Revival in Rockbridge

REVIVAL IN ROCKBRIDGE — EXTRAORDINARY EXPEELENOE LN THE FOREST —

OHARACTEE OE THE WORK OF GRACE — PRINCETON COLLEGE ILLNESS —

JOURNEYING RECOVERY — PROGRESS.

THEKE is something of amiable youthful simplicity in the confidence with which the returning company expected an immediate manifestation of awakening grace on their arrival at Lexington. Notice was duly given of a meeting for prayer, to be held on the evening after their return. The service was under the direction of Mr. Le-G-rand. We resume the narrative:” I had the trial of being called upon to pray, in the presence of all my young acquaintances. My timidity, however, was in a manner gone. I now calculated fully on a revival in Lexington. Before the meeting I conversed privately with some of my associates, and found them favourably disposed. The news of our arrival, and of the spirit in which we had returned, spread rapidly through the country around. The next day the public service was at New Monmouth church. Mr. Le-G-rand preached in the morning on Isaiah xlv. 22, ‘Look unto me and be ye saved, all ye ends of the earth, After which Mr. Graham gave a narrative of all that he had seen and heard in Prince Edward and Bedford, and then addressed the great congregation in the most penetrating and pathetic manner, the tears meanwhile streaming from his eyes. The assembly was deeply and solemnly moved. Multitudes went weeping from the house. Another meeting was appointed for the evening, in the town, in a large room which had been used for dancing. Here the solemnity was greater, if possible, than at the church. Many remained to converse with the ministers, and a person of the most sedate habits and moral life cried out in an agony, c What must I do to be saved! ‘Every thing went on prosperously, and I was in expectation that all, or nearly all, the people would be awakened. Several of my companions, educated young men, came forward and professed their determination to be on the Lord’s side. I had not heard a whisper of opposition, but next morning my uncle, Andrew Keid, who had not been at any of the meetings, brought to our house a volume of Locke’s Essay, with the page turned down at the chapter on Enthusiasm. My sister, to whom he spoke with some severity, was surprised and confounded, and grew faint with agitation, so that she was constrained to go to her couch. It struck me as amazing that any man of sense could think us in danger of enthusiasm. We soon found that there were many enemies of our proceedings, and that some of the young men ridiculed the whole affair. But the work went on, and we were gratified to find that cases of awakening occurred at almost every meeting, and the religious concern

continued to diffuse itself through the country. These were halcyon days for the church; and as for myself, though I did not regard myself as converted, I was so occupied with the cases of others, and with the opposition, that for a while I almost forgot my own case.

“Mr. LeGrand remained with us a week or two. His natural disposition was very uneven. He was either exceedingly lively, or in an awful gloom, in which he continually expressed a desire to die. At the time of his awakening, in Cumberland, he lay, I have been told, for hours in convulsions, produced by convictions, which were followed, it is thought, by believing views of the Saviour. Great success attended his earliest labours. His countenance, though youthful, was marked with sadness, and his voice had a mellowness and tenderness which I have never heard surpassed.

“Being much dissatisfied with my state of mind, and now sensible of the corruption of my heart, I resolved to enter on a new course, and determined to give up all reading except the Bible, and to devote myself entirely to prayer, fasting, and the Scriptures, until I should arrive at greater hope. My life was spent almost entirely in religious company, but our conversation often degenerated into levity, which was succeeded by compunction. Telling over our private exercises was carried to an undue length, and instead of tending to edification, was often injurious. But reserve on this subject was considered a bad sign; and on meeting, the first inquiry after salutation was concerning the state of each other’s souls.

“A young woman of my acquaintance, who, with others, had gone over to Bedford, appeared more solemnly impressed than most of the company. All believed that if any one had experienced divine renewal, it was Mary Hanna. One afternoon, while reading a sermon of Tennent’s, on the need of a legal work preparatory to conversion, she was seized with such apprehensions of her danger, that she began to tremble, and in attempting to reach the house, which was distant only a few steps, fell prostrate, and was taken up in a state of terrible convulsion. The news quickly spread, and in a short time most of the serious young people in the town were present. I mention this for the purpose of adding that I was at once struck with the conviction that I had received an irreparable injury from the clergyman who had persuaded me that no such conviction as this was necessary. I determined, therefore, to admit no hope until I should have the like experience. I read all the religious narratives I could procure, and laboured much to put myself into the state in which they described themselves to have been, before enjoying hope. But all these efforts and desires proved abortive, and I began to see much more of the wickedness of my own heart than ever before. I was distressed and discouraged, and convinced that I had placed too much dependence on mere means, and on my own efforts. I therefore determined to give myself incessantly to prayer until I found mercy, or perished in the pursuit.

“This resolution was formed on a Sunday evening. The next morning I took my Bible and walked several miles into the dense wood of the Bushy Hills, which were then wholly uncultivated. Finding a place that pleased me, at the foot of a projecting rock, in a dark valley, I began with great earnestness the course which I had prescribed to myself. I prayed, and then read in the Bible, prayed and read, prayed and read, until my strength was exhausted; for I had taken no nourishment that day. But the more I strove the harder my heart became, and the more barren was my mind of every serious or tender feeling. I tasted then some of the bitterness of despair. It seemed to be my last resource, and now this had utterly failed. I was about to desist from the endeavour, when the thought occurred to me, that though I was helpless, and my case was nearly desperate, yet it would be well to cry to God to help me in this extremity. I knelt upon the ground, and had poured out perhaps a single petition, or rather broken cry for help, when, in a moment, I had such a view of a crucified Saviour, as is without a parallel in my experience. The whole plan of grace appeared as clear as clay. I was persuaded that God was willing to accept me, just as I was, and convinced that I had never before understood the freeness of salvation, but had always been striving to bring some price in my hand, or to prepare myself for receiving Christ. Now I discovered that I could receive him in all his offices at that very moment, which I was sure at the time I did. I felt truly a joy which was unspeakable and full of glory. How long this delightful frame continued I cannot tell. But when my affections had a little subsided I opened my Bible, and alighted on the eighteenth and nineteenth chapters of John. The sacred page appeared to be illuminated; the truths were new, as if I had never read them before; and I thought it would be always thus. Having often thought of engaging in a written covenant with God, but having never before found a freedom to do so, I now felt no hesitation, and having writing materials in my pocket, I sat down and penned it exactly from my feelings, and solemnly signed it as in the presence of God.*

“I expected now to feel uniformly different from what had preceded, and to be always in lively emotion, thinking my troubles all at an end. As I had been much distressed by discovering the sins of my heart, and as I read in Scripture that faith works purification, I resolved to make this the test. At the time, indeed, I had no doubt as to the sincerity of my faith; and in the paper of self-dedication above-mentioned I expressed the assurance that if I had never before received Christ I did then and there receive him. For several days my mind was serene. But before a week had elapsed, darkness began to gather over me again. Inbred corruption began to stir. In a word, I fell back into the same state of darkness and conflict as before.”

Shortly after this, in the autumn of 1789, he made a profession of his faith. But he describes his first approach to the Lord’s Table as destitute of high comforts. His thoughts were much distracted, and his soul was harassed with awful fear lest he should eat and drink damnation to himself. And after receiving, this dreadful suspicion haunted him, until he felt convinced that this enormous sin had been

* This document is in our possession.

committed. But at his second communion, which was at New Monmouth, he enjoyed a delightful day of clear assurance. “The sermon by Mr. Graham,” says he in a very late record, “was on the text, c The Sun of Kighteousness shall arise, etc. The preacher compared the beginnings of true religion in the soul to the rising of the sun; sometimes with a sudden and immediate clearness, sometimes under clouds, which are afterwards dispersed. As he went on, it occurred to me with great distinctness, that the Sun of Kighteousness began to rise on me, though under a cloud. When conversing with Mr. Mitchell in Bedford, I was relieved from despair by the persuasion that Christ was able to save even me. This shows how seldom believers can designate with exactness the time of their renewal. Now, at the age of seventy-seven, I am of opinion, that my regeneration took place while I resided at General Posey’s, in the year 1788.”

It seemed proper to dwell at some length on the traits of this remarkable and extensive religious awakening, because it shows how familiar the subject of this memoir was with the good and the evil of such excitements; especially as in a later period of his life, when he felt constrained to unite with other wise men in protesting against enthusiastic excesses and false doctrine, he was frequently treated by opponents as a rigid book-divine, who had grown up in cold forms, without acquaintance with great outpourings of the Holy Spirit. How far this was from the true state of the facts, will have been sufficiently apparent in the preceding extracts.

It was a remarkable peculiarity of this great popular reformation, that amidst all its outbreaking enthusiasm and strange animal agitation, it was not carried forward by means of corrupt doctrine. Aberrations from the truth there doubtless were in the case of individuals, and even bodies of errorists broke away on one side and the other, especially in the West; but all the preachers whom we have had occasion to name, were zealously attached to the sound Nonconformist theology of the seventeenth century. Minor points were indeed brought into question among the active minds of inquirers, stimulated by greatly exalted feeling; but the fundamentals of reformation truth were left undisturbed. Most of those in the Valley who professed their faith maintained their constancy, but some who persevered most faithfully were not the most prominent at the beginning.” Much conversation took place concerning the nature of faith, the necessity of legal conviction, and the question whether there was an operation on the soul itself prior to all spiritual views, or whether regeneration was effected by the introduction of truth to the mind. When we brought our various opinions to Mr. Graham for his decision, we found that his judgment was peculiar. He maintained that as conversion is the change of a rational agent, it must be a matter of conviction and choice; and that it was absurd to suppose any physical operation on the soul itself to be necessary or even conceivable. This opinion therefore became prevalent. The opposite, supposed to be that of many called Hopkinsians, was that no change takes place in the views of the understanding, but such as arises from a change in the feelings of the heart. But some of us were not satisfied with either of these explanations. We supposed that a soul dead in sin was incapable of spiritual views and feelings, until made partaker of spiritual life; that this principle of life was imparted in regeneration; so that the natural order of exercises was, that the quickened soul entertained new views, which were accompanied by new feelings in accordance with the truths presented to the mind. This opinion I then adopted and have always held. The Spirit operates on the dead soul, communicating the principle of life. The Word holds up to the view of the regenerated soul the evil of sin which leads to repentance, and shows the excellency and suitableness of Christ as a Saviour in all his offices, and reveals the beauty of holiness.

“Among other practical books, Marshall on Sanctiflcation came into use, strongly recommended by some, as exhibiting the only true view of saving faith, and as fitted at once to give peace to the troubled conscience. Some who had received little comfort in religion, seized on this notion of faith, persuaded themselves that their sins were pardoned and that Christ and all his benefits were theirs, and exulted for a time in the pleasing delusion. But they generally fell back into doubt and distress. The instances of persons professing a full assurance were few. Great caution was exercised, to guard against deception; which perhaps led to undue nicety in the attempt to discriminate between the exercises of the believer and the hypocrite, and to a multiplication of marks and evidences, some of which were not deduced from the Holy Scriptures. This caused perplexity in the minds of many sincere persons, and detracted from the peace which they might have enjoyed. Nevertheless just views were generally entertained on this subject, and our pastor was lucid and discriminating as to the nature of true religion.”

“With many the impressions suddenly made vanished away by degrees, so that they became as careless as ever; and some no doubt entered the communion of the Church who had not the root of the matter in them. But a large number continued to give evidence of the depth and reality of the work of grace in their hearts. Some of the most lively Christians were of the female sex.”

Of the period concerning which we have been writing there remain several little books, chiefly in cipher, containing a brief journal of the writer’s private exercises. They begin when he was eighteen years of age, and extend with interruptions for about six years. For several reasons we make no use of them; partly because of their scantiness, partly because his mature judgment seems to have been adverse to such diaries, but chiefly because he has given elsewhere as much of these transactions between God and his soul, as he desired to be remembered.

The records from which we make these extracts contain narratives of fearful apostasy, in a few remarkable instances; full of interest and warning, but too extensive in their details to find a place in our pages. Some of these fatal results are attributed by the writer himself to the practice common in most revivals of dragging young and obscure persons into public view, and to the ill-judged stress laid on apparent

gifts of fluent and acceptable prayer in seeming converts. On this subject his views corresponded with those of Kobert Hall, who in reviewing his own juvenile experience in respect to this matter, writes as follows: QC I never call the circumstance to mind but with grief at the vanity it inspired; nor, when I think of such mistakes of good men, am I inclined to question the correctness of Baxter’s language, strong as it is, where he says, l Nor should men turn preachers as the river Nilus breeds frogs (saith Herodotus), where one half moveth before the other is made, and while it is yet but plain mud! ’ “*

Sixty years ago, when Archibald Alexander was struggling to acquire an education, there was no such provision of literary apparatus as in our day. Single volumes passed from house to house, as great treasures, and the youth was happy who could own any one of those works which now greet us with profusion. Our young student speaks of several authors who influenced his mind in this its forming state. First among these were such as met the demands of his troubled mind during early awakenings; Owen, Baxter, Alleine, the Erskines, WiUison, Doddridge, Whitefield, Jenyns and Dickinson’s Letters.

At the instance of General Andrew Moore, young Alexander was induced to think of going to Princeton College, then under the presidentship of Dr. Witherspoon. To this plan his father was very favourable; his clothes were packed up and actually forwarded a certain part of the way. A

* Memoir of Robert Hall, Vol. IIL, p. 5.

day or two before setting out, however, he waited on Mr. Graham, from whom he desired to take letters. To his surprise Mr. Graham disapproved the whole scheme, and gave such a description of the inconveniences to which he would be subjected as an undergraduate, and the advantages of deferring this step until he should take degrees at Lexington, that he was persuaded to remain at home. Gen. Moore was chagrined, and the family of Mr. Keid were much displeased. It must be admitted that the difficulties suggested by Mr. Graham were imaginary. But Providence directs in all such conjunctures, and the very next day Mr. Alexander was seized with a fever, which held him many weeks in great suffering and danger. The physician who was called in, came to the bedside drunk. For a large part of the time the patient was in a raging delirium. At one stage of the disease he lay speechless, and the family was called to see him die. One morning, about daybreak, he heard the voice of a neighbour at the door, inquiring, “Is he still alive?” It was the preposterous custom of the country for every one to have access to the sick room, and one day when a sermon was preached in the house, half the congregation came in to see him, and some good but unwise men undertook to talk with him on religious subjects, while his mind was alienated. But it was God’s purpose to spare him for usefulness. For several weeks he was lifted out of bed, as an infant. His constitution, which was vigorous before, received a shock, from which, as he supposed, it never fully recovered. He was seized with an excruciating sciatica, and suffered for months with a distressing cough; so that during the whole

winter and spring of 1790, he was in feeble and as it seemed declining health.

The Sweet Springs had already become a place of frequent resort, and thither he was accompanied by his father in the ensuing summer. The scenes were new to him, and we would fain believe are such as no longer present themselves in that beautiful locality. “A company of gamblers never intermitted their games day or night, Sunday or workingday, during the whole time I was there. They relieved one another, and would sometimes come out to the fountain, adding not a little to the horrid symphony of oaths and imprecations which filled the air at these gatherings. They strove to outdo one another in the rapidity and novelty of their profane expressions. Some of these persons came every year, and had their log cabins to dwell in. Besides other invalids there were old broken-down debauchees, who were endeavouring to prop up a shattered and polluted constitution. There was an old Baptist by the name of Cox, from North Carolina, who had been here every season for a number of years. He was treated with a sort of respect by the profane, although they would throw out a jest at his sobriety; to which he would reply, ( Gentlemen, if there is no future state, your course may do, but if it should turn out that there is, I should fear to be in your place,” He adds a painful account of a dying man, who though belonging to the convivial circle was abandoned by his comrades. “They would only come within twenty or thirty yards of the cabin, and ask how he did; but I could hear their oaths as I sat beside him. I found on his table, Law’s Serious Call, which I had never seen, and which I read through that night. Nothing ever more goaded my conscience; yet I believe it did me little good, for I was in a despondent state.”

During most of his sojourn he was in the family of Mr. Lewis, the proprietor of the Sweet Springs. Here he met with the Kev. Mr. McKoberts, of Prince Edward, whose name will appear again in our narrative. Mr. LeGrand also came to the Springs, and preached to the visitors. The sketches which follow are too characteristic to be omitted, especially as the memorials of this period are scanty.

“My health was improving, and several weeks remained of the time allotted to my stay, but finding a man from Augusta returning with a led horse, I prevailed on him to convey me to Eockbridge, which would be only a few miles out of his way. We set out rather late and were unable to reach our lodging place before night; and being near the banks of Jackson’s Kiver we lost our way, and took a path which led us off from the main road directly across the hills towards the river. For a time our situation was not only painful but perilous, as the ravines which we descended were very deep. After wandering some time we saw a distant light, and with some difficulty reached a cabin in the low grounds. We found two women in the house, one aged, and the other young, but the mother of several children, who were sleeping in the room which we entered, of course the only one in the house. There was an evident reluctance in these persons to comply with our request for lodging, the reason of which transpired in due time. The matron set to work, however, and provided a supper, which to our appetites appeared very good. Scarcely had we ended our repast, when the man of the house came home in a state of intoxication. He was very noisy before he came in, but when he found two strangers, he became outrageous and ordered us to depart. We expostulated, reminding him that the night was dark and that we could not possibly regain the high-road. The wife and mother joined their entreaties to ours, and he at length consented to furnish provender for our horses, and soon fell into a sound sleep. His wife spread a bed on the floor.

“We rose early, on a lovely Sabbath morning; my plan in setting out having been to reach the forks of Jackson’s River and the Cow Pasture, where I knew Mr. LeGrand was to be. The man of the house ai*ose early also, and with a marked change in his demeanour. He was deeply mortified at the inhospitality of the previous night, and sought in every way to make amends for it. Our way lay all the morning along the bank of the river, and in some places there was scarcely room for a bridle-path between the mountain and the channel. The ride was delightful and refreshing, and before reaching the junction of the Cow Pasture, we passed what I have always admired as a most picturesque spot; I mean that where Jackson’s River makes its way through the high and steep mountain. The fissure is very narrow, and the sides abrupt, with piles of rock at the bottom. The two sides of the breach seem to correspond with each other, showing that there had once been a continuous ridge.

“We arrived at Mr. Davidson’s long before the hour of public worship. The people seldom heard a sermon; being so strung along the narrow valleys, that they can never form self-supporting congregations, but must always depend on itinerants, or the transient visits of ministers from a distance. In such regions it is pleasing to see the ardour with which the mountain people flock to the place of meeting; issuing from every hollow of the neighbouring hills, on horseback and on foot. When the young preacher arose, with his singular advantages of mien and voice, an unwonted air of solemnity and interest pervaded the assembly. Mr. Le-Grand again preached much to my heart; seldom have I spent a happier day. We had two sermons, with a short interval. When he met me at the edge of the dense forest whither he had retired for devotion, his face seemed like that of Moses to shine, and as we were on terms of great intimacy he said to me, c If I ever enjoyed sensible communion with God, it was within the last half hour, And his sermon bore witness that he had been with Jesus. These discourses were not in vain. The seeds of piety were sown in many young hearts that day. Several members of Mr. Davidson’s family dated their serious impressions from that day. I reluctantly parted with Mr. LeGrand in the morning, as my travelling companion was becoming impatient to be on his way. My leaving the Springs at this time was imprudent; as I now believe that if I had remained, my health would have been entirely restored. As it was, though much recruited by the use of the waters, I soon fell back into a state of debility.”