yale College, in New Haven. Previous to this, as his diary just quoted informs us, he had spent some time with Mr. Fiske, his pastor and frieud ; and after his death, with his brother; and was thus, in some measure, prepared for the studious employment of a college life. But how different is the situation upon which our young friend now entered, from that which he recently left. Yale College, when it was honoured with Brainerd as a student, was certainly not very eminent for the personal religion of its sons ; indeed, constituted as most colleges are, in which personal experimental religion is not the " sine qua non" of admission, they must sometimes reckon among their members the gay and the fashionable, the thoughtless and the vain : and when there is not religious principle to restrain from vice, the natural propensities of the human heart will, in spite of legal strictness and discipline, sometimes be gratified; and the contagious breath of iniquity sometimes inhaled. At his first going to college, and during his residence there, the righteous soul of Brainerd was grieved ; and perhaps the folly he was daily witnessing around him had no small share in depressing his animal spirits, and feeding the melancholy which too often preyed upon his mind. Surrounded as he was by these temptations, however, he caught none of their influence. In this unfavourable situation he was enabled to maintain the life of religion in his own soul, and his holy deportment had a tendency to suppress levity and sin in his fellow-students : — happy the man who thus lives and acts while at a university college, or a dissenting academy ; he prevents a thousand stings of conscience, and his future ministry is not clogged, nor his life embittered by the sigh of painful recollection. Let students in general compare their college diary with Brainerd's, and be humbled.