PAINFUL TIDINGS. 81 mons, and appears to have enjoyed the presence of the Lord in his blessed service. One day after dinner he went with his friend into the garden, there to enjoy the pleasure of uninterrupted conversation, when, turning an angle which presented a full view of the Hudson, he observed a sloop advancing from New-York, in which he expected his two sons. He immediately repaired to the dock, in order to welcome them; but al! how little do we know what lies concealed beneath the unveiled purposes of Divine Providence. As soon as the vessel struck the dock he observed many of the passengers on deck fixing their eyes on him, and one of them stepped on shore to inform him, that his sons were not on board. A second, with much caution and tenderness, informed him, that, early on Tuesday morning, his house of worship, and several other buildings in the neighbourhood, were consumed by fire; and immediately after, a third person handed him a letter, which confirmed the report. This unexpected and painful information produced a momentary regret, but did not prevent Mr. Stanford from calmly resigning himself to the sovereign pleasure of Him "who worketh all things after the counsel of his own will.” It was a fine reflection made by a pious lady, when news was brought to her of two children drowned, whom she loved very much :-"Ah! I see that God will have my whole heart; and he shall have it." And thus too, the afflicted servant of Christ could say, even when God, by the dark and mysterious dispensations of his providence has laid waste all his earthly prospects— "Righteous art thou, O Lord, and upright are thy judgments." Next morning he commenced his journey to the city, and arrived in the evening at the house of a friend, thankful to the Lord that he once more could embrace his children in safety. On the following day he visited the smoking ruins of the house which, at 82 THE PULPIT PRESERVED. his own expense, and with great labour, he had erected for the worship of God.* It was a remarkable circumstance, that although every thing around it was reduced to ashes, the pulpit remained almost uninjured, and one of the firemen actually stood in the pulpit directing the pipe of the engine, while surrounded by the flames. "At the moment," says Mr. Stanford, "the sight of the preserved pulpit. created a sort of impression on my mind, that my public labours in the gospel ministry were not quite at an end, and that yet I might be saved though a by fire."" Many years have elapsed since that fiery trial, and surely the Lord granted him according to his faith. Not only were his services in the gospel ministry continued, but extended far beyond his most sanguine expectation. The universal public esteem entertained towards Mr. Stanford was abundantly evinced on this occasion. The multitude assembled seemed to vie with each other in efforts to save his property from the devouring element, and when that was found impracticable, a very generous contribution was made by the citizens to reinstate him, and as a public testimony of their regard. These circumstances appear to have increased his determination, in the name and in the fear of the Lord, to devote his life to promote the moral benefit of the city of New-York, as an expression of his gratitude for the favours he *It is a fact in the history of Mr. Stanford, and worthy of record, that in the erection of the place of worship, in which he commenced his ministry in New-York, he expended all the funds which he brought with him to America. Had he followed the advice of friends, and invested his money in the purchase of real estate, he could not fail to have secured for his family, a princely fortune. But his zeal for the worship of God absorbed every consideration of personal emolument. The writer has heard him say, that at one time, in the year 1797, he was offered a property for the sum of one hundred pounds, which, in the opinion of good judges, is now worth sixty thousand dollars. According to this estimate, a different appropriation of the amount expended in the cause of Christ, would have secured millions for his private advantage. HIS CONGREGATION DISPERSED. 83 received from its inhabitants. In the mean time, the destruction of his place of worship, led to the dispersion of the church and congregation, and most of the members considered it to be their duty to unite with the other Baptist churches in the city. Thus by the will of God, his many years labour and anxiety in relation to the church, vanished in an hour, and he was called in Providence to appropriate the language of David-"Thou hast showed me hard things: thou hast made me to drink the wine of astonishment." As a pastor he had for many years laboured, and watched, and prayed for the souls of his beloved people, and perhaps he had fondly hoped that the evening of his life would be passed in the bosom of an affectionate church; but heaven had otherwise determined. Other, though not less important objects were to be accomplished by the servant of the Lord. He must "glorify God in the fires," and then spend the remainder of his days, as the herald of liberty through Christ, to the captive in the dungeon; and as the messenger of mercy to the poor. This dispensation placed him in a very trying situation. He was like a person beginning the world anew. Nevertheless, he appears to have possessed his soul in patience. His diary about this time bears the marks of a heart oppressed indeed with the afflictions of life, but sweetly resting on the promise of a covenant God. His letters, his preaching, and such parts of his conversation as have been cherished in the memory of his friends, all conspired to prove that 84 THOUGHTS ON THE THIRTY-THIRD PSALM. "Affliction is the good man's shining scene; As night to stars, wo lustre gives to man." The remainder of this year was not attended with any thing particularly requiring our attention. Mr. Stanford occasionally preached in the different pulpits in the city, and especially in Greenwich, where, until that time, the sound of the gospel was seldom heard. His academy continued to flourish, and the health of his family was mercifully preserved. The following simple and beautiful thoughts on Psalm xxiii. 1. are found in his diary for the last day of this year:—“ The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.' How great is the provision which the Shepherd of Israel hath provided for his flock! They can never want the supplies of his providence, so far at least as may consist with their need. They can never want a sufficiency of his pardoning, comforting, and supporting grace, so long as their Shepherd is Almighty. This I do most confidently believe, and do therefore fervently pray, that I may never want faith to trust my Shepherd's care, under the darkest providences, nor want a heart to love and serve him to the end of my days." As a traveller who has passed through a dreary wilderness, when he arrives at the summit of a hill, looks back to contemplate the difficulties and dangers of the way to return thanks for deliverance, and to dedicate himself to the service of his almighty Protector; so did Mr. Stanford commence the year 1802, by reviewing the events of the past, and again committing his body and soul, his family and his ministry, to the merciful direction of heaven. "Why should I doubt his love at last, With anxious thoughts perplex'd? Who sav'd me in the troubles past, LETTER TO DR. B. Will save, 'till at my latest hour, 85 The following letter to Dr. B******, on the death of his eldest son, is expressive of his pious sympathy for the afflicted. 66 MY DEAR FRIEND, "August 10, 1802. "You are too advanced in life not to have experi enced the truth of the remark, that Man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upward.' Not, that an infinitely wise and good Being can delight in planting thorns in the paths of his creatures; no, it is our transgressions that have produced the multiplicity of evils which attend us. "Under all the calamities of life it well becomes us to feel for others wo, and aid their trembling steps along the rugged road. Can I then, my dear Sir, forbear to offer my condolence under your great domestic sorrow? I write not to open the wound wider, or make it bleed more profusely, by enumerating the attendant circumstances of your affliction, but to repeat the salutary sentiment of a well known pen— For us they sicken, and for us they die.' Events like this are well calculated to teach us, that we cannot grasp the full blown rose without feeling its piercing thorn; and that our very comforts may become killing. Soon, we also must retire to the shades of death; therefore to enjoy the smiles of Immanuel, can alone constitute our true felicity. But why need I repeat to you lessons which your age and Christian experience must have taught you, long ere this. My earnest prayer to God for you is, that the loss of the creature may be amply compensated by the enjoyment of the Creator, and that your future days may, with greater ardour, be employed in the service of the 6 |