Chapter V
He stirring up which he expressed the need of, came to him not long afterwards, and came, in the wonderful grace of God, through joy and not through sorrow. Frank’s uncle and aunt, Horace J. and Margaret L. Smith, lived at Hestonville, about five miles from Haverford College, and with generous kindness they gave Frank the treat of a party at their house every three weeks on Saturday afternoons. Frank was to invite some of his fellow-students to accompany him, and I was to take out with me from the city a few of his young cousins and friends to join them.
Our first party was on October 8th, 1870, and was the beginning of a succession of the pleasantest, happiest reunions of young people it was ever my lot to attend. “Uncle Horry “and ‘’Aunt Maggie” made us feel thoroughly welcome and at home, and the merry out-door games in the afternoon, and the evening’s innocent amusements in-doors, will never be forgotten by any who shared in them. The little party, who met thus from time to time, called themselves in
merriment ‘* Heston-villains,” and were drawn to-JEtSLt. 16.] THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. 61
gether in a close bond of youthful friendship that was to us elders delightful to witness and join in.
It was through these parties, and what grew out of them, that Frank’s awakening was to come. Nearly all of the young circle were Christians, and one or two of them were truly consecrated in heart and life to the service of their Lord. And the joyous merriment of their games and their talk seemed never to turn their hearts away from a far deeper interest in the blessed subject of the glorious salvation they had found in the Lord Jesus Christ. The gospel had come to them all, as a piece of good news to make them happy, and not as a code of severe laws to frighten them and make them sad. And the ending to their happy evenings which they all loved the best, was to gather in Uncle Horry’s parlors, around the glowing fire, and read the Bible and sing hymns together, followed by a little season of silent waiting before the Lord, in which some of the young voices would be heard breaking the silence in prayer or simple confession. It was the influence of these little meetings which at last effectually awakened our boy.
The first of these occasions however was held in our own parlor in Filbert Street, where we gathered one evening on our return from Hestonville, while waiting for the late train that was to carry our students back to their college. Frank’s father proposed our each one telling the present state of our religious experience, and began asking one after another some simple question to draw it out. He turned to Frank first, and our dear boy was thus obliged to come out openly, and declare upon whose side he was, which he ever after felt to have been a great blessing to him. It was a deeply solemn and touching occasion. As one after another uttered their simple confession of blessing or of need, scarcely a dry eye remained in the room, and two of the Haverford students broke down entirely, saying they were not converted, but that there was nothing which they longed for so much.
In reference to this evening one of the young ladies has written to us since Frank’s death:
” My religious friendship with Frank began that evening, after one of our first Hestonville parties, when we walked in to Philadelphia, and met in your parlor foi confession and prayer. I think he was the first young man with whom I had ever had a religious conversation, and it was a great strength to both of us. We spoke of the great need of Haverford, and the great work to be done there, and, when we parted on our steps, agreed that we would each pray for the College, until the Lord should bless it. And his faith was very strengthening to my own; he said he saw no reason why we should not receive an answer to our prayer.”
The result of this little season was, that the two dear boys spoken of were converted within a few days, and that they were all so much interested as to beg Frank’s father to come out to Haverford sometimes to talk to them and help them on their Christian pathway. He gladly consented, and from that time occasionally met a few of Frank’s cousins and fellow-students in a room belonging to one of the Professors at the College. In these little social meetings, the attention of those present was first called to the certainty of the forgiveness of sin to those who put their full trust in iElat. l6,] THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. (i
the atoning work of the Lord Jesus. And a number of intelligent and earnest young men there for the first time found peace in believing. At the same time there was pressed upon those who, like Frank, had realized this joy of forgiveness, that it was their privilege to know in their own experience an entire inward consecration of will, and a full trust in Christ’s power to keep them from sin. They were led to place themselves in the searching light of the Holy Spirit, asking that every thought and desire, the very central powers of their existence, might be brought into conformity to the will of God. Many an unsanctified ambition and unholy feeling, scarcely defined in the comparative twilight of their previous experience, was here brought into the light of consciousness, and yielded to God. And several of them, during the course of these meetings, and while under the sweet influences of the Hestonville parties, in large measure entered upon this higher experience of Christian privilege, and realized in their souls a uniformity of love, joy and peace, with a corresponding outward consistency of life, such as they had not before known. Our own precious boy was among this number, as will be seen from his letters; and from that time his Christian character shone brighter and brighter, until the coming to him of the perfect day.
Perhaps one of the most important features of these meetings to the young Christians, was the vocal confession they there made of Christ as their Saviour. Some who had long been trusting Him, but who had never defined to themselves, nor confessed to others the blessed fact that they were therefore the children of
God, found in these simple confessions the undying assurance of a Saviour’s love; and realized the blessedness promised, in Rom. x. 10, to those who not only believe in their hearts, but also confess with their mouths, the Lord Jesus. Our dear Frank here learned the importance of this Christian duty of confession, and was enabled afterwards, when among strangers at Princeton College, to bear a faithful testimony to his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
A few extracts from his letters and diary of this winter will reveal the sweet development of his Christian experience, and will show how, through it all, he was the real boy, turning easily after a boy’s fashion from grave to gay, mingling his College games and his religious feelings in the most natural sort of way, and finding out the blessed truth that the more he learned of the salvation of Jesus, the more perfectly he found it was suited to him as a boy, with a boy’s needs and a boy’s difficulties. Never to the very last did he cease to be a boy. And it was one of the crowning charms of his Christian experience that it never made him unnatural, nor deprived him of the hearty healthy enjoyment of his young life, with all its innocent pleasures and pursuits.
We tried to impress upon his mind that he was to enter into the sports belonging to his time of life heartily and with an unclouded conscience; that in the divinely arranged harmony of things, he at his age was as much called to the development of his character, physical, moral, and intellectual, by throwing himself with heartiness into all innocent sports congenial to his years and tastes, as his parents were yEt at. 16.J THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. 65
called to bend themselves to the work of life. We taught him to enter upon the cricket-field, or the football match, as thoroughly in communion with his Lord as in his moments of sober work. And he learned the lesson. So that afterwards in writing to one of his friends, he said, that when his eyes were looking to the Lord, and his trust in Him was unwavering, he could enter with his whole heart into all the pleasures around him, but that when his communion was clouded, he could not enjoy even the most exciting cricket-match that ever was played.
On the 30th of October, 1870, Frank wrote in reference to the Hestonville party of the day before:
* ‘Darling Mother:
“I think yesterday was a perfect success; as far as we Haverford students are concerned, I know it was. The fellows all said that they had a capital time. We have already begun to look forward to the next time. I hope Bay is not sick. It made me feel real bad not to be able to pay more attention to her and Alice and Logan; in fact, I felt quite homesick when I got back here. I am ever so glad I had that little talk with thee. Although we did not say much, yet it seemed so much like home to talk to, thee confidentially as in olden times. With us College fellows it always is a long, long while ago since we were school-boys, thee knows. Does thee think the girls liked it? Try and find out. I hope I impressed them with a faint idea of how humble my position as a Freshman is, and how exalted that of my companions as Juniors pretends to be.” 6^ E
THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. [TEtat. l6.
About the same date he wrote to his ‘’Aunty Lill “:
‘’My Dearest Aunty:
“I was very glad indeed to see thee at Hestonville, for I hardly expected thee would come. I wish I could have seen more of thee, but the young ladies had to be attended to.
“I was also very glad to hear of N.’s conversion, but as to writing to her, as thee asks me to, that is altogether out of the question. I would as soon think of flying. In the first place, I know that I am too cold a Christian, and do not feel as if it would be genuine feeling, even if I should write. I am very sorry to make this confession, but I am afraid it is too true. I don’t know what message I could send to her, either. I am of course very glad to hear of her conversion. I have been praying for her ever since I was certain she was not a Christian. I hope she will be more faithful than I have been.”
As yet our boy was only experiencing the convictions of the Holy Spirit, revealing to him his cold condition. And meanwhile many other interests were filling up his young life.
He had not forgotten the “S. S. S.” Society in his new associations, and about this time he wrote the following epistle to the absent members, on the occasion of the meaning of their name having been discovered:
*’Dear Companions of my Youth:
“To be writing you an epistle in this manner reminds me of my youthful days, so long ago, before I ytat. 16.j THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. 6/
entered here as a College student. I often think of those days with pleasure, and with many regrets that they are gone to me. For of course a College student is not expected to play any more, nor to do anything unpractical. If he hunts for arbutus, it is for the good of his botany. If he rows, it is for the sake of his muscle. If he plays hare and hound, he does it to improve his lungs. But as for doing such frivolous things as walk fences, ride in a donkey-cart, build dams, or anything of that sort, they are all out of the question. He may perhaps skate once in a while, to relieve his overburdened mind; but he scarcely ever does it with ladies, as it would make him unfit to study.
“My dignity” as such a person has suffered considerably since coming here by being ’ rushed.’ The Sophomores seem scarcely to remember that I am as good as they, and maybe, better; and the way they have ’ hazed ’ me, considering who I am, is too
frightful to relate. Prof. also made me feel
rather badly by catching me in the middle of a pillow-fight the other evening, into which you may be sure I did not enter of my own accord, but was forced into it by my antagonist hitting me first.
*’ I have to study four hours a day, and am leading well the tail of the class, a high position, the class consisting of eight, and there being but seven above me.
“I also am so great a favorite here that all the students rival each other in seeing who can be with me most, and I, fearing to be partial, am constrained to go alone a great deal.
“Now 1 hope I have impressed you with a due sense of my great dignity. For let me tell you, it always leaves an impression wherever it goes. If you were to see me, I have no doubt you would be surprised at its magnitude.
‘’And now let us attend to some society business. Our name, that name which has always inspired us with a desire for mischief, that name which above all others was so suited to our characters, has been found out! What shall we do? The matter is serious. It requires careful consideration by the thinking part of our members; and much of the thinking part, you will of course allow, is vested in the College student, or, in other words, .in the dignified writer. His opinion therefore is, that we should have anew name, and take more precautions to keep it secret. Think it over, ye frivolous sub-freshmen, and let me hear your decision.
‘’ Hoping you will feel honored by this remarkable condescension on my part, in writing to you small children, I remain, your truly dutiful servant,
“F. W. Smith.”
On December 4th, he writes:
*’ Darling Mother:
‘’ It hardly seems worth while to write to thee after having written so lately, but still I’ll do it. In the first place let me tell thee about my good grade for last month. I was perfectly astounded. Happily for my nerves, I don’t believe it will happen again. This was it: Six hundred and ninety-eight and three quarters — seven hundred being perfect; that is, I said iEtat. I&.] THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. 6g
every lesson through the month perfect except two. Isn’t it astounding? The fellow who was second in the class had six hundred and ninety-two for his grade, six and three-quarters lower than mine. Please don’t faint on reading this, for I’ll never do it again, so excuse me!
“We had — at least I had — an extremely pleasant evening when father was out. For the first time in my life I prayed out-loud, and I felt glad afterwards I had done it; that is, I think I felt a certain degree of peace. But I am sorry to say, it is all gone now, and I am the same as ever, cold and — thee knows it all.”
During the visit here referred to, Frank’s father suggested to the young men that it would be a great help and strength to them to have a little prayer-meeting together, at such times as he could not be with them; and in Frank’s next letter of December 7th, he thus speaks of these meetings:
“About our little meeting — we have it from 12 to 12.20 every day. It is a curious fact that they are the nicest meetings I was ever at; in fact, 1 quite look forward to them, more than I can say of any other meeting I ever attended. What is the reason? Because I take part? I think we would rather conduct the meeting as we do now than any other way. One of us reads a few verses from the Bible; and then we wait on the Lord for guidance, and some one prays and some one else speaks. It is very interesting.”
On December 25th, he wrote:
‘’Dearest Mother:
“How I did long to be at home last night, to see the children and you, and the Christmas-tree, and all. If I had not made up my mind not to be, I should have been real homesick. Did you have a nice time? And are there any more presents for me?
“As father has probably told thee, we are about to start a Bible class among ourselves. We expect persecution when all we do is found out, but I think the Lord will help us to stand it for His sake. I am afraid I don’t live very consistently, but I hardly feel ready to give up all my fun, and strictly obey all the rules; it looks like a life of such awful bondage.”
The year 1870 closed on our boy, leaving him still in what was to himself a very unsatisfactory state of experience, though outwardly to lis he was, as always, the same dear, good, noble fellow, who had rejoiced our home and our hearts for so many years. The year 187 1 opened upon him in very much the same state of mind.
On January 8th, 1871, he wrote:
‘’ I think the fellows all enjoyed father’s talk the other night. R. says he could listen any length of time; he is really deeply interested in the subject of sanctification. He says I am the only pe’rson he ever talked to on religious subjects, except his sister. There are almost too many in the room, when father comes out, for them to talk freely to him; however, I don’t see how it can be remedied. Our meetings now are pretty lively.. T. made a beautiful prayer, iEtat. 1 6.] THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. /I
the Other day; and quite often, he and H. make some remark on some passage in the Bible.
“I can’t tell thee exactly what I mean by being inconsistent. Nothing very glaring, I suppose, but a general feeling that I am inconsistent, with such a high profession as I make here, by going to and taking part in these meetings. And I fear I never can feel that I am in the least consistent, until I give up and become sanctified. But the giving up, it seems, I cannot do. There are perhaps only two things that I cling to very strongly, but it seems as if I could not give them up. Nearly everything else I can give up pretty easily, but these two I cannot. They are comparatively very small things in themselves, and thee would most likely consider them nothing, but they are just where my will sticks.”
Again, on the 15th of January, he wrote:
‘’All the boys enjoyed father’s visit last week, but it don’t seem to have had any effect on the meetings. R. and I are the only ones who are apparently stirred up about them. We have determined to do our duty in them, and although it don’t do much good, still it can’t help having some effect, however little. R. is really deeply interested. We had a long talk yesterday, and at last we came to the conclusion that we would be more happy, and more useful in every way, if we would only consecrate ourselves wholly. And he said he would, if I would. But it really seemed as if I could not give up my will. Perhaps I shall be able to, some time. I cannot help thinking what blessed results would most likely come in the college
J 2 THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. [.^tat. 1 6.
if there were even two of the Lord’s weakest ones given up to Him. And as R. said, — ‘Would I not be willing to give up everything to save one soul? ‘It does seem as if I could at the time, and yet when the thing comes up, immediately I retract.”
The next day he wrote: — ‘■’■ Thee must not tell any one, please, because I hate any great profession, and then a coming short of it; but last night I believe the Lord enabled me to give up all my hold on the world, and abandon myself wholly to Him.”
From this time the work went rapidly on in our dear boy’s heart. The first giving up of his will did not, it is true, reach down into the inmost depths of his life, and he found afterwards many and far greater things to be abandoned to the Lord. But it was the beginning of a life consecrated to God, and thenceforth his path was steadily onward and upward.
On the 1 7th I replied to this:
‘’My Darling Boy:
“I seize the first moment I have had to answer thy precious letter, and cannot express to thee how it rejoiced my heart. Oh, dear Frank, there may not be any rapturous joy in thus abandoning thyself to thy Saviour for Him to do with thee according to His own will, but there is always peace, and that is enough. Thee must watch now against discouragement. Remember my favorite quotation from George Fox, that ’ all discouragement is from the Evil One; ’ and no matter what thy difficulties or perplexities may be, let them never for a moment cause thee to be dismt. 16.] THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. 73
couraged. Afresh abandon thyself to the Lord, and afresh believe that He does receive thee, and undertake thy case. It is just too lovely to think of thee as belonging altogether to Him now, and to know how happy He will make thee! And thee must be just as simple and light-hearted as a little child; have no cares and no fears; but let Jesus carry every burden, and take every trouble. Faber says:
* If our faith were but more simple,
We would take Him at His word,
And our lives would be all sunshine
In the presence of our Lord,’”
Our boy’s next letter shows us by what a sad experience he learned the necessary lesson, that, while with the heart man believeth unto righteousness, with the mouth confession must be made unto salvation. It will tell. its own story.
“Dearest Mother:
“Thee knows I told thee last Second-day that I had given up all. Well, all that morning I felt peaceful and happy, until I went up to our little meeting, and there it came to me that I should confess that I had consecrated myself. But then I thought, ‘Suppose I fall, how will it look after having made such a high profession? ‘Which immediately shut me up. Consequently I began to lose my peace, and the next day it was all gone. It was the same for two or three days, until by Sixth-day evening I was so weak, that I entirely gave way to my temper, more than I have done before for a year or so; and on account of this giving way, have made myself miserable, and estranged two of my best friends in the college. It is my place to go and make up, as I did the getting mad; but it is such fearfully hard work, that I don’t know whether I can possibly do it. If I don’t do it, it won’t be done, and it will make the whole class uncomfortable, as this is the first quarrel any of us have had. I feel dreadfully about it. Why is it that as soon as I try to give up and walk in a really Christian way, I immediately fall? It is mighty humbling, anyhow. Perhaps I did not trust enough. But I have not any faith, hardly enough even to pray for more. I’m all in a muddle, and don’t know how to get out.”
In the little pocket-diary Frank kept this year, — the only one he ever kept that we can find, — in which he noted down briefly whatever interested him, he wrote, January 20th:
“Very poor skating. Half holiday. Began bracket. Got mad at and.”
On the 26th he wrote:
“Thermometer 5°. Heavy snow all day. Made
up with and. Spent afternoon in one of
the Professors’ room, with them and. Jolly
fun. Sang, and had a nice time generally.”
Between these two entries he had written me the letter quoted above, and we had met at one of the Hestonville parties, where I had had a little conver-
/Elat. 16.] THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. 75
sation with him about it. I found he was vei y much discouraged, and in fact I had hardly ever seen our dear boy so sad as he seemed that night. He felt as if it was all of no use: he never could live a holy life, and he might as well give it up in despair. I showed him where the beginning of his trouble lay, in having failed to acknowledge his consecration in the meeting, when the Spirit had prompted him. I reminded him of the passage which says, “With the heart man believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation,” and of the promise to those who confess with the mouth and believe in the heart, that they “shall be saved.” And told him, I thought this meant, that salvation could not be fully realized until confession was made; that many had lost their consecration from a failure to acknowledge it, and that he would never have any strength until he was willing to do the Lord’s will in this respect.
But I told him that there was no cause for discouragement whatever; that we find in the Bible a provision for just such a case, “If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, even Jesus Christ the righteous;” and, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” I told Frank that it very often happened, when Satan found souls seeking to escape from his bondage, that he tripped them up in a most unexpected way, in order to discourage them, and make them give up the struggle. But that he might completely baffle Satan by going at once to the Lord for the promised forgiveness and cleansing; and then, being reconciled to God, he could go and be reconciled with his brother. The dear boy’s brow cleared as we talked, and he did at once, then and there, confess his sin to his Heavenly Father, and believe he was forgiven, according to the word. But there still remained the duty of reconciliation with his brother, and of this he wrote to me on January 29th.
‘Dearest Mother:
*’ In the first place, about my experience. I had the most awful time making up my mind to say anything to those two boys, that I ever had in my life. I thought about it, and prayed about it, and scolded myself that it was not either gentlemanly, or Christian like, until at last, when on Fourth-day I had spoken to only one of them, I felt so perfectly unhappy that I believe I could have done something desperate. But that night I prayed for strength to do it the next day, and I prayed for about half an hour, until at last faith was given me, and the next morning I did it; so now we are better friends than ever. But still I am not at all at rest; and yet I believe I have given up everything, except one thing, and I don’t know whether I am required to give that up or not. The thought just struck me the other day, * Am I willing to speak in the meeting at the meeting-house, if 1 felt called on to dr) it? ‘I do not think I can ever give that up, if I am required. That may be my sticker, I don’t know. But if it is, I don’t know how I am going to get over it. I am perfectly willing to say anything in our little meetings up-stairs, but I cannot speak publicly before the whole college, in a iEtat. 1 6.] THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. yy
regular meeting. It is impossible. Howevei, I ’11 see thee soon and talk about all such things. And now for gossip.”
In his diary, under date of February 12th, while paying a visit during vacation at Baltimore, he writes:
‘* Went with M. and B. and heard Caroline Talbot preach a first-rate sermon. Good talk on my future prospects with M. I should like to be a lawyer, that I might have some chance of being a mover in a great reformation of our country.’
Frank’s cousin M. was the recipient of all his aspirations and hopes in life. No plan was ever matured by him, until it was first talked over with her. She supplied to him almost more than a sister’s place, sympathizing in all his tastes, and rousing him into a love for all that was noble and pure in literature and in morals, and making his life bright with her energetic spirits and her hearty appreciation of fun. Almost the last thing they were doing together at “The Cedars,” the week before he was taken sick, was reading aloud to one another Milton’s Paradise Lost, and planning together to have a sailboat on the creek near the place. Such perfect sympathy as existed between them must, I think, be rare between cousins, and it was one of the chief joys of our boy’s life.
H *