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Lectures on Revivals of Religion by Charles Finney – Free eBook

Keeping with my value on sharing great reads with everyone, this is the free eBook of Charles Finney’s book, “The Revivals of Religion.” Finney wrote many of his works down and had them published in his latter years. We are blessed for his stint overseeing Oberlin college after the Second Great Awakening.

Finney is by far one of my favorite preachers of the Second Great Awakening.

Find the links to the Kindle, pdf, eBook formats here:

http://ift.tt/1UBKZQa

#ebook #kindle #revival #awakening #pdf #CharlesFinney

The post Lectures on Revivals of Religion by Charles Finney – Free eBook appeared first on DHM.

Timothy Dwight

Author| Stephen Fox
Posted on| believersweb.org
Category| Biographies
Source| Washington UBF
Originating Post| Timothy Dwight

“For Ezra had devoted himself to the study and observance of the Law of the
Lord, and to teaching its decrees and laws in Israel.’’ — Ezra 7:10

Introduction
God used George Whitefield and Jonathan Edwards powerfully in their day. As
the influence of the first great awakening waned, other challenges faced the
infant nation of America. God, it seems, had called America to be a city on a hill.

Yet, during the period of the revolution and the two decades after, America faced deep spiritual struggles. The war brought hardships, economic chaos, and
uncertainty which resulted in a kind of moral chaos as well. The expansion west
had begun, and the frountier life led to a situation somewhat like that of Israel, “In that day Israel had no king. Each man did what was right in his own eyes. Many feared that such moral malfunction would spread back into the entire nation, destroying the piety of the established communities. New England, the intellectual fountainhead in America, faced a more subtle foe. The French Rationalist movement, espoused by the leaders of the French revolution and carried like disease in the soldiers of that country who supported America’s cause, began to spread rapidly through the people and the intellectual leadership of the nation. Such thinking taught that the Scripture was mere fable, that divine revelation was non-existent, and that human reason was the sole judge of right and wrong. The philosophy exalted man and ignored God. It proclaimed the innate goodness of man, while inviting lawlessness, and tempted the same men it exalted into debasing self-indulgence and sin. In the face of these challenges, God did not abandon New England. God raised up Timothy Dwight as the intellectual, and faithful leader of the second series of revivals in New England.

The revivals began, in part, at Yale college where God used Dwight to bring about the conversion of perhaps more than half of the student body of Yale. These were the men who would lead New England spiritually and in some cases socially for decades to come. We, of course, in this day face a very similar situation as Dwight and the church of his day. The universities, that is, the foundry of leadership in our society, is largely given over to secular humanism, the exaltation of man above God, and to spiritual apathy among the students. A nation boasting such and educational foundation will never become or remain a light of the gospel to all nations. In fact, as we hear loudly proclaimed from many distant shores, America is exporting not light, but darkness. Yet, through repentance and faith, God will use this very generation to stand in the place of leadership, to be salt and light among our own pears, and those who will come after us so that the university, and thus the leadership of America may be filled with the vision of God to be a city on a hill, a lamp that will not be hidden. We must study Dwight to learn how God used him to turn a spiritually bankrupt university into a city on a hill, and a light to New England and the world.

Who was Timothy Dwight?
On May 14th, 1752, Mary Edwards Dwight gave birth to her first child, Timothy. George Washington then was twenty years old; Francois Voltair was fifty-eight, and Thomas Jefferson was nine years old. Timothy would spend most of his life in the halls of academia and began his teaching career early. Once, when Timothy did not show up for dinner, his worried parents searched earnestly, only to find him safe and sound under an apple tree with a group of Native Americans gathered around him. He was teaching them to recite the — no doubt, Calvinist — catechism. He explained to his mother that he had met them on the street and had asked them if they would like to hear about God and religion.

They went to the orchard to begin, and he had forgotten the time, that was all.
Except that\dots he was four years old. Timothy was educated both at home and in schools. From age four to six he learned classic literature at a school and secretly taught himself Latin. The school closed when he was six, and his mother took over his studies until he was eleven. Under his mother’s direction he studied geography, history, and grammar. He had already studied the biblical histories, and proceeded then to study Josephus, Hookes history of Rome, histories of Greece and England, etc.

At the age of eleven his parents sent him to live with Reverend Enoch Huntington under whom he continued his study of Latin and Greek. Such was the extent of his secondary education. What most classical scholars study at the universities, Timothy had finished by the modern sixth grade. It makes me wonder, “What did I do in grade school?’’ Timothy entered Yale at thirteen, graduated four years later, continued at Yale for graduate study, and was later hired as a Tutor at the college. During his time as a tutor, Dwight’s pursuit of knowledge reached a fever pitch. He stopped exercising in the interest of reserving more time for his studies. He slept four hours a night, and began to begrudge even the time he spent eating. In order to maintain his mental edge, he limited himself to twelve mouthfuls of vegetables for dinner. After about a year of this, his body gave up the fight and collapsed. He suffered for several months in sickness, at one point near death, and almost lost the use of his eyes. From this point until the end of his life he could read only with severe pain and headaches. He needed the services of an amanuensis to write. That means he dictated everything to another writer. Although at first it seems a tragedy, the importance of this development in his life cannot, I think, be underestimated. Dwight was now a fabulous scholar, who could not read. This turned his interest to people. Rather than reading, he talked to people, he
listened and probed through his questions. Rather than disappearing into the
study in order to meditate on the complications of contemporary theology, he met farmers and talked about gardens and politics. Through this long ordeal of his near fatal illness, and through the all but complete loss of his eyes, Dwight began to connect his unmatchable intellect to the practical spiritual needs of his contemporaries. He knew the fear of death, he knew the concerns and passions of the generation God had called him to serve. Dr. Dwight returned to Yale, continuing to serve as a Tutor until the death of the then Yale President, Dr. Daggett. At that time the students petitioned for Timothy, then age twenty-five, to be made president. He suppressed the petition. Instead, he joined the First Connecticut Brigade of the Continental Army. He served for approximately one year, never carried a rifle, serving instead as Chaplain. Although he served for only one year, it was from this experience that he drew countless of his illustrations, examples, and insight into the character and plight of man. The war revealed the character of men in hardship and fear. The presence of death brought the theology of his early years near to the practical needs of men. This training, combined with his earlier sickness, secured Dwight’s role as a shepherd, rather than as a metaphysical Calvinist theologian. Such a man, God would use greatly.

Timothy left the Continental Army for grievous reasons. His parents and family
were suspected of sympathizing with the British. In order to avoid the conflict, Dwight’s father had decided to buy land near the Mississippi river and resettle. He traveled in advance of the family, died in Mississippi, and two of his sons, Timothy’s brothers, had virtually walked across Georgia to reach safety. Thus, Timothy, as the eldest, retired from the Army to take care of his mother, and the two farms. When the farms, and the war, had settled to a reasonable degree Dwight accepted a call to pastor a community in Greenfield Hill. He began in 1783. His time at Greenfield Hill may be characterized by three aspects: Pastoring the church, Teaching at an academy he established, and speaking and writing against Deism. He kept this position until 1795 at which time he accepted the call to Yale. Although an able pastor for the entire community, Dwight’s true joy seems to have been teaching. Both at Northhampton and at Greenfield Hill he established schools. Against the current of the times, Dwight spoke strongly for the education of women along with men, and not in any reduced fashion. Having been educated himself at the feet of his mother, he knew the influence such women had on the development of their children. Although many women were educated in fashion, romance novels, and in proper etiquette, Dwight thought it ruined them by teaching them only to dream of a world they would never inhabit.

He claimed that such education focused not on who one is, but rather on who
one appeared to be. Such a person, he thought, might make a good dancer, or
frolicker, but never a good wife. Instead he thought women should be educated in earnestness and seriousness so that they might more deeply know the gospel and struggle together with their husbands to raise godly households. In this sense, Dwight was about 150 years ahead of his time. While preaching and teaching at Greenfield Hill, Dwight recognized the battle at hand. In 1794 he published “A Discourse on the Genuineness and Authenticity of the New Testament’’ as a defense against the French Deistic influence which had spread rapidly through the young colonies. In 1795 God called, through the Yale Corporation, Dwight to the presidency of Yale.

Reclaiming Yale College
Of all of Dwight’s accomplishments, the most important, in terms of the spiritual history of America, is his defense of Christianity against French infidelity, and his attack directly upon the doctrines of atheism, deism, and Unitarianism. Through his sermons and publications, Dwight provided a light for the mind of the general populace. But through his influence upon the students and professors of Yale he profoundly guided the intellectual leadership of New England for decades after his death. Yale was to be the final testing ground of forty-three years of shepherd training. Here Dwight would bring to bear his razor sharp mind, broad education, and practical understanding of humanity on the guiding and discipline of twenty-two classes of Yale graduates. When Dwight arrived at Yale, the moral and scholarly atmosphere of the school was, to say the least, in a valley. Membership in the college church hovered near, well, near zero. Most undergraduates avowed themselves skeptics. One of the students of that day later wrote, “intemperance, profanity, and gambling were common; yea, and also licentiousness.’’ Some of the students had taken to calling each other not by their given names, but rather by the names of Voltaire, D’Alembert, Diderot, and of other French and English infidels. The campus supported not one but two societies dedicated to the reading and distribution of literature by deist Tom Paine. One might think that in such an atmosphere of “reason’’ and of worship of the exalted human nature order and self-discipline might have also been prominent on campus. As with the French revolution, however, such talk in its practical application degenerated into pleasure seeking, and gratification of the true nature of humanity. Once, near the end of his term, when the previous president of Yale had brought a visitor to the chapel for an assembly, he, being late, found the students yelling, whooping, carousing, and generally out of control. The president forced his way to the podium and wore himself out shouting and pounding on the stage with his cane until the cane splintered. It was some time before order was restored. The guest, I’m sure, was not very impressed with the men of such a fine institution as Yale. Into such a mess rode Timothy Dwight.

In that time, the President not only ran the college, but also taught the Senior class. In Dwight’s case, he was also the professor of Divinity. Part of the senior curriculum was a discussion class consisting of debates on such questions as capital punishment (an old college staple) foreign immigration (things haven’t changed much) Ought religious tests be required of Civil Officers? Do specters appear? Is a lie ever justifiable? Is man advancing to a state of Perfectibility? Now, Yale’s laws of that day stated, “If any Scholar shall deny the Holy Scriptures, or any part thereof, to be of divine authority; or shall assert and endeaveour to propagate among the Students any error or heresy subverting the foundations of the Christioan religion, and shall persist therein, after admonitino, he shall be dismissed.’’

In spite of this, most Yale men scoffed at the idea of divine revelation. For Dwight’s first disputation class he requested a list of questions from the seniors. He would then choose from among the questions the one he thought most suitable for debate. Even though it was outlawed, the Seniors included the question, “Are the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament the word of God?’’ It was clearly a test of the new President. Dwight met the challenge head on. He chose that very question and told the seniors to do their best. He would not assume that any of the opinions expressed were their own. He did require, however, that they treat the subject with the respect it deserved. All of the seniors chose to answer the question negatively. After all of the students had spoken, Dwight began to critique their arguments, slowly and methodically showing the class how weak the deist arguments really were. He then proceeded to answer the question positively in the affirmative, and not only so but also preached incessantly on the subject for six months in the chapel, and delivered additional lectures on the subject of Evidences of Divine Revelation. The next year only one freshman was a professing Christian, none of the sophomores (typical), one of the junior class, but of the senior class eight to ten.

Dwight’s influence had begun. From the class of graduate theology majors Dwight chose several to train as staff officers in order to help preserve the faith of students who had escaped the net of infidelity. After seven years of such preaching, a revival broke out on campus. Of 230 students, one third were converted. Thirty of these entered the ministry. Others were prominent in New England life. One of Dwight’s disciples later wrote, “Dwight, through the blessing of God, changed the college from a sink of moral and spiritual pollution into a residence not only of science and literature, but of morality and religion, a nursery of piety and virtue, a fountain whence has issued streams to make glad the city of God.’’

Such a change could not be accomplished by preaching alone. Dwight’s attitude toward the students was one of paternal concern. When dealing with miscreant students, Dwight would call the young man to his office. There he received an earnest and genuine discussion of the imprudence of his actions. I think it must have been quite like receiving an entire sermon directed specifically and personally to you. On one occasion, a student had become so distressed by the thought of his salvation eluding him, that a student went, late in the evening, to find Dr. Dwight. Dwight came to the student’s room and recited with him, for some time, the invitations of the gospel, and then prayed for him. “A sweet serenity’’ overcame him and later turned to full joy as he found confidence of his salvation in Christ. Another student, so shaken by a professor’s correction that he imagined that he could see his corpse and coffin before him and hell ready to receive him, went to see Dr. Dwight personally. He also received at first calmness, and later confidence in Christ. Timothy Dwight provided for the spiritual life of the students not only through his personal concern and example, but also through the environment he fostered among the faculty. As the sciences grew in importance at the universities of America, Dwight convinced the corporation of Yale to support a professor of Chemistry. Dwight also convinced them to hire for the position Benjamin Silliman, then a tutor at Yale and preparing for entrance to the Connecticut bar as a lawyer. He had virtually zero knowledge of Chemistry. Dwight chose him for his character and for the potential Dwight saw in him. Another example is the establishment of the professor of Medical studies. The corporation had nominated Nathan Smith, a man of unquestioned ability and national esteem. Dwight refused to accept his nomination because he had fallen under the influence of Deism while studying in England. Dwight would have nothing of Deism or Infidelity among his professors. Later, after a sincere and genuine conversion and recantation of his previous beliefs, Smith was reconsidered for the position, and readily accepted.

Dwight fought hard against the influence of Deism at Yale and in New England
for the rest of his life. As the university grew, however, he and others realized the need for specialized training for the ministers coming up through the ranks. They rightly considered that the ministers should be trained more thoroughly than even lawyers and physicians because the importance of their work and influence was eternal, rather than temporal. Moreover, Harvard had been lost to the Unitarian influence as early as 1805 when the overseers of Harvard appointed a Unitarian to the Professor of Divinity. The next year they elected as president of Harvard a man with strong inclinations toward the idea. This election caused no small alarm among the Christian denominations. Such concerns led to the founding of Andover Seminary. The founding board consulted Dwight on the appointment of faculty, and the curriculum, and the overall plan of the seminary. Eventually they asked him to serve on the governing board. So it was that Dwight’s influence spread from Yale to the first theological seminary in America. Through Dwight, God raised up generations of ministers and shepherds for the New England people. He preserved the intellectual leadership of the country for his work to raise up America as a blessing to many nations. We, of course, are responsible for this generation. We must have a vision for God to use our prayers and studies to raise up professors and even college presidents in order to reclaim the university as a place of hallowed ground. Let us pray for the third great awakening to begin in the campuses of the East Coast as did the second.

Bibliography
DeWolfe Howe, “Classic Shades,’’ Little, Brown, & Co., Boston. 1928.
Charles E. Cuningham, “Timothy Dwight,’’ The MacMillan Co., New York. 1942.
Peter Marshall and David Manuel, “From Sea to Shining Sea,’’ Fleming Revell Co., Tarrytown, NY. 1986.

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Hero of the Faith – Praying Payson of Portland, Maine – 2-5-2007

edwardpayson
Author| Unknown
Posted on| Unknown
Category| Biographies
Source| mountzion.org
Originating Post| Word Document on Google (Found Here)

The Last Days of Edward Payson, D.D.
“Praying Payson of Portland”

EDWARD PAYSON, D.D. WAS BORN July 25, 1783 in Rindge, New Hampshire, where his father was a distinguished clergyman. For the last twenty years of his life, Edward was the pastor of The Second Church in Portland, Maine, where he died October 22, 1827, at the age of 44. His valuable and instructive Memoir has been read with interest by thousands.

During much of the last year of his life he suffered the most severe bodily anguish. His right arm and left side lost all power of motion, and the flesh became insensible to external applications, while internally he experienced a sensation of burning which he compared to a stream of liquid fire poured through his bones. He continued his public ministrations a part of each Sabbath for some months after this attack; and when prostrated on his dying bed, was enabled, through the marvelous displays of Divine grace, to plead, with unwonted eloquence, the cause of his Redeemer. On September 19 he dictated the following letter to his sister.

My Dear Sister,

Were I to adopt the figurative language of Bunyan, I might date this letter from the land of Beulah, of which I have been for some weeks a happy inhabitant. The celestial city is full in my view. Its glories beam upon me, its breezes fan me, its odors are wafted to me, its sounds strike upon my ears, and its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing separates me from it but the river of death, which now appears but as an insignificant rill that may be crossed at a single step, whenever God shall give permission. The Sun of Righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and brighter as He approached, and now He fills the whole hemisphere; pouring forth a flood of glory in which I seem to float like an insect in the beams of the sun; exulting, yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and wondering, with unutterable wonder, why God should deign thus to shine upon a sinful worm. A single heart and a single tongue seem altogether inadequate to my wants: I want a whole heart for every separate emotion, and a whole tongue to express that emotion.

But why do I speak thus of myself and my feelings? Why not speak only of our God and Redeemer? It is because I know not what to say. When I would speak of them, my words are all swallowed up. I can only tell you what effects their presence produces, and even of these I can tell you but very little. Oh, my sister, my sister! Could you but know what awaits the Christian; could you only, know so much as I know, you could not refrain from rejoicing, and even leaping for joy. Labors, trials, troubles would be nothing: you would rejoice in afflictions, and glory in tribulations; and, like Paul and Silas, sing God’s praises in the darkest night, and in the deepest dungeon. You have known a little of my trials and conflicts, and know that they have been neither few nor small; and I hope this glorious termination of them will serve to strengthen your faith, and elevate your hope.

And now, my dear, DEAR sister, farewell. Hold on your Chris¬¬tian course but a few days longer, and you will meet, in heaven,

Your happy and affectionate brother,
Edward Payson

September 21, he exclaimed, “Oh, what a blessed thing it is to lose one’s will! Since I have lost my will, I have found happiness. There can be no such thing as disappointment to me, for I have no desires but that God’s will may be accomplished.”

“It sounds so flat, when people tell me that it is just for God to afflict me, as if justice did not require infinitely more.”

He was asked, “Do you feel yourself recon¬ciled?”—“Oh! That is too cold. I rejoice, I triumph! And this happiness will endure as long as God Himself, for it consists in admiring and adoring Him.”

“I can find no words to express my happiness. I seem to be swimming in a river of pleasure, which is carrying me on to the great fountain.”

Sabbath morning, Sept. 23, he said, “Last night I had a full, clear view of Death, as the king of terrors; now he comes and crowds the poor sinner to the very verge of the precipice of destruction, and then pushes him down headlong! But I felt that I had nothing to do with this; and I loved to sit like an infant at the feet of Christ, who saved me from this fate. I felt that death was disarmed of all its terrors; all he could do would be to touch me, and let my soul loose to go to my Savior.”

“I am more and more convinced that the happiness of heaven is a benevolent happiness. In proportion as my joy has increased, I have been filled with intense love to all creatures. I long to measure out a full cup of happiness to everybody, but Christ wisely keeps that prerogative in His own hands.”

His exertions in conversing with visitors greatly increased his sufferings, but he could not refrain.

To a young convert he said, “You will have to go through many conflicts and trials; you must be put in the furnace, and tempted, and tried, in order to show you what is in your heart. Sometimes it will seem as if Satan had you in his power, and that the more you struggle and pray against sin, the more it prevails against you. But when you are thus tried and desponding, remember me; I have gone through all this, and now you see the end.”

“Christians might avoid much trouble and inconvenience, if they would only believe what they profess — that God is able to make them happy without anything else. They imagine that if such a dear friend were to die, or such and such blessings to be removed, they should be miserable; whereas God can make them a thousand times happier without them. To mention my own case — God has been depriving me of one blessing after another; but, as everyone was removed, He has come in and filled up its place; and now, when I am a cripple, and not able to move, I am happier than ever I was in my life before, or ever expected to be; and, if I had believed this twenty years ago, I might have been spared much anxiety.”

Fearing that his strength would not allow him to converse individually with all the members of his congregation, he directed invitations to be given from the pulpit, that they would visit him in classes. To the heads of families he spoke thus:
“It has often been remarked that people who have been into the other world, cannot come back to tell us what they have seen; but I am so near the eternal world, that I can see almost as clearly as if I were there; and I see enough to satisfy myself, at least, of the truth of the doctrines which I have preached. I do not know that I should feel at all surer, had I been really there.
“It is always interesting to see others in a situation in which we know that we must shortly be placed ourselves; and we all know that we must die. And to see a poor creature, when, after an alternation of hopes and fears, he finds that his disease is mortal, and death comes to tear him away from everything he loves, and crowds, and crowds him to the very verge of the precipice of destruction, and then thrusts him down headlong — there he is, cast into an unknown world; no friend, no Savior to receive him.
“Oh, how different is this from the state of a man who is prepared to die. He is not obliged to crowd reluctantly along; but the other world comes like a great magnet, to draw him away from this; and he knows that he is going to enjoy — and not only knows, but begins to taste it — perfect happiness; forever and ever; forever and ever!

“And now God is in this room; I see Him, and oh, how unspeakably lovely and glorious does He appear — worthy of ten thousand thousand hearts, if we had them! He is here, and hears me pleading with the creatures that He has made, whom He preserves, and loads with blessings, to love Him. And oh, how terrible does it appear to me, to sin against this God; to set up our wills in opposition to His; and when we awake in the morning, instead of thinking, ‘What shall I do to please my God today?’ to inquire, ‘What shall I do to please myself today?’” After a short pause he continued, “It makes my blood run cold to think how inexpressibly miserable I should now be without religion. To lie here, and see myself tottering on the verge of destruction! Oh, I should be distracted! And when I see my fellow creatures liable every moment to be reduced to this situation, I am in an agony for them, that they may escape their danger before it be too late.”

He afterwards said, “I am always sorry when I say anything to anyone who comes in: it seems so inadequate to what I wish to express. The words sink right down under the weight of the meaning I wish to convey.”

On another occasion, “I find no satisfaction in looking at anything I have done; I want to leave all this behind — it is nothing — and fly to Christ to be clothed in His righteousness.”

Again, “I have done nothing myself. I have not fought, but Christ has fought for me; I have not run, but Christ has carried me; I have not worked, but Christ has wrought in me — Christ has done all.”

“Oh! The lovingkindness of God — His lovingkindness! This afternoon, while I was meditating on it, the Lord seemed to pass by, and proclaim Himself, ‘The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious!’ Oh, how gracious! Try to conceive of that, His lovingkindness, as if it were not enough to say kindness, but — loving-kindness. What must be the lovingkindness of God, who is Himself infinite love!”
“It seemed this afternoon as if Christ said to me, ‘You have often wondered and been impatient at the way by which I have led you; but what do you think of it now?’ And I was cut to the heart, when I looked back and saw the wisdom and goodness by which I had been guided, that I could ever for a moment distrust His love!”

Speaking of the temper requisite to the right discharge of ministerial duty, he said: “I never was fit to say a word to a sinner, except when I had a broken heart myself; when I was subdued and melted into penitence, and felt as though I had just received pardon to my own soul, and when my heart was full of tenderness and pity.”

As the young men of his congregation assembled in his chamber, he thus addressed them:

“My Young Friends, You will all one day be obliged to embark on the same voyage on which I am just embarking; and as it has been my especial employment, during my past life, to recommend to you a Pilot to guide you through this voyage, I wished to tell you what a precious Pilot He is, that you may be induced to choose Him for yours. I felt desirous that you might see that the religion I have preached can support me in death. You know that I have many ties which bind me to earth — a family to whom I am strongly attached, and a people whom I love almost as well — but the other world acts like a much stronger magnet, and draws my heart away from this. Death comes every night, and stands by my bedside in the form of terrible convulsions, every one of which threatens to separate the soul from the body. These continue to grow worse and worse, until every bone is almost dislocated with pain, leaving me with the certainty that I shall have it all to endure again the next night. Yet, while my body is thus tortured, the soul is perfectly, perfectly happy and peaceful — more happy than I can possibly express to you. I lie here, and feel these convulsions extending higher and higher; but my soul is filled with joy unspeakable. I seem to swim in a flood of glory which God pours down upon me. And I know, I know, that my happiness is but begun; I cannot doubt that it will last forever. And now is this all a delusion? Is it a delusion, that can fill the soul to overflowing with joy in such circumstances? If so, it is surely a delusion better than any reality. But no, it is not a delusion; I feel that it is not. I do not merely know that I shall enjoy all this — I enjoy it now.

“My young friends, were I master of the whole world, what could it do for me like this? Were all its wealth at my feet, and all its inhabitants striving to make me happy, what could they do for me? Nothing! Nothing. Now, all this happiness I trace back to the religion which I have preached, and to the time when that great change took place in my heart which I have often told you is necessary to salvation; and I now tell you again, that without this change, you cannot, no, you cannot, see the kingdom of God.
“And now, standing, as I do, on the ridge which separates the two worlds; feeling what intense happiness or misery the soul is capable of sustaining; judging of your capacities by my own, and believing that those capacities will be filled to the very brim with joy or wretchedness forever; can it be wondered at, that my heart yearns over you, my children, that you may choose life and not death? Is it to be wondered at, that I long to present every one of you with a full cup of happiness, and see you drink it; and that I long to have you make the same choice which I made, and from which springs all my happiness?”

While speaking of the rapturous views he had of the heavenly world, he was asked if it did not seem almost like the clear light of vision, rather than that of faith. “Oh!” he replied, “I don’t know — it is too much for the poor eyes of my soul to bear! They are almost blinded with the excessive brightness. All I want is to be a mirror, to reflect some of those rays to those around me.”
A friend, with whom he had been conversing on his extreme bodily sufferings, and his high spiritual joys, remarked —“I presume it is no longer incredible to you, if ever it was, that martyrs should rejoice and praise God in the flames and on the rack.” “No,” said he, “I can easily believe it. I have suffered twenty times — yes, to speak within bounds — twenty times as much as I could in being burnt at the stake, while my joy in God so abounded as to render my sufferings not only tolerable, but welcome. ‘The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be _compared with the glory that shall be revealed.’”

At another time, “God is literally now my all in all. While he is present with me, no event can in the least diminish my happiness; and were the whole world at my feet, trying to minister to my comfort, they could not add one drop to the cup.”
“It seems as if the promise, ‘God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes,’ was already fulfilled to me, as it respects tears of sorrow. I have no tears to shed now, but those of love, and joy, and thankfulness.”

At one time he was heard to break forth in the following soliloquy: “What an assemblage of motives to holiness does the Gospel present! I am a Christian — what then? Why, I am a redeemed sinner — a pardoned rebel — all through grace, and by the most wonderful means which infinite wisdom could devise. I am a Christian — what then? Why, I am a temple of God, and surely I ought to be pure and holy. I am a Christian — what then? I am a child of God, and ought to be filled with filial love, reverence, joy, and gratitude. I am a Christian — what then? Why, I am a disciple of Christ, and must imitate Him who was meek and lowly in heart, and pleased not Himself. I am a Christian — what then? Why, I am an heir of heaven, and hastening on to the abodes of the blessed, to join the full choir of glorified ones, in singing the song of Moses and the Lamb; and surely I ought to learn that song on earth.”

To Mrs. Payson, who, while ministering to him, had observed, “Your head feels hot, and seems to be distended,” he replied, “It seems as if the soul disdained such a narrow prison, and was determined to break through with an angel’s energy, and I trust with no small portion of an angel’s feeling, until it mounts on high.”
Again, “It seems as if my soul had found a pair of new wings, and was so eager to try them, that, in her fluttering, she would rend the fine network of the body to pieces.”

At another time, “My dear, I should think it might encourage and strengthen you, under whatever trials you may be called to endure, to remember me. Oh! You must believe that it will be great peace at last.”
At another time, he said to her, “After I am gone you will find many little streams of beneficence pouring in upon you, and you will perhaps say, ‘I wish my dear husband were here to know this.’ My dear, you may think that I do know it by anticipation, and praise God for it now.”

“Hitherto I have viewed God as a fixed star, bright indeed, but often intercepted by clouds; but now He is coming nearer and nearer, and spreads into a Sun so vast and gracious, that the sight is too dazzling for flesh and blood to sustain.” I see clearly that all these same glorious and dazzling perfections, which now only serve to kindle my affections into a flame, and to melt down my soul into the same blessed image, would burn and scorch me like a consuming fire, if I were an impenitent sinner.”
On Sabbath, October 21, his last agony commenced. This holy man, who had habitually said of his racking pains, “These are God’s arrows, but they are all sharpened with love”— and who, in the extremity of suffering, had been accustomed to repeat, as a favorite expression, “I will bless the Lord at all times”— had yet the “dying strife” to encounter. Even now, he greeted those who approached his bedside with a sweet smile. Once he exclaimed, “Peace! Peace! Victory! Victory!” He looked on his wife and children, and said, almost in the words of dying Joseph to his brethren — words which he had before spoken of as having a peculiar sweetness, and which he now wished to recall to her mind —“I am going, but God will surely be with you.” A little before he died, in reply to an inquiry from Mrs. Payson, he was enabled, with extreme difficulty, to articulate the words, “Faith and patience hold out.”

His ruling passion was strong in death. His love for preaching was as invincible as that of the miser for gold, who dies grasping his treasure. Dr. Payson directed a label to be attached to his breast, on which should be written —“Remember the words which I spake unto you while I was yet present with you”; that they might be read by all who came to look at his corpse, and by which he, being dead, still spake.

More Links…
Enrichment Journals’ Article on Payson
Edward Payson’s Sermons
Christian’s Unite Article
8 Examples of Praying Men

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