under the power of melancholy, "and there are (says he,) from day to day, most bitter complaints of exceeding vileness, ignorance, corruption, and amazing load of guilt, unworthiness to creep on God's earth, everlasting uselessness, fitness for nothing, &c. and sometimes expressions, even of horror, at the thoughts of ever preaching again."

“Jan. 14, 1742. My spiritual conflicts were unspeakably dreadful, heavier than the mountains and overflowing floods; I seemed inclosed in hell itself; I was deprived of all sense of God, even of his being; and that was my misery. This was distress, the nearest akin to the damned's torments that I ever endured: their torment, I am sure, will consist much in a privation of God, and consequently of all good. This taught me the absolute dependence of a creature upon the Creator, for every crumb of happiness it enjoys. Oh! I feel that if there is no God though I might live forever here, and enjoy not only this, but all other worlds, I should be ten thousand times more miserable than a toad. My soul was in such anguish I could not eat, but felt, as I supposed a poor wretch would, that is just going to the place of execution. I was almost swallowed up with anguish, when I saw the people gathering together to hear me preach. However, I went to the house of God, and found not much relief in the first prayer: but afterwards God was pleased to give me freedom and enlargement, and I spent the evening comfortably.

In

"Lord's-day, Jan. 23. Scarce ever felt myself so unfit to exist, as now: I saw I was not worthy of a place among the Indians, where I am going; I thought I should be ashamed to look them in the face, and much more to have any respect shown mc. deed I felt myself banished from the earth, as if all places were too good for such a wretch as 1; I thought I should be ashamed to go among the very savages of Africa; I appeared to myself a creature fit for nothing, neither heaven nor earth. None knows, but those that feel it, what the soul endures

that is sensibly shut out from the presence of God, alas! it is more bitter than death."

On Thursday, after a considerable time spent in prayer and Christian conversation, he rode to New London.

28. Here I found some carried away with a false zeal and bitterness. Oh, the want of a Gospel temper is greatly to be lamented. I spent the evening in conversing with some about some points of conduct in both ministers and private Christians; but did not agree with them: God had not taught them with briars and thorns, to be of a kind disposition towards mankind.

"Feb. 2. I preached my farewell sermon, at the house of an aged man, who had been unable to attend on the public worship for some time; and this morning spent the time in prayer almost wherever I went. Having taken leave of my friends, I set out on my journey towards the Indians, though by the way I was to spend some time at Easthampton, on Long Island, by the leave of the commissioners; and being accompanied by a messenger from Easthampton, we travelled to Lyme. On the road I felt an uncommon pressure of mind; I seemed to struggle hard for some pleasure here below, and was loth to give up all; I saw I was throwing myself into many hardships; I thought it would be less difficult to lie down in the grave; but yet I chose to go, rather than stay. I came to Lyme that night.

"Lord's-day, Feb. 13. I was under a great degree of discouragement; knew not how it was possible for me to preach in the afternoon; was ready to give up all for gone! but God was pleased to assist me. In the evening, my heart was sweetly drawn out after God and devoted to him.

"March 19. I was distressed under a sense of my ignorance, darkness, and unworthiness; got alone, and poured out my complaint to God in the bitterness. of my soul. In the afternoon, rode to Newark, and had some sweetness in conversation with Mr. Burr, and in praying together."

The various causes which produced this frequent recurrence of gloomy dejection and awful darkness, may be traced, probably, to the influence of physical organization on the mind-remarkable views of the abominable nature of sin, and of his own native depravity-and to some remains of a legal arminian spirit. The mysterious and intimate union of soul and body, is sometimes in the present state mutually injurious to each. If disease assail the body, if the nervous system receive a shock, it subjects the soul to anxiety and distress. And the mind having received this influence, always turns to the dark side of every question; and according to the importance of that question it feels disquietude. And as religion is a subject of all others the most important, as it involves an immortal interest; it is often the innocent occasion of internal misery to a soul infected with melancholy.* have no doubt, but the most

*It is possible that the above statement of physical organization influencing the mind to indulge gloomy and almost despairing apprehensions on the suject of religion, may by some readers be misconstrued; and from such misconstruction the most fatal consequences may follow. But to prevent the indulgence of error, on a question of such importance, I beg leave to offer the following remarks: Some persons, not at all subject to melancholy, may be inclined to resolve the remorse of conscience, and the fears of eternal misery which sometimes rack their minds, into the influence of this morbid affection, and thus may awfully deceive themselves. But it may be ob served, that this very propensity, to ascribe their wretchedness to such a cause, is an undoubted proof that their judgment on this point is most erroneous. Persons really under the induence of melancholy, can scarcely ever be persuaded of it; instead of anxiously seeking re. lief from this, or any other cheering consideration, they always pore upon the dark side, they are the last to discover their own malady. Another thing against which we should guard is, endeavoring to persuade persons, to whose religious character we are strangers, and who perhaps are laboring under deep convictions of sin, and who have never really fled to the Savior for refuge, and who have therefore no consistent views of Divine truth, that their distress is the effect of melancholy. By conversation, a skilful minister may soon ascertain the real situation of a person's mind who applies to him for advice and instrue tion; and to ascribe concern about religion, a sense of depravity, and horror on account of it, to lowness of spirit, to dejection, &c. would be to imitate those "blind guides," who declare that every thing like seriousness of mind proceeds from such a source, and who send the diseased individual, who presumes to think of heaven, hell, and eternity, to the ball-room and the theatre for a cure. But this doctrine of melancholy as the cause of misery, when religion is the object of attention, is capable of another and a very dangerous abuse. A person

afflictive hours in Brainerd's life are to be ascribed to morbid affection,-to the body of clay gaining an ascendency over the ethereal spirit. The most cheerful Christians under the influence of certain corporeal maladies, have unstrung their harps, and suspended them on the willows, while they have wept in the bitterness of distress. But religion lost none of its power to make them happy, it remained the same, and their rock was as safe amidst the billows as the calm; yet while the body was diseased they could not think so.

But far would I be from insinuating that this was the only cause of Mr. Brainerd's affliction: on the contrary, I am persuaded that the remarkable views which he had of the dreadful nature of sin, and of his own deep depravity, produced those sensations of horror and self-loathing, the expressions of which no pious mind can read without a kindred feeling. Brainerd was all over imbued with a spirit of holiness; and he judged not of sin by any other standard than divine rectitude, and immaculate purity. Of these he had a more perfect idea than is commonly possessed, even by the most eminent Christians. Now how odious, how absolutely detestable, must iniquity appear in the eyes of such a man. He had an angel's comprehension of the subject, but he had not an angel's purity-unhappily he was a sinner; and he had cultivated intensely the study of his own heart,

may conclude, that if distress of soul on account of religion, may sometimes proceed from bodily constitution, joy, and delight, on the same account, may also be the effect of a different corporeal temperament. It is very true that there is an unfounded joy, which may be mistak en for genuine piety, as well as a groundless sorrow, which may be unjustly ascribed to its influence. But "joy and peace in believing" may soon be distinguished from the raptures of mere human passion, and the fervors of unsanctified affections: and one striking distinction between the Christian and the fanatic with respect to enjoyment is, the former distrusts himself, and is humble and diffident in proportion to his happiness, while the latter imagines himself infallibly secure, is proud and obtrusive, and bears upon him all the marks of antinomian impiety. I recommend to my readers, who may desire satisfaction on this very momentous point, a careful perusal of Mac Laurin's Essay on the Scripture Doctrine of Divine Grace, published with his most admirable sermons, and which may be had of the publisher of this volume, S. T. Armstrong, Cornhill, Boston,

therefore, he felt not only abhorrence against sin, as angels feel; but this abhorrence was mingled with the bitterest regret, with the deepest conviction that his soul was blackened with crime; that he was a wretch unworthy to live, much less to preach the glorious Gospel, an honor for which even Gabriel might forego the bliss and the glories of the celestial state. In such a sorrow as this there is something sacred-it should be viewed with reverence; and if we could discover the truth of ourselves, if we could know all the sinfulness of our nature, and at the same time possess a divine principle to abhor it, we should cease to wonder at the strong language in which Brainerd expresses the intenseness of his woe. It is but the feeble utterance of a grief unutterable.

But it will be asked, was there no balm for this wound? Yes, there was balm in Gilead, there was a Physician who was able to bind up the broken heart. But Brainerd's soul was not so oppressed with a sense of the infinite sufficiency of the remedy, as of the desperate nature of the disease. Remaining unbelief, and a latent spirit of self-righteousness, seemed to becloud the glories of the Gospel, and denied him the comfortable assurance of a faith, which believes in Christ as able and willing to save to the very uttermost all that come unto God by him. We dishonor the Savior, when we make our depravity greater than his merit and sufficiency; when we are more mortified at the discovery of unexpected sinfulness in our nature, than rejoiced at the thought, that his precious blood cleanseth from all sin. These observations I have here introduced, because I think they are suggested by this part of our narrative, and because I imagine they are of a useful tendency.

Having presented my readers with the dark side of the picture, I will now furnish them with a few extracts of a more lively and happy cast, and which will prove that Brainerd, though often dejected, was not always comfortless.