All Along the Lines: General Evangelistic Endeavors

“Every battle I shall win,
Triumph over every sin,
‘What! ’ you say, ’ a victor be ?*
No, not I, but Christ in me.”

If there is any one part of our country which more than another might seem to have little use for such a man as Uncle John it is the New England States. Settled by men characterized to a pre-eminent degree by regard for religious things, populated still chiefly by their descendants, studded with churches whose pulpits are occupied by preachers inferior in ability and devotedness to no others in the land, blessed with revivals reaching wide and deep, it would look as though these ancient Christian commonwealths would have little work for a colporteur anywhere within their bounds.

It is a fact, however, that old-established churches, and communities long leavened by gospel truth, sometimes need to have their decorous and conventional ways broken in upon as the smooth religious life of eighteen hundred years ago was broken in upon by “the voice of one crying in the wilderness.”

There is such a tendency to get into ruts of creed and conduct, and go jogging monotonously along ‘G THE LINES. 153

them, that eveiy now and then something needs to occur that shall start us out of them, and make religion seem an awfully earnest thing. Hence it was that Uncle John was invited to labor in strong churches of Massachusetts and Connecticut, the history of some of which runs almost back to the coming of the Mayflower, as well as amid their rural neighborhoods in which, on account of removals westward or the concentration of population in the manufacturing towns, gospel influence had to some extent declined. In these States he spent a large part of his last half dozen years; but as Maine, Rhode Island, New York, and New Jersey shared his labors during that period to some extent, we attach to these scattered operations the

caption, ALL ALONG THE LINES.

Christian brethren in the various communities thus visited send accounts more or less complete of the way God wrought through him and by him to arouse and save.

Rev. I. C. Meserve, of New Haven, Conn.: “I had just entered upon my ministry when I first saw him. He came to my study to see me, and at first I thought him some harmless but decidedly crazy man. In less than an hour, however, the truth broke in upon me that a Christian was in my house of a type hitherto unknown. He stayed a few days with me and we then formed a friendship which death has not severed and which I count one of the richest treasures of my life.

“Two or three incidents occurred that most admir* ably illustrate his spirit and his methods. This as showing the temper with which he met rebuff. One day we met a prominent church member. I introduced them, and the conversation was not long in reaching the plainly but kindly put question, ‘Are you a child of God and how is it with you?’ The angry and unexpected answer was, * I don’t answer any such questions. I don’t do business that way, sir.’ Uncle John took no offence, but simply explained that as a member of the Lord’s kingdom he wished to communicate in the language of that kingdom with any fellow-member whom he met.

“We passed on and soon saw a man approaching who was not a believer in a personal devil. I so informed Uncle John, who, on being introduced, went on to state that he was a colporteur of the American Tract Society, travelling over the country fighting the devil; ‘And do you know, brother, I find some people who don’t believe there is any devil; but you and I know that these are his greatest dupes.’ It was a master stroke of policy and tact and skill.

“I saw him with an old man of more than eighty who had resisted gospel influences all his life, and apparently was totally unconcerned. In ten minutes his indifference melted, and with flowing tears he confessed his need of Christ. I watched that encounter with intense interest, for it was like a duel of wit and argument, and discerned that the rarest powers in soul-searching were possessed by Uncle John.

For three successive winters he helped me when I was pastor of the little church in State street, Brooklyn, N. Y., and under God I believe he saved it from disbanding in despair. Such praying and pleading in public and private — my heart grows hot with the memory of it.

* * I saw him on his knees one day In our lecture-room at the close of Sunday-school, pleading for the children, some of whom were gathered around. I watched to note the effect of the prayer. Presently a boy a dozen or more years old dropped on his knees, then he crawled under Uncle John’s uplifted arm, and finally threw himself sobbing upon that broad breast, as true a Christian from that hour forward as I ever met. Others followed, and the dear old man was presently surrounded by a group who were led to the very foot of the cross by that prayer. And it was not undue excitement either. I want to bear witness to the fact that those who were converted under his labors were as reliable in their after lives as any Christians whom I have known. The lad spoken of became a power in the church, and in his own home too.

“And I want to speak here of a prayer-meeting in my own house one night, in which I came nearer realizing heaven upon earth than ever before or since. We had been having a blessed time at the church that night, and from it came back — my wife, my brother (then preparing for the ministry), and myself. After a few minutes* conversation Uncle John suggested a season of prayer together before going to the night’s rest. The memory of those next minutes will only fade with life. With melted hearts and streaming eyes by way of Calvary we drew near our Lord. Uncle John seemed to me that night like a guide who knew every inch of the road and took us right into the secret place of the Most High.

“After I came to New Haven to take charge of the Davenport Church, he labored with me between two and three weeks. The number of converts was large, but the impetus given to the spiritual life of the church, and especially the type which its character took on was so marked that its progress has been wonderful. Hundreds have been attracted to it, and I am confident that it was largely because of Uncle John that these blessed results came.

“Of one more fact let me tell. He went by invitation several winters ago to one of our Connecticut towns, and was met by a spirit of decided opposition. Some threatened to personally maltreat him if he ventured into their homes. So wonderfully, however, did God work that in a fev, days he was in those very houses, and greeted with a * Come in. Uncle John, we have been waiting and wanting to see you here.’ The witnesses of his power over the minds and consciences and hearts of men are numbered by thousands in New England, and all because he was, as much as any prophet of old, * a man of God.*”

Rev. Mr. Zabrlskie, now of Wollaston, Mass., furnishes the following graphic sketch:

“One afternoon, in the summer of 1872, I received a call at my parsonage at Old Saybrook, Conn. I did not catch the name of my visitor so as to recognize it, and on entering the reception room I looked with some suspicion on the travel stained man whom I found waiting there. I received so many itinerants of various degrees of dubiousness, that I had come to throw the burden of proof on them in the establishment of their genuineness and respectability. But by and by as it dawned on me that this was Uncle John Vassar, the modern successor, if not of the apostles, yet of the * seventy,’ and the latchets of whose dusty shoes I was not worthy to stoop down and unloose, there was a sudden and decided revolution in my m.ental attitude and reception. He had been laboring with Dr. Goodell, then of New Britain, and elsewhere in that region, and was passing through Saybrook to take the night-boat to New York, and having a little time to spare he as usual paid his respects to the minister to inquire concerning the spiritual condition of the place. When he left it was with the promise that if the Tract Society would so arrange it he would come and work with me. I directed him to the boat, but hardly had I closed the door than it occurred to me that I had not shown him the attention belonging to the courier of the King, and that I ought to see him further on his way. Hastily donning my out-door attire, I started after and overtook him about half way to the wharf, which was something like a mile away.

My heart burned within me while we talked together on the road. I took occasion to introduce him to several whom I met, even stopping two or three wagons for the purpose. To every one he gave a word in season, and most of them wore a puzzled look at this Philip starting up beside their chariots among the desert sandheaps of Saybrook Point. As some time would elapse before the boat would sail, I left him at the Point and returned home. But these waiting hours were not wasted ones, for not a few laborers and loungers heard the Gospel from his lips even there.

“He was detailed by the Society to work in Saybrook, and made his first appearance in our church on Sabbath morning, November loth. After the sermon he arose in the midst of the congregation to say a few words by way of greeting and preparation for what he was there to undertake. His movement was so unexpected and so unprecedented in that staid old community, his appearance so plain, his speech so searching, that the general impression was unfavorable. Many afterwards confessed that it took them a long while to get over their prejudice. Possibly the time and mode were not well chosen. Mr. Vassar always contended that he was best adapted to personal effort. But the real ’ offence’ was that he spoke to Christian professors in such an uncompromising way about their duty, and in such a startling way about their state, that every one whose heart was not honest with itself, or whose peace was a false one, was sure to be stung and irritated.

“As he went through the town I was greatly interested to observe his progress as a kind of touch-stone He was a veritable sword of the Spirit, discerning the

A NEW ENGLAND “DISTRICT SCHOOL

ALL ALONG THE LINES. xcy

thoughts and intents of the heart and laying bare its secret. The ’ poor in spirit’ were sure to be revealed, I think he could hardly have encountered more odium and opposition anywhere, especially among the members of the churches. Many of my own people regarded him with great disfavor. The part of the town which had once been the source and centre of revival work, but which had fallen into formalism and routine, was the part in which he found least sympathy and encouragement. Those parts, on the contrary, which were regarded as the most hopeless and God-forsaken, were those where he was most welcome and successful. The poor and prodigal felt the beatings of his great heart as seeker for souls. The most unexpected people in every rank of life ’ took’ to him, and there were equally unexpected cases of revulsion or dislike. I said that his first public appearance in Saybrook was November loth. Really it was on the 9th, for on that evening, at his request, I rallied a little group in my parlor to pray. These brethren were completely won to him and to the work. Had there been time to gather a larger number that night, his sudden apparition in the guise of an Elijah in our decorous church the next day might have produced a different effect.

“On Sunday afternoon and evening Mr. Vassar attended all the Sunday-schools and prayer-meetings he could reach. During the week he attended and addressed the district schools. One young man who was teaching declared that he would not allow it, but the old veteran stormed the castle and took possession.

He was a big child everywhere, and could sway and win a group of children at his will.

“On Monday morning he started out, with his districts and families all designated, and began to buttonhole every one he met with the characteristic question, ‘Are you sure that you have been born again?’ As I was able I went with him. Some remarkable scenes took place. We saw a young man chopping wood in his back-yard. We stepped across the road and Uncle John plied him with sword thrusts. The effect was such that he felt prayer was needed, and there by the fence, the youth on one side and we on the other, we took off our hats and prayed. The young man was one of the converts soon.

“At a store we found another young man alone. He found himself cornered, and submitted to the interview with an ill grace, and a sort of dazed look; but he, too, quickly came to regard that interivew with a very different mind.

“At another place — the post-office I think it was — a group was assembled around the stove. He there knelt and prayed and called on me to follow. The town was soon in a blaze over it, and not all of fire from above.

“We had a season of great quickening and many were converted to the Lord. I regard this work, however, as chiefly valuable for its preparatory, and I might almost say revolutionary, effect. That fallow soil needed just such a sub soil plow, and I had calculated on it when I engaged him to come. It was a hard

ALL ALONG TILE LINES. 16i

fight, but the question was settled. The whole theory of religion and policy of work were changed from routine to rev/alisrn, and the fruits have been ripening and been gathered ever since.

“What prodigous labor the good man did! He did not realize it himself. Tramp, tramp, from dawn to dark, with such a continuous draft upon his nervous vigor and vitality. I have often marvelled that he held out so long. Oh, how rich I have always felt in the special love and recognition of this great and saintly soul. My children loved him dearly and remember him to this day. There is one tune he used to sing which we call ‘Vassar ’ still. The words he used to put to it Vvere, ‘Alas! and did my Saviour bleed.’ There was a Catholic woman who would not listen to him or take a tract from his hand, but she did finally suffer him to sing. And to this tune, whose proper name I do not know, he raised the verse:

‘But drops of grief can ne’er repay
The debt of love I owe,’

and at its close she was utterly subdued and ultimately became a true Christian. Her experience she used to sum up in the words, ‘Ah those drops of grief, those drops of grief — I couldn’t get over them.’

Perhaps I ought to add one incident showing that Uncle John was capable not only of heroic treatment, but of righteous indignation where the circumstances of the case required it. At a house where we had been holding a neighborhood prayer-meeting one night a •anan was visiting who w,as a stranger to ms all. As he was one who remained at the close of the service Uncle John approached him with his tender earnestness and ’ searching questions. But the man in a dogged and discourteous way opposed a flat denial to every statement made, especially those touching his accountability and danger. I shall never forget the change which came over Uncle John’s manner. He rose to a Sinaitic attitude above the wretched caviller, and his captious and blasphemous speech, as if for the moment he was wielding the divine thunderbolts, then suddenly softening into an almost equally awful tenderness he fairly dragged him to the mercy-seat, and called on us to pray. Whether the fellow was savingly affected or not I cannot tell, as he left the place the following day, but he was morally cowed that night, and crouched speechless before Uncle John.

“I have been privileged to labor with him and to know of his labors in all parts of our country, and I never knew any one of such absolute singleness of aim. I confess that, above all men, he has been to me an inspiration, an evidence of Christianity, and an instructor in direct, personal, and practical work in saving souls. My eyes are moist with tender sorrow, as I write. But I am glad that this worn-out veteran of Christ, whose body was literally a living sacrifice for thirty years, has been mustered out How sweetly his weather-beaten, toil-worn body sleeps and rests. How joyfully has his spirit opened its eyes upon Him “whom not having seen he loved.” And how great the works which follow him none may know till the resurrection.

“Whenever we met he took me in his arms as a father would a son. He once took me in his arms before a depot full of people. I happened to be at the station to meet a train, and whom should I see devouring a hasty lunch, but Uncle John. I hailed him. With fork and sandwich in mid-air he responded and gave me a hug, and then began with rapid inquiries about the work in Saybrook, and statements concerning his recent labors elsewhere. He forgot all about his lunch, and it was with difficulty I could prevent his being left behind by the train. He had to give me one more hug after the cars began to move, so that he barely scrambled with my help upon the platform at imminent risk of his life. And there he stood nodding and gesticulating till out of sight. He was not only one of the most holy and consecrated of men, but one of the most original and attractive.”

Rev. J. W. Tuck, now of Middletown, Conn., tells of labor at Jewett City, in the same State, in connection with the Congregational church there.

“He came to my house on Saturday evening, November 29th, 1873. The way had been measurably prepared among us by an increased number of meetings, and a prevalent expectation of coming good. The next day he listened to the usual preaching in the morning, and in the afternoon the order of the service was left chiefly in his hands. After the reading of a few verses from the sixtieth chapter of Isaiah and brief comments thereon by the pastor, he came forward and in earnest words falling from lips touched as with a living coal addressed the church for thirty minutes, exhorting them to let their light shine and live above the world. He then proposed that they should publicly renew their covenant vows by coming out into seats which he indicated. The request at first seemed injudicious. The congregation was a most conservative one, the proposition was unexpected, and the man who made it was almost unknown. There was a moment of painful suspense, a silence that could almost be felt. Then a pew door near the front swung open, and one family walked out and complied with the request. Another and another followed until the desired separation was complete; then to both parts of his audience were addressed other ringing words, and so the first meeting closed with tokens of good. In the evening a large assembly met in our conference room. The meeting was remarkable for its solemnity, but no new demonstrations on the part of saint or sinner were proposed. The next night there were greater numbers still, and a deeper interest could be read on every face. It was at this time that many of the new gospel songs began among my people to be introduced. Uncle John was a sweet singer in Israel, and those pieces known as ‘Wondrous Love,” Sweet By and By,’ * Whiter than Snow,’ and many like them he rang out with marvellous effect, and they will be associated with his name and work for a long time to come by the hundreds who first heard them from his lips.

On this second evening five rose for prayer. The next night fifteen thus responded to the invitation, and now the revival broadened and deepened overcoming opposition, or holding it in check, till scores had been converted to Christ.

“The special meetings continued only two weeks though they were kept up partially all the winter, but forty were added to our membership and the whole body lifted up to a high plane of Christian life.

“The name of Uncle John to the young people of my former charge — and I might say to the elders also — is to this day an inspiration, and his memory is a sweet savor never to be lost.”

In the course of his evangelistic labors he entered the town of Otis, in Western Massachusetts, and what happened there let Rev. O. L. Leonard, who spent a week with him on that ground, tell.

“It was a cold dark time spiritually when Uncle John arrived. The pastor was feeling much disheartened, and said to him, ‘The place is dead, the church is dead, we are all dead; if you can do anything to help us, do it.’ Uncle John went out and began to visit. It was right in the heat of summer, and the people, who were mostly farmers, were busy in the fields. * No time for a revival now;’ that was what they said right to his face.

“He believed that the dry bones could live. The

church was opened. It was soon filled. Soon the old

cry began to be heard, * What shall I do to be saved Y

and the town was shaken by the mighty power of God,

About fifty souls were converted in that farming region

right in the heat of summer.”

Another who was led to Christ during these meetings reports them more at length.

For many days after coming to Otis Centre, Uncle John saw almost no result from the efforts put forth. Even his courage seemed somewhat shaken, but not enough to make him let go or even relax endeavor. And presently the blessing came like the rush of many waters. The writer well remembers the evening when the first token of giving way appeared. The meeting had been more constrained than usual, and Uncle John was perceptibly cast down. Before it closed one arose and requested prayers. The effect was electrical. From that point concern took the place of apathy, and salvation moved right on. The whole town was shaken, and ultimately the towns around. It was spoken of by the religious press as the midsummer revival, and the scene of the farmers working in the hay field all day and attending the meeting at evening day after day certainly was wonderful.

“The tact of Uncle John seemed almost supernatural. Many instances of his unerring judgment in approaching people might be given, but two or three must suffice. One man had arranged for an argument with Uncle John if he should be addressed, which he felt sure would settle the whole case. Uncle John gave him no chance to speak. He came up all smiling, invited the man to meeting, told him he knew his duty, and before an answer could be given was oft. The man began to think, and was led to Christ.

Another had arranged for a ridiculous scene if

Uncle John came. He did not go near the man, and this unlooked-for way of disconcerting the carefully laid scheme set reflection working, and this man and his wife both turned to the Lord.

“All too soon came the time for him to leave our vicinity, but his influence remained, and for a long time yet his name will be revered in Otis, and his memory be a power.”

From North Blandford, where he wrought the following summer, these reminiscences come.

“I was at work in my garden in the summer of 1875, when I observed an odd little man walking rapidly toward the parsonage, and thinking him to be some book agent I continued my work. As he came up he said in a pleasant voice, ‘Watchman, what of the night? ‘I replied, * Glory to God, the morning Cometh, He extended to me his hand, and I knew John Vassar. He was taken at once into the parsonage and quickly into all our hearts.

“The work contemplated during the few days he could remain was fully discussed; and here he exhibited that trait of Christian character which was everywhere so manifest, his humility. He began his labors with me Sunday, July 18th. It was a pleasant day, and many came to hear the strange man of whom so much had been said. He read the first psalm and gave a beautiful exposition of it, showing how mighty he was in the Word of God. All through the week services were kept up and the awakening was great. Those who never came to the sanctuary were hunted to their hiding places and led out. Stumbling blocks that seemed in the way were removed, and though his stay was short he prepared the way for the rich revival that followed. In our community he was emphatically a John the Baptist, sent to prepare the way of the Lord.”

Of these labors in Western Massachusetts Rev. George L. Ruberg, then a pastor in that section, also gives a report.” Uncle John’s introduction to this part of the State was through the kindly interest of Homer Merriam, Esq., of Springfield, who was so deeply concerned about the low state of religion prevailing that he felt constrained to assume the expense of evangelical labor for the field. Arrangements were made for Uncle John to visit Otis in May, 1874. A series of meetings were held in the Congregational Church, and many of the leading citizens of the village and surrounding community were led to Christ.

“During the work the hotel was even opened for prayer-meetings, and the power of God was most graciously displayed.

“So manifest was the good accomplished that Mr. Merriam determined to send Uncle John on a summer campaign amid the Berkshire hills; so after leaving Otis, Sandisfield secured his services for a week. In this town there had not been for a long time any general revival of religion, and there was not in any of the churches a resident male member under thirty years of age, though we had a larger number of young men living there than in any town around.

“Uncle John’s visit here had been but briefly announced, yet the church at Montville village was ready to receive him. I went with my own carriage to meet him, and found him out calling still, so anxious was he to improve even the last moment of his stay. Hardly had we finished dinner before he said, ‘Are there no places we can visit yet this afternoon?’ The inquiry impressed me, for it was now three o’clock or later, and I had expected he would want to rest so as to be ready for the meeting at night. We immediately started out. Our first call was at the post-office. Found two persons beside the postmaster in. One was a Christian, and the others were not. All were tenderly addressed; then with his hand resting on the counter and standing he offered a short but most fervent prayer. I shall never forget that scene, and what subsequently occurred.

“One lady on whom we called was considered a woman of devout piety. In answer to the question,

* Do you love Jesus? * She said, rather despondently,

* Not half so well as I ought.’ ‘Dear sister,’ said Uncle John, * I wish ycu would tell me how I can love Him more? *

From the first day of his coming the revival went steadily on. Although for a farming community it was the busiest season of the year, none tried to excuse themselves from being seen. Men not at all in sympathy with religious things would lay down the hoe in the field, or suspend any other labor, and go into the house for conversation and prayer. Uncle John seemed unwilling to pass any house.

The last night he was in our place, as the bell was ringing and we were on our way to church, we noticed a group of men on the steps of a store opposite the post-office. Among them was a loud-mouthed and low-mouthed scoffer. He beckoned from the crowd, saying, ‘Captain, I want to speak to you? ’

* Do you mean 7ne?’ asked Uncle John. * Yes,’ was the reply. Uncle John told me to go on and open the meeting, and promptly crossed the street where the blasphemer stood. The man’s first remark was that if Uncle John did not leave the place within twenty-four hours he would ’ give him a thrashing.* Uncle John kindly but fearlessly replied that his engagements would compel him to go the following day, but that if the arrangements were not already made he would certainly remain. Some of the best citizens witnessed the interview and were deeply impressed, when Uncle John, taking the abusive fellow’s hand, plead with him and prayed till he was subdued to perfect silence. A number came over to our meeting that night for the first time, declaring that if they had any moral influence they wanted to cast it on that side.

“Among those who so sought to express their opinion of this transaction was the postmaster of the ’ village and another prominent citizen, both of whom were converted; and another who had previously led a reckless life in relating his experience said that Ivs conviction of sin started when he heard Uncle John so attacked. That exhibition of depravity convinced him of the exceeding * sinfulness of sin.* Satan sometimes blunders fearfully. That night and there he overleaped himself.

“For months Sandisfield, Colebrook, Conn., Lee, Tyringham, and Monterey felt the effect of Uncle John’s incessant labors, or perhaps we should put it — the power of God. He who called himself * legs for Baxter and Bunyan ’ was a voice for Homer Merriam as well. The accessions to the churches following his labors were more than three hundred, and the man will be lovingly remembered in many a household for years to come. Even the children of tender age will long remember one who so much loved them and whom they so much loved.”

Of this same memorable summer, and of this same vicinity, let a Christian woman speak, mentioning briefly a special case or two.

*’ In one family in Otis there were nine conversions, and most of them have been earnest workers in the good cause ever since. In another there were four brought to accept of Christ, and hardly one household was there some member of which did not come to sing the wonders of redeeming grace. Often I heard Uncle John say, ‘I can never doubt any more, so wonderful have been the answers to prayer.’

Only once do I remember seeing him introduced to a stranger to whom he did not say something about the great salvation. This one was an elderly lady who happened to be in the room when he called on business. He left the house and was perhaps as far as the gate when the omission occurred to him, and back again

he came and talked with her and prayed.”

“Lost for want of a word!

A word that fou might have spoken — *
Who knows what eyes may be dim,
Or hearts be aching or broken?

Go, scatter beside all waters.

Nor sicken at hope deferred;
Let never a soul by thy dumbness

Be lost for want of a word!”

“Mr. Vassar absorbed himself for the time being with the individual he was talking with, and by some happy gift made each one feel that he was deeply interested in his particular case. And there was no pretence in this. He took in rapidly the interesting points in any stranger’s condition, with great tact drew out the religious state, and urged with impressiveness the importance of being at peace with God. The secret of this was that his whole heart was in the work of winning souls to discipleship with Christ, and the ground of his interest in others was, therefore, not, as so much it is with most of us, personal and worldly considerations, but eminently Christian and arising out of his habitual prayerfulness. It was, therefore, easy for him to make even a stranger see that he was cordially interested in his religious welfare. He followed closely the prudential maxims of Matt. lO, worked hard all the year round, and was manifestly denying himself much of what most men count essential to comfort. Loving, faithful, unobtrusive, without title or ordination, he preached the gospel like his divine Master, wherever he found a weary heart and ready ear. He was an evangelist of whom all pastors spoke well; for he knew his work and never aimed to go beyond it.”

Another Christian woman tells of a man in Sandisfield seventy-four years of age, profane, and of drinking habits, who declared that he had never felt himself a sinner till Uncle John got hold of his hand and began to plead Vvdth him. For days he passed through agony of mind much like that which uncle John himself experienced, but at last came into the peace of Christ and demonstrated the genuineness of his hope afterward by an upright life.

Of his labors in Boston and vicinity Rev. Drs. Gordon and Fulton will elsewhere tell. Enough to say just here that his sterling worth and efficient services were recognized and appreciated by cultured Christian men as well as by a humbler class, and that to their homes and churches he was welcomed as a brother beloved in the Lord, and a laborer esteemed for his work’s sake. Henry F. Durant, the founder of Wellesley College, in inviting him to his elegant home for a week, said to a mutual friend, “I consider myself more honored to entertain this man of God than to have a king for my guest.”

In the Charlestown district, where for two winters

he aided different pastors, one of them already quoted

says, The meetings we held were foretastes of

heaven. Uncle John was at his best. He had great

physical infirmities, but he rose above them, as he

often said, ‘by mighty faith and prayer.’ Oh, what

days those were! Would God we might see their like again. Hundreds entered into covenant with Christ and His church.”

Of a week spent at Keyport, N. J., Rev. J. K. Manning, with whom he labored, has this to say:

*’ We were in the midst of a powerful revival when he came, and his first words after learning our condition were, * I am not needed here. My chief work is among churches that are measurably cold or dead.’ With difficulty he was persuaded to remain, and with the deacons go from house to house. The service he rendered in this way was grand.

“For three characteristics especially he is remembered here.

“First, his resort to prayer when met by cavilling or gainsaying tongues, and his readiness to plead with men, and for men, in any place, and in every circumstance.

“Second. His persistent holding of the penitent and Inquiring soul to the promises of God as the means and source of comfort. He was the most faithful to the Word of God of any man I ever knew.

“Third. The impression made on all minds that doing good was the mission of his life. Many speak of him yet as the man who knew nothing excepting the seeking and saving of souls.”

To another New Jersey pastor anxious to secure his services for a few days he writes;

Dear Brother Love:

“I have your kind letter, and rejoice to hear of the salvation of souls at Croton. God grant the work may

ALL ALONG THE LlNE:^ 17^

be deep and widespread. I would come and help you if I could, but I have been four months with Dr. Tyng, who has received more than seven hundred this year into the membership of his church, and am now engaged elsewhere for a season. My heart is with you.”

The * tent work” of Dr. Tyng’s referred to above he will tell us of elsewhere. One who was with Uncle John all through it says, “Let me speak of one little prayer-meeting in the street. After the tent service one night a group of us were returning home together, our hearts full of joy over the scenes of grace and mercy from which we had just come, and on the corner of Thirty-fourth Street and Madison Avenue we stopped beside an iron railing and began to sing and pray. It was a precious season, and the wandering street sweepers dropped their brooms and gathered quietly around, as under the stars declaring the glory of God in creation we sang of His greater glory in redemption through Christ our Lord.”

Rev. S. L. Bowler, of Machias, Maine, now secured Uncle John’s services for some of the more destitute regions of that State. In a single county there were a score of churches that had no pastor, most of them being too feeble to maintain one. The Maine Missionary Society cordially co-operated with the lay evangelist, and the results everywhere else witnessed were here quickly seen and felt.

From one of the churches thus visited and blest a Christian man sends these lines:

“His labors here were crowned with great success. The church was quickened; souls were saved; every house in the place I think was visited, and he con. versed with nearly every person in the town. One young sea captain who was evidently failing with consumption interested Uncle John very much. He had not been married long, and neither he nor his wife had the Christian’s trust. Oh, how he did entreat them! and even when praying elsewhere, especially at our family devotions, he would break out with * Oh, God, bless the captain and his wife.’ The prayer was fully answered. Both were happily converted. He died soon after, and she has followed him now to the other side.

While he was with us our only child first manifested an interest in religious things, and the vGiy walls of our house seem to have been made sacred by his many prayers.

“I can never forget our last interview. He had gone on board the steamer after commending us tenderly to the Lord and bidding us good-by, when I had occasion again to see him at nearly eleven o’clock at night. Quietly I went to his berth thinking he might be asleep, and found him repeating over the names of persons in our place. He said he was doing it that he might carry them individually to God in prayer. As the parting hand was finally given he said,

* I am an old man, and shall probably go before you, but by the grace of God I shall expect to meet you again in heaven.’ His prediction has proved correct. God grant his hope m.ay find its realization.”

From another source these reflections come: *”I cannot help thinking, that if Uncle John had lived in Galilee about a. d. 30, he would have been, either one of the twelve, or else of the seventy, and quite as companionable with Jesus as any of them. As it is, I doubt whether his apostolic namesake loved his Saviour any better.’

“One instance of his spiritual insight and modesty I recall. Rev. Jacob Knapp was laboring in a series of revival meetings in Chicago, and Uncle John was there. Day after day the mighty evangelist preached, and although crowds thronged the church still there were no manifest fruits. No one sought the Lord. No one asked for prayer. It had not been so before. Had God forgotten to be gracious The enemies of Christ only mocked. The evangelist in his trouble went to see Uncle John, and asked of him the explanation of the mystery. ‘Why is it,* said Elder Knapp, ‘that I seem to be laboring in vain, and spending my strength for naught V About that time the evangelist had bought a farm containing sixteen hundred acres, and probably his mind was somewhat ’ of the earth earthy.’ Uncle John heard his story through, and then said in his modest way, ‘Dear brother Knapp, it is not for the Lord’s poor dust to attempt to give you any light, but / have been wondering how one of the Lord’s diamonds could shine with sixteen htmdred acres of earth on it’ The evangelist took the gentle wise rebuke, the earth was shaken from off the diamond, and the light so shone that God was glorified in the conversion of a multitude of souls.”

The following account of one of the most extensive ingatherings of souls in which for the last year or two of life he shared, is from the pen of Mr. J. C. Tiffany, who was with him through it, and in later labors in Greene County, N. Y.

‘* About the first of February, 1877, revival of God’s work was progressing in the M. E. church of Coxsackie, N. Y. Its pastor, Rev. Gideon Draper, becoming weary under prolonged efforts, requested the writer to see if he could not obtain some help from abroad. I arrived in New York in the evening, and attended service at the Church of the Holy Trinity, Dr. S. H. Tyng, Jr., Rector. There I heard Uncle John Vassar pray with great unction and power. I applied to Dr. Tyng for aid, and out of the largeness of his heart he arranged to send his then assistant. Rev. Mr. Humpstone, for a few days, and Uncle John for a longer time. They went up to Coxsackie at once. The pastor and official board were at a store waiting to meet us. They began to lay plans of work. Uncle John took off his hat and said, ‘Let us pray about it.* This was something new to us, and the customers in the store had whereof to talk.

Before night came he had struck in among the people in his usual way, and many were saying that we had got a crazy man to help us. He called right up to meeting time, stopping only to get a hasty meal. The effect was seen the first evening in an increased attendance. Seeing the backwardness of many Christians, a consecration meeting among them was proyosed. It was a season never to be forgotten. Coldness melted away, denominational lines were broken down, and the people of God were ready for their work. A daily noon prayer-meeting was started. Christians of all names came into it. Many young men came in and turned to God. Strong men bowed themselves at Jesus’ feet, and many hardened sinners found a Saviour. It was no unusual thing to have from eight to fifteen conversions in a single day. Some answers to prayer were wonderful.

“After four weeks thus spent at the Landing we went to the upper village, and the First Reformed Church opened its doors for the service. The work of salvation started the first day. Old difficulties were reconciled, and estranged neighbors or brethren made one. Old grudges and animosities, which had gone so far as to prevent those sharing them from speaking to each other, were swept away. At one of the noon prayer-meetings a divine power fell on the people such as Uncle John himself confessed that he had never seen displayed.

“The room in which the meeting was held was offered by a man who held a license to sell liquor, and who kept a grocery. The offer was accepted, and the young men soon had it ready for occupation. The meeting was crowded. A few remarks were made in regard to Jesus at the grave of Lazarus, when he said, ‘Jesus wept.’ A power came which made every head of Christian and sinner bow on the seat before it. For a few moments an awful stillness followed which was broken by the cries for mercy from the son of the man who had given the room; then one of his companions, then others. The room could not accommodate to bow in prayer, so the ladies were left in that, and the men sought places in neighboring houses. It was a scene for Coxsackie. Fathers went through the streets with children, sons almost of age crying and weeping, and others praying for mercy. Each day he selected some brother to visit with him from house to house. Many were the souls thus savingly reached.

“On one of his visits he came with his companions to a house where there was a family party of seven adults, non-professors. He soon had the strong men and women bowed in prayer; all promised to seek salvation. They were all rejoicing in a very few days, and as the result, two of the number are now deacons in the church, and all happy in the Lord. Members of different churches came forward to help, and, young and old, all pressed forward longing for a fresh baptism of the Holy Ghost. Uncle John knew no differences. He was working for souls for the Master, and all recognized his zeal.

The apparent result of the work was that over three hundred were added to the churches there, while some joined elsewhere. More than one hundred of this number were young business men between eighteen and thirty years of age, the most of whom are active working Christians still. Schoolhouse meetings were started in the country round about, virhich are yet kept up, and in which conversions are from time

ALL ALONG THE LLNES, 18i

to time occurring now, resulting from seed then sown.

“Many who were then converted have already entered into rest. They have again met the dear old man, but this time at the feet of the Master, where they will part no more. We who remain are going on to join the heavenly throng saved by grace divine.”

These attacks “all along the line” were coming to an end. There is but one more that we shall mention or give the details of in this chapter. It was at Greenville, Greene County, N. Y., where it was made, and Rev. VV. P. Gibson reports it.

“My first impression on seeing Uncle John at my gate was that he was some old wide-awake farmer turned book-agent, who had come to the parsonage having a special axe to grind; but as he had been at my house once when I was absent, my family recognized him, and he was soon perfectly at home. Seven weeks we spent together travelling those hills, talking, preaching, praying; and it was nearly his last work here below.

“On one occasion he Vvas seen praying with a group of men along the road, and was published as an escaped lunatic in our village paper. Sometimes his kind approaches were repulsed, but never, so far as I am aware, by a non-professor of religion. In one or two instances nominal Christians declined having any conversation with him, or any prayer offered in their homes, asserting that they belonged to the church and had no need of such service.

“When introduced to any one he lost no time in pressing home that all important question, ‘My dear soul’ or * My dear daughter, have you been born again?’ and if there was any hesitancy, his well-worn testament was opened spontaneously to the words *Ye must be born again.’ And then he would graphically describe the interview between Christ and Nicodemus, or picture the scene among the bitter Israelites when Moses lifted up the serpent (typical of Christ) for the gaze of the dying. And every brief interview closed with prayer, by himself or the ’ dear pastor ’ and sometimes all the praying members of the household were pressed to join, or a trembling soul seeking light was encouraged to put up a short broken petition. On one occasion, a back-slidden sister was tearfully seeking for peace and pardon but could see no light. He saw at once that it was unbelief, and said, ‘My dear, you must believe when you pray;’ and bid her say over and over, ‘I do believe, I will believe; help thou my unbelief.’ It was not long before peace came. Sometimes the interview occurred on the street; after a few faithful words, off went his hat without warning and a short petition went up to God for a blessing on the message.

“After visiting all day, he would give a detailed account of his visits, calling the name of every member of the families met, and their spiritual condition. He would then kneel and pour out his heart for them, one by one, naming each particular case in his petition. He was quick to detect the secret of a cold and half-hearted profession.

“His modesty forbade his leading the meetings unless specially requested, but his stirring exhortations and moving petitions told upon the audience powerfully at times. I remember a few impassioned appeals that were truly eloquent with lofty and well-expressed thought. His singing too was a great help. Though his voice was somewhat weakened and roughened by age, he sang with the spirit, and his selections invariably fitted the places where they came in. On one occasion we were singing at family worship,

‘Oh, why was He there as the bearer of sin
If on Jesus my sin was not laid? ’

As the thought took possession of him he exclaimed, ‘Sure enough,’ and repeating the lines he laughed and wept for very joy.

“Dear Uncle John! his stay with us was like an angel’s visit, and we cherish his words and looks in memory, as of one very intimate with Jesus, and dwelling even here * quite on the verge of heaven.’”

During these meetings one who roomed with him many nights says: “At this time he was suffering severely from the disease which caused his death, and the pain at intervals was fearful. During one of these intervals, when he supposed me sleeping, after being up for a while he came back to bed and laid down as carefully as a mother would by her sick child for fear of disturbing me, and then in an underbreath I heard him say, ‘Dear Lor d how much better this than sin .^’”

Another, writing of a date perhaps earlier, says. “A little incident occurred which pleased me very much the night he stopped with us. When I went to show him to his room I said on entering it, * We call this the prophet’s chamber. Many ministers have occupied it, but it is doubly hallowed to us since in it our dear old pastor laid off his robe of flesh and went to God.’ Uncle John’s face fairly beamed with delight as he exclaimed, ‘Oh, I am so glad to know that there is a passage direct from here to heaven!’”

He was ripening now rapidly. He was soon to see the King in his beauty.