In my solitary hours in my dear husband his absence

O LORD, thou hear'st my dayly moan,
And see'st my dropping teares:
My Troubles All are Thee before,
My Longings and my feares.

Thou hetherto hast been my God;
Thy help my soul hath found:
Tho: losse and sicknes me assail'd,
Thro: the I've kept my Ground.

And thy Abode tho'ft made with me;
With Thee my Soul can talk
In secrett places, Thee I find,
Where I doe kneel or walk.

Tho: husband dear bee from me gone,
Whom I doe love so well;
I have a more beloved one
Whose comforts far excell.
O stay my heart on thee, my God,
Uphold my fainting Soul!
And, when I know not what to doe,
I'll on thy mercyes roll.

My weaknes, thou do'st know full well,
Of Body and of mind.
I, in this world, no comfort have,
But what from Thee I find.

Tho: children thou hast given me,
And freinds I have also:
Yet, if I see Thee not thro: them,
They are no Joy, but woe.

O shine upon me, blessed Lord,
Ev'n for my Saviour's sake;
In Thee Alone is more then All,
And there content I'll take.
O hear me, Lord, in this Request,
As thou before ha'st done:
Bring back my husband, I beseech,
As thou didst once my Sonne.

So shall I celebrate thy Praise,
Ev'n while my Dayes shall last;
And talk to my Beloved one
Of all thy Goodness past.

So both of us thy Kindness, Lord,
With Praises shall recount,
And serve Thee better then before,
Whose Blessings thus surmount.

But give me, Lord, a better heart,
Then better shall I bee,
To pay the vowes which I doe owe
For ever unto Thee.

Unlesse thou help, what can I doe
But still my frailty show?
If thou assist me, Lord, I shall
Return Thee what I owe.

 

Edward Taylor

HUSWIFERY

Make me, O Lord, thy Spin[n]ing Wheele compleat;
Thy Holy Worde my Distaff make for mee.
Make mine Affections thy Swift Flyers neate,
And make my Soule thy holy Spoole to bee.
My Conversation make to be thy Reele,
And reele the yarn thereon spun of thy Wheele.
Make me thy Loome then, knit therein this Twine:
And make thy Holy Spirit, Lord, winde quills: Then weave the Web thyselfe. The yarn is fine.
Thine Ordinances make my Fulling Mills.
Then dy the same in Heavenly Colours Choice,
All pinkt with Varnish't Flowers of Paradise.
Then cloath therewith mine Understanding, Will,
Affections, Judgment, Conscience, Memory;

My Words and Actions, that their shine may fill
My wayes with glory and thee glorify.
Then mine apparell shall display before yee
That I am Cloathd in Holy robes for glory.

 

PROLOGUE

Lord, Can a Crumb of Earth the Earth outweigh
Outmatch all mountains, nay the Crystal Sky? Imbosom in't designs that shall Display
And trace into the Boundless Deity?
Yea, hand a Pen whose moysture doth guild ore
Eternal Glory with a glorious glore.

If it its Pen had of an Angels Quill,
And sharpened on a Precious Stone ground tite,
And dipt in Liquid Gold, and mov'de by skill In Christall leaves should golden Letters write,
It would but blot and blur: yea, jag and jar
Unless thou mak'st the Pen and Scrivener.

I am this Crumb of Dust which is design'd
To make my Pen unto thy Praise alone,
And my dull Phancy I would gladly grinde
Unto an edge on Zions Pretious Stone
And Write in Liquid Gold upon thy Name5.
My Letters till Thy glory forth doth flame.

Let not th' attempts break down my Dust I pray Nor laugh Thou them to scorn, but pardon give.
Inspire this Crumb of Dust till it display
Thy glory through't: and then thy dust shall live.
Its failings then thou'lt overlook I trust,
They being Slips slipt from thy Crumb of Dust.
Thy Crumb of Dust breaths two words from its breast,
That thou wilt guide its pen to write aright
To Prove thou art, and that thou art the best
And show Thy Properties to shine most bright
And then thy Works will shine as flowers on Stems
Or as in Jewellary Shops, do jems.

 

MEDITATION 8

I ken[n]ing through Astronomy Divine
The Worlds bright Battlement, wherein I spy
A Golden Path my Pensill cannot line,
From that bright Throne unto my Threshold ly. And while my puzzled thoughts about it pore
I finde the Bread of Life in't at my doore.

When that this Bird of Paradise put in
This Wicker Cage (my Corps) to tweedle praise
Had peckt the Fruite forbad: and so did fling Away its Food; and lost its golden dayes;
It fell into Celestiall Famine sore:
And never could attain a morsell more.

Alas! alas! Poore Bird, what wilt thou doe?
The Creatures field no food for Souls e're gave. And if thou knock at Angells cores they show An Empty Barrell: they no soul bread have.
Alas! Poore Bird, the Worlds White Loafe is done.
And cannot yield thee here the smallest Crumb.
In this sad state, Gods Tender Bowells run
Out streams of Grace: And he to end all strife
The Purest Wheate in Heaven, his deare-dear Son
Grinds, and kneads up into this Bread of Life.
Which Bread of Life from Heaven down came and stands
Disht on thy Table up by Angells Hands.

 

Did God mould up this Bread in Heaven, and bake,
Which from his Table came, and to shine goeth?
Doth he bespeake thee thus, This Soule Bread take.
Come Eate thy fill of this thy Gods White Loafe?
Its Food too fine for Angells, yet come, take
And Eate thy fill. Its Heavens Sugar Cake.

 

What Grace is this knead in this Loafe? This thing
Souls are but petty things it to admire.
Yee Angells, help: This fill would to the brim
Heav'n s whelm'd-down Chrystall meele Bowle, yea and higher.
This Bread of Life drops in thy mouth, doth Cry.
Eate, Eate me, Soul, and thou shalt never dy.

Michael Wigglesworth

THE DAY OF DOOM

[ 1 ]

Still was the night, Serene and Bright,
when all Men sleeping lay;
Calm was the season, and carnal reason
thought so 'twould last for ay.
Soul, take thine ease, let sorrow cease,
much good thou hast in store:
This was their Song, their Cups among,
the Evening before.

[ 2 ]

Wallowing in all kind of sin,
vile wretches lay secure:
The best of men had scarcely then
their Lamps kept in good ure.
Virgins unwise, who through disguise
amongst the best were number'd,
Had clos'd their eyes; yea, and the wise
through sloth and frailty slumber'd.

[ 3 ]

Like as of old, when Men grow bold
Gods' threatnings to contemn,
Who stopt their Ear, and would not hear,
when Mercy warned them:
But took their course, without remorse
till God began to powre
Destruction the World upon
in a tempestuous showre.

[ 4 ]

They put away the evil day,
And drown'd their care and fears,
Till drown'd were they, and swept away
by vengeance unawares:
So at the last, whilst Men sleep fast
in their security,
Surpriz'd they are in such a snare
as cometh suddenly.

[ 5 ]

For at midnight brake forth a Light,
which turn'd the night to day,
And speedily an hideous cry
did all the world dismay.
Sinners awake, their hearts do ake,
trembling their loynes surprizeth;
Amaz'd with fear, by what they hear,
each one of them ariseth.

[ 6 ]

They rush from Beds with giddy heads,
and to their windows run,
Viewing this light, which shines more bright
then doth the Noon-day Sun.
Straightway appears (they see't with tears)
the Son of God most dread;
Who with his Train comes on amain
To Judge both Quick and Dead.

[ 7 ]

Before his face the Heav'ns gave place,
and Skies are rent asunder,
With mighty voice, and hideous noise,
more terrible than Thunder.
His brightness damps hev'ns glorious lamps
and makes them hide their heads,
As if afraid and quite dismay'd,
they quit their wonted steads.

[ 8 ]

Ye sons of men that durst contemn
the Threatnings of Gods Word,
How cheer you now? your hearts, I trow,
are sthrill'd as with a sword.
Now Atheist blind, whose brutish mind
a God could never see,
Dost thou perceive, dost now believe,
that Christ thy Judge shall be?

[ 9 ]

Stout Courages, (whose hardiness
Could Death and Hell out-face)
Are you as bold now you behold
your Judge draw near apace?
They cry, no, no: Alas! and wo!
our Courage all is gone:
Our hardiness (fool hardiness)
hath us undone, undone.

[ 10 ]

No heart so bold, but now grows cold
and almost dead with fear:
No eye so dry, but now can cry,
and pour out many a tear.
Earths Potentates and pw'rful States,
Captains and Men of Might
Are quite abasht, their courage dasht
at this most dreadful sight.

[ 11 ]

Mean men lament, great men do rent
their Robes, and tear their hair:
They do not spare their flesh to tear
through horible despair.
All Kindreds wait: all hearts do fail:
horror the world doth fill
With weeping eyes, and loud out-cries,
yet knows not how to kill.

[ 12 ]

Some hide themselves in Caves and Delves,
in places under ground:
Some rashly leap into the Deap,
to scape by being drown'd:
Some to the Rocks (O sensless blocks!)
and woody Mountains run,
That there they might this fearful sight,
and dreaded Presence shun.

[ 13 ]

In vain do they to Mountains say,
Fall on us, and us hide
From Judges ire, more hot than fire,
for who may it abide?
No hiding place can from his Face,
sinners at all conceal,
Whose flaming Eyes hid things doth 'spy,
and darkest things reveal.

[ 14 ]

The Judge draws nigh, exalted high
upon a lofty Throne,
Amidst the throng of Angels strong,
lo, Israel's Holy One!
The excellence of whose presence
and awful Majesty,
Amazeth Nature, and every Creature,
doth more than terrify.

 

Mary Rolandson

A TRUE HISTORY OF THE CAPTIVITY AND RESTORATION OF MRS. MARY ROWLANDSON
The sovereignty and goodness of GOD, together with the faithfulness of his promises displayed, being a narrative of the captivity and restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson, commended by her, to all that desires to know the Lord's doings to, and dealings with her. Especially to her dear children and relations. The second Addition [sic] Corrected and amended. Written by her own hand for her private use, and now made public at the earnest desire of some friends, and for the benefit of the afflicted. Deut. 32.39. See now that I, even I am he, and there is no god with me, I kill and I make alive, I wound and I heal, neither is there any can deliver out of my hand.On the tenth of February 1675, came the Indians with great numbers upon Lancaster: their first coming was about sunrising; hearing the noise of some guns, we looked out; several houses were burning, and the smoke ascending to heaven. There were five persons taken in one house; the father, and the mother and a sucking child, they knocked on the head; the other two they took and carried away alive. There were two others, who being out of their garrison upon some occasion were set upon; one was knocked on the head, the other escaped; another there was who running along was shot and wounded, and fell down; he begged of them his life, promising them money (as they told me) but they would not hearken to him but knocked him in head, and stripped him naked, and split open his bowels. Another, seeing many of the Indians about his barn, ventured and went out, but was quickly shot down. There were three others belonging to the same garrison who were killed; the Indians getting up upon the roof of the barn, had advantage to shoot down upon them over their fortification. Thus these murderous wretches went on, burning, and destroying before them.At length they came and beset our own house, and quickly it was the dolefulest day that ever mine eyes saw. The house stood upon the edge of a hill; some of the Indians got behind the hill, others into the barn, and others behind anything that could shelter them; from all which places they shot against the house, so that the bullets seemed to fly like hail; and quickly they wounded one man among us, then another, and then a third. About two hours (according to my observation, in that amazing time) they had been about the house before they prevailed to fire it (which they did with flax and hemp, which they brought out of the barn, and there being no defense about the house, only two flankers at two opposite corners and one of them not finished); they fired it once and one ventured out and quenched it, but they quickly fired it again, and that took. Now is the dreadful hour come, that I have often heard of (in time of war, as it was the case of others), but now mine eyes see it. Some in our house were fighting for their lives, others wallowing in their blood, the house on fire over our heads, and the bloody heathen ready to knock us on the head, if we stirred out. Now might we hear mothers and children crying out for themselves, and one another, "Lord, what shall we do?" Then I took my children (and one of my sisters', hers) to go forth and leave the house: but as soon as we came to the door and appeared, the Indians shot so thick that he bullets rattled against the house, as if one had taken an handful ofstones and threw them, so that we were fain to give back. We had sixstout dogs belonging to our garrison, but none of them would stir, though another time, if any Indian had come to the door, they were ready to fly upon him and tear him down. The Lord hereby would make us the more acknowledge His hand, and to see that our help is always in Him.But out we must go, the fire increasing, and coming along behind us, roaring, and the Indians gaping before us with their guns, spears, and hatchets to devour us. No sooner were we out of the house, but my brother-in-law (being before wounded, in defending the house, in or near the throat) fell down dead, whereat the Indians scornfully shouted, and hallowed, and were presently upon him, stripping off his clothes, the bullets flying thick, one went through my side, and the same (as would seem) through the bowels and hand of my dear child in my arms. One of my elder sisters' children, named William, had then his leg broken, which the Indians perceiving, they knocked him on [his] head. Thus were we butchered by those merciless heathen, standing amazed, with the blood running down to our heels. My eldest sister being yet in the house, and seeing those woeful sights, the infidels hauling mothers one way, and children another, and some wallowing in their blood: and her elder son telling her that her son William was dead, and myself was wounded, she said, "And Lord, let me die with them," which was no sooner said, but she was struck with a bullet, and fell down dead over the threshold. I hope she is reaping the fruit of her good labors, being faithful to the service of God in her place. In her younger years she lay under much trouble upon spiritual accounts, till it pleased God to make that precious scripture take hold of her heart, "And he said unto me, my Grace is sufficient for thee" (2 Corinthians 12.9). More than twenty years after, I have heard her tell how sweet and comfortable that place was to her. But to return: the Indians laid hold of us, pulling me one way, and the children another, and said, "Come go along with us"; I told them they would kill me: they answered, if I were willing to go along with them, they would not hurt me.Oh the doleful sight that now was to behold at this house! "Come, behold the works of the Lord, what desolations he has made in the earth." Of thirty-seven persons who were in this one house, none escaped either present death, or a bitter captivity, save only one, who might say as he, "And I only am escaped alone to tell the News" (Job 1.15). There were twelve killed, some shot, some stabbed with their spears, some knocked down with their hatchets. When we are in prosperity, Oh the little that we think of such dreadful sights, and to see our dear friends, and relations lie bleeding out their heart-blood upon the ground. There was one who was chopped into the head with a hatchet, and stripped naked, and yet was crawling up and down. It is a solemn sight to see so many Christians lying in their blood, some here, and some there, like a company of sheep torn by wolves, all of them stripped naked by a company of hell-hounds, roaring, singing, ranting, and insulting, as if they would have torn our very hearts out; yet the Lord by His almighty power preserved a number of us from death, for there were twenty-four of us taken alive and carried captive.I had often before this said that if the Indians should come, I should choose rather to be killed by them than taken alive, but when it came to the trial my mind changed; their glittering weapons so daunted my spirit, that I chose rather to go along with those (as I may say) ravenous beasts, than that moment to end my days; and that I may the better declare what happened to me during that grievous captivity, I shall particularly speak of the several removes we had up and down the wilderness. THE FIRST REMOVE Now away we must go with those barbarous creatures, with our bodies wounded and bleeding, and our hearts no less than our bodies. About a mile we went that night, up upon a hill within sight of the town, where they intended to lodge. There was hard by a vacant house (deserted by the English before, for fear of the Indians). I asked them whether I might not lodge in the house that night, to which they answered, "What, will you love English men still?" This was the dolefulest night that ever my eyes saw. Oh the roaring, and singing and dancing, and yelling of those black creatures in the night, which made the place a lively resemblance of hell. And as miserable was the waste that was there made of horses, cattle, sheep, swine, calves, lambs, roasting pigs, and fowl (which they had plundered in the town), some roasting, some lying and burning, and some boiling to feed our merciless enemies; who were joyful enough, though we were disconsolate. To add to the dolefulness of the former day, and the dismalness of the present night, my thoughts ran upon my losses and sad bereaved condition. All was gone, my husband gone (at least separated from me, he being in the Bay; and to add to my grief, the Indians told me they would kill him as he came homeward), my children gone, my relations and friends gone, our house and home and all our comforts--within door and without – all was gone (except my life), and I knew not but the next moment that might go too. There remained nothing to me but one poor wounded babe, and it seemed at present worse than death that it was in such a pitiful condition, bespeaking compassion, and I had no refreshing for it, nor suitable things to revive it. Little do many think what is the savageness and brutishness of this barbarous enemy, Ay, even those that seem to profess more than others among them, when the English have fallen into their hands.

Those seven that were killed at Lancaster the summer before upon a Sabbath day, and the one that was afterward killed upon a weekday, were slain and mangled in a barbarous manner, by one-eyed John, and Marlborough's Praying Indians, which Capt. Mosely brought to Boston, as the Indians told me <…>.

 

John Williams

REDEEMED CAPTIVE

<…> LETTER I.

My Dear Cousin:

A Few weeks since there was an article in the Evangelist, giving an account of the successful labors of Rev. Eleazar Williams, among the Oneida Indians, near Fox River, in the Territory of Michigan. The mention of his name reminded me of many interesting circumstances of his own and his parents' history; and if you feel as much pleasure in reading them as I did, I shall consider my time well spent in giving you a relation of some of them. Perhaps you already know that Mr. Eleazar Williams is a descendant from Rev. John Williams, who was a minister of the gospel about the year 1700, in the town of Deerfield, a place pleasantly situated on the Connecticut River, between Northampton, and

Brattleboro. This Mr. Williams was carried away into Canada, with his whole family, by the Indians. One daughter, who was very young at the time, was retained by them, after he, with his children, were delivered from their captivity. She was the grandmother of Eleazar Williams. Soon after the return of Mr. Williams, he published an account of his captivity, and of the many sufferings he endured, which he entitled " The Redeemed Captive returning to Zion." From this book I shall gain some information. We have now for so long a time enjoyed the security and happiness of our quiet homes, that we can form little idea of the anxiety and fear which those felt, who were continually exposed to the violence of the cruel savage; and perhaps a review of some of the sufferings which our fathers endured before these blessings were secured to us, will excite our gratitude to God, while we learn to sympathise with the sorrows of our fellow men. With these objects in view, I will endeavor to give you some account of Mr. Williams' sufferings.

It was on Thursday, the 29th of February, 1704, just before the break of day, that an army of French and Indians surprised and burnt the town of Deerfield. The watch had been unfaithful, and while the whole town were sleeping securely, their savage enemies burst upon them. Mr. Williams was awakened by their violent endeavors to break open the doors and windows of his house, with axes and hatchets. Running towards the door, he perceived the enemy making their way into the house, in number about twenty, " with painted faces and hideous acclamations." What a moment was this! Would not the stoutest heart quail?— Yet this servant of God was quite calm. He says, "I reached up my hand for my pistol, and uttered a short petition to God for everlasting mercies to me and mine, on account of the merits of our glorified Redeemer, expecting a short passage through the valley of the shadow of death." He presented his pistol at the first Indian who approached him, but it missed fire; " which," says he, " was an occasion of my life being preserved; since which I have found it profitable to be crossed in my own will." He was much distressed on account of his wife, who was in feeble health, as well as for his dear children, and Christian neighbors, and besought the Lord that he would restrain the wrath of their enemies, so as to prevent their being murdered; and he was enabled to leave himself and his beloved friends in the hands of God, with entire submission.

The Indians murdered two of his children before his eyes; and after rifling the house, set out with him, his wife and remaining children, upon their long and tedious march. They were carried over a river to the foot of a mountain, about a mile from the house, where they found 100 of their neighbors, men, women and children, under the same melancholy circumstances with themselves. On looking back, they beheld the flames rising from their loved homes; while before them lay an almost pathless wilderness. Their feelings will be best described in Mr. Williams' own language. "Who can tell what sounds pierced our souls, when we saw' ourselves carried away from God's sanctuary, to go into a strange land, exposed to so many toils; the journey being at least 300 miles we were to travel; the snow up to our knees, and we never innured to such hardships and fatigues; the place where we were to be carried a Popish country." In or* der fully to appreciate their sufferings, we must remember that this journey was to be performed on foot, with women and little children, through a country which was then literally "a waste, howling wilderness." It would be hardly equalled in difficulty and fatigue by a journey to the North West Coast, at the present time.

On the second day Mr. W. was permitted to speak to his wife, and he discoursed with her " of the happiness of those who have a right to a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens, and God for a father and a friend." She told him that her strength of body began to fail, and he must soon part with her, but spoke no murmuring word against the dealings of God. He was soon obliged to leave her, and took, as it proved, a last farewell, for she was murdered in a few hours by her barbarous captors. The few remaining minutes of her stay were spent in reading the holy scriptures – a sweet preparation for her sudden and violent death. Mr. W. felt his own loss, and that of his children, to be very great; " and nothing but the assurance that she was taken away from the evils before them to rest in peace and joy unspeakable and full of glory," could have sustained him.

This was but the beginning of his trials. He was almost daily called to see some one or more of his dear people barbarously murdered, and frequently his own life was threatened. In addition to this, a severe lameness made his tedious journey still more painful; but he sought from God, his only refuge, the relief which he needed, nor was his trust in vain, for his strength was restored in a most surprising manner. On the Sabbath day they rested, and Mr. Williams was permitted to pray and preach to the cap. tives. He remarks, " The enemy who said to us, ' sing us one of the songs of Zion,' were ready, some of them, to upbraid us, because our singing was not so loud as theirs." This privilege was denied them when they arrived in Canada, or New France as it was then called.

A few days after this he was separated from his children, and nearly all his companions; and his spirit was ready to sink within him, when he looked forward to the many sufferings and trials which were probably before him. Then, when human help seemed to fail, his heavenly Father comforted him by bringing to his mind many sweet texts of scripture, such as Ps. cxviii, 17; Ps. xlii, 11; Neh. i, 8, 9. And though his children had no father to take care of them, he could trust them with that God, who has said, " Leave thy fatherless children with me; I will preserve them alive." But you shall hear his own account of God's goodness to his dear children:

"My youngest daughter, aged 7, was carried all the journey, and looked after with a great deal of tenderness. My youngest son, aged 4 years, was wonderfully preserved from death; for though they that carried him, or drew him on sleighs, were tired with their journeys, yet their savage, cruel tempers were so over-ruled by God, that they did not kill him, but in their pity he was spared; and others would take care of him; so that four times on his journey he was spared, till at last he arrived at Mont Royal, where a French gentleman, pitying the child, redeemed it out of the hands of the heathen. My son Samuel, and my oldest daughter, were pitied so as to be drawn on sleighs when unable to travel; and though they suffered very much through scarcity of food and tedious journeys, they were carried through to Mont Royal. And my son Stephen, about eleven years' old," (who was afterwards minister of Long Meadow, Mass.) "was wonderfully preserved from death, in the famine whereof three English people died; and after 8 months was brought into Shamblee."

When Mr. W. arrived at the French river his trials were increased; for fearing a thaw, he was obliged to travel a great distance in a day, on the ice, for several days, with his feet sore and bleeding from the roughness of the ice,

till he was almost ready to despair of proceeding any further. But this good man was not ignorant of the source from whence all his strength was derived, and he besought the Lord that he would in some way relieve his fears. Accordingly in a few minutes a slight fall of snow covered the ice, and he went on without trouble. Truly, none ever trusted in God, and were forsaken. At length after enduring many and surprising difficulties, he reached Shamblee, which was then a small village, with a garrison of French soldiers.

But my letter is becoming too long, and I shall weary your patience. If this interests you, perhaps I may, in another, give you some account of the trials Mr. W. endured in Canada before he was finally restored to his family. Your affectionate cousin <…>.

 

Sarah Kemble Knight

THE JOURNAL OF MADAM KNIGHT

MONDAY, Octb'r. ye second, 1704. – About three o'clock afternoon, I begun my Journey from Boston to New-Haven; being about two Hundred Mile. My Kinsman, Capt. Robert Luist, waited on me as farr as Dedham, where I was to meet ye Western post.

I vissitted the Reverd. Mr. Belcher, ye Minister of ye town, and tarried there till evening, in hopes ye post would come along. But he not coming, I resolved to go to Billingses where he used to lodg, being 12 miles further. But being ignorant of the way, Madm Billings, seing no persuasions of her good spouses or hers could prevail with me to Lodg there that night, Very kindly went wyth me to ye Tavern, where I hoped to get my guide, And desired the Hostess to inquire of her guests whether any of them would go with mee. But they being tyed by the Lipps to a pewter engine, scarcely allowed themselves time to say what clownish.

*** Peices of eight, I told her no, I would not be accessary to such extortion.

Then John shan't go, sais shee. No, indeed, shan't hee; And held forth at that rate a long time, that I began to fear I was got among the Quaking tribe, beleeving not a Limbertong'd sister among them could out do Madm. Hostes.

Upon this, to my no small surprise, son John arrose, and gravely demanded what I would give him to go with me? Give you, sais I, are you John? Yes, says he, for want of a Better; And behold! this John look't as old as my Host, and perhaps had bin a man in the last Century. Well, Mr. John, sais I, make your demands. Why, half a pss. of eight and a dram, sais John. I agreed, and gave him a Dram (now) in hand to bind the bargain.

My hostess catechis'd John for going so cheep, saying his poor wife would break her heart.

His shade on his Hors resembled a Globe on a Gate post. His habitt, Hors and furniture, its looks and goings Incomparably answered the rest.

Thus jogging on with an easy pace, my Guide telling mee it was dangero's to Ride hard in the Night, (whch his horse had the sence to avoid,) Hee entertained me with the Adventurs he had passed by late Rideing, and eminent Dangers he had escaped, so that, Remembring the Hero's in Parismus and the Knight of the Oracle,3 I didn't know but I had mett wth a Prince disguis'd.

When we had Ridd about an how'r, wee come into a thick swamp, wch. by Reason of a great fogg, very much startled mee, it being now very Dark. But nothing dismay'd John: Hee had encountered a thousand and a thousand such Swamps, having a Universall Knowledge in the woods; and readily Answered all my inquiries wch. were not a few.

In about an how'r, or something more, after we left the Swamp, we come to Billinges, where I was to Lodg. My Guide dismounted and very Complasantly help't me down and shewd the door, signing to me Wth his hand to Go in; wch I Gladly did–But had not gone many steps into the Room, ere I was Interogated by a young Lady I understood afterwards was the Eldest daughter of the family, with these, or words to this purpose, (viz.) Law for mee–what in the world brings You here at this time a night?–I never see a woman on the Rode so Dreadfull late, in all the days of my versall life. Who are You? Where are You going? I'me star'd out of my witts – with much now of the same Kind. I stood aghast, Prepareing to reply, when in comes my Guide – to him Madam turn'd, Roreing out: Lawfull heart, John, is it You? – how de do! Where in the world are you going with this woman? Who is she? John made no Ansr. but sat down in the corner, fumblèd out his black Junk,' and saluted that instead of Debb; she then turned agen to mee and fell anew into her silly questions, without asking me to sitt down.

I told her shee treated me very Rudely, and I did not think it my duty to answer her unmannerly Questions. But to get ridd of them, I told her I come there to have the post's company with me to-morrow on my Journey, & c. Miss star'd awhile, drew a chair, bid me sitt, And then run up stairs and putts on two or three Rings, (or else I had not seen them before,) and returning, sett herself just before me, showing the way to Reding, that I might see her Ornaments, perhaps to gain the more respect. But her Granam's new Rung s sow, had it appeared, would affected me as much. I paid honest John wth money and dram according to contract, and Dismist him, and pray'd Miss to shew me where I must Lodg. Shee conducted me to a parlour in a little back Lento, wch was almost fill'd wth the bedsted, wch was so high that I was forced to climb on a chair to gitt up to ye wretched b,.d that lay on it; on wch having Stretcht my tired Limbs, and lay'd my head on a Sad-colourd pillow, I began to think on the transactions of ye past day.

Tuesday, October ye third, about 8 in the morning, I with the Post proceeded forward without observing any thing remarkable; And about two, on, Arrived at the Post's second stage, where the western Post mett him and exchanged Letters. Here, having called for something to eat, ye woman bro't in a Twisted thing like a cable, but something whiter; and laying it on the bord, tugg'd for life to bring it into a capacity to spread; wch having wth great pains accomplished, shee serv'd in a dish of Pork and Cabage, I suppose the remains of Dinner. The sause was of a deep Purple, wch I tho't was boil'd in her dye Kettle; the bread was Indian, and every thing on the Table service Agreeable to these. I, being hungry, gott a little down; but my stomach was soon cloy'd, and what cabbage I swallowed serv'd me for a Cudd the whole day after.

 

Johnatan Edwards

PERSONAL NARRATIVE

 

I had a variety of concerns and exercises about my soul from my childhood; but had two more remarkable seasons of awakening, before I met with that change by which I was brought to those new dispositions, and that new sense of things, that I have since had. The first time was when I was a boy, some years before I went to college, at a time of remarkable awakening in my father's congregation. I was then very much affected for many months, and concerned about the things of religion, and my soul's salvation; and was abundant in duties. I used to pray five times a day in secret, and to spend much time in religious talk with other boys; and used to meet with them to pray together. I experienced I know not what kind of delight in religion. My mind was much engaged in it, and had much self­righteous pleasure; and it was my delight to abound in religious duties. I with some of my schoolmates joined together, and built a booth in a swamp, in a very retired spot, for a place of prayer. And besides, I had particular secret places of my own in the woods, where I used to retire by myself; and was from time to time much affected. My affections seemed to be lively and easily moved, and I seemed to be in my element when engaged in religious duties. And I am ready to think, many are deceived with such affections, and such a kind of delight as I then had in religion, and mistake it for grace.

But in process of time, my convictions and affections wore off; and I entirely lost all those affections and delights and left off secret prayer, at least as to any constant performance of it; and returned like a dog to his vomit, and went on in the ways of sin. Indeed I was at times very uneasy, especially towards the latter part of my time at college; when it pleased God, to seize me with a pleurisy; in which he brought me nigh to the grave, and shook me over the pit of hell. And yet, it was not long after my recovery, before I fell again into my old ways of sin. But God would not suffer me to go on with any quietness; I had great and violent inward struggles, till, after many conflicts with wicked inclinations, repeated resolutions, and bonds that I laid myself under by a kind of vows to God, I was brought wholly to break off all former wicked ways, and all ways of known outward sin; and to apply myself to seek salvation, and practice many religious duties; but without that kind of affection and delight which I had formerly experienced. My concern now wrought more by inward struggles and conflicts, and self­reflections. But yet, it seems to me, I sought after a miserable manner; which has made me sometimes since to question, whether ever it issued in that which was saving; being ready to doubt, whether such miserable seeking ever succeeded. I was indeed brought to seek salvation in a manner that I never was before; I felt a spirit to part with all things in the world, for an interest in Christ. My concern continued and prevailed, with many exercising thoughts and inwards struggles; but yet it never seemed to be proper to express that c concern by the name of terror.

From my childhood up, my mind had been full of objections against the doctrine of God's sovereignty, in choosing whom he would to eternal life, and rejecting whom he pleased; leaving them eternally to perish, and be everlastingly tormented in hell. It used to appear like a horrible doctrine to me. But I remember the time very well, when I seemed to be convinced, and fully satisfied, as to this sovereignty of God, and his justice in thus eternally disposing of men, according to his sovereign pleasure. But never could give an account, how, or by what means, I was thus convinced, not in the least imagining at the time, nor a long time after, that there was any extraordinary influence of God's Spirit in it; but only that now I saw further, and my reason apprehended the justice and reasonableness of it. However, my mind rested in it; and it put an end to all those cavils and objections. And there has been a wonderful alteration in my mind, in respect to the doctrine of God's sovereignty, from that day to this; so that I scarce ever have found so much as the rising of an objection against it, in the most absolute sense, in God's strewing mercy to whom he will shew mercy, and hardening whom he will. God's absolute sovereignty and justice, with respect to salvation and damnation, is what my mind seems to rest assured of, as much as of any thing that I see with my eyes; at least it is so at times. But I have often, since that first conviction, had quite another kind of sense of God's sovereignty than I had then. I have often since had not only a conviction, but a delightful conviction. The doctrine has very often appeared exceeding pleasant, bright, and sweet. Absolute sovereignty is what I love to ascribe to God. But my first conviction was not so.

The first instance that I remember of that sort of inward, sweet delight in God and divine things that I have lived much in since, was on reading those words, I Tim. i:17. Now unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honour and glory for ever and ever, Amen. As I read the words, there came into my soul, and was as it were diffused through it, a sense of the glory of the Divine Being; a new sense, quite different from any thing I ever experienced before Never any words of scripture seemed to me as these words did. I thought with myself, how excellent a Being that was, and how happy I should be, if I might enjoy that God, and be rapt up to him in heaven, and be as it were swallowed up in him for ever! I kept saying, and as it were singing over these words of scripture to myself; and went to pray to God that I might enjoy him, and prayed in a manner quite different from what I used to do; with a new sort of affection. But it never came into my thought, that there was any thing spiritual, or of a saving nature in this.

From about that time, I began to have a new kind of apprehensions and ideas of Christ and the work of redemption, and the glorious way of salvation by him. An inward, sweet sense of these things, at times, came into my heart; and my soul was led away in pleasant views and contemplations of them. And my mind was greatly engaged to spend my time in reading and meditating on Christ, on the beauty and excellency of his person, and the lovely way of salvation by free grace in him. I found no books so delightful to me, as those that treated of these subjects. Those words Cant. ii.1, used to be abundantly with me, I am the Rose of Sharon, and the Lilly of the valleys. The words seemed to me, sweetly to represent the loveliness and beauty of Jesus Christ. The whole book of Canticles used to be pleasant to me, and I used to be much in reading it, about that time; and found, from time to time, an inward sweetness, that would carry me away, in my contemplations. This I know not how to express otherwise, than by a calm, sweet abstraction of soul from all the concerns of this world; and sometimes a kind of vision, or fixed ideas and imaginations, of being alone in the mountains, or some solitary wilderness, far from all mankind, sweetly conversing with Christ, and wrapt and swallowed up in God. The sense I had of divine things, would often of a sudden kindle up, as it were, a sweet burning in my heart; an ardor of soul, that I know not how to express.

Not long after I first began to experience these things, I gave an account to my father of some things that had passed in my mind. I was pretty much affected by the discourse we had together; and when the discourse was ended, I walked abroad alone, in a solitary place in my father's pasture, for contemplation. And as I was walking there, and looking up on the sky and clouds, there came into my mind so sweet a sense of the glorious majesty and grace of God, that I know not how to express. I seemed to see them both in a sweet conjunction; majesty and meekness joined together; it was a sweet, and gentle, and holy majesty; and also a majestic meekness; an awful sweetness; a high, and great, and holy gentleness.

After this my sense of divine things gradually increased, and became more and more lively, and had more of that inward sweetness. The appearance of every thing was altered; there seemed to be, as it were, a calm sweet cast, or appearance of divine glory, in almost every thing. God's excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in every thing; in the sun, moon, and stars; in the clouds, and blue sky; in the grass, flowers, trees; in the water, and all nature; which used greatly to fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for continuance; and in the day, spent much time in viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God in these things; in the mean time, singing forth, with a low voice my contemplations of the Creator and Redeemer. And scarce any thing, among all the works of nature, was so sweet to me as thunder and lightning; formerly, nothing had been so terrible to me. Before, I used to be uncommonly terrified with thunder, and to be struck with terror when I saw a thunder storm rising; but now, on the contrary, it rejoiced me. I felt God, so to speak, at the first appearance of a thunder storm; and used to take the opportunity, at such times, to fix myself in order to view the clouds, and see the lightnings play, and hear the majestic and awful voice of God's thunder, which oftentimes was exceedingly entertaining, leading me to sweet contemplations of my great and glorious God. While thus engaged, it always seemed natural to me to sing, or chant for my mediations; or, to speak my thoughts in soliloquies with a singing voice.

 

William Byrd