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*'The memory of the just is blessed.''— Biblx. 



265 lli^iO.I 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1842, 

By a. I>. Jones, 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 

Tuttle & Dennett, Printers. 


When a man's biography is given to the world, 
the public asks, " what has he done and where is 
the good ?" In answer, the writer of this unpre- 
tending " Memoir," has only to say, that the great 
public has no concern in the affair at all. This 
little book is written for a limited circle, and is 
nothing more than a simple story of a plain and 
good man told in a homely way. 

The subject of this " Memoir" was not ex- 
tensively known beyond the pale of his own de- 
nomination. There, however, his memory is pre- 
cious in all hearts, as his presence ever gave de- 
light, when he walked among them a father, patri- 
arch, and minister of God. Thousands, as their 
eyes run over these pages, will call to mind his 
comely and cheerful presence, his cordial and af- 
fectionate greeting, and the music of a voice so 



sweet that it seemed tuned by the Spirit for the 
Father's praise. To- such, I trust, the labor that 
has been bestowed upon this work will be appreci- 
ated, and I would indulge the hope that they will 
find here the transcript of -the man^-whom all who 
knew him, loved and delighted to honor. 

For the great world beside, this book will have 
few charms. No effort has been made to ingrati- 
ate it. Rs cTiticism cannot reach it, for it is only 
a "yamiZy sowt)eni>," and its sanctuary may not 
be invaded. 

Here and there, however, will be found one, lov- 
ing all and hoping evier, who will catch the spirit 
of these pages, and will be edified and instructed. 
These are of the true household of faith, and will 
here find a brother. Would there were more. 

It is well known in the denomination whose first 
preacher Elder Jones was, that he sent out a 
pamphlet, earfy in his ministry, containing a brief 
account of his early life and religious experience, 
promising, at some future period, to continue the 
auto-biography. To this end he kept a regular 
journal, a part of which he revised a short time 
before his decease, with the intention of giving it 
to the public. He was not permitted, however, to 


accomplish it, andleft the completion of thelask, 
on his death-bed, to the hands of his son, the wri- 
ter of this "Memoir." 

According to the ability God has given hhn, he 
Jias discharged the duty, -and now dedicates the 
little work to the members of the " Christian 
Connexion" in the United States, hoping that his 
labor may prove acceptable to them in general, 
and valuable to the many personal friends of El- 
<ler Jones scattered throughout the whole " Israel 
of God." 

The Journ^ of Elder Jones was far from be- 
ing perfect In some instances whole years are 
wanting, which the writer has been compelled to 
■ fill up from memory, or such help as .may have 
-come to hand. 'There may be, as a consequence, 
some slight anachronisms, ^nd some few incidents 
in his life omitted, which those who knew him, 
might expect and .wish to see. If so the writer 
will be most happy to be informed of the same, 
and will gladly incorporate them into succeeding 

The book has been compiled amidst the pres- 
sure of many avocations, which is the only apolo- 
gy for the any inaccuracies apparent in it. If 
another edition should be demanded, these will 
be corrected. 


The writer hopes that the likeness of Elder 
Jones will render this volume doubly dear to those 
who were in the habit of beholding his " dear fa- 
miliar face." It has been procured at an expense, 
which nothing but the strong desire uniformly ex- 
pressed that it should adorn the book, would have 

In conclusion the writer would say that the filial 
task just concluded has been as pleasing as it was 
arduous. No mere pecuniary considerations would 
ever have prompted the task, — it has been done in 
obedience to the dying wishes of a kind and loving 
father, and the demand of his many friends, to 
either of which he would have felt under obligation 
to respond. That it may prove an acceptable offer- 
ing on the Altar of Piety, subserve the interests of 
true religion in the Earth, and prove a blessing to 
countless hearts, is the earnest prayer of 


Brighton^ Mass. Jan. I, 1842. 


The subject of this biography, Elder Abner 
Jones, was born in Royalston, in Massachu- 
setts, on the 2?th of April, 1772. His father 
was a native of the same State, and his mother 
first drew in the breath of life in the sister State 
of Rhode Island. They were plain farmers, 
such as the then new interior of New England 
every where revealed*- They were both pious 
Baptists, and his father occasionally lead the de- 
votions and exhorted at prayer and conference 

Elder Jones often spoke of his father and 
mother with great affection, and remembered to 
his dying day, the faithful and kind admonitions 
of his childhood, albeit theirs was a stern and 
rigid piety, if we may judge from his first relig- 
ious impressions. I take the following from 
the commencement of his ^^ Journal," as illus*- 
trative of this fact. 

** During the earliest years of my life, among 
the many religious thoughts which forced them- 
selves on my mind, the strongest and most often 



repeated were those respecting my future exist- 
ence. These were occasioned by my father's 
prayers and admonitions — but more particularly 
the latter. I can remember of having seasons 
when alone, before I was eight years old, in 
which I was much concerned about my soul." 

In 1790, his father, who seems to have been 
afflicted with a sense of oppression not dissim- 
ilar to that which troubled the celebrated Daniel 
Boon, of emigrating memory, finding his limits 
infringed — or, in my father's words, " wishing 
to enlarge his borders, — made a second remove, 
which I shall allow him to describe in bis own 

*' When I was in my eighth year, my father 
removed into a town called Bridgewater, in the 
State of Vermont, in the county of Windsor. 
My father's was the first family that moved into 
the town ; it was therefore entirely a wilder- 
nesS) excepting a small house spot, where the 
trees were cleared away, together with a few 
other trees such as were suitable for erecting 
a sort of shelter, which was called a log house. 
k was in the month of March when my father 
and family arrived at our new habitation. Our 
bouse was erected without either plank, joist, 
boards, shingles, stone, brick, nails or glass ; 
but was built wholly of logs, bark, boughs and 

ABNER J0NE8. 11 

wooden pegs io the room of nails. The snow 
then was about four feet deep, and the inreather 
extremely cold ; and many trees within reach of 
the house ; we were two miles also, from neigh- 
bors. We were favored, however, with warm 
clothing, and solid provision, and enough of it ; 
although our house and furniture, were not 
quite so delicate as some. The great plenty of 
wood which was nigh, was easily collected into 
a large heap before one end of the house, (the 
greater part of which was open) and set on 
fire ; thus it was kept day and night, until the 
weather grew warm. What little household fur- 
niture we had in our new habitation, was drawn 
two miles on hand-sleds, by men on snow- 
shoes. This made a path sufficiently hard for 
my mother, and such of the children as were 
not able to assist in drawing the hand-sleds, to 
follow after. The object which stimulated my 
father to move at this period was, that he might 
make sugar on his own land ; which was done 
by extracting sap from maple trees, and boiling 
it into sugar. This must be done in the months 
of March and April." 

There could be, of course, nothing of note 
to record in the history of my father's minority. 
He appears never to have been without more or 
less of strong and deep religious impressions. 

12 MEMOIR or 

For the edification o such as may feel desirious 
to know the workings of bis mind during his 
early life, I shall transcribe in this place such 
extracts from his journal as will be sufficient for 
this purpose. 

^^ But to return to the situation of my mind. 
I know not a better similitude than the wilder- 
ness in which I then dwelt ; uncultivated, and 
inhabited by the wild beasts of prey; dreary 
and melancholy." 

A dreadful event occurred just at this time, 
in which a man was accidentally shot by his in- 
timate friend, while hunting deer. As may 
well be supposed, in a population so sparse, a 
tremendous excitement was created which end- 
ed in a '^ revival of religion so general, that it 
seemed there was not a person come to years of 
reflection, who did not share in it, and many 
were brought out of darkness into God's mar- 
vellous light." 

'* I remember*', he continues, "of having my 
attention more than usually called up to the con- 
cerns of my soul, in the above mentioned refor- 
mation ; by hearing Mr Benjamin Burch speak 
about death, judgment and eternity. Although 
I was only nine years old, the pride of my heart 
was so great, that I was ashamed to let any one 
know, that I felt concerned about my soul ; 


neither could I bear to have any one see me 
weeping. I now felt the need of religion more 
than ever I had done before. I was fully con« 
vinced that I must be born again or be damned* 
I used frequently to resort to secret prayer. 
The place which I choose for this purpose, was 
at the foot of a rock, where it seemed there was 
a place carved out on purpose for me to kneel 
down in. 

^^ About this time there came a man by the 
name of Snow into these parts, who was a bap- 
tist preacher, or rather an exhorter. He had a 
meeting appointed one evening about a quarter 
of a mile from my father's, which I attended. 
As I was going, I remember of trying to pray 
that God would have mercy on me, I felt par- 
ticularly desirous that I might get some good 
that evening. I do not remember ever to have 
had sudh a desire before. When I arrived 
every thinjg seemed overspread with gloominess 
and darkness, and every thing of a religious na- 
ture appeared melancholy ; and I do not re- 
member that the thought ever passed my mind 
that religion yielded any joy, or peace. All the 
advantage I thought of, was that it would save 
my soul from eternal misery ; and on that ac- 
count I felt desirous to obtain it ; feeling fully 
satisfied of my lost, undone condition. It ap- 

14 HSMOiR or 

peared to me as though for a moment I was lost, 
and then every thing appeared new. I really 
thought that the preacher had entirely altered 
his suhject from something that was melancholy, 
to something joyful and happy. The following 
thoughts passed through my mind in swift suc- 
cession. What is this ? It is something entire-^ 
ly new ; it makes me completely happy ; I 
wish to enjoy it forever. After the speaker had 
done, my father rose and gave a word of ex- 
hortation, as I had often heard him before, and 
which always until that time, seemed to fill my 
mind with gloom. But I really thought my 
father spoke as he never had before, for it ap- 
peared to be glorious. I did not at that time 
think the alteration was in me, but thought it 
was in my father. The unspeakable joy and 
peace which I then felt, I cannot describe. I 
was completely happy, and wished for nothing 
more. The fear of being miserable, was entire- 
ly gone from my mind ; and the dreary gloom 
that before rested on my mind, had vanished 
away. All this time I had no idea what it was, 
that caused this change in my mind. From 
whence it came, and whither it went, I could 
not tell. I had no thought that I was converted. 
My mind remained in this situation, for a num- 

ber of daj^y not knowing what these things 

^^ At length one day, as I was passing from tba 
house to the barn, these words came to me with 
great force. ^ For this my Son was dead, and 
is alive again ; was lost, and is found,' Luke 
XY. 24. This was the first passage of scripture, 
that was ever set home to my heart. It seem- 
ed to open, and explain to my understanding, 
how I had been dead in sin, and made alive in 
Christ ; and also how I had been lost, but was 
now found of Christ as a Saviour. From that 
moment, a hope sprang up in my soul of eternal 

^^ In this situation, I passed a number ofrmonths, 
enjoying calmness and peace, the greater part 
of the time. In those day^, the gospel was to 
me truly a joyful sound, and I thought I knew 
it, end feit the blessing of it. ^ Blessed is the 
people, that know the joyful sound.' Psalm 
Ixxxix. 15. The joy that I felt in my soul 
under the sound of the gospel^ may be judged 
of by those who haveJelt the same." 

His state of mind was now very similar to 
what might be supposed, when we take into 
view his tender age, and the peculiar views of 
veligion which were kept constantly before his 
mind. Sometimes rapturously excitedi as he 


gathered the evidence of the great change which 
he had undergone ; and then wrapt in deep 
melancholy under the fear that he was deceived 
and had deceived others. He had made known 
his feelings to his mother, and a pious neighbor, 
from whose conversation and advice he gained 
much comfort and strength. 

" While I was thus relating the dealings of 
the Lord with me, I felt the divine love kind- 
ling in my soul ; and I believe they enjoyed the 
same, whose minds had been exercised- much in 
the same way. At this time, I beliete I ex- 
perienced what Paul has written, Romans x. 
10, * For with the heart man believeth unto 
righteousness ; and with the mouth confession 
is made unto salvation.' This was the first 
time that I ever confessed Christ before men, 
in any degree ; and a great blessmg I found to 
my soul. I think my joy was made full at that 
time, and I felt the love which I enjoyed at the 

Shortly after this the duty of baptism seems 
to have been deeply impressed on his mind. 
He shrunk, however, from the " cross," and 
fell back into a dark and bewildered state of 
soul, when, in his own language, " he was many 
times nearly in despair. This was darkness that 
might be felt." 


The exercises of his mind, were, for a child 
remarkable, and show hira to have been, even 
then, possessed of an unusually susceptible tem- 
perament. I should not dwell upon this period 
of his life so long, were it not that here may be 
had the key which opens the sources of those 
peculiar traits which mark his riper character. 

I shall therefore allow him to speak in his own 
language here, of a circumstance which ever 
after left a deep impression on his mind, and to 
which he often alluded in his preaching and con* 
versation with those who were of a gloomy turn 
of mind and inclined to despondency. He was 
at the time he speaks of, about 14 years of age. 

^'On a certain day, (I think it was in the 
month of June) in the forenoon, a travelling 
preacher had a meeting appointed in Wood- 
stock, about three miles from my father's. I 
attended the meeting, but found no relief to my 
mind. I returned home as usual, and ate dm- 
ner, after which 1 went into the field in order to 
hoe some corn. While I was contemplating 
my deplorable case, as sudden as the lightning/ 
it appeared to me that my soul was eternally un- 
done. It came upon me with such force, that 
I firmly believed it, and now for the first time, 
I was entirely deprived of hope. I really 
thought that I had begun my eternal, endless. 


18 JiKifoiR or 

despairing misery. I dropped my hoe as sud- 
denly (it appears to me) as though I had been 
shot. I never expected to lift my hand again, 
to perform any part on the stage of life. I 
knew that I yet had a mortal body to drop into 
dust ; yet this appeared nothing. It does 
appear to me, if God's awful voice had pro- 
nounced the sentence, ^ depart ye cursed' I oould 
not have felt the weight of it more than I did. 
The thoughts of mercy were not in all my 
thoughts. It did not so much as come into my 
mind, to Ask for mercy ; neither do I remem- 
ber as I had any inclination to ask for it. I 
viewed myself in the yawning jaws of eternal 

^' It is not possible for me to give the reader a 
just idea of the anguish of my soul ; it was un- 
speakably terrible. I had not the least idea, of 
any injustice in my condemnation, nor did I fee] 
any enmity in my heart against God. 

*^ In- this distressing situation, I repaired to the 
bouse in order to tell my mother what had be- 
fallen me. When I came to the door, I heard 
a man conversing, who was as I thought, no 
friend to religion ; I therefore turned my course 
up stairs, and threw myself on the bed, for about 
the space of half an hour, as near as I can judge, 
although to me it seemed more like two hours 

ABNER JOlffiS. 19 

than half of ooe. While I thus lay on the bed, 
I eDdeavored to think of some bodily pain or 
torture, to compare my distress unto, bi^t I 
could think of nothing. After the man was 
gone, I rushed down stairs and threw myself 
into my mother's arms, exclaiming ^ lam going 
right to hilV My mother, with a blessed 
smile, made answer, ^ I hope not, my son. 
Remember this. For this my son which onoe 
was dead is alive again ; was lost and is found.' 
These blessed words revived my mind a little, 
and I again indulged that hope that my poor soul 
was not utterly lost. The immense relief af- 
forded by this thought it is wholly out of my 
power to describe." 

A few years after this, he lost bis father, who 
died of quick consumption. This circumstance 
brought back to the paternal roof, the elder son, 
who was a wild, thoughtless young man. He 
seems to have proved a great stumblingblock to 
Abner, who loved him with great affection, 
and confided much in his superior shrewdness 
and experience. Indeed two brothers could be 
scarcely less alike. The younger, thought&ii, 
almost timid, confiding, and .deeply tinctured 
with religious enthusiasm — the elder, careless, 
confident, bold. and irreligious. Their early ed- 
ucation had been alike, the effect on each m 


different as could well be. Abner was bap- 
tised into the spirit of the household, his elder 
brother, irksome under the restraints of home, 
and hating the cause of those restraints, and not 
discriminating between the blessed spirit of re- 
ligion, and an imperfect and faulty manifestation 
of it, had left the paternal roof, and among stran- 
gers and opposers, had imbibed a thorough con- 
tempt for religion itself. Elder Jones speaks of 
him as '^ a great disputant in theology, and a 
great despiser of experimental religion." One 
of his first efforts after his return, was to infuse 
his skepticism and irreligious views and feelings, 
into the pliant mind of his younger brother. 
He so far succeeded as to draw him away from 
his religious life, and even to shake his faith in 
his own religious experience. 

Two years thus passed. A great famine in 
the strange land where he dwelt, in which his 
soul knew no real peace. Thus he speaks of it, 
'^ In this situation, I did then, and so do I now, 
consider myself one of the unhappiest of man- 
kind. Oftentimes in the midst of my folly^ I 
felt the reprovings of God's spirit. I remem- 
ber having the following reflections in my mind, 
at a certain ball, while I stood up and was pre- 
paring for the dance. What a fool am I. I 
have taken more satisfaction in one quarter of 

abher JONES. 21 

an hour's enjoyment in religion, than I could in 
this scene of vanity, if I could enjoy it to eter- 
nity. This thought struck me so forcibly that 
I could scarce perform my part, but to get rid 
of it, I carried on the higher ; and thus grieved 
the blessed spirit." 

Many were the compunctious visitations of 
conscience he endured. He describes the 
struggle of his soul as terrible. But the flesh 
prevailed and he gave up himself to the un- 
limited pursuit of pleasure, and wealth. He 
had now reached the last years of his minority, 
and seems to have been possessed with the idea 
that he was destined to be rich ; and he deter- 
mined to accomplish his destiny. He therefore 
entered into various speculations and engaged in 
various enterprises which promised much. But 
every thing he touched withered, and every pro- 
ject failed. Once severe and protracted sick- 
ness interrupted his purposes. At another time, 
he met with a serious accident which maimed 
him for life. So all his plans were frustrated. 
Dispirited, broken down in health and with 
pockets utterly empty, with a soul as famishing 
as Pharaoh's lean kine, he bent his steps home- 
ward, where instead of the father he had loved, 
a stranger met him at the threshold, — for his 
mother had married a second husband in his 


absence. Here be felt constrained to seek 
some employment and finally decided on teacb- 
iog school. It would be indeed a singular 
qboice, in these days, for a young man, scarce- 
ly 19 years of age, who bad never bad but six 
weeks schooling in his life. But he suc- 
ceeded and kept to the entire satisfaction of bis 
lemployers, for nearly a year. 

It was during this school, that bis soul was 
again brought to itself, and be concluded after a 
severe struggle to consecrate himself once more 
to Him who had died for him, and washed him 
in bis regenerating blood. No sooner had he 
found deliverence, than bis former impressions 
of baptism returned. Along with this came the 
impression that he should one day have to 
preach. " These thoughts" be says, " I treat- 
ed as temptations, and drove them from ray 
mind as much as possible ; they however follow- 
ed me almost continually." He felc it his duty 
to bear public testimony, and in conference and 
prayer meetings felt obliged to exhort and pray. 
He also prayed in his school. Thus far he was 
willing, but the thought of preaching was exceed- 
ingly painful, and be would never allow himself 
to think it possible that he should ever become 
a preacher. 

On the ninth of June, A. D. 1793, be was 


baptised by Elder Elisha Ransom, of Wood- 
stock, Vt. 

Finding that his health was impaired, he re- 
linquished his school and iook a journey on foot 
to the seaboard ; calling on his way on relatives 
and acquaintances, and meeting many devoted 
and engaged Christians. 

On his return he was summoned to the" death- 
bed of his erring and thoughtless brother, whom 
he loved as Jonathan did Saul. He found him 
indeed near his end, and suffering all the horrors 
of a guilty conscience. He bewailed his irreli- 
gion, and blamed himself in severest terms for 
his opposition to religion. " I think," says the 
younger of the elder brother, '' his lamentation 
for mispent life exceeded every thing of the kind 
that I ever heard. I shall therefore add some 
few of the many heart-rending sentences which 
this dying man uttered. 

^^ ^ I am like Balaam, I want to die the death 
of the righteous, but I dare not so much as lift 
my eyes to heaven for mercy ; I dare not offer 
a few of my last hours to his service, when I 
have spent all my days in sinning against him. 
There is no mercy for me. Oh ! how I have 
misimproved all my privileges of going to 
meeting, and despised the best of men. Now I 
would give all the world, if *t bad it, for one 


opportunity of attending such a meeting as I 
have before despised. 0, my brother, if I only 
had what you have, it would be enough, but 
there is no mercy for me. Here I am in dis- 
tress, I have lain here until my skin is worn off 
my body in a number of places. A few more 
hours will eternally close all my happiness, and 
I shall awake in hell. Who can dwell with de- 
vouring fire i who can inhabit everlasting burn- 
ings .?' " 

He found relief, however, before he died, and 
closed his eyes in peace. 

It was about this time, when the subject of 
this memoir was near twenty-one years of age, 
that he was led to inquire, ^^ if I must preach, 
iohat shall I preach .^" He was far from being 
satisfied with the views or creed of his brethren, 
and he bad never settled it in his own mind what 
Christianity was. He therefore determined to 
give the whole subject a careful and serious in- 
vestigation. He accordingly took the bible, and 
that alone, and without consulting any individual, 
or receiving sympathy from any living being, 
commenced a prayerful and careful examination 
of the sacred pages. The process and result of 
this undertaking we shall presently see. 

Previous to this time he had entertained 
thoughts of studying medicine. Nor did he re- 


linquisb the idea at this time. Although he was 
impressed with the thought that he should one 
day become a preacher, he had no idea at all of 
preaching at present. He supposed that his duty 
would be to exhort and pray whenever ana 
wherever his lot should be cast, and this was all 
the public testimony he expected for ^he present 
to be called upon to make. Indeed, although a 
good deal troubled concerning his duty in this 
respect, he all along, at times, treated the im*- 
pressions on his mind relating to preaching,^ as 
delusions, or, worse, temptations of the devil. 
At any rate, he decided to pursue the study of 
medicine, 'wisely concluding that it could do him 
no harm, and might be of great service to him.. 
Although his opportunities for enriching his mind 
had been very limited, he was nevertheless early 
fired with a desire to be learned in books and 
the sciences. He had a great love for books— 
this love only increased with his years — and 
he deemed the labor bestowed on the most 
prosaic and heavy as well repaid by the know- 
ledge which he gleaned from them. I recollect 
hearing him say that he never read but one book 
from which he did not gather enough to reward 
the toil. This taste * and desire for knowledge 
supplied the want of means, so that at the age 
now spoken of, he was altogether in advance of 



his companions. He thought, too, that he could 
at the same time carry on his investigations of 
the bible. Certain it is he decided at once, that 
he could never preach until he was fully satisfied 
in his own mind what he should preach. 

For two years he followed up this plan, study- 
ing medicipe, rather as a relaxation, and making 
his great study the word of God. During this 
period he enjoyed much peace of mind and used 
often to bear public testimony of his faith. He 
made very inconsiderable progress in medicine, 
as he was compelled, during these two years to 
teach a school for a livelihood. In the course 
of this time his religious views underwent an 
entire modification — perhaps I should better 
express his condition of mind by saying, disin- 
tegration ; for he seems to have settled but one 
thing to his own satisfaction, and that was, that 
the whole system of theology in which he had 
[been educated was erroneous. He had been 
'troubled for a long lime about the irreconcilea- 
ble points of doctrine, which, he says, he never- 
theless thought must be true. ' 

" I felt my mind," he says, " much tried 
about what my brethren called the great, myste- 
rious doctrines of the gospel, viz : Election, 
Reprobation, Decrees, &c. I plainly discover- 
ed that they preached complete contradictions 


on the subject ; and I read that no lie is of the 
truth ; and contradictions must be lies. Thus my 
mind was in great perplexity concerning these 
things. This caused me to review them, and 
compare them by the scriptures of truth. In 
short I took a review of all that I had professed^ 
to believe before, and I found I had embraced 
many things without proper examination. I 
then came to a determination to believe and 
practice just what I found required in thebible, 
and no more. There was a baptist minister 
who occasionally preached with us, who often 
made use of the following expression. ^ I wil 
have nothing but for which I can bring thus saith 
the Lord, and thus it is written.' This led me 
to compare what he preached and practised with 
the scriptures. 

^^ The first thing that struck me, was the name 
of our denomination, viz : Baptist. When I 
had searched the New Testament through, to 
my great astonishment, I could not find the de- 
nomination of baptist mentioned in the whole of 
it. I only found John the baptist, or baptiser ; 
he is the only one called a baptist in all the New 
Testament. Christ did not call his disciples 
baptists ; the christian churches in the apostles' 
time were not called baptists. Christ called his 
disciples brethren and friends. In the time of 


the apostles, the disciples were first called 
Christians at Antioch. After this examina- 
tion, I denied the name of baptist, and so I have 
continued to do unto this day. I was then wil- 
ling to own the names disciple, friend, and 
Christian, unto which I still hold. 

^' The second thing that I took into view was 
the manner in which baptists organised churches, 
which they declared to be apostolical, ^he 
manner of organizing baptist churches was then, 
and is now, I believe, as follows, viz : 1st. — 
They must find a certain number of believers 
]^ Christ. 2d.: — They must be baptised, bury- 
if)g them in the water in the name of Father, 
Son and Holy Ghost. Thus far they agree with 
the New Testament. Then there must be some 
articles of faith drawn up, or articles taken from 
some already drawn up. A church covenant 
must be added thereunto. Next, there must be 
^ council of ministers, deacons, &c. appointed, 
and a day fixed when they must be constituted a 
church. If they find them orthodox, (as they 
term it,) that is, believing their articles of faith, 
they are constituted a baptist church. 

^^As to the articles of faith and church cove- 
nants, the council and constitution, above men- 
tioned, they seemed to me entirely anti-christian. 
They are as popish and unscriptural as infant 

ABNER J6N18. Sd 

sprinkling ; and I find by searching ecclesiasti- 
cal history, that they were introduced when the 
church was in the wifderness of Babylon. I 
then rejected them as traditions of men, and so 
I do still. 

" The next thing was the manner of receiving 
members into churches, which was as follows, 
viz : the person to be received into the church, 
must first tell his or her experience, in order to 
know whether he or she was a believer ; if the 
brethren received the person as a believer, he 
was baptised as above mentioned. Thus far 1t 
is according to Christ's rule, ' if thou believest 
with all thy heart, thou mayest.' After the 
person or persons were baptised, the minister 
used to ask them if they wished to join the 
church ; some wished to, and others did not. 
When one wished to join, the unscriptural creed i 
and covenant were brought forward and read ; 
if they consented to them, they were received 
into the church by a hand vote. 

" Thus far my mind was led to examine at 
that time. And as saith the apostle, now of the 
things which we have spoken, this is the sum. 
The baptists have an unscriptural name. The 
manner of their baptising is according to truth. 
The articles of faith and church covenant ; the 
council and constitution ; are according to the 

30 MEMOIR or 

traditions and doctrines of men ; of which the 
scripture saith, touch not, taste not, handle not. 

"When I presented these things before the 
minister who said that he would have, thus saitb 
the Lord, and thus it is written, for all that he 
did ; although he was a very ready man in the 
scriptures and kept a concordance in his house> 
yet he could not recollect the passages of scrip- 
ture that proved these things, but said they were 
necessary. The reason why he could not re- 
member them was, that they were not in the 

" When I mentioned these things to my 
brethren, they seemed almost as much astonish- 
ed as though I had denied the bible, saying that 
t I was wild, heretical, etc. 

" Thus far of Practice^ now of Doctrine. 
From my infancy I had been taught the follow- 
ing things, viz : That God from all eternity had 
elected, or chosen^ a certain number for salvation, 
and that he would call them in such a manner 
that they could not resist it, because be had be- 
fore determined to save them. As for the rest 
of mankind, they were left to work out their 
own damnation by sin. That God gave them 
a common call, which he never meant they 
should obey, yet the condemnation would en- 
tirely turn upon the creature, because he did 



not obey. As for unenlightened heathens, it 
was held that they all must be damned, because 
they had not the light of the gospel. 

^^As I felt a great trial about preaching, it was 
a query in my mind whether God called men to 
preach contradiction ; nay, I was fully convinced 
that he did not. Under this trial I besought the 
Lord that he would shew me the truth respect- 
ing these things, promising that if he would, I 
would go and preach the gospel to sinners if he 
called me thereunto. 

'^ My mind remained in this situation for a 
considerable time ; at length one day the Lord 
opened my eyes to see it from this passage of 
scripture, St. John xvi. 8, 'And when he is 
come he will reprove the world of sin, of 
righteousness, and of judgment.' A part of the 
13th verse followed, viz : ' he will guide you 
into all truth.' These scriptures seemed to 
come with great and sweet power on my mind, 
and the following reflections succeeded. It was 
the Holy Ghost or Comfprter that was to re- 
prove the world of sin, and guide into all truth.' 
I seemed to feel that teaching me truth, 

" What is meant by the world here ? The 
whole world of mankind ; for Christ said to his 
disciples, I have chosen you out of the world. ^ 
Here for the first time, I saw all men reproved 


02 MfillOIR OF 

by the spirit of Ood. The thought struck me, 
who is here said to be guided into all truth ? 
The answer was, the apostles. Why does it 
not guide all men into the truth ? The answer 
was, because they will not follow it. Here my 
mind was brought out of a dark narrow prison, 
into the clear sunshine of a free gospel offered 
to all men ; and presented in such a manner as 
that they might really partake of it. 

" Glory to God for this salvation. I never 
saw the consistency of the creature's condem- 
nation in such a clear light before. My soul 
was set at liberty. I discovered also, a con- 
distent way of preaching to sinners. After- 
wards, when I came to read the scriptures, I 
found this consistent chain running through the 
whole. I found Christ was the true light that 
lighteth every man that cometh into the world. 
The Lord God is a sun and a shield, darting his 
rays of light in as many directions as there are 
souls to see it. On whom doth not his light 
ari§e ? These ideas were entirely new to me, 
for I never heard them uttered by any body, 
neither knew I of any body that believed them ; 
and so foolish was I as to believe that no other 
person ever did believe them. I cried out, my 
hand is against every man's hand, and every 
man's hand against my hand. When I came to 


reflect on the subject, I dare not comnf)unicate 
it to my brethren, supposing that they would 
call me a worse heretic than they did before ; 
so I hid my light under the bed of Calvinism, 
which brought great darkness on my mind. 
And I do not remember of divulging it to any 
person, for more than five years." 

Thus far I have given, in his own language, 
the process and result of his inquiries into the 
abuses of practice, and errors of doctrine which 
he discovered in the church, not very clearly or 
definitely expressed, it must be confessed, but 
sufficiently so to show that, situated as he then 
was, and blessed with so few means and sympa- 
thies, his was a strong and original mind, and 
one which, in a clearer light and a more gener- 
ous age, would have seized on truth with a vig- 
orous grasp, and have made him a conspicuous 
\ and successful reformer. It requires no smatt 
> share of moral coprage to attack alone and single 
handed, hoary and revered practices and doc- 
; trines, anywhere and at any time, and that cour- 
age is most needed when the reformer has to 
combat, as he had to at this time, super- 
stition and ignorance as strong, or stronger than 
religious rev^erence. 

Hitherto he does not seem to have enter- 
tained a doubt respecting the doctrines of the. 


Trinity^ Atonement^ and Future Punishment. 
Indeed, although on examination he was led 
to reject the accepted and popular exposition of 
these doctrines, I do not think he ever had any 
very satisfactory views respecting them. I 
know him to have been troubled about them 
even late in his life. Not that he ever hesitated 
for an instant to reject the '' orthodox^^ so call- 
ed, explanation of them. As nearly as I have 
been able, in repeated conversations with him 
on these subjects, to gather his real views, they 
are as follows. I give them with this bare 
remark ; that if I have not made a faithful tran- 
script of his mind, it is because I have altogeth- 
er failed to discover its true phases. 

He rejected the doctrine of the Trinity ; but 
believed that the Father had so communicated 
his spirit to the Son, that he was equal with Him, 
in all works and wisdom, but not in existence. 
He believed in the doctrine of Christ's pre- 
existence ; that he came down from heaven in 
personal form, and suffered incarnation. 

He rejected the doctrine of expiatory atone- 
ment ; and believed God to need no such expia- 
tion. Yet he l3elieved in the special efficacy of 
Christ's death, and that no one could have been 
saved without the shedding of his blood. That 
the goodness of Christ was in some way impart- 

ABIfER J0NE8. 35 

ed to the penitent sinner^ and that it was not 
penitence or reformation, but the death of Christ 
that saved the soul. 

That penitence and reformation, like faith, 
were necessary, not as the cause, but the means 
of receiving the salvation prepared by the death 
of Jesus. That these never did and never can 
save men, but are requi^te to lead men to the 
Cross, in which alone life was found. That 
God forgives only through Jesus Christ, and that 
to be forgiven the sinner must believe in him, 
and receive mercy as a free, unmerited gift, be- 
stowed not so much because he is penitent and 
has sought forgiveness, as because the Father 
is well pleased in the obedience and death of his 
Son, and for his sake does thus forgive. 

He rejected the Hopkinsian views of future 
punishment, viz : — an endless punishment for 
finite sins. Yet he fully believed in the great 
doctrine of retribution after life^ He saw no 
reason why the effects of a sinful life should 
cease at death more than the effects of a good 
life. If holiness did not obtain all its reward 
here, so could not sin reap all its consequences 
here. What was the precise character, or length 
of future puuishments he could not say. Nay, 
he had no distinct idea of these things at all. 
He believed that future retribution was one of 


the plainest truths taught in revelatipu, but he 
thought that revelation went no further, neither 
defining its exact nature or duration. There 
was a time when he, for a season, embraced the 
Restorationist views of this doctrine ; but I be- 
lieve he rested at last in the views I have attrib- 
uted to him above. 

To Baptism and Regeneration as they were 
then and are still held by the denomination in 
which he was brought up, viz : the Baptists^ he 
ever held with most pertinacious attachment. 
With all his toleration, he could never speak 
charitably of " sprinkling ;" and he could never 
allow that a man had any reason to believe him- 
self to be a Christian, utiless he was " convert- 
ed" according to his peculiar views of conver- 
sion. A very good and moral man he might be, 
but surely no Christian. He made a nice dis- 
tinction between goodness as the result of the 
love of goodness in the human soul, and the re; 
suit of regeneration. One was the *'filthyrags" 
of Paul's righteousness, the other the love of 
God shed abroad in the soul ; this was saving, 
that wholly inefficacious^ As a worldly com- 
modity it was exceedingly desirable and valua- 
ble, but in the sight of heaven, nothing. 

I do not think that he reached these views un- 
til be had been a preacher many years. The 

ABNER J02f£8. 37 

greQt things which troubled him at first, were, 
the discipline of the Church and the doctrine of 
Election, It was the first of these, particularly, 
that he felt himself called on to reform ; and 
this led him to come out thus early and stand 
aloof from the Church. At that time the thought 
of founding a great and growing communion on 
the broad and free principles for which he con- 
tended, seems not to have entered his mind. ^^ I 
supposed," he says, " I was entirely alone in 
the world, and I fully expected ever to remain 
so." It is tru^ he was not alone.; There were 
many minds troubled as his wa8,~^and they were 
waiting for some auspicious movement which 
would afibrd them opportunity to declare and 
defend their views. But he was alone^ in pub- 
licly, and in the face and eyes of a fierce perse- 
cution^ declaring and maintaining his opinions. 
Luther struck the great blow in the Reformation 
which first broke the iron band of the Mother 
Church ; but Luther found a host ready to stand 
by and defend and help him in his glorious work. 
So no sooner did he announce his purpose to 
throw off all allegiance to the Church which had 
nursed him with her milk of error, than he found 
a goodly number ready to join him in his pur- 

It is now nearly a half century since, as an 


obscure individual, he thus separated himself 
and stood alone (as he then thought) — at this 
time there is a communion of loving brethren 
spread over the whole expanse of this country, 
numbering some hundreds of thousands, and 
among them have been and are some thousands 
consecrated to the same great and glorious work 
to which he gave himself up in the freshness of 
life, and which he devotedly and successfully 
pursued for nearly forty years. 

After preparing himself for the practice of 
medicine, and remaining in several places for a 
short time, he finally settled down in Lyndon, 
county of Caledonia, Vermont, in the year of 
our Lord 1796 — 7. He was also married about 
the same time to Miss Damaris Prior. He was 
more successful in the duties of his profession 
than he had reason to expect, and his prospects 
soon became very flattering for obtaining fame 
for his skill, and an independency for life. But 
ID the midst of all this his soul grew barren and 
unfruitful. He was continually goaded by the 
consciousness that he had neglected the intima- 
tions of Providence, and constantly harassed 
with the idea that he should have yet to preach. 
And this was ever wedded to another thought in 
his mind, and that was, that in so doing he should 
receive the reproach of his brethren and the 


world, and seal forever the bond which should 
hold him to poverty and trial. But I will let 
him speak for himself. 

*' After removing to Lyndon, my mind was 
altogether taken up with the things of the world. 
I was well pleased with the country and people. 
The country was new, but the soil was rich, and 
it was 6lling up rapidly with very honest, enter- 
prising people, as to the things of this world, 
although they paid very little or no attention to 
religion. Here, also, I was endeavoring to 
maintain an honorable name in the world, and at 
the same time was striving with all my might to 
accumulate property. 

*' Here I laid down my public testimony; and 
I had no sooner done it than I found condemna- 
tion ; and the life and power of religion seemed 
to vanish away. I felt no inclination to join 
in the usual amusement of the times, yet I did 
not feel engaged in religion, and when I at- 
tempted to pray, I felt very little freedom, and 
a great deal of condemnation. Whenever I 
asked God for a blessing, the way to obtain it 
seemed to be pointed out to me by doing my 
duty, viz : by improving what he had already 
given me. When the duty was presented to 
me, I shrunk from it, saying, ' Lord, I cannot.' 
After a while it became such a trial, that when 


I attempted to pray, I felt such condemDation, 
that I dare say nothing more than God be mer- 
ciful to me a sinner. I do not think there was 
a day in all this. time, but I felt strongly impres- 
sed with the duty of preaching." 
' About the third year of his residence in Lyn- 
don, a "powerful reformation broke out" in 
Billeymead, an adjoining town. He deter- 
mined to go and see for himself this " work of 
the Lord." He describes it as being unlike 
anything he had ever before seen. It was yery 
noisy an^ confused. 

" These things were new to me, and made 
me greatly doubt whether it was the work of 
God, or not ; but when I looked at the fruit, I 
found it was good, ahhough I could not see 
through their making so much noise. 

*' This meeting took great hold of my mind, 
and I felt it my duty to confess my backsliding, 
but the pride of my heart was so great that I did 
not comply. 

" After this meeting, for the most part of the 
time, 1 felt a great burden on my mind, but I 
told no one of it, for my proud heart was not 
willing to be despised. I now found it hard to 
keep up my usual sprightliness, although I strove 
to do it. But at length my impressions were so 
great I could not conceal them. I never found 


any relief in my mind, until I came to a deter- 
mination that I would "do my duty ; which was 
first to confess and forsake ; secondly, to take 
up my testimony which I had laid down. 

'^ My confession I made both public and pri- 
vate, at meetings, among my neighbors, and in 
jny own family. This caused no small talk 
among the people : some said, what has befal* 
len Doctor Jones ? others, has he got to be one 
of the Billeymead Christians ? some again said, 
be has nothing to confess, for he always behaved 
himself very civilly : others, he is a little de- 
luded, he will soon get over it : some said, he 
is frightefted, it will not last long : others raised 
up false reports about my confessions, saying, 
that I confessed particular out-breaking crimes 
of which I was guilty. But that was false. 

^' The duty of preaching was now stronger 
on my mind than ever, and I knew not what to 
do. At times I was greatly tried about sacri- 
ficing all my prospect of worldly gain, which 
was now very considerable. I was gaining 
ground rapidly, and my business widely extend- 
ing. But if I should determine to become a 
minister, I knew that all hopes of wealth, or a 
good name, as the world went, were at an end." 

He ever believed that ^e was specially called 

by the Spirit of God to preach, and received 



certain intimations as coming directly from 
God. I give the following as an instance. 

" At a certain time when I was retired by 
myself, and inquiring of the Lord what I should 
do ; this scriptnre in Prov. xyiii. 16, came into 
my mind with great weight : ' A man's gift 
maketh room for him, and bringeth him before 
great men.' This scripture calmed my miod 
in a moment, and I felt entirely at peace. I 
now made a solemn vow to God, that if be 
would open doors for me to preach without any 
effort of mine, I would consider it as room 
made for me. I also promised the Lord that 1 
would go whenever room was made for me. I 
concluded 'that I would say nothing to any 
person about my trials concerning preaching, 
but wait and see if the Lord put it into the 
heart of any one to ask me to come and preach 
at their house. And for a few days I felt 
entirely delivered from all anxiety about the 

He thus speaks of his first attempt to preach, 
and the occasion of it. 

'^ Not long after this I was called upon one 
evening to ride about five miles to a person who 
was sick. While I was on the way I fell into 
religious conversation with the man who came 
after me, viz. Mr Peck. He informed me that 

he had been seriously impressed in times past, 
and that he still felt something of it. He said 
his neighbors all made light of these thli^gs 
excepting one or two. We had some conyersa- 
.tion, about the reformation at Billeymead. He 
said his neighbors of it, and that it 
was the subject of a great part of their conversa- 
tion. I observed that I should really be glad to 
see them together, for I bad been at Billeymead 
and had seen the reformation myself ; and that 
I should feel happy to teU them what I knew 
about it. Mr Peck then said he wished I 
would come out to his house some time and hold 
a meeting, saying, he would notify his neighbors, 
and he guessed they would come. At fir3t I 
made but little answer to the request, for I had 
never named the matter of preaching to him ; I 
never said much about it to any one. This 
however brought my vow before me, viz. that I 
would go where the Lord made room for me. 
A query arose in my mind whether this door was 
opened by the Lord, or whether I had pushed it 
open myself, by saying that I should like to see 
his neighbor's together, that I might tell them 
what I knew of the reformation. I did not give 
him any direct answer at first. The circumstan- 
ces w^re such that I tarried all night in the neigh- 
borhood. The next morning Mr Peck wished 

44 MEMOIlt OF 

for an answer, and at length I told him I would 
come on a certain sabbath, unless I was called 
away to attend on the sick. 

" When the day arrived, I had a number of sick 
people to attend to, I however visited them in 
the forenoon, and rode to my appointment in the 
afternoon. As I rode along, I prayed in spirit 
continually, that the Lord would decide the 
doubtful case that daV) whether he had called 
me to preach or not ; if he had not called me, 
I prayed him to confound me before the people, 
and shut up my mouth in silence ; but that if he 
had called me, he would give me a message 
right from Heaven, in such a manner, as I might 
know that it was from the Lord. 

"A few days after, I composed the following 
hymn on the subject. 

" * O Lord, I pray that Thou wilt show 
Whether Thou call est me to go 
And sound th^ gospel trumpet loud, 
To high and low, to meek and proud. 

3 When I before the people stand, 
O Lord, I ask it at thy hand, 
To chain my tongue is silence tight, 
If thus to speak I am not right. 

3 But if Thou say'st unto me, " Gk)," 
O may thy spirit sweetly flow 


Into my soul, and my tongue loose ! 
Then FJl proclaim the joyful news ; — 

4 Peace on the earth, to men good will ; 
Come, all who thirst, and drink your fill ; 
Come, taste of Jesus^ dying love. 

And you shall reign with him above. 

5 But if you still refuse to come, 
Christ will declare your dreadful doom ; 
" Depart from me, I know you not ; 
Prom my fair book your name I'll blot." 

** While riding through a piece of woods, 
about half a mile from the place where the 
meeting was appointed, the following words 
caaie to my mind with great weigiit, ' But they 
made light of it.' In the language of my mind 
I cried out, Lord, I know not where these 
words are ; if it is thy will that I should 
preach from ihem to-day, I pray thee direct me 
immediately to them. My meaning was, that I 
might open the bible and cast my eyes immedi- 
ately on that sentence, even that it might be the 
first word that I should see in the bible. 

*' When I arrived at the house, I found 
nearly all the neighborhood collected together. 
When I entered, a chair was presented me for a 
seat, with a small table before it, with a bible 
and psalm book on it ; a new seat indeed for 
me, but T must take it without hesitation, as the 


people all expected I was about to try to preach. 
I soon took up the bible to see whether the 
Lord would answer my request, and to my 
great joy and surprise, my prayer was answered 
completely, insomuch, that the first place I 
opened was the very place, and the very first 
sentence that my eyes caught, was, * BUT 
xxii. 5. The manner of the words coming to 
me, together with the manner of ray finding 
them, raised my mind above every trial and 
fear, although I was about to attempt something 
very great and entirely new. After introducing 
the meeting by singing and praying, I read the 
whole parable to the people. And I think my 
mind on the occasion, was drawn out in such a 
manner as I scarce ever had it before. It 
pleased the Lord to deliver me entirely from 
the fear of man, and my whole soul was occu- 
pied with the subject, insomuch that I think I can 
say, I was not interrupted with one worldly 
thought in my discourse ; yea, I was not 
troubled with one wandering thought of any 
nature whatsoever. It appeared to me as 
though every person present heard as for their 
lives, and a more attentive audience I never 

"In preaching this discourse, I entirely 


freed my mind of the burden that laid on it. 
I felt almost, if not quite, as great a deliverance 
as when 1 was first converted. When I came 
to walk, it seemed as though I hardly touched 
the ground. I felt certain that the Lord assist- 
ed tne in delivering this subject, as it was 
entirely unstudied, and as new to me as it was 
to my hearers. 

" The first assembly to which I preached, 
was almost as singular as my sermon ; for there 
was not one present that professed religion, of 
any denomination whatever ; and I do not know 
as there were more than two persons present 
that appeared (previous to this meeting) to have 
any regard for religion." 

Doors opened now on every hand, and he 
was at no loss, in his own mind, what was duty. 
His business was of consequence neglected. 
This created no small stir in his neighborhood. 
Some were angry, some ridiculed, some threat- 
ened, and some coaxed. But to all this he was 
insensible. He told them plainly, that he had 
made up his mind to preach, and he should be 
bappy to give up his business. He soon made 
arrangements with a neighboring physician to 
take his place, settled up all his worldly con- 
cerns as speedily as possible, and gave up him- 
self wholly to the work of an evangelist. 


Here too, he was met, as Job was, by his wife, 
who by no means fell in with his views respecting 
preaching. It was a sore trial to him, but he 
had put his hand to the plough and vowed to the 
Lord, and he dared not — wished not to turn 
back. His wife pleaded and- wept, and remind- 
ed him of his obligations to her and his children, 
and although he harbored not a doubt but 
'^God would provide," it was not so clear in 
her mind. She however reluctantly gave her 
consent, and bidding farewell to her quiet and 
happy home, she cast her lot with his, firmly 
believing, as she has since many times said, 
that she should never see another spot which 
she could call home. In later times he used to 
rally her on her fears ; for although often strait- 
ened, they never knew the time when there 
was not oil enough in the cruse and meal in the 
barrel, for at least one day. 

She soon entered into his work with a real 
spirit of devotion, and was truly to him a help- 
mate and a blessing. Possessed of an uncom- 
monly strong mind, and deeply imbued with a 
living spirit of piety, she was to him a counsel- 
lor and friend, and a helper of his joy.''*' 

Elder Jones commenced preaching in Sep- 
tember, 1801, and from that time to the day of 
his death, he gave himself with great fidelity to 


the good work. From the first be announced 
his determiaatioo to stand alone, and acknow- 
edge the authority of no church or set of men. 
lie and about a dozen others, laymen, and 
residents of Lyndon, covenanted together in. 
church form, and trailed themselves CHRIS- 
TIANS; rejecting all party and sectional 
names, and leaving each other free to cherisb. 
such speculative views of theology as the scrip- 
tures might plainly seem to them to teach. 
This was probably, the first FREE, CHRIS<^ 
TIAN Church ever established in New Eng«* 

He immediately became an itinerant, and 
went wherever and whenever be was invited ; 
and soon found large congregations in all the 
neighboring towns. He presently extended hit 
sphere of labor, into the adjoining states, and in 
the course of two or three years S'Wept nearlj> 
the whole extent of New England. 

When Elder Jones commenced preaching, 
he had great doubts about his being called of 
God to this work. He therefore made a vow, 
that he would preach one year, unless convinced 
before its expiration, that he was doing wrong. 
He had property enough to support his family 
for that length of time, and he supposed thai if 
6t>d had called him to the ministry be wotiM 


provide bread for his family. The year went 
round, and plenty crowned bis board. He had 
not touched the little he had accumulated in his 
medical practice. So his fears were somewhat 
abated, and he more fully believed that the hand 
of the Lord was in it, and that he must now 
consecrate himself entirely to" the work of the 

He accordingly looked around him for the 
means of ordination. Now it happened about 
this time that he was invited to attend a quar- 
terly meeting among the Free-will Baptists, 
He was pleased with the zeal and piety of the 
brethren, and his heart was strongly drawn to- 
wards them. He preached among them, and 
to much acceptance. They were desirous that 
he should become one of their number, and so- 
licited him to do so. I will let him give his 
own account of the conference that passed be- 
tween them. 

" I attended the Elders' conference, and gave 
them my views of being nothing but a Chrts- 
tian ; and that I could not be a Free-will Bap- 
tist ; yet that 1 heartily fellowshipped them as 
Christiansy and so far was happy to unite with 
them in the work of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
Christ. I further observed that I should be glad 
to receive from them the right hand of fellow- 


ship as a Christian^ but not as a Frte-trill Bajh 
Hit ; for the Lord had taught me that I must be 
a Christian only. Although their fellowship 
was very desirable, as I was entirely alone, yet 
I determined that it should be known what kind 
of fellowship was meant. I said to them, ^ you 
came out free, but the devil sent the name of 
Freewillers after you, and you have picked it 
up.' Eider Randall observed, ' we glory in 
the name of Freewilkrs.^ 1 answered, ^ I will 
not acknowledge any of the devil's impositions. 
Understand me, perfectly, brethren ; I do not 
wish to join the Free-will Baptists : I wish 
Christian fellowship. ,If hereafter it should be 
asked, have you joined the Free-will Baptists ?. 
the answer will always be, no. It shall not be 
said hereafter, ^ brother Jones, you belong with 
us, and our rules are thus and so.' I will nev;er. 
bd subject to one of your rules ; but if you will 
give me the right hand as a brother, and let me 
remain a free man, just as I am, I should be 
glad.' On these grounds, the right hand of fel- 
lowship was cheerfully given. A number of 
months after this, they voluntarily appointed ao 
ecclesiastical council, and ordained me a free 

Elder Jones received ordination on the last 
day of November, 1802. Elders Aaron Buz- 


zeli, Nathaniel Kiog and Nathaniel Brown, were 
the officiating clergymen* 

A short time after this, his old doubts return* 
ed and greatly distressed him. I have before 
said that he was generally an undoub|ing be* 
liever in the direct manifestations of the spirit of 
Godv in the call he received to preach. At 
times, liowever, he doubted it — indeed, some- 
times he doubted everything. It was in such a 
condition that he sought a new manifestation. I 
shall let him speak of the whole movement of 
his mind at length, especially, as he declares 
himself to have gained complete ascendancy 
over his fears at the time, so that they never re- 
turned to trouble him any more. 

'^ As yet I had no seals to my ministry. I 
had preached a whole year, and I knew not at 
that time that one soul had, through any instru- 
mentality of mine, been brought out of nature^s 
darkness unto God's marvellous iight. Surely, I 
reasoned*, if God had called me to preach, he 
would have stood by me and blessed me with 
this token that my labor in the Lord had not 
been in vain. It must be that I have mistaken 
my calling. Moreover I doubted exceedingly 
whether I had ever been converted at all. I 
was utterly distracted. Then came the awful 
doubts of the reality of aU I had felt and 


preaclied. Is it not possible, after all, tbatOod, 
and heaven, and hell, and religion, are a fiction ? 
and tlie Bible a cunning device of man ? 

^^ I strove with all my mind to put these 
thoughts far from me. I tried to pray, but, then 
I thought, there is no God to pray to, no being 
takes knowledge of my prayers. I look for my 
witnesses; the Bible gave none. I called on 
the earth, sun, moon and stars, which had so 
often given me their unequivocal testimony in 
favor of their Maker and a Divine revelaiion ; 
bot they all seemed to witness against me. 
Notwithstanding all this, the vow was upon me 
to preach wherever doors were opened, «od 
there were doors wide open in every direction. 
I had perhaps ten appointments already mad^, 
and they must be fulfilled. No tongue can utier, 
no pen describe my feelings ; it made me siek, 
and brought upon me a high fever ; I took to 
my bed. No mortal at that time knew my trkb. 

*' At last these thoughts came into my mmd: — if 
all these things are nothing, there is no hdl— 
I'll not be troubled about that. I then begun to 
query— if there be no futurity, how can I enjoy 
myself best in this world ? The answer was 
ready ; in what i have called religion^ and in 
preaching, the best of all, and in this way I 
could make others enjoy themselves best. On 


this ground, I resolved to preach, whether right 
or wrong. For if we are to fall into an eternal 
sleep at death, it is best to take all the enjoy- 
ment we can here. The powers of darkness 
gave back, and some hope revived ; but my 
doubts were yet strong. However I deter- 
mined to pursue. My prayer was now in all 
sincerity and in great agony ; ^ if there be any 
Great, Eternal, First Cause, who made all things, 
if there be any Mediator through which mortals 
may approach and find audience, if it be Jesus 
Christ, or if there be any other, O permit such 
a distressed soul as I am to approach. And if 
thou hast called me to preach, give one sign 
more, which I shall ask of thee, and I will never 
doubt again.' The sign asked for was, that some 
soul might be struck under conviction while I 
was preaching, and brought out in the same 
meeting, in which case I promised that I would 
never doubt again. I was exercised with a burn- 
ing fever, more especially in my right hand, for 
I was tortured with an uncommon, burning heat 
in that hand. I kept my little girl constantly 
bringing cloths dipped in cold water, to allay the 
distressing heat. Since that time, thirty-three 
' years this present September, 1836, my right 
hand has always b^n hotter than my left. I 
feel it this moment, while i^riting this brtiele. 


I have thus a constant monitor, in my right band, 
to remind me of the scene of anguish through 
which I passed. I have said in the words of 
the Psalmist, '^ If I forget* thee, O Jerusalem, 
let my right hand forget her cunning." All the 
ancients considered the right hand the seat of 
fidelity. Lord, let me not die with a lie in my 
right hand, 

^^ During these trials I was constantly preach- 
ing, for my appointments were already made 
in several different towns, and some of them 
more than forty miles distance from each oth- 
er. While preaching, these doubts would 
commonly disappear, but would return again, 
sometimes, before 1 got out of the house. My 
mind was in this state about two weeks, but the 
time of deliverance drew nigh ; the Lord was 
preparing for me better things. It was not until 
the ninth of September, 1802, that I found com- 
plete deliverance ; a day by me ever to be re- 
membered. On this day I preached in the af- 
ternoon at a brother Martin's in Newbury. , The 
day was as pleasant as ever shone out of the 
heavens ; not a cloud to obscure the sun, the 
air was mild and beautiful ; but my soul was 
still beclouded in thick darkness. 

^' In this neighborhood there was a happy revi- 
val of religion. As the people were assembling, 
among others, I observed a middle aged man. 


Strong and robust in appearance, and from the 
stern countenance which he bore, I thought him 
an opposer.* Instantly I seemed to feel much 
for bis soul, and in strong ejaculations to God, I 
sought mercy for his soul, although I thought 
nothing of the sign which I bad asked for. The 
words of my text were, ** Hear, for I will 
speak of excellent things," &c. — Prov. yiii. 6. 
While delivering this discourse, I noticed that 
the visage of the man was changed. He had a 
'Solemn countenance, and penitential tears be- 
dewed bis face. After sermon, I knelt and 
prayed ; and behold, this man fell on his knees 
aho, no one having spoken to him. Several 
prayers, in addition, were offered up for him in 
particular. After rising up from prayer, he 
alone remained on his knees in silence. He 
was asked the state of his mind. He gave no 
answer. He was asked if he wished to rise up. 
'He rose not, nor gave any answer. He was on 
fais knees about one hour, apparently in ' great 
distress, though he made no outcry. At last he 
seemed perfectly calm, rose up and sat down in 
trasquillity. Being asked the state of his mind, 
he answered as follows : ^ I have heretofore 
called this the work of the devil, and it having 
got possession of my wife, I determined to fol- 
lofw it up. I came to meeting todi^ with these 



views and feelings. He then proceeded to tell 
how the preaching took hold of bis feelings, and 
that be was brought to see bis lost and undone 
estate, and to believe that it was the work of 
God.' He continued, ^ when I fell down on 
my knees, I determined never to move from 
that spot, until I found mercy, or dropped into 
hell, and thought probably the latter would be 
my lot. I felt ready and willing to give up 
everything, my wife in particular, for it seemed 
as though! should never see her again.' Being 
asked how he then felt, his answer was, ^ I have 
lost my burden, and feel calm, that is all I can 
say.' During these transactions, the sign I had 
asked for was not so much as thought of. The 
next morning I saw the above named man ; he 
had the witness that he was born of God, and a 
new song was put in bis mouth, even praise to 
the Lord. It was at this time that the sign I 
had asked, and the accompanying vow came 
fresh before me ; and it was then received, (and 
is still believed) as a special answer from God. 
Every doubt and fear vanished from me, and 
from that time to the present, more than thirty \ 
years, I have not had as many distressing doubts, 
put the whole together, as I have heretofore en- 
dured in the space of five minutes. The Lord, 

and he alone, removed all these dark clouds at 


once as far from me as the east is from the west. 
This is the Lord's doing, and marvelous in my 
eyes ; and to his heavenly name be all the glory." 

From this time forward, Elder Jones had 
great peace and joy, and labored with great 
zeal and success. It is astonishing that his 
, health did not utterly fail. In enumerating bis 
labors at the close of each month, as was bis 
constant practice, he is found often to have 
preached from 25 to 85 times, and to have bap- 
tized from 10 to 50 persons in the same time, 
and often to have travelled more than 200 miles. 
In many instances the meetings (during revivals,) 
continued from 6 to 9 hours. So that beside 
the usual services, there were many prayers and 

I will insert one or two pages of his journal, 
as he kept it from day to day, Just to give the 
reader an idea of his labors as an itinerant 
preacher. I would just observe that I have se- 
lected them nearly at random, and that they 
come two or three years later than the period 
down to which I have brought this memoir, and 
that they both belong to the severer season of 
the year, and do not embrace nearly as many 
baptisms as usual. 

December, 1805. 
Monday — Boston ; baptised three persons in the 


morning ; had a good season ; preached from Acts 
ii. 47, and Isaiah Ivii. 20. 

Tuesday— Boston ; preached in the evening, 
John xvi. 33. 

Wednesday — Boston ; Corinthians xiii. 9. 

Thursday — Charlestown ; Genesis xliix. 24. 

Friday — church meeting ; had a good season at 
the clq^e of prayer. 

Saturday — Boston ; 1 Corinthians x. 17. 

Sunday — Boston ; preached twice ; Prov. xx. 4 — 
Ecclesiastes xi.- 3. 

Monday — Charlestown ; preacli^ed in the even- 
ing, had a good season. 

Tuesday — Boston ; preached in the evening, 
had a comfortable season. 

Wednesday — ^Boston ; preached in the evening. 

Thursday — from Boston to Nantasket ; preach- 
ed in the evening. 

Friday — Nantasket ; Revelation ii. 7. 

Saturday — Nantasket ; Genesis xliii. 22. 

Sunday — Nantasket; preached three times; 
Psalms iii. 17 — Solomon's Song v. 3 — ^John x. 15, 

Monday — Nantasket ; preached in the evening. 

Tuesday — Nantasket ; preached in the evening. 

Wednesday — Nantasket ; preached in the eve- 

Thursday — Nantasket ; preached in the eve- 

Friday — set off from Nantasket, proceeded 6 
miles, then turned back again. 

Saturday — Nantasket ; preached in the evening. 

Sunday — Nantasket ; preached three times ; 
Matt. ii. 4 — Proverbs xvi. 4 — Philippians i. 27. 

Monday — from Nantasket to Boston ; heard El- 
der E. Smith preach in the evening. 

60 MCMOXH ojr 

Tuesday — heard Eider £. Smith. 
.Wednesday — Attended the Roman Catholic 
meeting ; heard Elder Smith-iaihe evening. 

Thursday — Charlestown ; preached in the eve- 

Friday — church meeting. 

Saturday — Boston ; preached in the evening. 

Sunday — Boston ; preached twice in the day- 
time ; had a good time ; attended meeting at brother 
Binney's in the evening. 

Monday — from Boston to Bradford ; preached 
.in the evening. 

Tuesday — Haverhill ; preached in the evening- 
Preached 31 times this month. 

December, 1306. 

Monday — Rode from Portsmouth to Hampton 
Falls, 15 miles. Preached in the evening in the 
Christian Meeting House ; Heb. xiii. 1. 

Tuesday — Salisbury ; at brother Tukesbury's. 
Preached in the evening ; Heb. xii. 15. 

Wednesday — do. do. ; preached in the evening 
from Solomon^s Song v. 9. We had a wonderful 
reviving sesuson. 

Thursday — From Salisbury to Haverhill; preach- 
ed in the evening ; Solomon's Song v. 1. Blessed 

Friday — Bradford ; preached in the evening ; 
Heb. X. 32, 33. A happy refreshing season. 

Saturday — From Bradford to Charlestown, after 
an absence of 30 days ; found my family well ; in 
those 30 days I tried to preach 34 sermons in gen- 
eral with great freedom. 

Sunday — Boston; preached 3 times; Heb. x. 
32,33— Matt. xiii. 19— Sol. Song iii. 3. 

Monday-r-Boston ; preached in the evening; 
Luke xiv. 33. 


Tuesday — ^Boston ; preached in the eyening; 
Luke XXXV. 36. Very powerful time. v 


Thursday — ^From Charlestown to Nantasket by 
land ; preached in the evening ; Isaiah xl. 31. 
Very dull time. 

Friday — Nantasket ; Isaiah xlii. 7. Very dull 

Saturday — ^Nantasket ; preached in the evening ; 
ratl^r cold season. 

Sunday — Nantasket Meeting House ; preached 
twice with freedom, and broke bread ; p'reached 
in the evening. 

Monday — Nantasket ; preached in the evening ; 
Acts XX. 6. A wonderful season of refreshing 
from the Lord. 

Tuesday — From Nantasket to Boston ; preached 
in the evening ; had a happy season. 

Wednesday — Boston ; happy season in preach- 
ingfrom Rev. i. 

Thursday — Charlestown ; preached in the eve- 



Sunday — Hampton Falls ; preached twice ; 1 
Peter ii. 7 ; Romans, viii. 29, 30. 

Monday — attended to writing my afternoon ser- 

Tuesday — Little River; preached in the eve- 
ning ; had a very solemn time among sinners. 

Wednesday — Hampton Falls; had a very sol- 
emn time preaching in evening. 

Thursday — Hampton ; preached in evening. 

Friday — New Rowley ; Rev. vi. 1. Returned 
to Bradford after meeting. 

Saturday — From Bradford to Charlestown. 


Sunday — Boston ; preached 3 times with free- 

Monday — From Boston to Portsmouth, N. H. 

Tuesday — From Portsmouth to New Rowley : 
preached in the evening. 

Wednesday — Bradford ; Elder Smith preached. 
I preached after him ; we had a blessed time. 

In the Autumn of 1802, the second Chris- 
tian Church was formed in Hanover, N. H.^ 
by Elder Jones. This was' the second church 
ever organized in New England, without any 
creed J or confession of faith. In the course of 
the ensuing winter, the third church was formed 
iQ Piermont, on the same free platform. 

Elder Jones, at this time resided in Lebanon, 
N. H., on the banks of the beautiful Connecti- 
cut. His preaching circuit extended into a 
dozen or more, of the neighboring towns. He 
had formed an extensive and happy acquaintance, 
and he supposed that he should there spend his 
days. But so it was not destined to be. lo 
the midst of his pleasant and successful labors, 
he was impressed with the duty of laboring else- 
where. He had no idea whither be should go 
forth, but he was fully satisfied that be could not 
rest where he was in peace. He accordingly 
settled all his affairs, and took his departure, 
making no further arrangements for travelling, 
then to attend a quarterly meeting of the Free- 


will Baptists, about sixty piles distant from his 
borne, having no donbt that a way would open 
to him there. From this meeting he went to 
Portsmouth, N. H., where he met Elder Elias 
Smith, with whom he had glorious times, for 
they were then kindred souls, and fellow-work* 
ers. After preaching here and in the neighbor- 
ing towns, and making a short excursion into 
the State of Maine, he received an invitation 
from a brother in Boston, a worthy member of 
Dr Stillman's church, to come and preach to 
the saints and sinners of that town. Immediate- 
ly he felt this to be the Macedonian cry which 
had so distinctly, yet so uncertainly sounded in 
his ears for the last six weeks. Obedient to the 
heavenly vision, he went straightway to Bos- 
ton. He was invited to preach in Dr Still- 
\ man's vestry, and after considerable opposition 
on the part of Drs Stillman and Baldwin, then 
the only Baptist clergymen in Boston, he went 
into the pulpits respectively of those gentlemen, 
who with Dr Lucius Bolles, then a student, or 
an assistant of Dr -Stillman, joined heart and 
band in his kbors. The result was a most ex- 
tensive and glorious revival of religion. During 
the work, Elder Jones was obliged to go to 
Portsmouth to fulfill some engagements, hvX 
could not rest until he again returned. Family 

64 MEMOiB or 

matters also called him once more to the green 
meadows of the Connecticut, the scenes of his 
earlier labors. But here he was not at home, 
and his soul longed for the refreshing scenes he 
had so recently witnessed in the Metropolis of 
Massachusetts. So he returned once more, 
and co-operated with his old friends. The re- 
formation had increased and spread into all the 
adjoining towns, into which he was invited to 
come and preach. 

It was at the close of tliis far-famed revival, 
in the Autumn of 1803, that Elder Smith open- 
ly withdrew from the Calvinistic Baptists, and 
avowed his determination to own no name but 
CHRISTIAN and no creed but the BIBLE. 
This was several years after Elder Jones had 
withdrawn and more than two years after the 
formation of the first Christian Church in Lyn- 
don, Yt. Elder Smith was doubtless a success- 
ful laborer in founding the early churches of the 
Christian Connexion : ,but he can with no de- 
gree of justice lay claim to the Jtitle of Founder 
of the Connexionj as he has done. He was an 
exceedingly popular preacher, but he did not 
wear well with his friends, and soon fel] into dis- 
repute among his brethren. He was the second 
preacher that took an open stand for liberty 
of opinion and freedom from human creeds. 



It was ever the misfortune of Elder Smith, 
to be, as Elder Jones used to say, ^^ in hot 
water." Until he went to Boston, the revival 
had gone on with the most perfect harmony be- 
tween Elder Jones and Drs Stillraan and Bald- 
win. But he soon cast in a firebrand, and the 
voice of discord was heard. Elder S. was ex- 
pelled from the Baptist pulpits, and because he 
would not forsake him, Elder Jones was thrust 
out also. A wide breach was made in the 
Churches, and the work of the Lord gave place 
to the work of Belial. 

Among other places to which Elder Jones 
was invited, he visited N^ntasket, (now Hull,) 
and witnessed a revival of religion, which em- 
braced in its results every family in the place ; 
and more than half the entire population pro- 
fessed religion, were baptized, and joined the 
church, which was established on fret grounds; 

It had become evident that a church must be 
foitned in Boston, as the*freedoih of the old' 
Baptist churches were greatly restricted. Elder 
Jones felt, also, that for the present^ hb must 
tarry here. He accordingly removed his family 
from Lebanon to Boston, in June, 1804. And 
on Sunday, July 1, of the same year^ a ChrU" 
tian church was constituted in Boston. The 
number of those who first covenanted together 

66 MEMOIR or 

to form this free band of brethren, was but 
seven ; but their numbers increased daily, until 
the church was verjr large. This is the same 
church, which now, after many vicissitudes, 
worships in the Chapel at the corner of Sum- 
mer and Sea Streets. 

Soon after they were excluded from the pul- 
pits of the Baptist churches, a member of 
Dr Stillman's church, brother Henry Wendall, 
hired on his own responsibility, a hall in Bedford 
(then Pond) Street, for which he paid $150 per 
annum. A brother Cole, of Charlestown, like- 
wise opened the upper story of his own dwell- 
ing for conference meetings, etc., which at his 
own expense was comfortably seated. Their 
audiences were quite large, but as they were 
considered disorderly assemblages, the rabble 
felt quite at liberty to disturb and annoy them 
whenever they chose so to do. They were 
greatly disturbed by young men, who went there 
for sport, until they were compelled to appeal 
to the town authorities for protection. The pe- 
tition which was sent in ^^to the Selectmen of 
the town of Boston," is a most curious docu- 
ment, and as it will form a landmark in the pro- 
gress of toleration in our goodly city, I shall in- 
sert It in the Appendix entire.^ 

^Appendix, Note B. 


Although Elder Jones called Boston his home, 
and the church there his peculiar care, he spent 
a large portion of his time in travelling through 
the country, preaching the word, and building up 
churches. Besides visiting all the towns on the 
seaboard often, he made long journeys into the 
interior, visiting New Hampshire, Connecticut, 
Vermont and Maine. Through his whole life, 
he could never remain long at home at any one 
time. His heart yearned to see his old friends, 
or he had a raging desire to see and preach in 
new places, and he was constantly itinerating. 
In his journal he is very minute in giving all the 
details of these journeys ; even to the texts at 
length, and every slight incident of travel. I 
am compelled to pass these entirely by, for the 
reasons, that they would swell this work to an 
enormous sis^, and because they would be ex- 
ceedingly tiresome and unprofitable to the gen- 
eral reader. 

L> January, 1807, Elder Jones moved his 
family to Bradford, near Haverhill, Mass. I 
cannot exactly understand the reason of this re- 
moval, as it is rather obscurely hinted at in his 
journal It seems, however, that Elder Smith, 
who ever seems to have been his evil genius, 
was at the bottom and cause of it. He certain- 
ly had a strong desire to remain in Boston, and 


the church, which wa£» one of his own establish- 
ing, seems to have been greatly desirous of his 
presence and services. 

His removal to Bradford was merely an eco- 
nomical one, not to take charge of the religious 
interests of the church. Indeed there was, as 
yet,, no church there. His family remained in 
Bradford two years, and were then removed to 
the ancient town of Salem. He had labored, 
indeed, for a great portion of this time in Salem ; 
had gathered a church there, and erected a 
small place of worship, in English Street, which 
he called the Christian Tabernach. I believe 
this little Tabernacle— "it was only 20 by 40 feet 
on the ground — was the first chapel erected by 
the people called Christians. I remember it 
well. Humble as it was, it was Ud me, (I was 
then a mere child) the place of the solemn as- 
sembly, and no gorgeous temple was more im- 
posing. Some of my first and deepest religious 
impressions were received in that spot, ever to 
be remembered by many as the house of God 
and the gate of Heaven. 

It may be interesting to the old and early friends 
of Elder Jones, who were co-workers with him 
in the planting of the Church in Salem, tosee 
recorded here, the manner in which the '^door 
was opened" for him to go to that place. I shall 


therefore transcribe a few pages from his journal, 
in this place, relating to that part of his life. 

^^ I had not been one week in Bradford, be- 
fore a door was opened in Salem for my preach- 
ing there, which heretofore as to our preaching, 
was as straitly shut up as Jericho. I had for a 
long tinae been very desirous to get into that an- 
cient town to preach the everlasting Gospel of 
the Son of God ; but could see no way to ac- 
complish it : now the door was open and the cry 
heard, come over and help us. Tuesday, Feb. 
3, 1807, was my first time of preaching in old 
Salem. The meeting was held at the corner of 
Essex and English streets, in a large convenient 
hall, occupied by an Englishman by the name of 
Rajmer, a good warm-hearted Methodist. -My 
text was Luke xiv. 22, ^ Lord, it is done as 
thou has commanded, yet there is room.' The 
audience was respectable in point of numbers 
and appearance, and very attentive. A number 
of singers performed well — I knew not wheth- 
er saints or sinners. In the whole congregation, 
I believe there were but two persons whom I 
had ever before seen. I felt great liberty, and 
the word had effect, as I afterwards learned. 
The circumstances of my going to Salem, where 
I afterwards preached about eleven years and 
six months, at two different periods, were as 

70 MfiMplE OF 

follows. The reformation at Essex, fifteen 
miles from Salem, has already been mentioned. 
A youngster from one of the most respectable 
families in that town, was apprenticed at Salem, 
and visited his friends in the time of that revival. 
He experienced religion, was baptised, and 
joined the Christian Church in Essex. After 
returning to Salem he found himself alone. 
Subsequently he became acquainted with a pious 
old lady, who was a Methodist. At this time 
there was no Methodist Society in town, and 
beside this good old lady, I believe three men 
and their wives composed all the Methodists in 
the place. To the pious old lady's small cot- 
tage, this young convert used to resort for pray- 
er. He told the old pilgrim about the refor- 
mation in Essex, and wished they could have 
such meetings in Salem — he wished Mr Rand 
could preach there — ^Elder John Rand who 
was then preaching in Essex. He was a young 
man who had left Dr Stillman's church, and 
joined the Christian Church in Boston. He 
was highly esteemed for his work in the Lord, 
at that time, and for a number of years continued 
to preach to good acceptance. He was the 
first Christian preacher who was raised up in 
Massachusetts ; Mr Rand came and preached an 
evening lecture ; first at the old Methodist lady's 

▲BMER J0ME8. 71 

cottage. Other doors were soon opened and 
Elder Smith was invited, and came and preach- 
ed, and there began to be a great inquiry about 
this new doctrine. Elders Smith, Rand, and 
noyself now agreed to establish a weekly lecture 
on Thursday evening, and to attend it alter- 

[^' Elder John Rand was ordained in Boston, 
Nov. 6, 1806, by Elders Elias Smith, Joseph 
Boody, and myself. Both the above named 
Elders have left preaching as well as he who re- 
ceived ordination. Elder Boody- I b e came ac- 
quainted with in Vermont, the year before I com- 
menced preaching. He was then young, active 
and full of zeal, his voice was strong as a Lion's 
and he often extended it to its utmost pitch, 
which finally injured his health, and spoiled his 
voice. When I saw him last his voice was so 
far gone, that it was with great difficulty he could 
raise it loud enough to be heard in public. I 
am sorry to add, Uiat when Elder Smith em- 
braced the ^ destruction scheme,' Elder Boody 
followed him, and now professes to be an Uni- 

** We will now return to Salem. Messrs. 
Smith and Rand, for some reason, never made 
it convenient to attend to our weekly lecture, so 
the responsib^ity of keeping it up fell on me en- 


tirely — they both however preached there occa- 
sionally. In two weeks from my first appoint- 
ment in Salem, I preached there again, at the 
house of Thomas SaJ^rd, a Congregational 
brother. • The meeting was in a large upper loft 
in his dwelling house. 

" When in Portsmouth, the week before, I de- 
sfared the brethren to hold a prayer meeting on 
the same evening of my appointment, which was 
accordingly done. I preached from Psalms 
Ixi. 2, ^Lead me to the Rock, that is higher 
than I.' The services were very impressive, 
and many in tears. Towards the close of my 
sermon, I mentioned the prayer meeting in 
Portsmouth, appointed that evening for the di- 
rect purpose of praying for the outpouring of the 
^Spirit of God in Salem. I then observed, that 
it was probable that the brethren in Portsmouth 
were at that moment on their knees, praying that 
God would pour out his Spirit in Salem. These 
observations seemed very sensibly to impress 
the congregation, and many who attentively 
heard before with dry eyes now burst into tears. 
Some were awakened in this meeting. 

^^ At the close of this meeting I appointed a 
another at brother Rayner's, for the next eve- 
mng. The next afternoon I was invited to take 
tea with a friend, where I found five ladies in 


distress of mind. I took down their names, as 
those who wished to be rennembered in prayer 
for their soul's salvation. This was my uniform 
course in revivals. Preached in the evening ac- 
cording to appointment, from Isaiah Iv. 6, ^ Seek 
ye the Lord while he may be found, and call upon 
him while he is near.' The hall was full, and all 
appeared as solemn as eternity. The work of 
the Lord was evidently going on. The next 
week, on Tiiursday evening, March 5, 1 preach- 
ed at Mrs Patterson's house in English street, 
Luke XV. 24, ^ He was lost and is found again.' 
The people began to flock together very early, 
the house was soon crowded full, and many peo- 
ple could not get in and went away. This be- 
gan to stir up people to procure a larger place to 
meet in. The season was a most impressive 
one, a great part of the assembly was in tears." 

As yet Elder Jones had not even thought of 
fixing himself permanently in Salem, nor for two 
months from the time of his first going there had 
there been a meeting on the Sabbath. During 
this time also he rode and preached in all the 
towns round about. 

^^ In the course of these two months I have ' 

preached in Haverhill, Bradford, New Rowley, 

(now Georgetown), Boxford, Lynn, Boston, 

Nantasket, Essex, Kingston, Hampton, North 



Hampton, Hampton Falls and Portsmouth, — 
having preached in February 21 times, and in 
March 34 times ; besides riding some hundreds 
of miles." 

Sometime in April, 1807, the humble meeting 
house was erected, and occupied in May follow- 
ing, when Elder Jones concluded to become the 
overseer of the infant church in Salem, and 
moved his family thither immediately. 

It was in April, while his family still resided 
in Bradford, that the house he occupied was 
struck with lightning. He and his wife were at 
Salem on a visit at the time of the occurrence 
and thus escaped the exposure. The house was 
very much shattered, the furniture broken, and 
his eldest daughter was stricken down and slightly 
burned, but escaped without any essential in- 

It must not be supposed 'that the 'whole, or 
\ principal part of Elder Jones' time and labor 
was given to the new flock at Salem. In con- 
junction with Elders Smith and Rand, he had 
also the care of a dozen others, in the places 
above named. This kept him constantly travel- 
ling and preaching. Salem was a central point 
around which he moved, but he preached six 
times elsewhere while he preached in Salem 
once. Churchef were formed in almost all the 


places of which I have spoken, and he felt that 
he could not well suffer a month to pass between 
his visits to either of them. Revivals were in 
progress in each of thetn, and the new and liberal 
views which were inculcated, added to the zeal- 
ous manner in which they were promulgated, 
drew l^rge audiences, and of a very mixed char- 
acter. The old sects looked on with suspicion, 
and raised* the cry of fanaticism and wildfire. 
*' JVecmtters," and " RunagateSj^^ I recollect, 
were favorite expressions. Many young men 
attended out of curiosity, and as the police was 
not then as vigorous as now, they often carried 
their sport to a very troublesome extent. This 
was particularly the case in Salem. 

I kave spoken of the disturbances which 
sometimes occurred at that place and others. I 
have a very distinct recollection of them. 
They were attributed to the devil at the time, 
but I am not clear that the evil manifestation was 
not where they littlo dreamed of looking for it. 
I am sure that the confusion generally began in- 
side the house, and so believed Elder Jones, in 
after years. I find allusion to this subject in 
his journal, at a much later period, and some ex- 
ceedingly judicious advice respecting it. Al- 
though I am aware that many of his brethren 
did not coincide in his views, and do not, even 

76 MEMOIR or 

DOW, I shall insert them here, as I know they 
were intended for the eye of his brethren, and 
that very many will heartily concur in them. 

After speaking of the declension of the church 
in Boston, and some of the causes of it, he at- 
tributes it mainly, after all, to a want of thor- 
ough organization. And this was the case, he 
says, in most of the churches. The brethren 
mistook their liberty for license^ and things were 
not conducted in that order which the New 
Testament enjoins, and which is essential to suc- 
cess. He then goes on to say. 

*' The great Head of the Church has ordained 
that there shall be Elders in every church ; 
neither can any church prosper long at a time, 
without a Pastor, or Elder. For lack of this 
our early churches suffered much, nor was it 
possible for us to take proper care of our church- 
es. This caused many to go over to the Bap- 
tists, and Methodists, that they might thereby 
enjoy the blessing of a constant ministry . Many 
wandered from the fold into the world for the 
want of being well taken care of; so upon the 
whole, on this ground we have been very great 
losers. It was a favorite doctrine in all our 
early churches that there were gifts in the 
church, such as prayer and exhortation, which 
ought to be improved in public meetings, as well 


as those of preaching. This doctrine I now firm- 
ly believe. But in those early days, I am con- 
strained to say that in the injudicious use of this 
privilege great evil was done. For it is cer- 
tain that many who had not gifts to speak eith- 
er to the edification of saints, or the convic- 
tion of sinners, were the most forward to occupy 
the time, and such become a great burthen to 
the church, and gave the enemy great occasion 
to blaspheme. If any attempt was made to cor- 
rect such an evil, the cry was immediately made, 
' You want to take away our liberties, you want 
to bring us into bondage, you want to be popu- 
lar, you want to be a Lord over God's heritage,' 
&c. &c. The question will now arise, how 
shall this evil be remedied in such a manner as 
not to stop the exercise of these valuable gifts ? 
Answer. Let the church judge of these gifts 
as they do of preaching gifts, and also ap- 
prove the same. If a brother says, ' God has 
called me to preach, the church does not ap- 
prove or hear such a brother, unless they- can 
discover preaching gifts in him. In the same 
manner let the church judge impartially of all 
gifts. I do not believe that every mai\, women^ 
and child who are converted, have gifts to speak 
in public meetings. Circumstances have often 
opcurred like the following. The sermon has 

78 MEMOIR or 

been delivered in a most solemn, spiritual and 
judicious manner. Saints have been made hap* 
jy, and sinners have been solemnly impressed. 
But a weak brother or sister arises, merely be- 
cause they feel happy and want to express it. 
Yet they can say nothing to edification, and the 
good impressions are often injured. But it is 
said such an one has as good right as any other, 
aodjie ought to speak to clear his own mind. 
But let us remember that the true object of 
speaking is not to edify ourselves, but to edify 

" 1 have never questioned the piety, and good 
intentions of such brethren ; but to me there is 
a deep importance to be attached to the charge, 
that every thing should be done decently and in 
order. Saint Paul says, that though many 
things are perfectly lawful, they are not expe- 

^' I do not speak with authority on this point. 
I have no disposition to shackle any man's 
mind, or to deprive him of his testimony. 
But it does seem to ii)e that there is a fit- 
ness in all things pertaining to the Church of 
Christ, and I would add my dying, to my living 
testimony against a practice, which I have no 
doubt has caused many a schism among breth- 
ren, broken up Churches, and hindered the 

ABNEE J0ME4. 79 

work of God. 1 know that many of my breth- 
ren sympathise with me in this ; although I am 
aware that many /others think that what I have 
reconimended would be inconsistent with the 
freedom we possess. 

'^ To such let me say, there is a heaven-wide 
difference between liberty to do what is right 
and proper and seemly, and liberty to do what 
is wrong and unseemly. One is freedom ; the 
other license. Wholesome restraint is perfect- 
ly consonent with true freedom — indeed there 
can be no true freedom without it, for liberty 
without restraint is anarchy. No man has free- 
dom to infringe the freedom of any other man. 
Now if an injudicious brother or sister, in the 
full enjoyment of what he, or she, calls liberty, 
usurps the time and freedom of others, then 
he,, or she, is bound to submit to such restraints 
as the majority demand in order to their enjoy - 
mept of liberty and peace. And if they have 
not discretion enough to know when they are 
misusing their liberty, where is. the impropriety 
that the church, through its elders, should sub- 
ject them to such restraints as the peace, enjoy- 
ment and freedom of the bpdy require } 
^ '' But I leave the subject here ; believing that 
if I am right, the thing will work itself out by 
aqd by, and if I am wrong, time will prove that 


also. Indeed I rejoice to believe that a grtat 
change for the better has already taken place in 
this respect, and I hope yet before I die to se« 
still more to confirm me in the views above sta- 

The reformation which commenced in the 
little flock in English street, soon spread into 
the other societies ; first into the Baptist, then 
into the Congregationalists. The result of this 
extensive revival of religion was the conversion 
of many hundreds, and their addition to the 
churches. It is curious here to observe, that 
while the *' revival" was confined to the hum- 
ble flock which worshipped in the small Taber* 
nacle in English street, the other sects denounc- 
ed it as delusion, and their ministers decried 
it from the pulpit. '^ But as soon as it extend- 
ed to their people," says Elder Jones, " it was 
the unquestionable work of God." 

The Society was small and poor, but, adds 
the Journal of its early Pastor, " generous as 
the air we breathe." They however, could by 
no means support their minister and his family. 
He was accordingly compelled to resort to some 
secular engagement, in order to subsist. While 
he travelled from one point to another, he and 
his horse were fed by the bounty of individual 
friends, and his wardrobe occasionally supplied 


in the same way. But when he settled down and 
resolved to spend all his time in any one place, 
he was compelled to seek some kind of employ- 
ment for a livelihood, which could be pursued 
without interfering with his multiplied pastoral 
labors. Accordingly in the winter of 1809-10, 
he opened in his own hired house a day school 
for the study of the common branches of educa- 
tion, and an evening school to teach sacred music. 

Thus then, he labored, six hours in each of 
the six days of the week,' in school ; three 
evenings in singing school and three in religious 
meetings, besides preaching three tinies on 
each Sabbath, and oftentimes riding for that 
purpose forty or fifty miles. 

About this time there crept into the church 
controversies about the freedom of church mem- 
bers. A few troublesome persons had attached 
themselves to the church, who were continually 
fermenting discord. " They professed, "says 
Elder Jones, in his Journal, '^ to be governed 
by the Spirit^ and 2l most perverse spirit it was." 
It was unfortunate for the church, that the 
" spirit," whatever it was, was not laid early, 
for it increased in power, until, in 1821, it di- 
vided the church into two parties, both g^ 
which have since dissolved and disappeared. 

In June, 1811, Elder Jones took a journey 


into the Southern part of Massachusetts, and 
attended, at Assonet village, in Freetown, a gen- 
eral meeting of the Christian Brethren. This 
is the ^9^ meeting of the kind of which he has 
spdcen. Whether it was the first in the con- 
nexion, or not, I cannot tell, but have thought it 
of sufficient importance to extract a passage 
from the journal in relation to it. 

" In June, 1811, made my first visit to the 
South part of this State. Attended a general 
meeting at Assonet' Village, and preached the 
ordaining Sermon of Elder Benjamin Tay- 
lor ; who was formerly a member of the Salem 
church. A very great collection of people 
attended, and it was a heavenly season. 
The Assonet church was large and flourishing, 
and had a good Meeting House. Elder Philip 
Hathaway was then their preacher and well en- 
gaged. The church had formerly been a Bap- 
tist church, but had several years before this 
left the Baptist name and all creeds, and came 
over and joined the Christian connexion. It 
was at this meeting that I formed the first happy 
acquaintance with the venerable Elder Daniel 
EUx of Dartmouth, who had recently renounced 
all party names and united with us." 

After returning to Salem j and preaching there 
and in the region round about, until early in the 

▲BNER JQKyiJ. 93 

winter of lBi2. be determined to leave Salejn* 
He had two reasons for so doing. First, be bad 
become conv/inced that bis usefulness in Salem 
was very much circumscribed from the causes 
above alluded to ; and secondly, ^' an open door 
presented in another quarter." But I will 1^ 
him speak for himself. 

"The forepart of this winter, I received a 
unanimous invitation to go to Portsmouth and 
vbecome their preacher ; and after many weeks 
consideration, and after asking counsel of God> 
I became convinced tliat it was best to go ; 
although it was very hard parting with Salem 
friends ; notwithstanding a few crooked sticlj^s 
who were doubtless glad to get me out of their 
way. In Feburary, I made a visit of two weejk;;s^ 
among my Portsmouth friends, and finally con- 
cluded to move my family thither in the spring; 
which accordingly I did, about the last of March* 

" I will here take the liberty to^elate an exer- 
cise of my mind, while returning from my first 
visit to Portsmouth. When I started for Sa- 
lem, I intended to go directly home, but I soon 
began to feel a strong disposition to go to Braid* 
ford. As I travelled on, my mind was more 
and more impressed with the idea of going to 
Bradford, until I arrived at Salisbury, where two 
ways met. I must now make up my mind whiqb 

34 MEMOIR or 

way to go. I bad made my arrangements to 
be at bome>tbat ^ay, and I could not be willing 
to gi\re it up, for I bad no distinct object in 
going to Bradford. I raised many objections 
against going. A beavy snow bad fallen, and 
the travelling was bad. 1 wanted to get bome 
and see my family. It looked like perfect non- 
sense to go tbitber I knew not for wbat, only 
because T happened to bave a feeling as tbougb 
I must go ; for I bad no appointment, nor any 
expectation of preaching. But all this would 
not silence tbe impression ; which finally prevail- 
ed, and off I turned for Bradford, still saying to 
myself, I am going on " Tom-fooVs errand.^'* 
After taking the Bradford road, I found tbe 
snow deep, the track but poorly broken, and tbe 
travelling dull and beavy. I could not help 
calhng in question whether I was not playing 
ihefooly in going thither. I took a retrospect 
of my past life, since having began to preach. 
What a strange life ! I bad wandered in the 
wilderness among the poor. Travelled the hill- 
country, and traversed tbe wide plains. I bad 
spent more than ten years of tbe very flower of my 
life. Already bad I spent hundreds of dollars 
out my ov^n pocket, more than I had ever re- 
ceived, and what good had I done ; and now I 
am going to Bradford /ool like^ T know not for 

▲BNER J0KE8. 8§ 

what. Be assured, roader, that I felt foolish 
enough. How humbling to native pride to be 
entirely devoted to God, and how much we need 
humbling. How strait is the way to heaven, 
and eternal life. Wild enthusiasm will turn you 
out on one side of the path, and on the other, 
if we disobey the real impressions of God's 
^Spirit, we must spiritually die. 

" While thus musing, the following lines came 
into my mind, to which I gave the name of the 


1. I know roy labors in the Lord, 
While I am trusting in his word ; 
Shall never, never be in vain — 
He does my feeble soul sustain. 

2. The word which saith, go, preach repent, 
This is the work for which Pm sent. 
Sweet cordial words " Lo I'm with you," 
Bear up my soul the rough way through. 

3. The word saith, << feed my lambs, and sheepy 
With them rejoice, and with them weep ; 
Water the garden of the Lord, 

And you shall feast upon his word." 

4. When through deep trials like Saint Paul, 
My pathway leads me there to fall, 

To God m look, by constant prayer, 
Till clouds blow dS with a clear air* 

86 mheImoir 0/ 

5 Then to the business of the day, 
In all I do to watch and pray, 

In sorrow i^ough and sow my seedj 

Leave all with Christ, my course he'll speed. 

6 All in due season I shall reap. 
Though while I'm sowing here, I weep. 
Great things I'll say the Lord hath done. 
Through him the victor's crown I've won. 

" I sung the hymn as I rode along, all except- 
ing the last stanza, which I afterwards added 
while riding in a snow storm. I arrived at 
Bradfordjust as it was growing dark. The 
question was immediately put by a brother, will 
you preach this evening ? the answer was affirm- 
ative. A horse was harnessed and a man set off 
full speed to notify the people. A considera? 
ble number soon collected, and the Lord gave 
the word in power. From that very evening a 
reformation began and continued through the 
winter, spring and summer. 

^^ After this I made it a general rule to preach 
in Bradford once in two weeks, while the re-, 
formation continued. A goodly number were 
brought into the fold of Christ at this time. 
And among others, Charles O. Kimball, now 
pastor of the Baptist church in Methuen. This 
worthy man was then a lad of thirteen, when I 
first visited Bradford, living with his grandfather, 


Frances Kimball; whdj» with his wife were 
among the 6rst nine whom I baptised in that 
town. This was one of my good homes as 
long as he lived. Charles was always very at- 
tentrve to my horse ; I used to say to him, 
Charles, take good care of my horse, and when 
you get to be a minister, and come to my house, 
I will take good care of yours. Since he was 
a preacher he called at my house, but I could 
not redeem my pledge, for I was not at home, 
for which I was very sorry." 

It was in (he spring of 1813, as I think — 
for the regular journal of Elder Jones is here 
interrupted — that he removed his family to 
Portsmouth. He found the church and society 
ifeeble, and religion in general in a very low 
state. His tarry in Portsmouth was but of 
two years' duration, in which time, although 
not much occurred of interest to him, many 
memorable events took place. The war, then 
but recently declared upon Great Britain by the 
United States, was raging fiercely on the New 
England coast, and Portsmouth suffered its full 
share of the excitement and evil. The place 
was completely blockaded by the British fleet 
for a number of months, and the inhabitants were 
greatly distressed, and lived in a constant state of 
terror. Alarms were frequent, and the town pre- 
sented the constant appearance of a beseiged city. 


Several regiments of troops were quartered 
upon the town, and provisions became exceed- 
ingly scarce and dear. Those who could leave 
(heir affairs, had already removed to a safer re- 
treat, while many others were ready, with their 
household stuff ready packed, to start at the first 
booming of the enemy's cannon. Among these 
was Elder Jones. 

When the enemy appeared off the town there 
Were scarcely any bulwarks of defence to repel the 
attack of so formidable a foe, and I remember 
the consternation which prevailed. L think it 
was on Saturday. The next day the churches 
were closed, for the worshippers were all draft- 
ed to turn out and throw up redoubts on the 
most defensible points at the entrance of the 
town. There was a general turn out from all 
professions and avocations, and without respect 
to the day. In the evening, however, the 
churches were opened and thronged, and many 
a prayer was raised to the '* God of battles," 
that he would scatter their foes, and send them 

The muse of Elder Jones "was propitious on 
the great occasion, and I refer the reader to the 

Appendix tfor the result.* 


*See Appendix, Note C. 


In the midst of all this distress, the horrors of 
the scene were dreadfully increased by an aw- 
ful conflagration, which burned down a large 
part of the town, and rendered many families, 
no( only houseless, but penniless. Nearly three 
hundred dwelling houses were consumed, and 
nearly four hundred families were turned into 
the streets in one of the coldest nights of De- 

" It was," says Elder Jones, who was an eye 
witness to the whole scene, and rendered very 
e£Bcient help on the occasion, by his remarka- 
ble presence of mind and great activity in sav- 
ing property and life — and whose daring gener- 
osity nearly cost him his own life during that 
awful night — '^ it was indeed a deplorable sight. 
Whole streets presented a double line of flame, 
or a dark and confused mass of smouldering 
ruins. The goods and furniture either perished 
in the buildings, or were only thrown into the 
street to make a bonfire by themselves. Wo- 
men and children, with dishevelled hair, and 
eyes that spoke too plainly their grief and terror, 
ran shrieking through the burning streets, either 
in search of some relative or friend, or too de- 
mented to have any definite object in view. 
Here was a distracted mother desparingly call- 
ing on her husband and children, there the heart- 



broken father and husband inquiring for his wife 
and children ; and the little ones wandering to 
and fro, piteously crying for their parents* 
Some, again, were gazing on the ruin going on all 
around them in a perfect stupor of grief and sur- 
prise. No tear bedewed their clieek, no sound 
escaped the lips, no motion was made by any 
member of their bodies, and they started not at 
the fearful crash of falling houses, or the hoarse 
cry of the brazen-throated firemen. 

^^ A police was organized as soon as the coo- 
fusion would permit. Property was protected 
as far as was practicable, and all the children 
who were found destitute of protection were 
picked up and taken to a place of safety. 

^^ Many were the maternal bosoms who mourn- 
ed their little ones as dead, in the awful gloom 
of that memorable night. What a joy then to 
behold the scene which opened the morning of 
the next day ! The children were all assem- 
bled in the town Hall, to the number of a hun- 
dred or more, and the crier sent forth with his 
bell to announce to all whose children were 
missing, that they were waiting for their appear- 
ance. Then flocked the weeping parents to the 
spot, hoping and fearing. Oh ! what a meeting 
was that, and what pen shall essay the vain at- 
tempt to describe it ! Not a child was missing 


and not one but found its parents. In all 
that dreadful burning not a human life was lost, 
and but one person suffered the fracture of a 

^^ During all this time the British fleet was rid- 
ing at anchor in sight of the town, but made no 
attempt to enter it. It was known that the fire 
was the hellish work of incendiaries, and many 
supposed that they were the emissaries of the 

^^ This year was also remarkable for its being 
the commencement of a series of cold and back- 
ward seasons which found a fit termination in the 
ever memorable cold summer of 1816. These 
and the war, as may well be supposed, produced 
a season of great scarcity, in which provisions 
of all kinds were very dear, and the poor were 
much pinched. Cloth of all descriptions, was 
also very high, so that I found it exceedingly 
difiicult to live very comfortably. The society 
was small and the members of it generally poor, 
and were unable to do by me as their generous 
hearts would prompt." 

Manufactories then were few in number, and 
those few very much embarrassed ; and much 
of the cloth worn at this time was spun and woven 
by hand. About this time Elder Jones made a 
tour into New Hampshire and Vermont; for be 

02 MEMOIR or 

could DO more make Portsmouth his home, than 
he had Boston aud Salem before it. While on 
this journey he purchased a piece of cloth, and 
**on returning," he says, " I had myself and 
every member of my ftfmily clad from head to 
foot in a dress of homespun, and a very good 
dress it was." 

He was prompted to this not only on the score 
of economy, but by patriotism. He says ; — 

*^ On deciding to make the tour, I found a 
new coat was needed, so out I went in search 
of a piece of cloth for the purpose. I travelled 
nearly half over town, and went into nearly all 
the shops, but found that the price of cloths had 
more than doubled since I last purchased a coat» 
I could not and would not pay the exorbitant 
price, as it seemed to me, and I resolved from 
that time that I would not, nor suffer any of my 
family to purchase a foreign imported article of 
dress, while the war lasted — a resolution which I 
religiously kept. So I went home, picked out 
the best among my old coats, had it brushed up^ 
turned, and new buttoned, and started on my 
journey without my new coat." 

I have spoken of his straitened circumstan- 
ces, during his residence in Portsmouth. There 
were seasons when he hardly knew how to pro- 
cure bread enough for the day before him. I 

▲BIffi» JONBS. 18 

cannot forbear relating an incident to which he 
used often to refer, to illustrate his favorite doc- 
trine, that God would especially provide for\ 
such as devoted themselves to the work of hia 
appointment. It is also illustrative of his char- 
acter in other respects. He was compelled, 
from the dribbling character of his remuneration, 
which was taken weekly in the form of contri- 
butions— ^how well do I remember the anxiety 
we all felt on Sunday afternoon, on coming 
out of church, to know the amount of our toetM 
scUary ! sometimes not reaching even a dollar— 
to live as the phrase is, ^^ from hand to mouth," 
seldom having more than a three days stock of 
provision on hand. 

"On Saturday morning," — how often I have 
beard the good old man relate the dtory, which^ 
however, it might affect others, never failed to 
bring tears into his own eyes — " as I was sit- 
ting in my study, pondering the poverty of my 
condition, my wife came in with her accustom* 
ed inquiry of ^ well, Mr Jones, what shall we 
have for dinner ?' adding, ^ we have not a grain 
of meal,^ — flour was out of the question — n or 
a particle of meat of any kind in the house. 
Then the sugar is out, there is no butter, and in 
fact there is nothing to eat, and tomorrow is 
Sunday.' So saying she quit the room, leaving 


me in such a state of mind as may well be con- 
ceived, when 1 say that a solitary one dollar 
bank note, was the only money I had on eartht 
and no prospect whaterer appeared of getting 
any until the accustomed weekly contribution 
should be put in my hands. And what would 
a single dollar do at the prevailing high prices, 
towards feeding seven hungry mouths for two 
whole days ? I saw no way of escape, and id 
the agony of spirit which may well be guessed, 
I lifted up my heart in supplication to Him who 
feed^th the ravens when they cry. And a siit' 
gxJar answer to my prayer I seemed speedily to 
attain. ' 

^^ I had just risen from my knees, when my 
wife again appeared at the door, all unconscious 
of the struggle which was going on within me, 
and ushered a gentleman into my study. His 
whole appearance was of that shabby genteel 
which betokens a* broken-do wn gentleman, and 
from the first moment of beholding him, I 
took him to my confidence as unfortunate 
but not debased. ^ Sir/ said he, ^ I am a 
stranger to you, and you are utterly so to me^ 
save that I once heard you preach in ■ s 

My home is in that place — if indeed I may now 
claim a home. I sailed from that port nearly 
a year since, with all my earthly possessions 


embarked in a promisiog adventure. My ship 
Tell into the hands of the enemy and I became a 
prisoner, my property of course became lawful 
plunder. After suffering many hardships and 
much indignity, I effected my escape on board 
a vessel bound to St. John. From that place 
to this I have worked my way along with in- 
credible fatigue and pain. *I have suffered much 
from hunger, cold and wet, and have slept many 
a night in the open woods. And here I am, in 
one word. Sir, penniless^ and altogether too 
much worn down to proceed further without 

aid. I have friends in , to whom I am 

pressing on as fast as I can, and who will relieve 
my necessities when I reach them. I am an 
utter stranger in your town, and you are the 
only person I ever knew or saw in the whole 
phce. I cannot beg, and I feel entirely reluc- 
tant to ask a loan of an utter stranger.' 

" Here was a struggle. / was poor, very 
poor ; but here was one poorer than I. I had 
a hungry family to feed — so had he ; and more, 
a heart-broken one, who were even now mourn- 
ing him as dead. I could hesitate no longer. 
I thrust my hand mechanically into my pocket, 
and pulling out my last dollar, which I pressed 
upon the unfortunate mariner — for he could 
hardly be persuaded to take it, when he knew 


bow low my finances were,— I blessed bim in 
God's name, and be left me witb no words of 
tbanks ; but I knew that, bad I from sl/uU purse 
bestowed a liberal sum, be could not have /eft 
more grateful. 

*^ Wben be bad gone, and absolute hunger for 
me and mine, stared me full in the face, I be- 
gan to doubt the propriety of my act in taking 
the very bread from my children's mouths to 
feed a stranger. But it was now too late to re- 
pent. The last dollar was gone and my chil- 
dren must go dinnerless and supperless to bed. 
For myself I cared nothing, but how would my 
family bear this unusual fasting i I seized my 
hat and cane and rushed into the street to escape 
from my own thoughts, which had become too 
painful to endure. I knew not— cared no^ 
whither I should bend my steps. 

^^ As I walked moodily and mechanically on, 
' thinking o'er all the bitterness' of my situation, 
suddenly the thought came into my mind: — 
' why should I despond ? Have I ever gone hun- 
gry ^^ even for a day — me and mine ? Has not 
the Lord provided hitherto ? And will he not 
in time to come ? — in the present time ?' I had 
scarcely concluded this soliloquy, when one of 
* my neighbors, whom I knew to be a Universa- 
hst, and whom I had occasionally seen at our 


meetings— the members of bis family came fre- 
quently — ^accosted me with, ' good morning, Mr 
Jones. I have been thinkmg for some time 
past that I ought to discharge a debt I owe you.' 
I was not aware, I replied, that you had incur- 
red such an obligation. ' O, but I have,' said 
be, ^ my family goes occasionally to hear you 
preach, and once in a while I go myself. Now 
as the laborer is worthy of his hire, and as I wish 
no man to labor for me without pay, I beg you 
will accept this trifle as in part a liquidation of 
the debt. 

^' The ^ trifle,^ was a five dollar note, which 
I received with feelings, that I will not mock 
by attempting to describe. I returned to my 
house, and after again falling on my knees, bum- 
bled und^ a sense of my want of confidence in 
God, and grateful for his goodness to me, all 
unworthy as I felt myself to be ; I sallied forth 
to the market, and soon came back ladened 
with the things necessary to our comfort." 

This prolific year was also remarkable for a 
growth of fanaticism. Many turned prophets^ 
and great things were predicted — awful conflagra- 
tions, terrible slaughter of our armies, the subju- 
gation of our Republic, the second coming of 
the Messiah, and the end of the world. Among 
others of that day who were found like Saul of 


old, among the number of the prophets, was one 
Nimrod Hughes, of Virginia. 

<^ He prophecied that on a certain day in 
June, one third of the inhabitants of the United 
States, would be destroyed by a terrible tem- 
pest. He said his prophecy would be treated 
just as the people treated Noah's prophecy con- 
cerning the deluge, and that it would be equally 
true, and when it should come, he should see 
people flying through the air and crying, now 
we know that Hughes' prophecy is true. This 
frightened many people, who feared it would ac- 
tually be so. Several inquired of me to know 
what I thought of it. I told them that one part 
of it was true, viz: that it would be treated as 
the people treated Noah's prophecy of the del- 
uge ; for I was one of them, and that if Hughes' 
prophecy was true, on that day I should be de- 
stroyed ; but that I did not believe a word of it." 

*^ [ have been informed while in the State of 
New York, that the following circumstances 
gave rise to Hughes' prophecy. As the ac- 
count was related to me, the said Nimrod was 
a dealer in leather, and failing in business, and 
not being able to pay his debts, was imprisoned 
therefor. And that a certain wicked priest sug- 
gested the idea to Nimrod of writing this proph- 
ecy, that the sale thereof might enable him to 


pay his debts. This priest assisted him in 
hatching this fiery flying serpent, and so it was 
printed — the profits of which soon released poor 
Nimrod from prison. I have seen a whimsical 
ballad setting forth these circumstances." 

In the autumn of 1814} owing to the invasion, 
and the constant surprise and alarms which on thai 
account prevailed, as well as to that spirit of travel 
wluch would not lot him remain long at home^ 
Elder Jones thought it best to remove his family to 
a place of more security. He accordingly hired 
a bouse in Stratham, ten miles from Portsmouth, 
where his family resided for a year. During this 
year he was at home but little, making several 
extensive journeys ; visiting and confirming the 
churches and preaching the glad tidings of sal- 

On one of these journeys he spent some time 
in Hopkinton, N. H., then the shire town of 
the county, and a place of much promise. The 
church was destitute of a stated ministry and he 
was invited to remain and take the charge of it. 
After prayerfully considering it, he decided to 
go there, and accordingly moved his family 
thither some time in November, A. D. 1816> 
I remember well that removal and some parti- 
cular circumstances in connexion therewith. It 
80 happened that, owing to a storm of snow 

100 MEMOIR Of 

which prevented our journeying, we were com* 
pelled to travel a few miles on Sabbath morning, 
in order to reach the place and enable htm to 
fuIBll an engagement. Sabbath riding, in those 
palmy days of tything men and Sunday police, 
was not as common as in these degenerate times, 
and a great deal of pious horror was expressed. 
Indeed so strong was the feeling of indignation 
in certain circles, that it became doubtful wheth- 
er he would ever be restored to favor. But like 
other things of the kind, after being a '^ nine 
days' wonder," it was displaced by other topics 
and forgotten. 

Elder Jones moved into the same house with 
deacon Philip Brown, then an efficient member 
of the church, but afterwards much more so. 
At this time he was a watch-maker and jeweller, 
at which occupation he toiled honestly and la^ 
boriously for a livelihood. In those days it was 
not thought an act of obliquity to enter largely 
into that destructive species of gambling cdled 
lotteries. Now it so happened that one of the 
deacon's tickets turned him up the handsome 
prize of twentyfive thousand dollars, which it 
niust be confessed he turned to very good pul^ 
poses. He was at that time a very good friend 
of Elder Jones, and they were hand-and-gkive 
in all matters pertaining to the course of liberal 

. / 


theology io that place ; although in the end he 
was the chief instrument of driYing him from his 
pulpit and the town, and of introducing calvinis- 
tic preaching into his place. At any rate the 
church became a Baptist church and remains so 
to this day. 

I find but very little in the rettgiotts history 
of Elder Jones during the seven years he resid- 
ed in Hopkinton. There is a complete hiatus 
io his journal for ten or twelve years from this 
period, and which I am compelled to supply 
from my own memory and such data as I can 
obtain from his family and friends. There were 
several events, however, which are among the 
most conspicuous of his life and which I think 
quite worthy of being recorded in this brief me- 

The winter of 1815, was remarkable for the 
appearance in many parts of the United States, 
of that terrible scourge^ the " Spotted Fever,'* 
or " Cold Plague," which spread terror through- 
out the whole land, and cut off more of our cit- 
izens than the bloody war then nearly at its close. 
This disease made its appearance, among other 
places, in Hopkinton, apd it was the means of 
bringing Elder Jones into considerable notoriety 
and extensive medical practice. It happened 
this wise ;-'— and was ever attributed by him to 
a Providential interposition. 

lOfi MEMOill OF 

The winter ' was, as many who read these 
pages will sadly remember, an unusually severe 
one. The snow fell early and deep, and lay on 
the ground untif late in the Spring, which was 
succeeded by the coldest summer on record in 
the history of New England. 

Deerfield, in N. H., is situated nearly thirty 
miles from Hopkinton, in an easterly direction. 
, The practising and principle physician residing 
there, was one Doctor Graves, an old and inti- 
mate friend of Elder Jones, and if L do not mis- 
take, a fellow student with him at Hanover. 

One of the coldest evenings in December of 
that terrible winter, as we were all sitting around 
our fire, having but just concluded our evening 
meal, we were conscious of having a visitor, by 
the jingling of sleigh bells as some one drove 
into the yard at a spanking rate. Presently a 
loud rap at the door announced his determina- 
tioR to seek entrance. Elder Jones went to the 
door and found a stranger there muffled to the 
eyes in furs, and having the appearance of hav- 
ing travelled far, as his hair and whiskers were 
heavily covered with frost, and his face of that 
purple hue which is produced by long exposure 
to the keen northwest winds of our New Eng- 
land winters. 

^^Does Doctor Jones live here.^'' inquired 
the stranger. 

ABNER J0NS8. 103 

<^ I am Elder Jones," he replied. 

^^ Well, Doctor, or Elder, I've a message for 

^^ Walk in," said Elder Jones, and speedily 
he was ushered into the little parlor, where we 
so comfortably occupied our various situations. 

^^Will you be seated, sir, and let me take 
your bat ? 

** No, sir," was the stranger's reply, '* not un- 
til I have delivered my message, which is too im- 
portant long to delay." 

**Well, sir, go on then," said Elder Jones, 
who began to think the man somewhat demented, 
and thus humored him that he might be the 
sooner rid of him. The man went on. * 

**Icome, sir, from Dr Graves, of Deer- 
field, who, he tells me, is an early friend of yours. 
Our little town is suffering all the horrors of that 
awful pestilence, the spotted fever. Dr Graves 
is nearly dead himself with fatigue, and many of 
the sick actually die before he can see them. 
He must have assistance or the mortality will be 
awful. He knows no one whom he can trust in 
this fearful disease except yourself, and he has 
enjoined it on me neither to eat, or sleep, until I 
have solemnly conjured you to come down and 
lend him a hand in his work of life. Will you 

go r 


'<I cannot, it is not possible that I should." 

<* If you have one particle of humanity in 
your bosom, (and if Dr Graves has not strangely 
belied you, I have large grounds of appeal) let 
me beseech you not to give me a denial." 

^<I cannot g0|" again answered Elder Jones. 
** I have entirely given up the practice of medi- 
cine, and have nearly forgotten what I once knew 
concerning it. I should not dare to commence 
practice without considerable study ; and be- 
side, I have utterly abandoned the profession, 
and do not mean to return to it. I am a 
preacher of the gospel. I have charge of this 
religious people, and I have no right to leave 
them destitute. Besides, I cannot leave my 
family so long in this inclement season unprovi- 
ded and uncared for. In one word I ctmnot go, 
and it will be utterly useless for you to urge me 
further on this subject." 

The messenger returned on the morrow. But 
in just one week from that evening, in as clear 
and bleak a night as one would wish to see, when 
the very atmosphere rang like a bell from the 
slightest concussion, we were all roused from our 
slumbers by a thundering knock at the door, and 
which proved to be from the self-sarqe messen- 
ger, whose unsuccessful visit I have just related. 
He had come, he said, with the solemn injunc 


tion never to return without Doctor Jones. The 
fever had increased to a degree truly terrific. 
From four to seven died daily, and the day be- 
fore (Sunday) there were five corpses carried 
into the church for funeral service. At first the 
Doctor declared in the most positive terms, he 
could not go. But after a while finding he 
could not get rid of the importunity of the man, 
be told him he would go in two, or three days, 
or as soon as be could make arrangments for his 
pulpit and family. But that would not satisfy 
him : hundreds might die before that time. — 

<*Well, then,*' said Elder Jones, "I will go 
in the morning. '' But this would not satisfy 
the messenger. <^ The sun must rise upon them 
both in Deerfield." And at last he actually per- 
suaded him to go ; and at 1 o'clock, A. M. they 
were on their way, and actually reached Deer- 
field before day break, the messenger havjng left 
it after sunset. 

A few general instructions were all Dr Graves 
could give the now Doctor Jones, and putting 
his black boy into the sleigh with him to show 
him the way, he was actually in full career of 
medical practice before nine o'clock, A. M. 

He tarried here a number of weeks, being 
wholly occupied day and night by an extensive 
and successful practice, until the pestilence had 



SO far subsided as to enable Dr Graves to take 
charge of all the patients, when he returned to 
bis home worn down with fatigue and nearly 
sick from his continual exposure. 

Hitherto not a case of the disease had ap- 
peared in fiopkinton. On the evening after bis 
return, we were all sitting around the hospitable 
hearth of Deacon Brown, listening with awe and 
fear to the account Elder Jones gave us of the 
singular and fatal epidemic. A young lady who 
was a visiter there, and who was exceeding ner- 
vous withal, was one of the circle of listeners. 
She suddenly left the room, and on being fol- 
lowed, complained of feeling a slight pain in one 
of her limbs. Elder Jones was called out and 
pronounced it a case of spotted fever, of a most 
malignant type. In an hour she was a raving 
maniac. She had a severe attack but recovered. 
Within a week's time there were twenty cases 
in the town, in various parts. 

It had been noised abroad that he had been 
absent, and for what. And as soon as it was 
known that he had returned, he was called on to 
go in every direction, so that in one week's time 
both day and night were fully occupied. From 
this time he was fully employed. His treatment 
of the fever, was unlike that of most of the physi- 
cians, who resorted to depletives, with- a most 

IBNER JOlVtI. 107 

fatal effect, and his practice was wonderfully 

The plague appeared soon after in the neigh- 
boring towns, and his practice extended itself on 
erery hand ; so fully was bis time occupied, 
that at one time for the space of fourteen days 
he never once slept out of the clothes he wore 
during the day, and I have heard him say that 
during that time the harness was never taken 
from his horse, but to change it to the back of a 
fresh one. 

These were indeed mournful times. Every 
face was shrouded in gloom. No one could 
feel that he was exempt for an hour, and many a 
one who was in apparently perfect health, was 
in eternity within that short space of lime. I 
could give here, were this the place, many par- 
ticular and highly interesting details of this 
dreadful visitation, but it would not fall in with 
the plan I have laid down. 

It may well be supposed that Elder Jones 
could give but an exceedingly small share of his 
time or attention to his ministerial duties. Such 
was, indeed, the fact. I have known him to 
be summoned from the pulpit in the midst of his 
discourse, and again to be sent after to attend 
some one who was seized in church while he was 

lOS MBMOim or 

When " the plague was stayed,^' he found it 
impossible to retire from the practice of medi- 
cine. He had become extensively known, and 
those who had employed him in the prevailing 
disease, were disposed to try his skill in others. 
He could not well decline the n>any urgent calls 
that were made upon him, and so be continued 
in the regular practice as long as be stayed in 

It was while residing here that be became con- 
vinced of the evils resditing from the habitual 
\}se of intoxicating drinks. At that time it was 
indeed a stremge thing to find a roan who did not 
indulge in the habit of drinking. There was a 
great outcry against excessive drunkenness, but 
it was thought quite necessary that the laborer, 
and the doctor, and all others who were exposed 
to cold and heat, should take a little to keep the 
cold out in winter and the heat out in summer. 
And here again his conscientiousness came to 
prompt him, for no sooner came the conviction 
than the resolution followed to abandon its use. 
And not only so, but to eject it altogether fron» 
his dwelling. 

Well do I remember, that up to this time, the 
morning sling came as regularly as the singing of 
the kettle on the hob, and we children used to 
expect our share of it as much as our part of the 

ABNER joubs. 109 

breakfast. But a change came, at last, as much 
to our surprise as annoyance, for we had learned 
to expect it, and bad already acquired a love for 
it so strong' as to suffer a severe disappointment 
when it was withheld. How little do those pa- 
rents think of the ruin they are bringing u})on 
their o^pring, by fostering in them a love for 
strong drinks. They are nursing a viper which 
shall s^ing to the soul both parent and child, 
when repentance comes too late and reformation 
ts not to be hoped for. 

Elder Jones had formed the resolution, and 
waited the opportunity to carry it into effect ; 
for the present fashion of ** breaking short off at 
once and forever," had not then come in vogue. 
So he concluded to drink up what he had in the 
bouse and then leave off. Well, day after day- 
rolled on and the jugs of " Jamaica," *' Best 
Hollands," and " Cogniac," remained unreplen- 
tshed, albeit many significant bints came from 
the maternal and filial depar^tments. For a week 
I bad not been sent to *' the store" for " the 
needful" — for he ever kept an open house and 
heart, and that was a strange kind of hospitality 
in those days which did not furnish the means of 
intoxication — and there were many tbirstings for 
a sip again of the palate-tempting and inspiriting 
beverage. Now it so turned out that his better 

110 MEMOIR or 

half had invited "a party to spend the even'-^g,'^ 
about this time, and many were the prcparati 's 
necessary to be made for the occasion. Tbei . 
were invited the honorable Judge A. Esquire 
B. Colonel C. Docter D. and others, with their 
ladies, the very elite of the village. The good 
wife, anxious that nothing should be wanting, 
mentioned the fact of the empty jugs to the mas- 
ter of the house repeatedly during the day, re- 
ceiving only the very significant reply, *' I'll see 
to that, by and by." At last, late in the day, 
or while the guests were assembling, on bein^ 
again urged to send for some spirit, he an- 
nounced his intention to offer the company noth- 
ing stronger than cider. His wife was thun- 
derstruck. She could not conceive the thing 
possible. '' What, a party and no ' toddy }* 
What would the company think and say ? It 
will become the town's talk and we shall appear 
ridiculo!js in the eyes of everybody. Such a 
thing was never heard of.*' But he had nriade 
up his mind and was not to be easily turned 
aside. He was insensible alike to expostulation 
and entreaty, and so the company was assembled* 
At the usual time for refreshments — what a mis- 
nomer — two large piles of apples, each flanked 
with a pitcher of cider, were presented : when 
Elder Jones rose, and calling the attention of 


the company, gave them his views and deter- 
minations. It was a great damper to the fes- 
tivities of the evening, and the thing did indeed 
become, as his wjfe had predicted, the town's 
talk ; some laughed at the thing as a good eco- 
nomical joke ; some sneered at the overscrupu- 
lous parson, and others, not a few, men and wo- 
men of good sense, approved. What the effect 
of the act was on the community I do not know, 
but it was a new era in our household, and from 
that day the spirit of alcohol warmed no longer 
the morning devotion of our family altar. 

There were two extensive revivals in Hop- 
kinton under the administration of Elder Jones. 
Many were added to the church of which he 
was pastor, and many to the CongregationaUst 
church. Although quite young at the time, I 
remember that Elder Jones and his pious 
wife were extremely anxious that the reviva' 
should not pass over without bringing into the 
church some of the members of their own fami- 
ly. In this they were not holly disappointed. 
And I believe that impressions were made upon 
the minds of all their children which never left 
them. There are many persons now living in 
Hopkinton, who will forever remember Elder 
Jones, as the instrument of their salvation, an(} 
whose name they will love and revere now that 
he has fallen asleep in death. 

112 MEMOim OF 

He encountered, while in Hopkinton, no small 
share of personal abuse and persecution from 
certain quarters, because of his zeal and success 
in his ministry, and he was boldly denominated 
a fanatic in religion, as well as a quack in medi- 
cine. Either accusation was alike true. And 1 
verily believe that both are to be attributed to 
envy excited by his success. The treatment he 
received from the medical practitioners of the 
town and neighborhood, was both cruel and un- 
gentlemanly ; considering the assurance and evi* 
dence he gave them of his having been regularly 
educated as a physician, and entered upon the 
practice of medicine. 

This, however, did not move him. He pur* 
sued the even tenor of his way, doing good 
wherever and whenever opportunity presented, 
rejoicing in the consciousness of his integrity, 
and in the thought that whatever might be the 
judgment of his fellow-creatures, it could not 
destroy the present consciousness of rectitude, 
nor effect the 6nal decision of the Judge of 
all the earth. 

During the residue of his sojourn in Hopkin- 
ton, I recollect of nothing particularly worthy to 
be inserted here. He continued in the prac- 
tice of medicine during the whole time. Al- 
though be tried hard to get entirely rid of it, he 

▲BMER JONES. 113. 

could not without violating bis feelings. No 
matter bow mucb be neglected bis business, be 
was only beset tbe more by tbose wbo bad bere- 
tofore been bis patients. He was at once phy- 
sician to tbe body and tbe soul. He was never 
obtrusive, but never suffered a suitable opportu- 
nity to pass, wben tbe good counsel and prayers 
of a good man might be of avail. This endeared 
bim to many of bis patients, and not a few in tbe 
relation of their christian experience, have attrib- 
uted their first enduring impressions to bis faith- 
ful admonitions and earnest prayers at their sick- 

• While Elder Jones resided in Hopkinton, he 
travelled less than during any other period of his 
life. He occasionally, however, during a sea- 
sou of comparative health, journeyed among his 
friends in Vermont, New Hampshire, and Mas- 
sachusetts ; and once into the States of Penn- 
sylvania, New York and New Jersey. But it 
ill suited his roving disposition to have so many 
home-ties, and be grew uneasy and dissatisfied, 
and determined to leave at once bis profession of 
medicine and his pulpit in Hopkinton. I do not 
say but there were other considerations which 
induced bim to go. Indeed I know that there 
were many. They certainly were not pecunia- 
ry ones : for he had laid by a considerable sum 

114 MEMOIR or 

of money, from the proceeds of his practice, and 
might have continued in the practice «nd accu- 
mulated a handsome fortune. 

But there was a growing dissatisfaction in the 
church, which was sorely divided. One por- 
tion were in favor and another against the pastor. 
The objections arose mainly, I believe, from 
considerations of Doctrinal belief. Some 
of the leading members were, or professed 
to be, Calvinistic in their views, and were 
desirous of attaching themselves to the Baptist 
communion. This object they accomplished at 
the removal of Elder Jones, and the church is 
now, as I have before stated, a Baptist church. 
Reside these things, there had been a growing 
dissatisfaction with some in reference to his de- 
votion to Free Masonry, as I shall shortly have 
occasion to say. 

He left Hopkinton mih extreme reluctance, 
notwithstanding. He had formed a very ex- 
tensive acquaintance, embracing many valued 
friends, and who continued so to the day of their 
or hisdeath. .He lived in his own house in a 
very delightful neighborhood, and was on terms o 
intimacy and friendship with a his neighbors. 
His two eldest daughters had married and were 
well settled close by the paternal abode, and not 
one of the household was desirous of a removal. 

▲BNER JOMEi. 115 

But he yearned for ^' freedom to serve God," as 
he said, and accordingly in the spring of J 821, he 
settled up bis affairs and made arrangements to 
leave the place of his arduous and double labors. 
In bis journeyings he bad visited his old flock 
in Salem, and found them destitute and desolate. 
Tbey were without a pastor, and they beset him 
10 tarry among them and resume his labors 
among them. They were really broken up, and 
could ofierbut little inducements of a pecuniary 
kind. But this was never a consideration with 
him. There is not on record an account of bis 
leaving a parish because it was small and poor^ 
or of his going to one because it was rich and 
prosperous. » Indeed he never went to a pros- 
perous parish. It is peculiar to every removal 
of his whole clerical life, that be left a better for 
a worse external condition. Moreover, there , 
was never a removal of bis that was hot prompt- 
ed by consciousness that it was his solemn duty, 
and a fervent desire to bestow his labors in that 
part of Christ's vineyard where they w^re most 
needed. This is no eulogistic assertion, as 
those who best know him, or know him at all, 
will abundantly testify. Indeed I never knew a 
minister of God more conscientiously devoted 
to his work, and who, at the bidding of duty, 
would more cheerfully sacrifice every worldly 


good or bodily ease. In leaving Hopkinton lie 
sacrificed thousands of dollars. He gave charge 
CO the attorney with whom he left his business, 
to sue none at the law and not to press such as 
be believed unable to pay — to take etper cerium 
on the bills of such as were not fully able to pay, 
according to their ability, and to discharge the 
rest. Indeed, before he left, he looked over his 
books, and wrote " Balanced and settled," un- 
derneath all the accounts of such as he believed 
unable to pay them without distressing their 
families. And who shall doubt that for every 
dollar thus stricken off, he laid up large treasures 
in " the store-house of Faith," \\ hich he is now 
enjoying, and a liberal interest of which he at- 
ways declared he enjoyed even in the present 

At the time of his residence in Hopkinton 
Free Masonry was at the height of its glory. 
Chapters and Lodges were established in every 
considerable town and village in New England, 
and the holidays of the Order were observed in 
all the gorgeous and unmeaning pageantry of out- 
ward display. Scarcely a breath of- suspicion 
rested on the *' Holy Fraternity," and few pro- 
fessional men were to be found who had not 
been admitted to the cabalistic meaning of those 
signs and emblems which used to dazzle and as- 

ABKfiR JONBS. 117 

tODish childhood and so ill become manhood. 
There were a few men, however, even then, 
who were most bitterly opposed to Masonry. 
Among these was deacon Darling, of his own 
church, and one of his most ardent admirers and 
warmest friends. He was violently opposed to 
iny one becoming a mason, and in a minister of 
God it was the unpardonable sin. So when El- 
der Jones became a mason, the good deacon 
broke friendship with him and became his bitter 
ioe, remaining so to the time of his death. 

Elder Jones was a zealous mason, and devoted 
•11 the energies of his being to ascend the mysti- 
cal ladder. Nor was he content until he rested 
CO its topmost round. That he had the slightest 
suspicion of its evil tendencies I do not believe. 
He considered it a combination for useful, hu^ 
mane, intellectual, and even moral purposes. 
His greatest regard for it, however, was in an 
intellectual point of view. But he was devoted 
to it as heartily and sincerely as ever man was, 
tod spent much of bis time in attention to it.' 

When the great excitement against Free Ma- 
sonry prevailed through the length and breadth 
of our country, he withdrew from the body alto- 
gether. In this he was actuated wholly by mo- 
tives of expediency, and not because of any con- 
viction of the truth of the allegations against Ma- 


«onry. He believed that his connexion with the 
body would prove injurious to his success as ia 
preacher, and furthermore that masonry, howev* 
er useful it might have been — and he devoutly 
believed that it had been so — ^had outlived its 
age and was not worth preserving as a public in- 
stitution. For such further information as any 
of' his masonic brethren may desire, I shall 
throw together such material as I have found 
among his writings which are calculated to throw 
light upon this subject, and present them in the 

Elder Jones found the Church in Salem in a 
very low and distracted condition, and they had 
been so for a long time. They had discovered 
that the elements of which the cliurch was com- 
posed could never harmonize, and they conse- 
quently separated. The majority, and those 
who were desirous to have a regular ministry, 
seceded and left the small and discontented mi- 
nority in quiet possession of the old house, and 
erected a new one on Essex street, and not far 
from the old one, which although small, was 
large enough for their wants, and both comfort- 
able and ^convenient. But not all the seceders 
joined the new communion. There were but 
four males and twelve females who entered into 

♦See Appendix, Note D, 

▲ BNER jonfts. 119 

covenant as the new church. Others afterwards 
fell in from time to time ; some went away to 
other places of worship, and some fell away 
from other causes. The secession occurred 
sometime in the summer of 1821, and on the 
second day of November of the same year, at 
the house of brother John Masury, — who to the 
last was a firm friend of order and union, — after 
solemn prayer and consultation the new church 
was constituted and all the members signed a 
formula of faith : not to bind their consciences 
and limit their investigations, but to strengthen 
their minds and hearts, and as merely a sponta- 
neous utterance of their views of divine truth. 
As a kind of preamble to this covenant, they 
give their reasons for withdrawing from the old 
church. They are threefold ; thus : 1. Be- 
cause of contentions which there was no pros- 
pect of becoming reconciled. 2. Because of 
differences of opinion on the subject of the Ordi- 
nances. 3. Because of radical difference of 
opinions on the doctrines of Christ and the 

Whatever may be thought of the last, surely 
the other two reasons were sufBcient to provoke 
a withdrawal, and exonerate the seceders from 
all blame in the premises. 

It was in the spring following, as I have al- 


ready said, that Elder Jones moved with his 
family into Salem. The church was then unit- 
ed and happy, but small and poor. The pros- 
pect of being able to support the outward insti- 
tutions o( religion were indeed small. But 
with a zeal and generosity becoming better cir- 
cumstances, they finished their house and under- 
took the support of their pastor and family. 
And they were blest in their undertaking. 
Their new house was soon filled and found to 
be too contracted for their necessities. 

I find by the Society's records, — to which I 
was allowed free access by the politeness of 
brother Masury, the clerk of the parish — that a 
meeting of the members of the society was hdd 
as early as December, in 1824, ^^ to see if any 
thing could be done toward erecting a larger 
and more convenient meeting-house." The 
subject was agitated from time to time after this 
until the summer of 1827, when it was deter* 
mined to build a new house. Accordingly a 
lot of land was secured in Herbert street, and a 
commodious bouse erected thereon, which was 
consecrated by religious services on the first day 
of May, 1828. The sermon was preached by 
Elder Morgridge of New Bedford, it not being 
customary in that denomination, I believe, for 
pastors to preach the sermon on such occasions. 


> This bouse, I may as well here say, owed its 
•rectioB entirely to the zeal of Elder Jones. 
The society was altogether too small and poor 
to make the attempt. Nevertheless the accom- 
plishment of this purpose was very desirable for 
roaoy considerations. The old bouse was not 
4)viy too small but badly situated, and it was 
prudently thought that a larger and handsomer 
bouse, and one more centrally situated, would be 
likely to increase the numerical and pecuniary 
8lr«agth of the society. 

In this state of things Elder Jones not only 
subscribed very liberally himself — much beyoifid 
his means — but begged considerable sums of the 
citizens of Salem belonging to other parishes, 
and on whom he called in person for this pur- 

Besides this, much of the care of building — 
H^^specially tlie planning, and devising ways and 
maans — 'fell to his lot. And all this he cheer- 
iuHy and voluntarily undertook, seeking no other 
reward than the satisfaction derived from the re- 
flection that the work was done, at last, and 
well done. 

This was an occasion for the " fit poetic," 
and be was accordingly seized with a '^ metred 
i^Mism." I refer the reader to the Appendix. 

£ldef Jones had a strong affection for idl his 


family, and although he was much away from 
them ever manifested the strongest attachment. 
And never was there a mother more entirely de- 
v.oted to her children, than the godly company- 
ion of his early choice. 

Hitherto the family circle had not been inva- 
ded by death, except in the removal of one wlib 
only opened his eyes on the fair scenes of life 
to close them again forever. But the hour of 
final separation must come, and sooner or later 
the " grim visaged conqueror" will call to 
draft some one from the home circle. Alas, 
how often does he select the fairest and the 
one that could be least spared. 

" Death loves a shining mark. His joy supreme 
To aid the wretch survive the fortunate ; 
The feeblo wrap the athletic in his shroud ; 
And weeping fathers' build their children's tombs." 

On the 12th of April, 1823, Mary, the 
youngest child, then nearly fifteen years of age, 
and the only one at home — the writer of this 
memoir was with bis sisters in Hopkinton at- 
tending school — was seized with a malignant 
typhus fever, which carried her off in fourteen 
days. During most of this time she was ra- 
vingly delirious, and died at last without having 
opportunity to take leave of her heart-broken 
parents, or to receive their parting blessing, ere 



slie started oa her returnless journey to that fiir 

" Where they who reach there weep no more.** 

The effect produced on his mind by this 
death, thne could not remove. He sustained a 
shock from which he never recovisred. Strong 
and enduring before, and bearing up under all his 
disappointments without any external manifes- 
tations of grief, he now became almost a wooaan 
in his nature and the courses of his tears wer« 
never long stayed. But if it produced any 
change in his religious character, it was for the 
better. It served to quicken his devotion, and 
seemed to break one of the strongest links that 
bound him to earth. It quickened and strength* 
«ned his unceasing regard for his other children, 
and the present grief seemed to giver way alto«> 
^ether to the desire that this providence should 
be blessed to their spiritual good, 

I take the following extracts from a letter 
written to his absent children, while the corpse 
of his darling lay before him, scarcely calm from 
the last spasm of a dreadful death. 

Salem, April 23, 1823. 

** JIft/ Dear Children — I take pen in hand to 
inform you of the bitter cup which we, your pa- 
rents, have just drank. Mary is no more than a 
lifeless corpse before us. This morning at 

ISti MCMoix or 

About 6 o'clock she breathed 6er last. I boper 
the Lord has given you some warning to prepare 
your minds for this most distressing event." 

After describing tier case arid its progress up^ 

10 the closing scene he goes on : — 

^' My dear children ; Wbait shall I say to you ? 
I must say, in the language of divine inspiration , 
^ Be ye also ready, for in such nn hour as ye 
think not, the Son of man shall come.' L — j"" 
the eldest daughter, — ^^ thou art my first bom. 
I have long since (when thou knewest it not) 
4evoted you to the Lord by prayer and supplicar 
lion, and entreated for the salvation of your soul. 
The Lord I hope has heard and answered prayer 
for both you and your husband. I say arise and 
trim your lamps and see whether you have oil in 
ytnir vesseb, and you are ready to meet yeiir 
Lord at his coming. 

*' H — ," the second daughter — " You have 
another. cal] from God. Can you nbt say in the 
words of your sister, that here lies in her last 
dress, as it respects your exercises during the 
lime of the reformation, ^ I did not seek aright, 
and so I have not found ?' If you have forgotten 
.ihe calls of God, remember that they will never 
be blotted out of His eternal book of remiem-^ 
brance ; but when the books are opened and 
another book which is the book of life, tberethey 
will stand against you unless you observe them* 
O, «ny daughter, be wise while you enjoy health 
and reason." 

** My son" — the husband of the latter — 
^ jott are, to see Mary no toore until you me«t 

lier in Ae eternal world. Are you ready, roy 
«on, to lay aside all worldly honor and prospect^, 
if God should call for them. Your wife and little 
C. are not yours. Should death enter your win- 
dows as it has entered mine, which of you ^e 
ready to depart ? May God sanctify it to your 
everlasting good. 

*'And now, ray only son — ^your father and 
mother feel the deepest anxiety for yoa on this 
distressing occasion. Your mother says, ^ I wish 
A. was here to take one look.' You caniiardly 
imagine how she has entirely aUered in her coun- 

*' We have now for a long twne been in deep 
trouble, and you have not known it. We have 
been weeping over Mary and thinking and pray- 
ing for you, while probably you may have heen 
crying peace and safety when sudden destructiOa 
was near. O, my son, how will you meet these 
<ireadful tidings. Is Mary gone ? Must I aae 
her no more until I meet her in the eternal 
world ? O, A., you have had many calls and you 
as often hav^e refused. 0, hearken unto lAu, 
lest the Lord should say, A. *• is joined to his 
idols, let him alone.' 

" My dear grand daughter E- — Aunt Mary is 
dead. You never can see Aunt Mary any 
more. Ton have been sick and got well, Aunt 
Mary has been sick and U dead. 0, £., you 
must die top, and you must be born again or 
you canfiot go to heaven. If you do not know 
what grand -papa means by being bom again, you 
must ask your mother to tell you. May little , 
E.'s soul be converted to Qod* 

12$ KMXotK or 


, Our dear^ dear children, we have in the midst 
of trouble Feinembered you and most ardently- 
wished to see you. Perhaps you will say, why 
tias not fsaber written before ? We thought it not 
necessary to giv^ i/ou all that pafnful anxiety of 
which tpe were the partakers, as especially it 
would by no means help us. I thought best to» 
write nothing until I liould wrFte decisively^ 
On Friday the funeral is to take place, but you 
will not be here to mingle your tears with ours* 
But after ours are a little dried up yours must 
begin to flow. As 1 expect to b& at Hopkintoa 
■ext week we will, if I he Lord will, mourn to- 

Affectionately, your father, 


Shortly aftef this event, (he family of the 
eldest daughter removed to Safem, and was fol* 
lowed in a year or two by that of the second. 
The writer of these memoirs, also, came back to 
the paternal abode, and the £amily of Elder 
Jones was onee more together. 

There is- but little more of interest tcthe gen* 
eral reader that I find during the stay of Ehler 
Jones in Salem. There was no unusual reli- 
gious excitement in his flock, akhough there was- 
a very extensive revival of religion among the 
Orthodox Congregationat and Baptist societiesv 
There was, however, a gradual accession to the 
church, and one hundred were added during his 
l^toral care of it. 


The manuscripts left by Elder Jones, throw 
no light upon the time of his second sojourn in 
Salem. I find merely nothing but abstract dates 
of journeys and preaching. I have, however, a 
letter of bis, written to the members of the par* 
ish, and read to them at one of their weekr 
ly meetings, at which he was not able to be pres- 
ent, by reason of a severe attack of influenza. I 
recollect the time with painful distinctness. 
That epidemic prevailed to an unusual and 
darming extent. It was judged that two-thirds 
of the entire population were afflicted with it at 
the same time, and scarcely an inhabitant escap- 
ed. Nor was Salem singular in this respect. 
The epidemic spread throughout New England, 
and will be well remembered by many who pe- 
tuse this page. Elder Jones, and wife, and son 
— then the only members of his household — 
were all sick at once, and unable to render aai- 
distance to each other for several days. It was 
during convalescence that the letter was written. 

" Beloved Friends—My usual mode of com- 
munication has hitherto been by my yoice. 
But at this time I am deprived of that blessing 
on account of an unusual hoarseness wi)ich hi^ 
seized my lungs, so that I am deprived almost 
entirely of common conversation, much more of 
speaking in public. I will therefore try to com- 
municate something to you in writing. 

tSS HCiioni t)T ' 

By this visitation I am reminded of that day 
when my tongue shall be locked up in silenoci 
an4 never more be allowed to speak to my ieh 
low-men, and when the ears of all those who so 
often hear my voice will be deaf to all earthly 
sdonds. Let him that hath his voice use it in 
the several chrktian duties enjoined ; and let 
him that hath an ear so hear that his soul may 
live- ' 

I desire to thank God that although deprived 
of speaking yet I am not of writing, and in this I 
feel it my duty to do good. The great end of 
both speaking and writing ought to be to do 
good ; ^ Jesus Christ went about, doing good.' 

While I am using my pen my heart is lifted 
up to heaven for divine direction how I shall 
address you in this way, in the same manner as 
at would be if I stood before yoU how I should 
speak. Also, that God would render it a bles^ 
sin^ to his dear children, and that while sinners 
hear this short discourse read, the law of God 
may be written in their hearts ; for thus saith the 
Lord, ' 1 will write my law in their hearts,' 
Our blessed Lord says, ' work while the day 
ksts, for the night cometh wherein no man <}aa 

Our day of grace and day of life is short* 
Sacred truth compares it to a span, to a vapor 
that swiftly passeth away. What, then ; is time 
Wh swift and short ? Yes, verily i But can- 
not we cause time to linger ? and can we» not 
divert time from his rapid motion ? No, no. 
Time flies on the wings of the wind. Th^ 
wind will not hearken, time will not give eair ; 
ever steady to bis purpose h^e is deaf ; yea, deaf 

A«KBm ilOIPBS* iflt 

to both kings and beggars. Time hears no 
voice but the voice of Him who has armed him 
with the scythe of mortality, and who has given 
command saying, ' Sweep over the hills aad 
dales. Sweep over palaces and cottages, mow 
down potentates and peasants.' Time with hit 
sharp scythe obeys. He loses not his har- 
vest. In the sterile plains of Arabia he cuts b» 
scattering spears, and the wandering Arab can- 
not elude his chase. The burning sands of Af- 
rica, scorched with the vernal rays of the sun, 
will not make him faint. His wide swath ilf 
neatly turned among the sable race. Egypt's 
fields, though they have no rain, yield him abeavj 
burden. Old Asia's fields have by him been 
mowed in every generation. Europe has fallen 
under his terrible stroke. The Alpine moun* 
tains, her fertile vallies, and her splendid cities,' 
have always paid their deathly tribute at the firM 
call. And where is our own America ? She 
shares in the general fate. Her native hardy 
sons were an easy prey, her civilized inhabitants 
are swept down without distinction. The earth 
has yielded many a harvest, and those who no^ 
live are swiftly ripening, and most assuredl)^ 
shall not be spared. ^ All flesh is grass, end 
the glory of man as the flower of grass.' 

Beloved friends, our day is short our work is 
great. The gloomy night of death is approach- 
ing in which we must enter into eternity. O, bb 
exhorted to prepare to meet thy God, Israel. 
The hour of meeting has nearly arrived and I 
must close. May the Lord add his blessing* 

Sept. 6, 1824. 

196 . MEMOIR or 

For a number of years Elder Jones bad cber- 
isbed a desire to travel extensively and visit and 
preach to all the churches in the Eastern and 
Middle States, together with those in Ohio and 
Kentucky. He believed he was called of God 
to do this, and doubted not but the door would 
be open in due time. He had now brought the 
people whom, in 1821, he had found so poor 
and feeble into a prosperous condition. They 
were united and happy, prosperous and increas- 
ing. Their new house, as we have seen waa 
completed, dedicated and well filled. He felt 
that he might safely leave them for a season in 
o^her hands, and he determined to take the pres- 
ent opportunity to fulfil the cherished purpose 
of his heart. Accordingly ia the mid-summer 
of 1829, he asked and obtained leave of ab- 
sence for as long time as he might desire, and a 
warm recommendation of the church to the breth- 
ren among whom his lot might be cast. He 
broke up housekeeping, and taking his wife with 
him, which constituted his whole household-— 
bis children all having been settled in life— -he 
bade adieu to his Salem brethren, little thinkings 
ta the event proved, that he had forever ended 
bis labors in their midst, and as little thinking — 
as the event also proved — that he should not put 
iato eitecution the purpose so long cherished in 


bis soul. But, ^^ it, is not in man that walketb^ 
to direct his steps,'' or he had never set out up* 
oa that chequered journey. 

Bending his steps leisurely along, preaching 
by the way and visiting old and dear friends, we 
find him on the last days of July, revelling io 
the exeiten^ent and luxuriating in the waters of 
Saratoga, and Ballston. He tarried here and 
in the neighborhood a fortnight ; and then bid-* 
ding adieu to the place, where be seems to have 
enjoyed himself exceedingly, he journeyed to 
MaysGeld, where on the 13th of August, he was 
seized with a rheumatic-billious fever, which 
brought him to the very verge of the grave, and 
confined him to the house for upwards of three 

This was the severest sickness be ever suf- 
fered, and served admirably to test his Christiaa 
fortitude and religious confidence. Here, by a 
visitation of that same band which he believed 
bad led him to take the journey, he was sud^ 
denly and unexpectedly arrested in his course, 
and almost at the outset. Aside from all his 
suffering, which was excrutiating, much of the 
time, his plans seemed to be frustrated and bis 
hopes dashed to the ground. 

He happened to be among kind friends, who 
took the tenderest care of him through his long 

tS3 HfitfoiR or 

tod painful illDess. They were, however, de- 
votedly attached, to the '' Thonipsonian system** 
of medicine and earnestly entreated him to '^ try 
the experiment.^' Believing himself that the 
baths and pungent prescriptions might relieve 
his acute pains, he consented, and went through 
a course of treatment prescribed by his Thomp^- 
^nian doctor. 

** My rheumatic pains/' he says, ." were by 
these terrible means rendered less acute, but my 
iftrength was greatly reduced and my fever fear- 
fully augmented. I therefore told my krad 
steam friends, the next day, that I must desist^ — 
I dare not, in the fear of God go farther, as I 
regarded my owti life. I therefore insisted on 
having my old, excellent physician, whom I had 
called at first, and at their solicitation dismissed. 
And accordingly he was sent for and attended 
me faithfiilly until I recovered." 

I said that this sickness lasted more than 
three months. Ih that time he had a short cou" 
ralescence and went out doors : which imprth- 
dence cost him a severe relapse, which con- 
fined him longer than the original attack. I have 
before me the record of his views and feelings, 
recorded by his own pen, on the 25th of Sep* 
timber, six weeks after his first attack. It is 
expressive of a contented mind, wholly devoid 

of anxiqriy or fear, wad emirelj submissive to the 
will of Ood. I shall here give the ^^ substitute 
l^r bis rejgulaF journal for Sept. 1839." 

*^ MayBfieUy Montgomtry C0. A*. F. > 

September^ 1829. ) 

^^ Tbb QQontb began on Tuesdaj, I shall not 
mark tbe days of the noontb as usual, because 
urben it commenced, 1 was confined to a sicfc 
bed, 9nd had been for seventeen days, as wUl. 
lypear by my Journal for August. For 3is 
weeks I never had my clothes on, and the first 
Uiue is on the 25th day of this month, on which 
I am now with a trembling hand, writing tbif 

'^ I was first taken with violent reheumatismy 
^bich threw me into an inflammatory billious fe* 
ver* I am a| the house of Judge Gillbert and 
Were I at my own father's house I could nol 
have been treated with more kindness, for whiclF 
I trust I shall ever be thankful to God, and 
grateful to bim and bis excellent family. I was 
distressingly sick, but among the kindest of 
friends, although entire strangers in the flesh; as 
I never saw one of tbem until tbe day before I 
wt9 taken sick, when I came into this place to 
preach, and by this family was bospitably re* 
eeived. I also had my companion with me to 
mirae and take tbe .best possible care of me. 

IS4 ItENOlft tP 

Sparing no pains by day or by night ; and God 
gave her strength equd to her dxiy. I have in 
the midst of pain, had great consolation of mind ; 
and ir I know my own feelings, I never felt one 
murmuring emotion. I never had one desire to 
be at home while I was sick. I was brought 
very low, and I seemed to myself lo have en- 
tered into the dark valley of the shadow 6f 
death, and viewed myself as prostrate on the 
very brink of the river, and her swelling waves 
rolled swiftly by my side, yet touched me not. 
I was not at all terrified or dismayed, but gave 
myself to Him in whose hand are the issues of 
jife and death. 0, what views of the state of 
sinners in this place were opened to my mind ; 
which led me lo lift up prayer to God for them. 
I prayed earnestly to God to show me if he was 
about to take me out of the world that it might 
not come upon me unawares. Also, that I 
might give my wife timely warning of my depar- 
ture, and that I might also give her my last dying 
counsel. Also, that 1 might leave something in 
writing for my dear children, as my last dying 
counsel. And likewise that I might leave my 
ast pledge of love and dying counsel to the dear 
TChristian Church in Salem, of which I was then 
pasior. In my very low estate I felt the deepest 
coticern for that Church and Society.' I often 

AlllER J0II£8. ISfi 

Galled to mind many of its members, and prayed 
for them individually, and then prayed for all 
whom I had not thought of individually. I often 
felt much drawn out in prayer for him who was 
to preach unto them the word of life, who ever 
he might be. I often lifted up my most fer- 
vent pray«r for the singing choir, and do this 
moment cry and pray for them that they all may 
be saved." 

Nearly four weeks after this, viz : on the 
^Ist of October, I find the following record id 
his Journal for that month. 

^^ As it respects my mind, I am calm, and 
I trust I can say, ^ It is good to be afflicted.' 
I cannot say that I am sorry I have been sick* 
although to outward appearances, it is altogether 
against me ; yet do ^ firmly believe that it is all 
for my good. Circumstances look very dark. 
My expenes have swept away all my money 
with which I calculated to replenish my winter 
wardrobe. The travelling season is getting un- 
pleasant, and there is no prospect of our travel- 
ling at all for some weeks to come. 

^^ Had the pleasure of having Elder King call 
and see me. Although deprived of meeting, yet 
I have consolation at home. I feel a longing 
desire to be able to travel and preach Christ; 
yet if not deceived, I can say, ' not my will, but 

131 VKitom er 

tfaine be done.' It i$ not my great coi^oerQ 
whether I live or die. As to dying I never ex* 
pect to be any more prepared than I am nowi 
otherwise than this, when I shall be called to de* 
jiart, that the Lord will give me all that addir 
tional grace, which is needful on that trying 
event. Lord give me grace to endure cbisir 
tbement, and not faint, nor murmur." 

The close of the month found him still low 
and weak, and bis case rather a critical one. 
He did not, however, despond, and firmly ber 
lieved he should get well ag^n, while his phy- 
sician, and wife and friends entertained very 
slight hopes. At the end of the month be thus 

^' Thus in sickness I close up October. It 
is now the twelfth week of sickness, and I have 
oqtbeen able to go out for more than a fortnight. 
1 atill have good courage and spirits, and ho^ 
as soon as the calomel shall have done its office, 
that I shall begin to recruit ; yet I remember 
the many/ disappointed hopes through which I 
have passed, and if my present expectations are 
to be disappointed, I hope and pray that God will 
enable me to endure it patiently, as he has here- 
tofore enabled me to do. I do not know hui 
that God has appointed me unto death in tins 
sickoess, yet it never has appeared so to me 

▲BNfiB JONES. 137 

If this is to be my lot I ask my heavenly father 
that I may be apprised of the same ; for 1 
would not put implicit confidence in my own 

The first day of November was .the Sabbath. 
He writes :— •" I am more comfortable to-day,* 
but am deprived of going to meeting. But the 
Lord has done it, therefore I desire to be still 
and learn to prize the privilege as I ought. 
Should my life be spared, I sometimes fear that 
by my protracted sickness I shall grow impa- 
tient, and so sin by repining at my lot. I do 
therefore look up to the Lord and ask that he 
will cut short these days of darkness and pain. 
But if it be his will to prolong my indisposition, 
fervently do I pray for grace and patience to 
endure the same as his child. Still, in the midst 
of affliction, I enjoy innumerable blessings, 
wherefore should I complain ?*' 

On the next Sabbath he had hoped to go to 
the house of the Lord with his brethren, and 
hear the word of life dispensed. Rough weath- 
er, however, prevented, and he was sorely dis- 
appointed. He expresses bis regrets, and adds, 
" it is well, let me be reconciled." From this 
time he rapidly improved in his health, and od 
the ensuing Sabbath, by being bolstered up in 
a chair, was able to preach once. He chose 


iSS MEjioiH or 

for bis text a clause of the twelfth verse of tbt 
twelfth chapter of Ecolesiastes. ^^ By these, 
roy son, be admonished." 

As soon as he became able to ride, he resum- 
ed his travels ; but as the cold season had far 
advanced be deferred going farther than New 
York, until the roads should become settled io 
die spring. In passing through Duchess Coun- 
ty, he made some tarry in Milan, preaching to 
the Christian Society in that place, which had 
not long before been left in a destitute situation 
by the death of its former pastor, Elder John 
L, Peavy. He had been solicited to tarry io 
several places in that county, but he had no- 
where felt that a field was oiSered for his perma- 
nent labors. But the destitute condition of the 
church in Milan touched his heart, and be feh 
strongly disposed to tarry with them* During 
all this time he had never thought but that he 
should resume his charge in Salem. But he 
had now been absent nearly a year, and thought 
that another minister was profitably occupying 
the post he had left, and he felt that, if necessa- 
ry, he could leave them in safe hands. Stiiibis 
heart yearned towards them, and it would re* 
quire a great struggle to give them up. 

At this time he received from the church in 
MBan an unanimous invitation to become their 

*' Unionvale^ Duchess Co.^ JV*. York^ 


ABNER J0NE8. 186 

•pastor. In this iavitation they speak of their re- 
cent bereavement, and the great unanimity with 
which the call was extended, and conclude by a 
.most earnest entreaty that he would accept it. 
Speaking of this call and the struggle it produ > 
ed in his mind he thus writes, in April, some 
weeks after he had received it. 

Sunday, April IH/i, 1830.'^ 
This day is very stormy and I. have no meet- 
ing, I will therefore strive to spend my lime to 
some profit in some other way. During my 
stay in this county I have often been by individ- 
uals solicited to tarry in this section of the coun- 
try ; especially in Milan, where the Church and 
Society are left destitute of a stated pastor by 
the removal of Elder John L. Peavy. by d<»ath, 
•nd from whom I received an unanimous call to 
come and settle with them as their pastor. Al- 
though this was no more (ban I had for some 
time expected, and had constantly endeavored to 
ponder the path of my feet and make it a matter 
of constant prayer to God, yet I was entirely 
unprepared to give any decisive answer, as I 
had still the pastoral charge of the Christian 
Church in Salem, Massachusetts. 

" This subject rests with great weight on my 
mind. I endeavor to make my petition to God 

140 MEMOIR or 

alone for direction. If I leave Salem, one of 
the most pleasant seaports in the Union, I roust 
sacrifice many bodily comforts. I have there a 
most happy acquaintance of more than twenty 
years' standing. I do not know of any unpleas- 
ant difBculties between any individuals, in 
Church, or Society, either concerning myselfor 
family. I must leave a large, beautiful meeting- 
house, built after my own plan, and the most 
commodious house I have ever seen. I must 
part with a singing Choir taught by myself. I 
must part with my pleasant children. And all 
these are equally dear to my wife as to myself, 
and to her it seems almost like quitting a palace 
for a tomb. If I go to Milan, the land is rough, 
buildings poor, country thinly inhabited, with 
nothing like a village in the place. The place of 
worship is a small, rough meeting-house, the 
singing wretched indeed. But the inhabitants 
are wealthy, respectable, and a good set of 
brethren as can be found any where. 

'* Under all these circumstances, at yet I know 
not what I shall do. If I should act on my own 
choice, I should not hesitate to return back to 
Salem, in preference to staying here, but I dare 
not mark out my own path, knowing that ^ it is 
not in. man that walketh to direct his steps, for a 
mim's steps are ordered by the Lord.' I think 


I can say I have given the matter entirelj into 
the hand of the Lord. My only prayer is to be 
directed aright, and so I am enabled to pray, 
spring, ^ Teach me the right way, and guide 
me in it.' I feel in my very heart to obey that 
direction given in Proverbs, * Trust in the 
Lord with all thy heart, and lean not to thine 
own understanding ; acknowledge him in all thy 
ways and he shall direct thy paths.' And now, 
Lord, thou who didst direct the children of 
Israel in a pillar of fire by night and a cloud 
by day, do thou direct this thine unworthy ser- 
vant in the way which thou wouldst have him 
go, and let not his footsteps err from the path of 
obedience and peace." 

Elder Jones alludes to his wife. It was in- 
deed a severe trial to her. She did all she 
could to prevent his accepting the invitation, 
and I am certain the struggle cost her even 
more than it did to be reconciled to his preach- 
ing at first. It tore her away from her children 
and all her pleasant acquaintances, and she 
mourned exceedingly. I have a letter of her's 
written to her children after she had become 
fairly established in their new home, an extract 
of which will serve to give an insight to the state 
of her feelings, which I doubt not operated in 
no small degree to bring on that premature de- 
cay which speedily followed. 


^' As to being reconciled to my lot, it does 
not seem to me that I ever can. Yet I strive to 
be, hard work as it is. O Lord, help mc to be 
submissive to thy holy will ! Pray for me, my 
dear children, that I may not be unreconciled to 
the great change that 1 have undergone." 

^^ Oh, how 1 long to see my dear children. 
As David said, I wet my couch with tears. I 
dream of them in the night season, and think of 
them* over and over again every weary hour of 
the day. O, will the time ever come when I 
shall behold them face to face ? May the good 
Lord bring it about before I die, and help me 
to bow to his will which seperates me from them 
and all that is dear to life" 

As might have been foreseen, Elder Jones 
gave an affirmative answer to the call of the Mi- 
lan church, after having obtained honorable re- 
lease from the church and society in Salem. 
He removed his family thither early in the en- 
suing summer, 1830. He tarried here nearly 
three years, devoting himself to the peonle of his 
charge. I do not find anything particularly wor- 
th) of notice during this period. He travelled 
extensively as usual but I am entirely destitute 
of any records which show his movements, or 
exhibit the state of his mind, or relate any- 
thing of his ministry. 

In the spring of 1833, he made arrangements 
to visit his old friends in the East, particularly 


his childreD and old flock in Salem. With (he 
comiiieuceiiicrit of this jouine^' Lis'juuiual is re- 
omned) of which I shall avail myself in Ailing up 
these pages, believing that his old friends would 
prefer to read his own account, as far as possi- 
ble. On this ground have I acted whenever it 
was at all practicable, although from the large and 
repeated breaks in his journal, I have been com- 
pelled to draw largely on my memory and other 
such sources as offered themselves. 

" Last day of May ^ 1833. — Left Milan, Duch- 
ess Co. N. York. Attended the New York 
Eastern Christian Conference, and General 
Meeting. Had a very interesting time. Aft^ 
this meeting I travelled in company with ray 
wife into Connecticut as far as Lebanon, and vis- 
tted the neighboring towns and preached unto 
them the word of life ; generally with good free- 
dom. In this region the tone of vital pie y ap- 
peared very low. O ^hat the Lord by the out- 
pouring of his spirit would visit his weary heri- 

^' After spending three sabbaths in this section 
of countr}^ took departure for Salem, Massacbu* 
setts ; visited some relatives by the way, and ar- 
rived at Salem seasonably to preach the last 
Lord's day in June. We found our children 
and their families well. Our old friends and 

144 MfiMOiB .ar . 

brethren cheered us with a most cordial and 
hearty welcome. 

^^ Arrived at Salem, June 29, on Saturday, and 
tarried there and the region round about nine 
weeks. Visited Newburyport, Salisbury, Ames- 
bury, Essex, Boston, and Lowell. In all the 
above mentioned places I preached the word 
of life, with nothing more than common free- 
dom. I have been called upon to attend about 
a dozen cases of cancer, all of which have done 

^^ In all places among my old friends, I have 
met with a cordial reception, with the addition 
of a most expressive wish that I might return to 
New England. Ail this had no effect on my 
mind, still adhering to my former resolution to 
return to Milan, until I received a pressing invi* 
tatton to become the people's preacher in Asso* 
net. This call I confess, deeply impressed my 
mind. It was the distressed state of the peo- 
ple which moved my compassion for them» 
Then I thought of the people of my charge in 
Milan, that not the least ruffle of difficulty bad 
ever taken place, that they had given me a good 
living among them, and that jthey fully expected 
me to return, and continue to be their pastor, 
(although I was not bound by any obligation or 

♦See Appendix, Note E. 

ABITER J0NE9. 145* 

agreement to stay any longer tiian I thought it 
my duty.) 1 must own the thought of leaving 
was painfuL When I turned my mind toward 
Assonet, almost everything looked stormy and 
unpromising. For months past but little had 
been. done except quarrelling, until the church 
and society were completely cut in sunder, and 
filled with bitterness. These two parties I con- 
sidered equally my friends, but one party had 8 
minister, and the other none, and so seized fast 
bold of me to become their preacher. This 
brought a distressing trial on my mind. O that 
they would be one agara. 

The Massachusetts Christian Conference was 
holden at Freetown, Assonet village, Tuesday^ 
August 20th, 1833. I preached the first ser- 
mon from Heb. xii. 14 : * Follow peace with 
all men.' The Lord gave me great freedom, 
and I do believe it made a good impression on 
the minds of the people. The Conference in 
general was. good, except that in one or two in- 
stances the members assumed the attitude of an 
Ecclesiastical Court, against which I protested. 
The general meeting was good. After the Con- 
ference adjourned, a society was formed, called 
The Christian Benevolent Society ; the object 
of which was to aid destitute churches, &c. by 
sending preaches to assist them. Most of the 
preachers, united and subscribed for its support. 


^^ The call from the people in this place to im* 
pressed my mind that I found it impossible for 
me to get rid of it. The time had now nearly 
arrived in which ( had hitherto concluded to 
leave Massachusetts and set ray face houioward* 

^^ Previous to this time I had determined to 
return to Milan through Vermont, and speiid 
some weeks in that state. But after due delib- 
eration, I consented to tarry and preach in As- 
sonet a few weeks instead of going to Vermont, 
and if I did not find it duty to make a longer 
stay, then to return to Milan. Sunday, Sep- 
tember 8ih, 1833, was the day appointed for me 
to begin to preach in the new house. 

^^ The day was rainy, the congregation small, 
say about 30 in the morning. The otiier com* 
ptny with Elder Coe, met in the old house, not 
more than 30 feet distant, so that the sound of 
our worship and preaching could be distinctly 
beard, from one to the other. How shameful. 
My mind was extremely depressed. Love 
and union my soul delights in ; division and 
strife I hate. Depressed as my spirits were, I 
could not feel that I was doing wrong. I did 
not feel the least party spirit, nor the least un- 
kindness to either company, nor the least preju* 
dice against Elder Coe or any individual. I 
never felt more lamblike in all my life ; my pr^y- 

ABNEK J91IBS. 14? 

er was, ' Lord, what wilt thou have me do ? 
Guide me by unerring wisdom,' T think I feit 
ready to give myself without reserve to the Lomi 
and say, ^ not my will hut thine be done.' in tho 
afternoon the congregation increased to about 
70. I had as'good a time in preaching as could 
have been expected under such trying circum- 
stances. At the close 1 thought it duty to ap» 
point a meeting for the Sabbath following. My 
mind, however, was no more relieved from triab 
about Onally staying with the people, than b«* 
fore. Still crying constantly for directioau 

^^ The following week I attended the Christiao 
Conference at Boston. My mind, however, waa 
occupied and borne down about matters at As* 
sonet. It was one of the most solemn weeks I 
ever passed. When I thought of engaging to 
preach with the people of Assonet, the work 
looked so exceedingly arduous, I confess I 
shrunk from the painful task, and wa$ ready to 
say ^ I never can endure it ;' yet I could get no 
release. Saturday following I returned to the 
place, with my wife, in the sanae state of mind. 

'' Sunday, Sept. 15, 1833.— The day was 
serene and clear ; the congregation had increas- 
ed to about 170. I was blessed with great free- 
dom, it was a glorious meeting, saints were made 
joyful in their God, and the congregation was as 

148 MEMOIR or 

solemn as eterDity. We bad a conference in 
die evening. It was very blessed to me. Ma* 
oy spoke in the power of tbe spirit, and declar- 
ed that God bad greatly revived their minds, 
and that they determined to leave all things be- 
hind and press forward. This day of good 
things revived my drooping spirits and gave me 
some more courage to think of staying with tbe 
people. But on Monday I began again to look 
on the boisterous waves, and sunk down as low 
as ever, and was constrained to cry out in deep 
distress, ^ Save, Lord, I perish.' Tuesday 
evening had a meeting in Middleborough, in the 
neighborhood called Beechwoods. I went 
greatly cast down, but had a glorious meeting 
and feh completely relieved. I soon, however, 
sunk down in deep waters, much as before. 

" Saturday^ September 29th, 1833.— Attend- 
ed Monthly church meeting, had a soul-reviving 
season. Two came forward and told what the 
Lord had done for their souls, and offered them- 
selves for baptism. They were joyfully re- 
ceived to be baptized the next day. Towards 
the close of this meeting the church was called 
OB to see if they would, in agreement with the 
society, call me to be their pastor. The vote 
was in the affirmative, both male and female, 
without one dissenting voice. 1 did feel it my 


duty to give an affirmative answer, without a 
doubt. I now determined to enter on my mia* 
isterial labors in the best manner I could, though 
with much fear and trembling. Lord, help me« 

" Sunday, Sept. 30, 1833. — I gave a pub- 
lic answer to the people, that I would hearken 
to their call and become their preacher. We 
had a good meeting and a blessed time at tbd 
water in baptizing. The Lord's name be prais* 

^' Until this time I do not know as I had an ene- 
emy in Assonet, but the other party, as is natu- 
ral, felt much hurt because I would (as they 
termed it) preach to their enemies. I took my 
course as straight forward as possible, neither 
preaching in public, nor conversing in privat<(^ 
about former difficulties ; but ^ spoke of things 
which make for peace, and things whereby one 
may edify another.' Both societies now had a 
preacher, and continued to hold separate mee^• 
ings in the two houses above named. But as 
the old house was a crazy old thing, the cold 
weather soon constrained the \)ther society to 
leave it, and betake themselves to the town 
house. Elder Coe continued with them until 
January and then left them, his term of engage- 
ment having expired. They then engaged 
Elder James Taylor, theur former preacher, for 

160 MEMOIft OP 

one year, and when he had preached out his 
year, they broke up and dispersed. 

^^ I found the church after the division to con- 
sist of about seventy members, well united, bo^ 
very low in their minds. But soon numbers 
were revived. The deadly effects of a religious 
quarrel, however, was severely felt. During 
the first year things continued much in the same 
train ; no contention in Church or society had 
occurred. I was unanimously invited to contin- 
ue with them the ensuing year, but I declined 
engaging for any particular term of time. I 
however told them I ould give them thre^ 
months' notice before I left them, and that if 
they wished for another priBacher they should 
give me the same notice." 

ii was in September, 1833, as we have seen, 
that Elder Jones, took up his abode with the 
people of Assonet. 1 have remarked before, 
that the severe trial of parting with her children 
aod friends, had greatly affected the health of 
his wife. This was d )ubtless in reased by the 
extreme care she took of him during his long 
confinement in New York. Pefore she left Mi- 
lan, she suffered several slight shocks of paral- 
ysis. These, as might have been expected, in- 
creased upon her, gradually becomiqg more se- 
vere until to DeeembeTy 1833, she shook off 


tfae earthly vestment, and entered upon ber rest. 
The blow was felt by Eider Jones to be a se- 
rere one indeed. In his own words, " never 
have I met with anything that has so bowed me 
to the earth, and crushed my soul in wo.'* She 
had been his companion, and the sharer of all 
his changes ; and no woman ever filled with more 
fidelity her peculiar and trying relations. Pos- 
sessed of a remarkably strong and vigorous mind, 
a warm and generous piety, she was indeed a 
helpmate and counseller to him at all times and 
in all places, and he mourned her loss as alto- 
gether irreparable. For the last two years of 
her life, she was a burden to herself, and took 
no interest in the welfare of her best friends, 
and for months before her decease, she became 
helpless and senseless as an infant a day old- 
The year before her death, he took her on a 
journey to see her children and her old friends, 
in hopes that it might serve to arouse her from 
ber lethargy. But it produced no effect upon 
her. This journey was indeed a melancholy 
one to Elder Jones, and he speaks of it in his 
journal as follows. 

*' After starting on our way, my wife seemed 
to brighten up, and commenced a conversation, 
which, in her state of mind was very uncommon. 
She stated ber impressions that she was taking 


her last tour with me, and was about paying her 
last visit to her children, and other friends. 
She then proceeded to give directions how she 
would have her wardrobe, etc., disposed of. 
This, I believe, was the last subject she ever in- 
troduced to me, more than to ask some necessary 
question. I often on our way introduced sub- 
jects of conversation, on which, in times past, 
her active mind delighted to dwell ; but I could 
excite no interest in her. She was almost 
lost to all that was past, and as to future expec- 
tations, it was much the same. Many thous- 
ands of miles had we journeyed delightfully to- 
gether, cheered by each other's company and 
conversation, but now it was quite otherwise, 
we rode slowly, and sijently, on our solitary 
way. To me it was a melancholy occasion, 
mingled with a mournful pleasure. I endeav- 
ored to render to my enfeebled wife all the 
consolation in my power. In this tour we trav« 
elled about two hundred and seventy miles, had 
good seasons in preaching and returned home 
about the last of June. My poor wife was so far 
lost in her mind, as not to know her own home.*' 

She was just sixtyseven years of age, and 
died on her birthday , which he notices and adds, 
*' her faults were few, her virtues many." 

I Gnd the following verses writteo just after 
her interment. 


** Deep ill the core of my poor brekkingf heart 
Hath Death the king of terrors, sent his dart, 
Ruthless hath tore from me ray better part, 
Inflicting wounds of anguish, pain and smart. 

Rut Christ, the conquering king, shall death destroy-^ 
. Turn all our sorrows, pains and tears, to joy ; / 
Nor wave of trouble ever more annoy, 
While deathless glories our blest souls employ. 

On wings of faith I soar to worlds of light, 
Where day eternal ever rules the night ; 
There, resting from our labors, with delight 
We '11 greet with songs the holy throngs in white. 

The body planted in her mother earth. 
Till Christ shall give it resurrection birth, 
In glorious form shall rise and upward fly 
To meet the spirit long before on high. 

There in the heights of Zidn's holy ground. 
Increasing praise forever shall abound. 
While all tlie singing millions join the sound, 
To swell the heavenly chorus round. 

For this angelic Choir a while I wait ; 

My soul is peacefbl, and my path is straight ; 

Untiring strive until I reach the gate. 

To meet with heavenly joy my long lost mate.** 

Shortly after committiog the remains of hi;» 
beloved companion to the earth, be took a 
journey into Vermont, and frequently and feel- 
ingly alludes to his deep sense of the loss, which 


1^4 MEMOIR or 

every familiar object by the way seemed to de- 
clare. At last he returned to Assonet, ^^ but, 
alas," he adds, " not to my home. My dear 
companion who used to greet me with smiles, 
is not here ; my children are all far away, and 
no familiar face gladdens my board. /And as 
I sit in my solitary library I feel that I am indeed 
alone. But the past lives still, and 

** ' T is with a mournful pleasure now 
I think on other days.** 

'* But I repine not at my lonely lot, I find it good 
to be afflicted, it yields the peaceable fruits of 
righteoiLsness. If I except the troubles which 
have been brought upon me, by my sinning 
against a holy God, I can rejoice to day and 
thank God for every affliction which I have 
experienced in life. Yea, I thank my God with 
all my heart that it has been his pleasure to cor- 
rect me for my sins ; I kiss the rod and Him 
who hath appointed it. Nor have I one single de- 
sire to be delivered from afflictions ; no, I glory 
in tribulation. In the language of the late learn- 
ed Dr Adam Clarke, I can say, '' I am not 
tired of the world." I have nothing now to bind 
me to earth but the reigning desire to do good. 
Earthly things never to me looked more fleeting 
and vain, yet I know they are good, and abso- 
lutely necessary while here. 1 thank God for 

ABNGR J0NE9. 159 

food and raiment^ and am content therewith. I 
tbank God that I am not anxiously perplexed 
about what I shall eat or what I shall drink, or 
wherewithal I shall be clothed. To my great 
astonishment and gratitude,^ God has hitherto 
supplied my temporal wants since I was a preach- 
er 5 (for when 1 commenced preaching / lejt 
all) nor can I say that I have lacked any good 

' And can he have taught to trust in his name, . 
And thus far have brought me to put me to shame ?' 

*' ' Give me food to eat, and raiment to put on, 
so thai I return to my father's house in peace.' 
This is all my desire, and all my prayer as it re- 
spects perishable things. 

" Young preachers, should these lines meet 
your eyes, let them stimulate you to preach 
Christ at the loss of all things. Do your duty, 
trust in God, and all will come right. JVb one 
ever put his trust in God and was confounded. ^^ 

In the autumn of 1837, he decided to leave 
Assonet, still having his mind bent on making 
the tour in which he was defeated six years 
before. Indeed he cherished this purpose up 
to the time of his death, and had made his ar- 
rangements to fulGl the wishes of his heart, in 
respect to it, during the summer succeeding the 
time of his decease. He gave notice accordf^ 

• . « -/ ■ ■■ ' 


iogly to the people in Assonet that be should 
leave them in the Spring following, which pur* 
pose he carried into exectrtion. 

He supplied the pulpit in his old parish in 
Portsmouth, N. H. three months in the ensuing 
spring, and then at the earnest solicitation of die 
destitute and very small society in Upton^ Mass. 
he repaired thither and made it his home for 
two years. He would not consider himself as 
a settled pastor, but told them he would tarry 
among them as long as he considered it his duty 
and should feel at liberty to leave them whenever 
be chose. During his tarry in Upton be jour« 
neyed considerably, and among other traveb 
visited all the places where he bad had charge 
of a parish. 

On the first day of August, 1839, he was 
married to Mrs. Nancy F. Clark, of Nantucket. 
The ceremony took place at the house of the 
writer of these memoirs, in Brighton, who offi- 
ciated on the occasion. In company with his 
new wife he visited Naiitasket — now Hull,— 
where be met several of his old friends from 
Boston, and other places, and who had often ac- 
companied him thither on his preaching tours 
thirty years before. Here he spent a delight- 
ful season, and then returned to Upton. He 
Hurried here until April, 1 840, when h^ cemov-. 
ed his family to Exeter, N. H. 

For a number of years Elder Jones bad resolv* 
ed, as sooQ as be could see his way clear to 
do so, to retire akogetber from tbe responsible 
cares of a parisb ; still intending to preach 
wheoever and wberevw opportunity should 
present. To this end be sought out a place nf 
retreat, where be could calmly and quietly spend 
the remainder of bis days. He had saved a tri* 
fle from tbe wreck of bis living — a trifle accuroo^v 
lated by bis medical treatment of cancers,—^ 
which be invested in a snug little cottage in the 
pleasant little village of Exeter. He refitted it 
and furnished it, expecting to enjoy it for many 
years, when he was visited with the disease 
which carried him away from all earthly babitiir> 

In the autumn of 1840, be accompanied bia 
wife on a visit to her relatives in the sea-girt 
isle of Nantucket, where be spent several weeks^ 
aa happily, as be then said, as any of bis whole 
life. On his return he paid tbe writer of these 
pages his last visit. This was in October. H6 
then appeared in perfect health. He spoke of 
his visit with enthusiasm, said be did not feel 
older than when be married bis first wife, and 
did not see why he was not likely to live twen* 
ty yeara. Indeed I never knew him more 
cbeerfuli and his countenance was the very ior 

I6d MEMorft or 

dex of health, indicating the age of fifty^ more 
than that of 8et>tnty. He left me with the as- 
surance that he should call on me on his great 
journey- to the south and west, which he should 
commence as earljr in the spring as the travel* 
ling would permit. 

He wrote me in February that his health was 
failing him, and, as I thought, in rather a des- 
ponding tone. During April I received his 
last note — brief and in a trembling hand, in 
which he informed me that he had given up all 
hope of ever being better, and expressing a 
strong desire to see his children. 

When I first saw him in April I was struck 
with the great change which disease had wrongbt 
in him. The strong man was bowed down, 
and the brow that only a few months before had 
betokened middle age, now seemed to speak 
more than truth. He met me calmly, although 
it evidently cost him a severe struggle. He 
spoke with the utmost cheerfuhiess of his con- 
dition. He had arranged his affairs with the 
world, and he had no anxiety about the future. . 
It was a privilege to sit at the bed-side, and wit- 
ness the blessed effects of a faithful life. I ask- 
ed him if his faith now faltered ? " No, my 
son," he replied, " you know I have never been 
given to. extraordinary excitements. I am calm 


and tranquil, ready to depart when it is God's 
time ; willing to continue in this state just as 
long as he shall see fit to keep me here." 

I asked him how he viewed the future ? "I 
do not give myself any anxiety about that," he 
responded, " I believe it will be infinitely more 
glorious than T can conceive. But I can truly 
say, that if my portion in heaven is only what it 
has been for forty years On earth, with all its 
trials and cares — could these enter heaven — it is 
more than I deserve, atid I could devoutly ex- 
claim, ^ Lord, it is enough.' I have tiied to be 
faithful. I think I have ever acted conscien- 
tiously, and I have no guilty recollections. I 
have had more than my pay as I went along. 
All that is to come is blessed gratuity, — the free 
and glorious gift of grace. I have enjoyed as 
much as most men in life — now an angel's bless- 
edness awaits me. All this glorious hope I 
have in my blessed Saviour, — praise to his holy 

Up to this time he had been able to get about 
the house, but the day before I saw him he had 
taken his bed to die, as he said. He' was how- 
ever anxious to sit once more at table with me 
and his family, which he did, although it was ev- 
idently a great efl^ort. He led the devotional 
services in a calm and devout manner, and retir^ 

160 MEMptR or 

ed from the table, saying, «' I have eaten my last 
supper with you on earth, may our nex.t be with 
Jesus in the kingdom of God." 

Just before this he had called the church in 
Exeter to his bedside to partake with them for 
the last time the broken body of Christ. I was 
not present, but was told that it was a most sol- 
emn and impressive season. 

When I left him he took an affectionate fare- 
well, accompanied with words of counsel and 
advice, not expecting to see me again in time* 
Symptoms however made their appearance 
which deceived all but him into the hope that a 
crisis had been reached in his disease, and I en- 
deavored to encourage in him this hope, without, 
however, the slightest effect. / 

Nearly up to this period he had been entirely 
fjree from pain, and his appetite had remained 
pretty good. Without any apparent cause and 
with no pain, he had gradually lost both his 
strength and flesh, until he was now little better 
than a mere skeleton. From this time to his 
death his sufierings increased upon him, until 
they became terrible indeed, up to the latest 
breath of life. 

. His christian fortitude and patience, however, 
never forsook him! He received all his old ac- 
quaintances, and bade them adieu with perfect 

composure, having a word ofcouQi^dorgnGOiir« 
agement for each. 

On Saturday, May 29, 1841, about noon, kp 
fell asleep in Jesus, ending a life of gre^t us^r 
fulness and leaving the savor of a good naqie |p 
bis children and all the wide circlp of bis frieo^^ 

He used to say, ^ I dare not plan for my lif^^ 
for I am sure to have all my plans frustratjod.' 
His last plam were an illustration of this XP" 
mark. When he married Mrs. Clarke, ha WQ9 
full of his purposes of life, and promised himself 
a great deal of enjoyment in this life. But these 
purposes were all thwarted. In les$ tb^n two 
years he was arrested and summoned ito a high- 
er sphere of action, leaving his lonely iind be- 
reaved companion alone, to bewail her loss, and 
to prepare herself to job him in that world 
where we shall neither marry nor be given in 

On the Monday following, his funeral was at- 
tended by a numerous collection of h|s old 
friends and acquaintances, in the Chapel of the 
Christian Society. More than twenty clergy- 
men, of different denominations, were present. 
The services were conducted with gr^nt pro- 
priety and solemnity. A sermon was delivered 
by Elder Elijah Shaw, of Lowell, which was ex- 
ceedingly appropriate and solemn. 



I HAVE thought proper in this place to throw to- 
gether some incidents in the life of Elder Jones, 
which serve to illustrate some of the prominent 
points of his character. I could not well have in- 
terwoven them in the narrative which has gone he- 
fore without having disturbed too much its thread. 
And 1 have thought that they would be more ac- 
ceptable in this separate form to the generality of 
the readers of this little volume. 

The first trait of character which I shall notice, 
and which every one who knew him, will instant- 
ly recognize, was his remarkable conscientious' 
ness, I never knew a man whose whole life was 
a more emphatic expression of this moral senti- 
ment. It not only guided his actions in the great 
and important events of his life, but it embraced 
the minutest and simplest purpose of his heart. 

He always did what he did, not because it was 
customary, and convenient, but because he believ- 
ed in his heart it was strictly just. He entered into 
no arrangements, large, or small, without first ask- 


ing what was right and proper to be done in such 
circumstances. When he felt that he must preach 
— when he determined to marry — when he went 
here or th^re to preach — when he bargained for a 
horse — indeed, I think I may well say, no act of 
his life but is marked with this high deference to 
the sentiment of justice, which may be called the 
crowning one of his character. I will illustrate 
this by a few extracts from his journal, in connex- 
ion with some of the leading incidents in his life. 

We have already seen how entirely he gave up 
himself to the dictates of duty, when he thought 
he was called to preach. How unhesitatingly he 
relinquished a lucrative profession ; how cheerfully 
he encountered poverty and reproach ; how unre- 
servedly and solemnly he consecrated his whole 
soul and body for life to the glorious work. And 
how, ever afterwards, he cheerfully relinquished 
ease and independence, that he might go to some 
low and poor church, where there were few earth- 
ly inducements, that he might be in the way of 
doing the will of Him that sent him. 

It was while his mind was exercised about 
preaching, and he was still in the practice of med- 
icine, that he concluded to marry. But he could 
not for an instant think of suffering her to whom 
his hand was plighted to remain in ignorance of 
his impressions, and of the change in hjs outward 
circumstances, a change in his profession ^ould 
bring about Accordingly he determined to di- 


vulge the whole to her, and then give her full lib- 
erty to withdraw the pledge she had given him. 
But I will let him speak for himself. 

" When I really concluded to marry, I viewed 
the matter to be solemn, and concluded it was my 
duty to make known to my intended wife the situa- 
tion I was in. I asked her if she thought she was 
acquainted with the man with whom she expected 
to unite for life ? She said she thought she was. 
I told her she was under a mistake, and I proceed- 
ed to tell her that I was a deserter from my native 
country, and that I intended to return some time or 
another, and if she was not willing to go with me, 
I should leave her. That is, said I, I have made 
a profession of religion, and have revolted from it, 
and I hope I shall yet return. But I must tell you 
farther, I have been tried in my mind concerning 
preaching, and I expect that I must yet preach, 
although I am so involved in the world now. God 
has always visited me with judgments for my re- 
bellion, and I expect God will still visit me with 
judgments until I return. I expect to be one of the 
poorest creatures of all God's creation. I expect 
after I have been married three or four years, and 
have three or four children around us in rags, cry- 
ing for bread and milk, and not even that to give 
them — and I perhaps without one decent suit of^ 
clothes to my back, while my wife is at home in 
rags and want, shall be abroad preaching to those 
who are unable to give me either raiment or food. 


This I think very probably will be my condition if 
I ever marry at all. Now if you cannot consent 
thus with your eyes open, to marry the beggar I 
, have described to you, you must not marry me, 
and you are fully absolved from all obligation you 
may feel yourself under to become my wife.'' 

Nothing terrified, however, by this appalling pic- 
ture she joined her fortunes with his, and I believe 
never had occasion to regret the hour which linked 
them together in the bands of wedlock, although 
she wias at times greatly perplexed and troubled 
about the future. 

Time rolled on, and Elder Jones began to 
preach. As we have seen, it resulted in the neg- 
lect of his business, greatly to the annoyance of 
those families who had employed him, and mortifi- 
cation of his wife and friends. 

" If I recollect right, I returned home from 
preaching soon after, having been abseint from Sun- 
day morning, until Tuesday. In this period- of 
time I had had calls to go among the sick, and no 
small stir was made among the people about my 
turning preacher, as they termed it. When I re- 
turned home I found Mrs Jones in great tribula- 
tion about the loss I had met with, since I had been 
gone, and might have earned, if I had been ai 
home. What was worse than all the rest, she said, 
was the mortification she had received, by people 
calling and saying ' where is the Doctor ?' I told 
them you were gone to Danville. ' What, said they, 


has he gone to doctor any body, or has he gone to 
preach ? I told them I supposed you were gone 
to preach, and I supposed some body was sick too. 
* Well,' said they, ' if he does not attend to his busi- 
ness better, we must have another doctor.' She 
said she was saluted four times in one night, with, 
' hallo ! where 's the doctor ?' and she had to tell 
them, ' gone to Danville^ gone to Danville.' My wife 
concluded it was as much my duty to stay at home, 
and attend to my business, as it was to go about 
preaching, earning nothing. Said she, ' you say 
yourself you will not be settled, and have a salary, 
but only receive just what the people are pleased 
to give you, and as for the cold hand of charity, 
that will never maintain any body. Once you 
wanted to have something in the world, as well as 
I, but now you care nothing about it, «dl you care 
for is to go about and preach. We shall soon 
come to nothing, and be as poor as poverty itself, 
and come to begging.' I told my wife that what 
she said concerning poverty, was quite likely to 
be true, for I expected nothing but to be poor, in 
this world. 1 asked her if she did not remember 
what I told her before we were married, about 
preaching and being poor ? Her answer was, * I 
do not know as I do.' I then said, do you not re- 
member that I asked you before we were married, 
whether you were acquainted with the person, 
with whom you expected to unite for life ? You 
answered, you thought you were ; and I told you 


you were not. And I here repeated what I had told 
her about preaching, poverty, and rags, before I 
had married her ; also how I warned her not to 
marry me unless she was willing to encounter all 
this. I then asked her again, ' do you not remem- 
ber I told you all this ?' She then acknowledged 
she did. I then told her it was not so bad yet, for 
my family was not in want, and moreover, through 
the goodness of God, my wife was not in rags, and 
I had yet a decent suit of clothes to wear. I told 
my wife that I believed it was my duty to preach, 
and that if 1 had lost five thousand dollars, 1 should 
not begrudge it, I had seen so much of the good- 
ness of God. I proceeded to say, 'We have 
enough to last us one year to live upon, and I am 
determined to spend my time in preaching, while 
that lasts. Then if no door opens for me to main- 
tain my family, I will return to my former occu- 
pation, or any other lawful business.' And I can 
say, that at that time I felt willing to make a full 
surrender of all that I had, property atid family, 
time and talents." See page 43. 

Another remarkable trait in the character of 
Elder Jones was his perfect contentment with his 
lot I think I never knew a man who so generally 
found cause for thankfulness in all, even the most 
trying events of his life. This was based on a re- 
markably just estimate of wealth. He used to 
8ay that what could not be used must be left un- 


used, and wealth unused was no better than any 
other thing useless. I recollect hearing him say, 
on a particular occasion, when his real condition 
was compared to what, with a little more worldly 
prudence and foresight, it might have been, " I 
am as rich as I wish to be. I never go hungry, or 
thirsty, or naked. I never lacked a shelter, or a 
bed, or a hat to my head. I have enough for all 
this and more too. I can give a poor brother an 
occasional loaf of bread, and a cup of cold water. 
I can gratify my love for books, and have means 
to travel and see my friends. What more can I 
wish ? I have never known want, and I feel as- 
sured that I never shall. And if it takes the last 
dollar to give me decent burial, that is enough. I 
owe no man any thing but good will, and if I am 
square with the world at death, it will have no 
demand on me, and if while I live in it, it give me 
a support, I will not quarrel with it.'' 

He had a happy faculty of making the besi of a 
badf case, and used oflen to laugh at his own, or 
others' poor bargains. When he was in poverty 
he was content, and plenty made him happy. 
When the sun shone, he rejoiced in it, and when 
the tempest swept past, he .looked for the morning 
in cheerful hope ! 

Allied to this spirit of contented reliance on the 
Divine arm, was a deep spirit of sympathy for the 
poor and suffering. I have seen him sustain him* 
self in the midst of sore trials and deep afflictions. 


with smiling cheerfulness, and melt into tears at 
the simple recital of another's wo, and that other, 
perhaps, an entire stranger. 

The following extract of a letter^ written late in 
life, will exhibit this trait of character. It was 
indited during a "most awful storm," which would 
not permit him to reach his home. 

" I am now at Deacon 's, one of the best of 

homes. There is now raging one of the most furi- 
ous storms of wind and rain I ever experienced, 
yet I am happily sheltered, and in good health. I 
am in hopes that you have now got my last, and 
are rejoicing over the same, while the storm is 
howling around your peaceful dwelling. How 
good the Lord is to give us a safe hiding place 
from the stormy tempest ; so may Christ be our 
hiding place, when the last fiery storm and tempest 
shall overtake us, and the elements shall mek with 
fervent heat. 

" How very pleasing it would be to occupy the 
same fireside, this evening, and mingle in conver* 
sation with my dear friend. I am, however, sur- 
rounded with so many rich and undeserved bless- 
ings, that every restless feeling is turned into the 
feast of contentment, and every murmur into 
praise and thanksgiving. O think of the poor dis- 
tressed mariner, at his wit's end. Probably, by 
ihe violence of this storm, some will be made wid- 
ows and orphans ; and perhaps some of our rela- 
tives, or acquaintances. O Thou who ridest 


majestically on the stormy deep, save the half 
distracted sailor, and hold him safely in the hollow 
of thy hand, and teach him to revere thy holy 
name, and run into it, as a strong tower of safety, 
both for soul and body. 

" If we would continually sit at the soul-cheer- 
ing feast of contentment, we must never contrast 
our circumstances, with those we imagine far bet- 
ter off than ourselves, and so begin to covet that 
which is our neighbor's ; but look around on the 
miserable and wretched. Think on those who 
lack food, fuel, and clothing. Of the fields of 
battle crimsoned with blood, and covered with the 
slain, husbands and sons. Think of those in the 
lonely prison house, some waiting their trial and 
some their execution, already appointed. Think 
of those degraded men in the State prison, now in 
their lonely, cold, stone cell. Many wives have 
husbands and sons there ; how much worse than 
death ! Think on the poor lonely widow, mourn- 
ing over a departed husband, and weeping over 
fatherless children, crying for bread, when she 
has none to ^ive. Think of these broken hearted 
mothers, weeping over prodigal daughters in houses 
of ill fame ; whom they once tenderly folded in 
their arms and nourished at their breast. Think 
of captives among the savages. Think of the 
beastly drunken husband, killing himself and wife 
by inches, with liquid fire ; see the poor distressed 
children ; and if this is not enough, O, think of 


the rich man in hell, lifting up his eyes in torments. 
And after having surveyed all these scenes of in- 
" describable wo, go home and sit down at the festi- 
val of conientment, deeply humbled at the thought 
of ever uttering a murmur, or harboring a moment's 

Another trait of character which shone conspic- 
uously to all beholders, was his truly Christian 
(diarity. He was exceedingly tenacious of his own 
views of religious truth, but he was perfectly wil- 
ling to give every man the utmost freedom of 
thought and expression. He gloried in his own 
creed, and believed that the Christians with whom 
he associated had made more progress and posses- 
ted more light than any other body of Christians ; 
but he believed that all denominations embriaced 
among their professed disciples, a vast majority of 
true believers, and such as God delighted to own 
and bless. In accordance with these views he acted. 
He was ready to commune and fellowship with all 
who professed and called themselves Christians, 
and one of his first trials with the denomination to 
which he early belonged, [Baptist] was in refer- 
ence to close communion. As an evidence of his 
enlarged charity, I would remark, that on a certain 
occasion he preached for a Baptist brother minis- 
ter in his own pulpit, and by invitation. At the 
close of the service, the Baptist brother broke 
^read and distributed the emblems of the body 
was broken for all, and Elder Jones and his 


wife sat by, and were denied the privilege of par- 
taking with them. "Surely," he adds, rather 
pointedly, "if to them restraint and fetters are 
better than freedom, I need not complain. They 
could not debar me from silent and sweet commun- 
ion with God and themselves, and I joined heartily 
in the service, eating bread and drinking wine that 
they knew not of." 

Elder Jones was a man of much prayer. He 
thought that whatever was worth undertaking at 
all, was worth seeking the blessing of God upon. 
In all the common events, as well as those of more 
importance, he sought the direction and aid of 
Heaven. He was particularly jealous that nothing 
should interrupt the regular devotions of the fami- 
ly, and he would excuse no member's absence, 
unless they were away from home. In these de- 
votions he noticed all passing events that were of 
importance, and often asked particular favors at 
the hand of God. 

Besides his regular family and public devotions, 
he was much given to secret prayer. He estab- 
lished and set apart certain days for prayer and 
self-examination, and on these occasions he used 
to absent himself from his family and society as 
much as possible. He also observed the annual 
fast, in the letter of it, refraining from food alto- 
gether, and devoting himself to prayer and medi- 


I f5ncf among His papers, many Writteil p'ray^rfey 
and " covenants with God," which were elicited 
on particular occasions. Two or three I will give, 
as exhibiting his frame of mind, and throwing light 
upon this trait of character. The following Wsts 
written on the occasion of leaving St parish : 

" A cool, cloudy day, and unfit to go abroad. I 
shall therefore devote it to fasting, prayer, atfd 
meditation : thus — I open the Bible and place it 
Before mie, kneeling down and placing my right 
hand on its open pag^s. I acknowledge this bles- 
sed volume to be my only guide and discipline, 
and devote myself anew and entirely to the Lord, 
for life and for death, for time and for eternity. I 
then pray most earnestly to my 'Heavenly Fathet, 
that he will accept my vow, and guide me by his 
counsel and still uphold me with his wotd ; that he 
would quicken my faith in his truth, and help nle 
fully to rely on his word of grace ; promising to 
go wherever his spirit- shall lead me;^ and to do 
whatever in his Providence I am called on to pet- 
^form, whh entire devotion and cheerftrlness. 

" And as I am about lestving — ■■ — , and like 
Abraham, going out, I know not whither, O, ratty 
Abraham^s God be with rtie, and help me to keep 
this fast as the children of Israel did by the river 
Ahava, and go before me unta the place of itty 
labors, aud where I can do most for his honor and 
the good of souls. 

** Having disposed of my own case, I seek a? 

ipPEKDit. 177 

fcfessiffg for my dear absent friends, and for all 
classes and conditions of men, praying for each 
separately and in particular. 

*' After confessing my own sins and seeking 
pardon, I rise from my knees and peruse the holy 
oracles, meditating and reading alternately, uiitil 
the hour of noon, when I again spend an hour in 
prayer. And so the afternoon and evening are 

It must be remembered that this is only a private 
memorandum, and net intended ibr any eye but 
his own. 

The following extract from his unarranged pa- 
' pers, will exhibit the deep sense he ever entertain- 
ed of the importance of the work to which he was 
called, and (he consciousness of the imperfect 
manner in which he discharged it, which ever 
seems to have impressed him. 

" The common routine of ministerial duties has 
'become so habitual and familiar, that the cross has 
tseasfed. In these the ' yoke is easy, and the bur- 
den is light.' But if my master ever calls me to 
bear the x^ross in a way out of the common courses, 
I find it equally heavy now as when I first began 
to take it up. I find in my merhbers a spirit war- 
ring against the pure spirit of Christ; it is, 'the 
csimaV mind.' ^ It is not subject to the law of God, 
neither indeed can be.' This * carnal mind ' I find 
in Ihe, und I am ailhs^ed to ^y, ^ ioft^n bringing 


me into captivity.' We miwt with our spiritual 
weapons wage war with this ' old man of sin.' We 
are well able, through Christ Jesus, at present, ' to 
bind the strong man armed, and take away his 
arms,' and lead and hold him in captive chains^ 
until, like Sampson, when shorn of his locks, he 
^ shall be as weak as any other man \* and finally 
nail him to the cross until he die. 'Crucify the 
old man with his lusts and affections.' 

"In all the above stated duties of Christian war- 
fare, I come sadly short, for which I feel guilty 
before God. And where can I go but to him 
against whom I have offended ? And to go with a 
hollow heart will be but solemn mockery. I hava 
often relaxed the captive chain by which the man 
of sin is bound, and thereby have often suffered 
severely. Alas ! how little I learn obedience^ by 
the things I suffer. I am also faulty in not firmly 
resisting alluring, foolish temptations — while the 
holy commandment teaches the denying all ungod- 
liness, living soberly, and righteously, and godly in 
this present life. * I am a worm and no man.' It 
seems as though I was hardly half a Christian — 
* Wherefore I abhor myself in dust and ashes ' 

" Under the above considerations, I feel greatly 
cast down. I feel utterly unworthy of the very 
many blessings which I am constantly enjoying, 
both temporally and spiritually, for they are great 
and very many. I have every reason to testify 
and set to my seal that \ The Lord delighteth in 


mercy ;' and is * long suffering,' and that I have 
ahused that long-suffering. Even now I feel that I 
am not by any means improving it as I ought. I 
am not pleased or satisfied with myself. * So much 
experience of the sweetness of obedience, and of 
the bitterness of unwillingness to bear the cross, 
and still, unto this very day, so amazingly lacking 
in what I ought to be. I am covered with shame 
and confusion of face. More than fifly years since, 
I first knew the sweets of pardon, and th^ perfect 
love of God shed abroad in my heart. And for 
more than thirtyseven years I have been a preach- 
er of the gospel ; and how little^ very little, have 
I done in the vineyard of the Lord. I am now in 
the going down of the sun, and so of course doing 
less and less. ' Few and evil have been the days 
of the pilgrimage of thy servant' And now be- 
hold I am going off of the stage in the evening of 
my life, having done a poor, very poor day's work. 
Yet I hope I may have possibly gained one or two 
talents. ' Cast me not off from thy presence ; up- 
hold me by thy free spirit.' Take not the talent 
from me ; all my hope is in the merciful Redeem- 
er. Forsake me not when I am old and gray- 
headed." • • • • 

The following prayer seems to have been writ- 
ten a short time previous to his marriage to his 
second wife, and was intended to be used by them 
mutually, at a given hour of the day. 

>' O Lord, our God. Although parted in body 


yet' united in spirit, as though- kneeling at the same- 
altar, we bow before thee, who has taught us in 
thy word to acknowledge thee' in all our ways, and 
heist graciously promised that thou wilt direct our 
paths. We now make our humble acknowledg- 
ments, that thou art the author of our existence^ 
and the lengthener out of our days ; that thou hast 
^een our protector from the ten thousand dangers 
through which we have been called to pass ; 
that thou hast been mindful of us, When we have 
been unmindful of thee ; that thy long-suffering and 
tender mercies have been lavished upon us, while 
we have been (ifcireless and unthankful ; that thou 
didst call often, while we as often refused : that 
thou wast pleased to show us our sins, and lead us 
ta confess and forsake them ; and that thou wast 
pleased to forgive them freely, through the blood 
of Jesus Christ, Whiph cleanseth from all sin. 

'*^We acknowledge before thee all our heatrt- 
wanderings, shortcomings, and backslidings. We 
acknowledge our dependence upon thee for all 
present and future blessings, and thank thee for 
past and present blessings, asking thee to grant aH 
needed good in time to come. 

" The three following petitions grant us, and it 
shall be enough. 

" Let us know thy will and do it 

" Give bread to eat and raiment to put on, until 
we return to our Father's house in peace. 

^ Let us be prepared for death, whenever thou 
dialt please to send it. Aroeur 

*' And thou faithful Jehovah, in a particular man- 
ner would we ask of thee, wisdom to bless us in 
the solemn engagement which we have entered into 
in the marriage covenant, and which is about to be 
ratified, according to the law of the land. Wilt 
thou grant unto us all the blessings we stand in 
need of in this heaven-ordained institution, that we 
may walk as heirs of the grace of life. Give us 
toisdom to conduct all our affairs with discretion, 
and patience to endure all afflictions. Give us 
willing minds to bear one another^s burdens, and 
may tha law of kindness dwell on our tongue. 
May we patiently partake of each other's afflic- 
tions, and gratefully share of each other's joys. 
Give us to draw in an even yoke, according to 
thine own institution. Thus help us to live until 
death shall separate us. Amen.'* 

I shall notice but one more trait of character 
pertaining to the subject of these memoirs, and 
that is his remarkable love of books. As has 
been seen in the narrative of his life, his early 
literary opportunities were extremely limited. But 
he in a great measure overcame tbe«vils he suffered 
on this account, hy assiduous reading in later life, 
.although his reading was not of a kind to polish 
his mind. He sought to store it with valuable ma- 
terials, and paid little attention to the style of their 
dress. Consequently, his own style was not refin- 
ed, or easy. Nor did he improve it throughout his 
long life ; in consequence, in part, doubtless, of a 


very strong reluctance which he ever felt to use 
the pen at. all. His preaching was altogether ex- 
temporaneous, and I have found but two sermons 
written out among his manuscripts, although he 
often committed the heads of his discourses to 

He acquired quite a thorough knowledge of the 
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew grammars, and could 
read in any of these languages with tolerable 
readiness, although he never received any instruc- 
tion in either. He had a great love for history 
and biography, and of such works his library prin- 
cipally consisted, and his habits of reading were 
never forsaken until his last sickness. 

Among his last thoughts committed to paper, I 
find the following scrap, written a few years before 
his death. 

^' My Library consists of every thing in nature, 
and in whatever knowledge and truth are to be 
found. I have been captivated by books, since I was 
eight years of age. I am now sixtyfive, and yet I 
have never had one desire to be released from this 
happy captivity. I am far from being satisfied ; I 
am as eager as ever to turn and see what the next 
page will tell me. I have read little, and my stock 
of knowledge is consequently very contracted. 
The sacred Bible is above all ; I love to read it 
more than any other, and all other, books, and I 
suppose I have read as many hours in this precious 
volume of life, as in all other books besides.'* 




Note B. p. 66. 

To the Selectmen of the town of Boston : 

Gentlemen,— We, a society of people known 
by the name of the Christian Church in Boston 
and Charlestown, (we don't mean, by calling our- 
selves the Christian Church, that there are no other 
Churches of Christ in the land, as some affirm 
that we say, but we hold fellowship with all real 
Christians, of every denomination,) and meeting 
in Friend street every Sabbath day, and also on 
Tuesday and Thursday evenings, for the express 
, purpose of worshipping Almighty God in a public 
manner, agreeable to the provisions of our good 
Constitution, together with a number of our neigh- 
bors of other denominations, under a sense of our 
duty to promote the peace of our own society, the 
peace of society in general ; beg leave to submit, 
to your consideration a true account of the disturb- 
ances which have taken place in and around the 
house in which we meet, as well as the measures 
that we have taken to preserve the peace of so- 

It is now more than four months since we have 
met in this place, as above mentioned. We had 
' not long occupied, before some young men — by 
their appearance from 14 to 18 years of age — be- 
began to distiirb us by talking loud in meeting, 
stamping and scraping on the floor with their feet, 
laughing out loud, whistling and caterwauling, run- 
ning up and down stairs eight or ten at a time ; 
striking on the stair-casing with their staves, and 
yelling in a most ridiculous manner, with language 
most obscene and insulting. Ladies have been 
treated in such an insolent manner by them, that 
they dare not pass that way, even in the early part 
of the evening, without protection. We have had 

184 APPENQl^ 

our lights frequently blown . out, our lamps in the 
entry knocked down and broken, every evening 
on which we meet, unless we watch them. We 
have several times had our door locked, in order 
to prevent our coming out when we wished. Se- 
gars have been smoked in time of meeting repeat- 
edly. It is common to have our house stoned in 
time of worship. We believe in one instance that 
as many as about twenty stones or brick-bats have 
been thrown against the house in time of one 
meeting, together with a number of loud, tumultu- 
ous huzzas. Loud, do we say ? Yes, so loud that 
they have been heard on Charlestown Training- 
field. The gate at the entrance of our yard has 
been torn down repeatedly, while we have been 
worshipping. When people go out of the place of 
worship, they cannot walk peaceably, but have 
oAen been insulted in the most shameful manner- 
Firing squibs at the house and into the yard, has 
of late become common. As near as we can 
judge, not far from twenty were blown off in one 
evening. Fire, flying in such a manner around a 
house, at such a dry season as this, is truly alarm- 
ing. Many more things might be named by us, 
but we forbear. 

The measures that we have taken to preserve 
the peace are as follows, viz. : In the first of our 
disturbance, Mr Jones, our preacher, addressed 
them in the mildest manner possible, by telling 
them that we were worshipping according to the 
provisions of the Constitution, also requesting them 
not to disturb us, and informing them that if they 
persisted in it they must expect to be dealt with as 
the law directed. Yet being unwilling to prose- 
cute, we appointed six men of our church to 
stand in places where we thought it would be most 



likiely to keep these disorderly people quiet as well 
«s to take notice of those who refused to be peace- 
able. Finding this did not have the effect desired, 
we employ-ed peace officers in addition, in order to 
keep the peace. Some we have prosecuted and 
got judgment against them at the Municipal Court, 
but all this does not break up the riotous conduct 
of those disorderly people. 

And now, gentlemen, as you stand in the char- 
acters of fathers and guardians of the town, we 
request that you would in some manner, as you in 
your wisdom shall think best, use your influence lo 
stop such tumultuous and disgraceful c<Miduct, 
We feel firmly attached to the government of our 
country, as well as being desirous of our own 
peace, and the violation of either gives us pain. 

We entreat you, gentlemen, to act by the gol-* 
den rule, and in this case do as you would wish to 
be done by. We are very sensible that many un- 
favorable stories are reported about our manner of 
worship, and many things which are entirely ^Ise. 
We endeavor to regulate our form of worship as 
nearly according to the Scripture rule as possible ; 
we will not set ourselves up as being perfect, but 
liable to err as well as others. We assure you we 
mean to be governed by the laws of our land, if 
we conduct otherwise the law is open. 

Is it inquired why this Church is more disturbed 
than others .? We answer, that it is the fate of all 
new sects. Why were Christ and his followers 
treated in the same manner and worse, when they 
first made a public appearance ? Why did the 
Apostles and their followers share the same fate ? 
Why did the Church of England meet with the 
same thing when they first separated from the 
Church of Rome ? And why has every denom- 



ination from that time even until now shared simi- 
lar treatment when they first separated from other 
denominations ? And especially, why were the 
Baptists persecuted in Boston when they first sep- 
arated from the Congregationalists ? The first 
persons who separated were excommunicated by 
their former brethren, and denounced as heretics, 
&c. Their meeting house was nailed up and they 
were forbid to hold meetings. Some were whip- 
ped, some fined, others imprisoned, &c. &c. This, 
though not sufficient, is probably the true reason, 
and of this you can judge, gentlemen, as well as 
we. And, gentlemen, to conclude : we simply say 
before you the conduct of some of our youth, and 
what is more lamentable, some who by their dress 
and age might be gentlemen, for not a few such 
have been found in some of the above mentioned 
riotous assemblages. We are sure that you can- 
not help discovering the fatal effects that will fol- 
low if such things are persisted in. Therefore we 
close our petition with wishing you success in pre* 
serving, under a wholesome constitution, the rights 
and privileges of the citizens in general as well as 
of your petitioners individually, who, as bound, 
will ever pray, &c. 

Boston, September 16, 1804« 

Note C. p. 88. 
The folio wing Hymn, or Ode, was written on the 
occasion of the blockade, by the British fleet, of 
Portsmouth, N. H., during the late war with England. 

Our pleasant town is in alarm 

By a menacing foe ; 
They threaten our forts to storm 

And lay our bulwarks low. 


Their cannon thundering on the main 

Spread dire confusion round. 
Save us, oh Lord, from being slain ; 

Their crafty plots confound. 

Thou who commands the waves *' be still," 

Now roll them mountain high — 
The waves and winds are at thy will, 

And with thy voice comply. 
Send armed Boreas 'gainst their fleet, 

And drive them from our shore: 
Lay proud ambition at thy feet, 

And thee we will adore. 

But if the winds propitious prove 

Unto that hostile band, 
Still, as the people of thy love. 

Help us against them stand. 
We'll volunteer ourselves to thee, 

Great Captain of the host, 
And in thy name weMl make them flee 

And drive them from our coast. 

Hard by the Shoals* tie squadron seen, 

Bespoke the dread array ; 
In eighteen hundred and fourteen, 

Upon the Sabbath day ; 
But viewing harbor, forts and town, 

They quickly bore away ; 
To their own territory bound — 

As those who saw them say. 

*Isle of Shoals. 


Thanks lo the Lonl, thou God of war 

For thy protecting arm. 
Thou rid'fit in thy majestic car 

And keep'st us safe from harm. 
The nation guard on every side 

And in our councils rule ; 
In general government preside — 

Teach us in wisdom's school. 

Note D. p. 118. 

I have, on the whole, found nothing that I have 
deemed worth publishing, on this subject, and have 
thought best to add nothing to the text. 

Note E. p. 144. 

Elder Jones has been called a quack in medi- 
cine, because he practiced a secret in curing can- 
cers, while his profession was that of a clergyman. 
But he was no quack. As has been seen he en- 
tered the practice of medicine in a regular way, 
and practiced successfully for years before he en- 
tered the ministry. Moreover he was a member 
of the N. H. Medical Society, during his resi- 
dence in that State. It must be allowed that he 
applied a secret to the cure of a certain disease — 
and it is generally understood among the faculty 
in Massachusetts there is a law to that effect bind- 
ing on the members of the State Medical Society — 
that no one physician shall appropriate any discov- 
ery to his personal benefit 


Elder Jones had, or thought he had good rea- 
sons for disregarding these rules. 1st. He was 
not in re^Zar ^practice, and had withdrawn from 
the Association of which he was a member. 2. 
He obtained the secret in such a way that he could 
not honorably or conscientiously divulge it. 3. 
He could not suffer any one to die from neglect, 
while he possessed the means of their restoration. 

He never sought the practice, and although it 
was a source of emolument to him he would gladly 
have given it up, could he have done so honestly. 
Before he died he committed the secret to his 
family and to one or two others, I believe, but do 
not know who they were. 

It was indeed no quackery, but an effectual and 
radical cure. Hundreds of cases came under his 
care, and he very rarely failed to effect a cure 
when he attempted. 

Another evidence of his conscientiousness may 
be given in this connexion. He made his charges 
according to the ability of the cured to pay, and 
whenever he thought one too poor to pay five dol- 
lars he charged nothing for his services, which 
were as fb lihfully rendered as if he had expected 
the largest ,pay. 


Nolt F. p. 121. 

Hymns written for the Dedication of the Christian 
Chapel, in Salem, 182S. 

To thee who built creation's frame> 
Who dost the stany arch sustain, 
We consecrate this speck of earth — 
To thee who gave creation birth. 

To thee, who fills irameasur'd space. 
We dedicate this humble place, 
An earthly temple, to thy name, 
To seek thy glory, spread thy fame. 

As Moses came to Sinai's hill, 
There to receive and do thy will, 
Thus have we come to seek thy face ; 
We wait the visits of thy grace. 

From heaven, thy dwelling place on higfa, 

Tarn thou, thine ever watchful eye ; i 

Save us from sin, from death, from bdl, i 

Under thy shadow let us dwell. i 

Receiving truth like gentle rain, ! 

Here may thy ministers proclaim ; 

The gospel in its power and love, ! 

Blest with thine influence from above. ( 


With hearts in love together knit, 
Let saints in heavenly places sit, 
While sinners, who are deaf and blind. 
Salvation seek, salvation find. 


Here let the prodigal return, 
With bleeding heart bis follies mourn ; 
Fly to his father's kind embrace,— 
Music and joy shall fill ilte place. 

Over repenting sinners born, 
Joy like the brightness of the morn, 
Angels in heaven, and saints shall sing, 
In concert to their heavenly king. 

Hail, princely Saviour, hail. 

Bright sun of gospel day. 
Thy kingdom shall prevail, 

Under thy sceptre's sway ; 
Thy radiant beams of glory shine. 
In heavenly splendor all divine. 

Upon this darken'd earth, 

From east his glory shone, 
When Angels sung his birth. 

To shepherd's made him known ; 
Star of the east, the wise men sought. 
While they from thence their oflfrings brought. 

Thy cheering rays of light, 

Make darkness swiftly fly, 
And give the clearest sight, 

To paths which lead on high ; 
Thy gen'rous warmth to us impart, 
To melt this cold, this stony heart. 

Immanuel, spread thy wings 
Of dazzling glory wide, 

192 APPENDIX. . 

And as the king of kings, 

Own us thy weary bride : 
Under their shade, we'll seek-repose. 
And sing the song that ne'er shall close*.. 

We'll sing thy boundless praise, 
Of wisdom, power, and love, 

And run the Christian race. 
Till we arrive above j 

We'll join with Saints, with Angels sing,. 

The endfess grandeur of our king. 

Wake every heart to praise. 

Tune every voice to sound, 
The joyful song of grace 

Without a shore or bound ; 
Let heaven's high arch the song resound^ 
Throughout the universal rounds.. 

The silver trumpet swells, 

In honor to his name, 
Ring loud ye golden bells, 

To echo round his fame ; 
Play golden harps, strike full-toned Tyre^ 
And raise your hallelujahs higher^ 



Elder Jones was quite a rhymer, and although 
his poetry was none of the most harmonious and 
flowing, he generally contrived to get the gist of 
the matter into his vers(5s, and thus gave them a 
heartiness well pleasing to such as were less alive 
to critical hlemishes, than a want of tone. I shall 
insert here a few pieces for the especial gratifica- 
tion of some of his friends who have desired it, 
rather than as an exhibition of his poetical talent. 


Awake ! ye careless souls, awake ; 
The worlds alluring charms forsake, 
And of the gospel feast partake. 
Say not, soul, now take tbine ease. 
And live in pleasure, as you please ; 
" Lest sudden death should on you seize. 

Just like the sands, within the glass, 
Tour days and moments, swidly pass, 
And you are withVing like the grass ; 
Improve the hours as swifl they fly. 
And seek the Lord while be is nigb, 
Lest in your sinful course yon die* 


According to the gospel chart, 
Come, give unto the Lord, your heart. 
And you shall surely share a part. 
Tis written in his sacred word, 
Whoever calls upon the Lord, 
His saving mercy shall record. 

For Christ upon the cross, once bore. 
The sins of men in purple gore, 
The lost and wretched to restore. 
The gospel and the spirit sound 
Free grace and mercy all around, 
Where e'er the sons of men are found. 

To ask for mercy, be inclined — 
By seeking you shall surely find, 
Knock, and 't will open to your mind ; 
I show you clear the gospel plan. 
How God in Christ, with justice, can 
Forgive and save poor sinful man. 


Writlen A. D. 1820. 

O, WHO would drink consuming fire 
To gratify a foul desire. 
Its promises are smooth and fair 
Relief from pain and anj^ious care. 

Deceitful, momentary ease ! 

Though for the present it doth please, 


Yet in the end, worst of all foes, 
T' will fill our bitter cup with woes. 

It paints our face with fiery red. 
Intoxicates and fools the head, 
It palsies every active limb. 
Makes mad and crazy, weak and slim. 

It makes the eyes like furnace blazcj 
And puts our senses in a maze, 
Calls poverty with all her train. 
Horror and darkness round us reign. 

When in the tyrant's chair it rules. 
Makes kings and beggars perfect fools ; ■ 
It has no power at all to save 
The drunkard from his hopeless grave. 

Turn from the charmer in the gh 
With her enchantments bkl her pass. 
Resist the tyrant's 1)eastly sway, 
Nor longer tribute to him pay. 

Come, break at once the fatal chain 
That binds thee to that deathly train. 
Cast off thy shackles — be a man 
Once more, while yet you can. 



I HAVE come out this beautiful mornin^^ 
To call you from ruiu's deep hrixik. 

Why stand: ye here all the day scorn log ? 
I fear in perdition you ?11 sink. 

Come into the vineyard and labor, 
For life, peace, and heatenly joy. 

Of the Lord you will surely find favor, 
And joys that are free from alloy. 

And when life's day's work is all over 
Your peony the master will give, ' 

From ruin's deep brink you '11 recover. 
With angelfr m glory, to live. 

So win ye the bright crown of glory 
By Jesus is placed on your head ; 

And sing heavenly anthems most holy, 
By fountains of sweet pleasure led. 

The Lamb in the midst will there lead you, 
la pleasures unsullied and bright, 

And lever he '11 watch o'er and feed yoa, 
And kc^p you from sorrow or night. 

Take the harp as an angel in glory, 
To God and the Lamb give the praise. 

In fulness of joy sing the story, 
Through eternity's unending days. 


He thos works up the well known Story of the 
celebrated Dr. Young. 

One summer's day he in the garden walked 
And with two ladies courteously he talked. 
To one he was most partially allied, 
Who afkierwards became his blooming bride. 

Those golden moments smoothly passed away 
When at the gate, a servant thus did say, 
' An honor'd guest expresses his desire 
That from the garden you would just retire.' 

' Go, tell his honor, I'm in paradise, 
By two kind angels led, to make me wise, 
I cannot at this highly favor'd time 
Descend to lower, darker, rougher clime.' 

These angels sought to send him to his guest, 
In arguments persuasive did their best, 
But to no purpose; he refus'd to hear, 
To their remonstrance turned the deafest ear. 

At length the case determin'd to decide, 
Divided on the right and the left side, 
Seize by each arm, they force him to the gate, 
And left him to his saddened fate. 

Confused, he stood a moment in despair, 
But on the next assumed a pleasant air. 
And bow'd and laid his hand upon his breast, 
And thus to them his winning speech addressed; 


" Thus Adam looked when from the garden driven, 
And thus disputed orders sent from heaven. 
But go he must, though yet, like me, was lothe, 
Our fate the same, for angels drove us both. 
Hard was his lot, but mine is more unkind, 
H'lB Eve went with him, mine is left behind.** 


Written in a time of great declension of religion in 
Portsmouth, N. H., March 3l8t, A. D. 1812. 

Break Lord, our bondage break. 

And let thy Spirit flow. 

Our stubborn heaits now break. 

Thy presence let us know. 

That we may serve thee with our might. 

And praise thy name with sweet delight 

Lord, 'tis a time of drought — 

O send refreshing rain, 

With breezes from the south 

Blow on our parched plain. 

Let withered plants revive again, 

And crown the hills with golden grain. 

come the happy day. 

Hunger and thirst we will 

Until we hear thee say 

" Your soul's desire V 11 fill." 

Then converts ^nd old saints shall raise 

With joyful hearts loud shouts of praise. 

iJPPENDlX. 199 


How good and pleasant, 't is to see 
All parties now unite 
In forming one defensiv.e plea 
To put our foes to flight. 
United tlius we sure shall stand, 
Our rights we shall maintain. 
For this, Columbia's happy land, 
The victory soon we'll gain. 
Unto the hand that set us free, 
God of hosts, we pray, 
Secure our rights upon the sea. 
Turn darkness into day. 
Help us to vanquish on the land 
A depredating foe, 
And to the skill of thine own hand, 
Our highest praise shall flow. 


Thistles, with briars and thorns 

Are scattered in my way. 
And Bashan's bulls with horns, 

About me sometimes play. 
Yet Giliad's bafm will heal the wounds 
Received on these enchanted grounds. 

Dark clouds and furious waves, 

Roll high into my bark, 
And ope in gaping graves; 


The night is thick and dark. 
But on that threat'ning swell of pride. 
My Jesus walks to still the tide. 

In cheering tones he speaks. 

Bids me be not afraid, 
The boisterous waves he breaks. 

And they in peace are laid ; 
All hush and silent is the storm, 
And banished is the dread alarm. 

Now Christ, our pilot, steers 
Straight for the happy shore. 

The promised land appears — 
All dangers now are o'er. 

Darkness and winds, have past away, 

Safe glide we on our pleassnt way. 

CALVARY. A Dialogue. 


Come precious souls and let us take 
A walk becoming you and me, 
And whither, O my friend, 
Shall we our footsteps bend. 
To Calvary or Gethsemane ? 



Calvary is a mountain high, 

'T is much too hard a task for me, 

And I had rather stay 

In the broad and pleasant way, 

Then to walk in the garden of 6ethsemane« 

It would not appear such a mountain high. 
Nor such task, dear sinner for thee. 
If you dearly loved the man 
Who first drew out the plan. 
Of climbing the mountain Calvary. 


1 had rather abide in this pleasant place^ 
My gay and merry friends to see ; 

I'd tarry here awhile 

As earthly pleasures smile. 

Than to climb up the mountain Calvary. 

Your gay companions must lie in the dust; 
Their souls are bound to nusery ; 
And if you ever stand 
On Canaan's happy land 
You must climb up the mountain Calvaiy. 

I can see no pleasure in this way 
And it is a lonely walk to me, 
For I have heard them say 
There are Lion«in the way; 
And they lurk on the mountain Calvary. 




O do not thus mistaken be, 
There are no Lions in this way, 
No vulture's eye hath seen, 
Nor young Lion's whelp hath been 
In the way that leads to Calvary. 

O tarry not in all the plain. 

Flee to the mountain that you may be 

Safe from the burning shower 

Which may come within an hour 

And deprive you of climbing up Calvary. 


Abraham's faith to me impart ; 
Isaac's meditative heart ; 
Jacob's wrestling prayer be mine \ 
Joseph's purity sublime ; 
Moses' meekness may I know ; 
Joshua's zeal on me bestow ; 
Gideon's victory let me share ; 
Samuel's faithfulness declare ; 
David's sweet devotion flow ; 
Isaiah's piety to know ; 
Daniel's wisdom from above ; 
John's unbounded perfect love; 
Peter's ardent spirit feel ; 
James' faith by works reveal ; 
Stephen's rapture give in death ; 
Mercy gracing my last breath; 
Unwearied run like zealous Paul„ 
Win the prize and conquer all; 


Mary's love may I possess ; 
Lydia's tender beartedness ; 
Like young Timothy, may I 
Every sinful passion fly; 
Lazarus*^ bapf)y portion share, 
Shame and pain for Christ to bear; 
Abel's righteousness I need, 
That with Enoch I may .-peed 
On my way and walk with God; 
Shun like righteous Lot thy rod ; 
Flee the tempests fiery blast ; 
Safely land in heaven at last. 



The way is straight our feet must run. 
Since we have happily begun, 
Let's follow on without delay. 
Nor ever fall out by the way. 

Press forward steady on our guard. 
And if at times the way seems hard. 
Then strive the more to watch and pray 
Thafwe fall not out by the way. 

If pelting storms upon us fall. 
Then on our great deliv'rer call, 
That by his grace we nevfr may 
Stumble, or fall out by the way. 

If mighty foes against us rise, 
Forward we'll look to the great prize. 


With sword and shield we 11 gain the day. 
Nor ever fall out by the way. 

If one cries, " here," and same, " io, there," 
Increase our dilligence in prayer, 
Then we may resolutely say, 
We '11 never fall out by the way. 


Not by our own seeking we first met in love, 
But as on the earth duty calls us to rove ; 
As Adam saw Eve, and his heart was inclined, 
So when each saw the other, affections combined. 

Now mountains and valleys and plains outstretched 

At present our persons completely divide, 
Pure streams, and wide oceans, are rolling between — 
Cold winters, sweet summers, and springs intervene. 

But winters and summers pass by in swift pace, 
And each cheering season rolls on in their race, 
And soon bring the hour when we'll join hand and 

As one in the Lord, until death shall us part. 

By special assignment in twilight we meet. 
To think of each other, and in spirit to greet. 
To bow in our closets though far, far, away. 
To offer our thanks, and for blessings to pray. 



This hour alwviys lonely is still mingled with joy, 
To bow down in secret is happy employ, 
This happy devotion together we'll pay, 
When space intervening has vanished away. 


Of all unsoriptural names that are 
In christian churches, claim'd so fair, 
'Gainst them I enter my dissent ; 
On Christ's sole name my mind is bent. 


The church of Rome and England too. 
Are names of men, which once were new ; 
The highly boasted Baptist name. 
And Methodist are all the same. 

The Presbyterian, polite, 

And Universalist so light ; 

The honest Quaker, thee and thou, 

Are merely names of men, I trow. 

Disciple, follower, christian, friend. 
For these I equallycontend ; 
With every other scripture sound, 
In gospel rule that can be found. 

Altho' these names, I do reject, 
Yet those who hold them I respect 
As brethren in the Lord of life ; 
So live in love and quit ail strife. / 



My fellowship in Christ is bound 
To all those souls where h>?e is found 
Of every order, sect and name — 
In Christ I count them all the same. 


Our heavenly Father's bve 
Shines through afflictions day. 
Tho' like a mournful dove 
We wing our weary way, 
It works for good, 
The souls best food — 
We'll bid it welcome then* 

It sanctifies the heart ; 
It purifies the gold ; 
It serves the better part 
In peace to us unfold. 
Kiss then the rod ; 
It is from God, 
A token of his love.^ 

In Zion is his fire 

To chasten the desire 

And raise our spirits higher ; 

So tribulation 

Works out salvation, 

And peace and glory brings. 

There on the verge of time, 
Triumphant faith we '11 chime. 


happy thought sublime ; 
When heaven's high arches ring 
With halelujahs loud 
Amid the shining crowd >. 
Saying worthy is the Lamb. 

This is evidently the last poetical effort of Elder 
Jones. It is almost illegible, and is not finished. 
It is delightful to see how to the last his " thoughts 
were in heaven and his conversation there.^' 



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