Memoir of Rev. Joseph Badger Part 2

A short eclipse. For soon he rose again, All glorious, to resume his native skies!

Oh, love beyond conception!

In silent rapture all my powers adore."

In the religious experience of Joseph Badger, as intimated by this poem, Christ with him is always the central sun, the presiding power.

"I do not think," says Mr. B., "that persons can _tell_ their religious experience, if their change is real and they have fully felt the effects of love divine. They are led to say with St. Peter, that it is 'joy unspeakable and full of glory.' Human language cannot describe the fulness and sweetness of the religion of Christ. Viewing the invisible depth of its wealth, how faint are our descriptions? How weak our best comparisons, and the metaphors by which we attempt to represent it! The soul which has become a partaker of the divine nature, of its love, is ever ready to exclaim--'The half had never been told me;' yet words, and other imperfect signs, will easily indicate the presence of the reality enjoyed.

"Eighteen hundred and eleven! that memorable year will never be forgotten by thousands now living, on account of the victorious spread of the Gospel in North America.

Generations yet unborn will trace the pages of ecclesiastical history with anxiety and delight, to learn what transpired among their ancestors during this year. But how soon, when a heavenly influence is in the ascendant, some counteracting power will enter the field with ruinous violence! The cruel war soon succeeded, and devastation spread her vermilion garb over our happy and enlightened land.

"As I have already alluded, in a former chapter, to the feelings of moral conviction that wrought in my breast, I will only say that they began with this year, and were of a kind neither to be drowned nor driven away. Not for Adam's sins, or the sins of our fathers, did I feel condemned; it was only for such as belonged to me. Light had come and I had chosen darkness. I therefore cast no reflections on any cla.s.s of persons, as the Gospel, conscience, and the creation, seemed to unite in proclaiming--'Thou art the man;' and under a sense of my ingrat.i.tude to Jesus, the sinner's Friend, I felt to add my hearty Amen, and say, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.'"

In the pride of philosophical speculation, there are knowing ones who rob the rich idea of G.o.d of personality; also, in the attempts to deify the sacred parchments of Palestine, others unwittingly superannuate the Holy Ghost, driving us all to live solely upon ancient words--words that were undoubtedly its breathings when spoken. But one page from the journal of such an experience as that of Mr. Badger is better than all learned theory. Every page referring to his mind's exercise abounds in _feeling_--earnest, real feeling. He believes in the G.o.d of action, who converts the repentant soul by his holy, actual agency; in Jesus he believes as the lone sinner's Friend and Saviour; in the Holy Spirit he confides, not doubting its real striving in his own heart; in the oracles of prophets, of Jesus, and of the apostles, he holds unwavering faith that they are G.o.d's real, eternal word; whilst his frequent and many tears in private attest his deep sincerity in seeking his soul's salvation. He recognizes the supernatural, the miraculous, in the conversion of the sinner; and whatever we may concede to the rationalistic statement on this subject in our severely philosophical moods, it is certain that the miraculous statement is the one which more than it concentrates the diviner charm and the more commanding energy.

It has ever been so; the statement wearing the outward miraculous hue, is the strong one--the one that holds the element of triumph; and though we do not hold that any work of G.o.d with man violates the const.i.tution and laws of the human mind, it would have struck us with diminished effect had St. Paul, before Agrippa, discoursed on the accordance of his conversion with some _a priori_ argument for an abstract Christianity, or of its accordance with his own nature, and with all nature. This intellectualizing on great vital facts, whatever may be its philosophical merits, can never come up to the bold and picturesque sublimity of the words--"At mid-day, O king, I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the brightness of the sun, s.h.i.+ning round about me; and I heard a voice speaking unto me and saying, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?" Such pa.s.sages reach the soul in every clime, as abstraction never could; and from the reverence we have been accustomed to pay to universal convictions, and from the effect of such eloquence on our own feelings, we believe that mankind have not been fools in the cheris.h.i.+ng of faith which brings Divinity into active and wonder-causing contact with humanity. If we have a G.o.d in our faith, let us have one who can _do_ something, _say_ something, and _impart_ something to them who ask him, and not a tender abstraction who has no thunder for transgressors, and who is so lenient and plausible that no lawless spirit shall regard him as any essential obstruction in his way.

Characters of most energy always grow up under the faith of G.o.d's omnipotence, of his awful majesty, beautified by justice and love.

The youth of this memoir looked around upon the dark world, and upward to the great G.o.d for his spirit's rest, and searched through the labyrinth of his own conflicting emotions to find a rock for his feet.

Often his "eyes were rivers of waters;" and, "as I looked around for comfort, every place revealed some circ.u.mstance that gave to grief a keener edge." He is now so deeply touched by the Holy Spirit that nothing filled him with delight like the tender portraiture of the love of Christ; the profane word was now a loathed and jarring discord in his ear; the songs of the wicked deepened his sadness, and often did he repeat to himself, in tears, the well-known lines, "Alas! and did my Saviour bleed!" which he tells us had the power to penetrate his heart of hearts, whilst the most secret and hidden recesses of the wild witnessed his humble thank-offerings of praise and contrite confessions of sin. Without a minister to aid him, and without the sustaining sympathy of a single human creature, he continued to wage his warfare with the powers of darkness. A young man, alone, with resolves and feelings unknown to man, longing for the clouds of his being to disperse, and for the influx of the immortal light to crown his life!

This spectacle, however it may strike the mere formalist and the seeker of material good, is one which, to us, joins with myriads of heart-histories in different climes, to attest the derivation of the soul from G.o.d, to declare its yearnings and struggles against the obstacles of sin and sense, that it may regain the atmosphere and light of its native original heaven.

Contrary to the customs of his family, he went, once in a great while, to the Methodist meetings, a denomination whose power to reach the popular mind all over the world is known and honored. At one of these meetings, July, 1811, the persons present supposed, from his former reputation for rudeness, that he was there perhaps to criticise derisively their humble manner of wors.h.i.+p. When Mrs. Tilden arose and said, "The eyes of the world are upon us, and if any came here to feast upon our failings, or to spy out our liberties, let us starve them to death, by living such lives that they can find no action of which to speak reproachfully"--after a few moments, he arose and said:

"I very much regret that any of my neighbors and friends should, for one moment, imagine me as an enemy, or suppose that I came here to ridicule what may pa.s.s before me. Far be it from my mind. I believe religion is what all men need to make them happy in time and eternity. With all my heart I wish you well and hope you will go on your way rejoicing."

This was the first time he had spoken in public, and though the object of his remark was merely to furnish a gentlemanly apology for being present, it caused the religious people much joy, as they saw him sit down in tears; and ever after his companions regarded him differently, all of whom were startled with surprise, and some wept as they heard his words.

"One of my young friends, a respectable young man, conversed with me on the subject. I stated to him all I had said, and in part I manifested my feelings to him with some degree of boldness. He expressed a fear that I would become deluded, though, by the way, he had never manifested a fear of the kind when we used to dance, play cards, and spend the Sabbath together in the reading of novels. 'About the things of religion,' said he, 'it is not well to be in haste. It is a subject which needs the greatest deliberation.' With this I agreed. He further remarked, 'If a person thinks of such things, it is not best to give expression to such thoughts, because people will talk about it, and you,' continued he, 'are already a subject of conversation. Many are concerned for you, and wish your society, and you know it is a disgrace for us to go among those foolish and ignorant Methodists.' By these remarks, coming from a particular friend, I was embarra.s.sed, but soon learned that I must leave all, and part with my dearest companions for Christ; that two masters it was impossible to serve; and in my indecision I seemed to hear a voice as from heaven, saying, 'Choose ye this day whom ye will serve,' impressing my mind with the idea that then was the time for me to secure an interest in the Great Redeemer. Great things of eternity were continually resting on my mind; the saints, as they had opportunity, began to talk with me, of which I was glad, though to them I did not say much, as I was resolved that others should not know my feelings; even if I were ever so happy as to feel my sins forgiven, I was determined not to say much about it to others, and certainly not to make such an ado over it as many did.

"I was in search for a great and sudden change. About August 1st, 1811, I felt impressed to retire and unbosom myself to the Eternal G.o.d, and cry once more for mercy.

Walking through the woods to a large valley, I there, by a murmuring brook, fell on my knees and gave vent to my burdened heart in prayer. For a moment my soul felt delivered of all her griefs, and for a few moments I sung and praised G.o.d in that delightful place with all my heart; but doubts arose, and as I cast over the scene the eyes of reason, my little heaven vanished, and I remained in silence. I began to fear that I was walking by the light of imagination, and was warming myself by sparks of my own kindling.

"I began to be more familiar with the saints, sometimes revealing to them in part my determinations, and always gaining strength by so doing. I had not the same consciousness of sin as before. At times, before I was aware of it, my mind would be soaring above on heavenly things; the Scriptures would beautifully open to my mind, and glorious would seem the things of religion; yet I scarcely dared to rejoice. I derived much benefit and instruction from the conversation of the saints, and though I asked their prayers, I neither united with them in prayer, nor kneeled according to their custom. The narrated experience of others aided me some, and as all my Christian friends advised me to pray, I again kneeled in the solitude of nature to invoke divine aid, when the reflection that I was in the presence of an Omnipotent G.o.d sealed my lips in silence. Almost fearing that my performances were but mockery, I felt inclined to despair. The next day gleams of hope entered my mind; and on Sunday, hearing many speak of the power of G.o.d, and of trials they had pa.s.sed through, in a manner, some of them, that exactly expressed my feelings, I took courage, because there were others in whose Christianity I had confidence, who felt in some respects as I did. Moved, as I think, by the Spirit of G.o.d, and from a high state of mental resolve, I arose and told the a.s.sembly that I was determined to seek my happiness in religion, in which alone I believed it could be found. Many of the saints praised G.o.d aloud, and my soul was filled with joy and peace that were unspeakable. My love to the faithful was far superior to anything that ever before had dilated my heart. On my return home the very winds that waved the trees, and the streams that flowed through the quiet valley, seemed unitedly to speak my great Creator's praise.

The fear of man now vanished, and a holy boldness moved me to speak to all around me of the beauties of my Lord. My soul overflowed with love to my greatest enemies, and my wonder was that the chief of sinners did not behold the glory of G.o.d, and unite to exalt his name. Through the night my soul was exceedingly happy, and the next morning I thought the sun was never before so richly laden with the glory of G.o.d. I had never known so happy, so pleasant a morning.

"Though I did not then suppose myself converted, I now think, from an a.n.a.lysis of my feelings, that I enjoyed something of the converting grace of G.o.d, for the following reasons:--1st. I had a witness in my own soul that G.o.d was my friend. 2d. I felt a vital union with all the saints, without respect to name, age, or color. I loved them, and could say, They are my people. Some who were poor and ignorant, whom I had formerly despised, I was able to embrace as my best friends. 3d. I felt a particular regard for every creature and object G.o.d had made, and a tenderness even to the lowest animal forms--as nothing seemed unincluded in the bond of love that united me and all things to Him. 4th. For the chief of sinners I felt particular love, regarding such as brethren in nature, and I greatly wished them to share in the peaceful wealth of the Gospel. 5th. My former ways in which I had sought happiness, now seemed to me as worthless and vain. Indeed I abhorred them.

"My freedom from the former oppressive gloom, the fulness of the tide of joy that was rising in my breast, at times startled me with the apprehension that as I was not converted I ought not to feel so light and so free, and my embarra.s.sment was increased by the circulation of the report among the people that I was converted. They began to call me brother, which also seemed quite too much for me; and as I could not feel that I had experienced the change as usually described, I began to fear that I was deceived, which caused me much trouble and induced me to be silent for some time, as I was unwilling to discourage or to deceive others. Although I never had so much confidence in dreams as some, yet at this time the glory of G.o.d was beautifully revealed to me in night visions, and through them my mind was relieved of many doubts and fears, and again partook of the inward peace which the world in its greatest ability is unable to give. For several weeks, however, I kept my joys to myself, saying nothing in meeting and little in private, as I was determined not to deceive others, as I might in case my joys should prove unreal. Employing myself constantly in reading the Scriptures, that I might walk understandingly, my mind for several weeks was swallowed up in the interest their pages revealed, which unfolded a glory and beauty I cannot describe. In my retired moments, I held sweet communion with G.o.d, and, notwithstanding the shadows of doubt that crossed my mind in solitude, I was truly led from glory to glory.

"I heard others tell the day and the hour when the change was wrought in their hearts. Herein was my greatest trouble. My experience was not like others, nor indeed what I supposed it would be. I knew of several times when my mind was relieved of all its oppressions, but as I could single out no one of them and call it conversion, I concluded that the whole together was conversion. Though continually thirsting for new evidence, for which I was much drawn out in prayer, and selecting the most retired places for holy meditation, I pondered, like Mary, these things in my heart. Some conversations about this time, proved beneficial to me; especially was my soul refreshed by the dreams and night visions that came to me, making it seem ofttimes as though angels were hovering over my bed, and my apartment as filled with the divine glory. I was many times ready to say, I _know_ that my Redeemer liveth."

In this manner Mr. B. records the operations of his youthful mind in seeking to solve the most serious of all problems--his soul's salvation.

One perceives the presence of much self-distrust, much repentance; and an abundance of sympathetic sensibility to whatever is morally powerful and affecting in religion. Perhaps some have already taken it for granted that this youth of overflowing energy, lonely meditation, earnest prayer, and self-questionings, was wholly moving on the tide of popular instruction, or that he fell as melted lead or iron, into the moulds of theological teaching already prepared. This view is suddenly dispersed by all that is known of the man, and by the facts of the narrative itself. Do not sin and conscious alienation from G.o.d afford good cause for weeping? Are not the elements of the soul itself good reason for prayer, for deep desire and aspiration after a union of spirit with Him who is its Parent source and the glorious Perfection, of which it now has clear and happy glimpses? That work was unable to absorb his mind, that society could not get very near his heart, that his food even became tasteless, and his home a scene of mourning, are facts that hail from certain states of mind that have their deep significance, and which, in India and Persia, as well as in the American wilderness, have their numerous representatives.

He speaks of a time of religious interest when his father felt the need of something; more than Deism as a support to his mind; also of his becoming deeply interested in the ministry of Mr. Farewell, a Universalist minister; of his reading with great zeal the writings of Winchester, Dr. Hunting, Ballou, and others of the same faith, often spending whole nights in writing and study; books which, at his father's request, he also studied; and though for a time embarra.s.sed by the philosophical arguments of Mr. Ballou on the Atonement and other topics, he discarded them ere long, with an earnest decision as opposed to the religious experience which gave him joy and hope, and as contrary to the plain teachings of the Scriptures. At this early day Universalism was indeed a bold extreme, it being little else than Calvinism benevolently applied to human destiny; and its strongly controversial and undevotional character was poorly adapted to a welcome in hearts that were glowing with the sacred enthusiasm of religious love. One evening he offered some speculative conversation in relation to the being and attributes of Satan, which so hurt the minds of the converts that he resolved no longer to harbor these negations, the dwelling upon which so much discorded with the happy feelings inspired by their simple faith and humble wors.h.i.+p.

The Methodist denomination, at this time very spiritual and very prosperous in the province, was with him a favorite, though for reasons independent of the dictation of persons or of circ.u.mstances, he did not become a member of their society in his town, a fact which did not at all interfere with the entire freedom and cordial fellows.h.i.+p they mutually enjoyed. A Methodist Discipline is kindly offered him. He gladly reads, and commits it mostly to memory. But there is something in this young man that questions the Discipline and the ministers who explain it; that regards it as formal, and in many respects unlike the Scriptures; that quietly declines making it the groundwork of a faith and a sectarian position, though he does not break the happy concord about him by obtruding open controversy. He joined no sect.

"I wondered," said he, "that saints cannot all be one. I thought it strange that the affectionate names of 'Brethren,' 'Disciples,' 'Christians,' 'Friends,'--golden names that I found scattered through the New Testament, were not sufficient without the sectarian names under which the denominations were marshalled. This was a great mystery to me. I knew of none at that time who adopted the name of _Christian_ as their only designation; but young and ignorant as I then was, I thought I beheld something more glorious than anything at which either myself or others had as yet arrived. My trials in pondering over these things were great. There were others who agreed with me in ideas of liberty, that were far greater than anything within the limits of the Discipline."

At a time when the righteousness of sectarianism was undisputed, when no voices from the pulpit were pleading for the true catholicity of the Christian faith, and when his a.s.sociates were moved along by emotional ardor, was it not a strong, clear-sighted, original force of the young man that paused to ask, Why this formality and narrowness of creed? Why these many sectarian names? Why is the unity of the religion of Jesus broken by sects? These indeed were great questions for a young man in 1811; and in resolving them into a principle of action without relinquis.h.i.+ng an iota of the faith and piety that had inspired him with hope, and joy unspeakable, he has given to the world an early proof of the superiority of mind of which his maturer years were the exhibition.

The mult.i.tude, yielding to the enthusiasm of great moral excitement, often float along as flood-wood. He so controlled the current that bore him, as to be his own man, free from the despotism of any sectarian platform.

Through the spring and summer of 1812, his mind steadily poised on heavenly things, and anxious to do what the will of G.o.d in Christ required, he made the subject of baptism a topic of study.

"I searched the New Testament, as I was determined to know all that it said on the subject. I first became satisfied from the Scriptures, and secret prayer, that baptism was an inst.i.tution of the Redeemer. 2. That it was enjoined on all believers in the Son of G.o.d. 3. That the mode practised in primitive days was going down into the water, and coming up out of the water after being buried therein. Although I was so clear relative to these three ideas, I often wept and cried to G.o.d in secret places in view of my unworthiness; but I received a glorious answer that in this inst.i.tution of outward acknowledgment and obedience, I ought to follow the examples of Him who is the Way, the Truth, and Life.

One evening when my mind was much tried on this subject, I prayed to G.o.d that if it was my duty to be baptized, I might dream of pleasant water. That night when locked in sleep I dreamed of riding on the most beautiful stream that I ever had seen; also of being immersed in the pure and tranquil element, whilst the divine glory shone around as a sacred enchantment. When I awoke my heart was filled with love divine, and I believe that, had there been an administrator present, I should hardly have waited for the day-dawn. These feelings I kept to myself; and, as I could not think of any administrator, or fix on time and place, I continued in this way till the first of September.

"I then went to Hatley to attend a general meeting, and a glorious time it was. Here I first saw Elder Benjamin Page, from Vermont, who preached a very instructive and refres.h.i.+ng discourse from Rom. 8: 21. 'Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the sons of G.o.d.'

Here I became acquainted with many of G.o.d's people whom I had not known, and in their spirituality and freedom I saw what more accorded with my existing ideas than I yet had seen. Nearly two hours Mr. Page spoke again from Isa. 33: 2. It was a glorious time, as was also the evening meeting, in which many partic.i.p.ated. The next day we all parted with tears of joy, never expecting to meet again on earth. As I was about to leave, I took Elder Moulton by the hand and asked him if he would come to Compton and preach, to which he replied that he would whenever I desired him, inquiring at the same time if there were not some in our vicinity who would like to receive baptism, saying, 'I have thought for some time that I should have to go there to administer this ordinance'--a remark that gave to my former impressions a new evidence of my present duty. We agreed upon the time; I made the appointment and longed for the day to come; but the morning that brought me this new responsibility was not wholly without clouds, as the cross appeared great and fears arose. In spirit, I said,--

"'Jesus, my Lord, my Life, my Light, O come with blissful ray; Break radiant through the shades of night, And chase my fears away.'

In a trembling and prayerful state of mind I went to church, where I found a large concourse of people in attendance, to whom Elder M. preached words of life. Among the many that were moved to speak in honor of the Redeemer, I arose, expressed my love to G.o.d and the saints, inviting my young companions to a rich and costly repast, without money and without price. Here every doubt was removed. Here I gained strength. The glory of G.o.d filled my heart. My father being present, Elder M. asked him if he was willing that his son should go forward in baptism, to which he replied that he was perfectly willing that Joseph, in things of religion, should act according to his own conception of duty. This gave me additional joy. I had chosen a pleasant stream, the Coatecook river, as the place where I preferred to receive baptism, to which locality we walked, two and two, in large procession, the distance of half a mile, singing the praises of G.o.d as we advanced.

This day, Sept. 29, 1812, will be held in everlasting remembrance by me. My father sat upon his horse a few rods above me, in the water, so as to have a fair prospect. I was informed by the spectators who stood near him, that when I went into the water the tears flowed freely from his eyes. Under the smile of clear skies, of a quiet surrounding nature, I was baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. The hearts of the brethren on sh.o.r.e appeared full of joy, and some voices of acclamation were heard. It seemed, indeed, as though the heavens were opened, and the Spirit was hovering on the a.s.sembly. Some praised, others wept, and a sweet peace and calmness filled my soul. As I ascended from the water, I sung the following lines with the Spirit, and I think with the understanding also:

"'But who is this that cometh forth, Sweet as the blooming morning, Fair as the moon, clear as the sun?

'Tis Jesus Christ adorning.'[10]

We returned singing; and truly, like the Ethiopian wors.h.i.+pper, we 'went on our way rejoicing.' From this time, I felt that I was newly established in G.o.d's grace. I had more strength to withstand temptation, more confidence to speak in the holy cause of the Redeemer. Here, with the Psalmist, I could say, 'How love I thy law; it is my meditation all the day.'

"'Let wonder still with love unite, And grat.i.tude and joy; Be holiness my heart's delight, Thy praises my employ.'"

Thus reads the narrative of such outward and inward facts as belong to the early religious history of Joseph Badger. Its component parts are, deep feeling, much thought, temporary doubting and despondency, penitence, inward aspiration, prayerful reliance on G.o.d, and at last a wide Christian fellows.h.i.+p, untinged by sectarian preference, and a conscious peace and joy in G.o.d. Through the many changes of theory, each winning admirers and having its day; through the stormy excitements of the religious feeling in the world, Mr. B. always retained his equilibrium and his constancy. And why? Because he laid his basis not in dogma, not in speculation, but in _experience_. By this he held his course, it being an anchor in the sea-voyage of life, a pole-star to the otherwise doubtful wanderings of the world's night. What can we or any one _know_ of Divinity, except what we hold in our inward consciousness and experience? Nothing else. _Words_ do not reveal holy mysteries. The soul must have G.o.d in its own life, or He is a mere intellectual conception, a mere word. We admire the poetic, marvellous vein that enables one to linger upon a beautiful dream. The young man, already rich in the Spirit's baptism, saw sacred value in the outward form, in the pure Scripture symbol. Earlier than the dates of Christian records in Palestine, did the religious feeling of man, in different climes, select water as one of its best formal expressions; and, though not heretofore inattentive to what theological controversy has said on the subject, we should say it is as well to stake one's duty now on a beautiful dream, as on all the light engendered by the ablest controversy ever held by polemic divines. The Coatecook and the Jordan are, through faith, equally sacred, as it is the Spirit that sanctifies.

What can surpa.s.s in beauty and loveliness, the idea of the grand baptismal scene of the sacred river of Judea? We imagine the numerous mult.i.tude walking silently thither through the overshadowing woods, and in anxious, reverent musings, standing upon its banks. We feel the thoughts of penitence, the gleams of hope, half shaded by melancholy, as they here stole into the hearts of Abraham's dejected sons; and with them we muse upon the expected Christ of their deliverance, whom they daily hoped to see. We gaze upon the form of one whose moral and physical beauty it had delighted the eyes of the most beautiful to have seen; and as the waters glide by him on either side in graceful loveliness,--as the yellow sunbeams here and there rest calmly upon the shaded current, we see him meekly bowed into the genial waters; and what artist shall ever picture the beauty of the ideal in our minds when we view the circling dove from on high hovering upon the Saviour's breast, and the golden stream of light through the opening heaven descending upon his brow? Formal baptism, thus honored and glorified, remains a permanent inst.i.tution of religion and of the Christian Church.

CHAPTER V.

CALL TO AND ENTRANCE UPON THE MINISTRY.

"But rise, and stand upon thy feet: for I have appeared unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a witness both of these things which thou hast seen, and of those things in the which I will appear unto thee."--Acts 26: 16.

With these words of a high mission Mr. Badger's journal opens, and how well does it accord with the idea of divine agency in placing moral lights in the world, and with what to him was a common thought, the unequalled greatness of the minister's station. More than once or twice have I heard him say to the young man who was publicly receiving the honors of ordination, or of a conferential reception, "You are called, my brother, to fulfil the duties of the highest station ever occupied by a human being. No station on earth is so great in its nature, and so responsible in its duties, as that of the Christian minister;" and more than once, in the quiet social circle, and when alone, heard him say: "I would not exchange the joys and trials and honors of the Christian ministry, for the throne of the ablest king on earth." And this was the settled, serious feeling of his mind. He recognized G.o.d in the call of the true minister, not leaving the sacred choice at the mercy of family policy, of individual ambition, or the efficiency of college endowment.

"In ages past," says Mr. Badger, "G.o.d has seen fit to raise up, qualify, and send forth amba.s.sadors to the people. He has frequently sent angels with celestial messages to men.

Men also have been employed in the same work, have received the word from Him and declared it to the people. Aaron, Moses, Jeremiah, Isaiah and others, are striking ill.u.s.trations of the truth that G.o.d has appeared unto men to make them ministers and witnesses of those things they have seen, and of those which he shall reveal unto them.

John said, 'We speak the things we do know, and testify the things we have seen.' The Gospel is not something learned by human teaching, as are the mathematics and divers natural sciences. St. Paul was nearer its fountain-head and true attainment when he said, 'I neither received it from man, neither was I taught it but by the revelation of Jesus Christ.' 'Wo is unto me if I preach not the Gospel.'

Neither reputation nor worldly recompense prompted the apostolical preaching. 'We preach not ourselves, but the Lord Jesus Christ.' 'Freely thou hast received, freely give.' The Gospel is not an earthly product, but a divine inst.i.tution for divine ends. The preaching of it, therefore, is the highest possible work, demanding the greatest deliberation and integrity. Its effects are either 'a savor of life unto life, or of death unto death.' How delightful also is this employment, as it brings life, light and comfort to all who yield to its elevating, enlightening and purifying power."

These pa.s.sages, written in the early years of his ministerial life, at once recalled the second sermon[11] that the writer of this ever heard him preach, founded on the heroic text of St. Paul, "I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ,"[12] in which he announced the Gospel as a divine science, as a refining power, as according with human nature and its wants; and, indeed, as "the only perfect science of human happiness known on earth." Such is the supremacy he unwaveringly gave to Christ, to his Gospel, and to its genuine ministry.

The feeling that drew the mind of Mr. Badger into the ministry, was an early one, having birth almost contemporaneously with the deep strivings of his mind already narrated in the previous chapter. It was the highest aspiration of his youth. Often, when at work, as early as the autumn of 1811, then nineteen years of age, his mind scarcely within his own control, he was frequently in a preaching frame, and often fancied that he was speaking to audiences of people on the attractions of Christ; so thoroughly was his mind engrossed in these meditations, that he often spoke several words before being aware of it, and not unfrequently did he find himself suffused with tears. "I had at this time," says Mr. B., "no idea that I should ever be a minister."

"As soon as I had myself partaken of the pardoning love of Christ, I felt as though all others should be sharers in eternal life. In prayer, my mind was drawn out for all men, for the chief of sinners. My mind was quickly weaned from earthly delights, and all my powers were devoted to spiritual interests. The few good ministers I knew I esteemed as the best and happiest of human beings; and, as the harvest seemed great, I often prayed that the Lord would send forth more laborers into the field. I thought if I were in such a minister's place I would go to the ends of the earth to sound the message of redeeming love. It was in the midst of such meditations that, in the first of the year 1812, all at once the idea broke into my mind that I must leave all and preach Christ. My soul shrunk away from the overpowering greatness of the thought, which I immediately banished from my mind; but with its banishment there came a gloomy despondency, as through the winter I continued at times to be exercised with the spirit of a station, which I supposed I never could fill.