You are listening to Howell Audio's production of
The Life of David Brainerd by Jonathan Edwards,
read by Nick Cordelione.
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The Life of David Brainerd was first published
in 1749.
It is approximately 300 pages long and is
divided into ten chapters.
Both historical and devotional, it is the most
printed of all Jonathan Edwards' works.
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The Life of Rev. David Brainerd.
Chapter 1.
From Brainerd's private diary, except for any explanations
added by President Jonathan Edwards.
April 20, 1718 through February 1741.
From his birth to the time when he
began to study for the ministry.
Contains his own narrative of his conversion, his
connection with Yale College and the grounds of
his expulsion.
David Brainerd was born April 20, 1718 at
Haddam, Connecticut.
His father was Hezekiah Brainerd, Esquire, and his
mother was Dorothy Hobart, daughter of the Rev.
Jeremiah Hobart.
He was the third son of his parents
who had five sons and four daughters.
The oldest son was a respectable citizen of
Haddam.
The second son was Rev. Nehemiah Brainerd, a
worthy minister in Eastbury, Connecticut.
The fourth son was Mr. John Brainerd, who
succeeded his brother David as missionary to the
Indians and as pastor of the same church
of Christian Indians in New Jersey.
The fifth son was Israel, recently a student
at Yale College, who died soon after his
brother David.
Their mother, having lived about five years a
widow, died when David Brainerd was about fourteen
years of age.
Thus he was left both fatherless and motherless
in his youth.
The following is the account he has himself
given of the first twenty-three years of
his life.
I was from my youth somewhat sober and
inclined to melancholy, but do not remember anything
of the conviction of sin worthy of remark
till I was, I believe, about seven or
eight years of age.
Then I became concerned for my soul and
terrified at the thought of death, and was
driven to the performance of religious duties, but
my religious concerns appeared a melancholy business that
destroyed my eagerness for play.
And though, regrettably, this religious concern was but
short-lived, still I sometimes attended secret prayer.
Thus I lived without God in the world
and without much concern, as I remember, till
I was about thirteen years of age.
In the winter of 1732 I was roused
out of this carnal security by I scarce
know what means at first, but I was
much excited by the prevalence of a mortal
sickness in my hometown of Haddam.
I was frequent, constant, and somewhat fervent in
prayer, and took delight in reading, especially Mr.
Janeway's Token for Children.
I felt sometimes much melted in the duties
of religion, took great delight in the performance
of them, and sometimes hoped that I was
converted, or at least in a good and
hopeful way for heaven and happiness, not knowing
what conversion was.
The Spirit of God at this time had
a great influence upon me.
I was remarkably dead to the world.
My thoughts were almost wholly employed about my
soul's concerns, and I may indeed say I
was almost persuaded to be a Christian.
I was also exceedingly distressed and melancholy at
the death of my mother in March 1732,
but afterward my religious concerns began to decline,
and by degrees I fell back into a
considerable degree of security, though I still attended
secret prayer.
About the 15th of April, 1733, I relocated
from my father's house to East Haddam, where
I spent four years, but still I was
without God in the world.
However, I sometimes practiced secret religious duties.
I was not much addicted to the company
and the amusements of the young, but this
I know, that when I did go into
such company I never returned with so good
a conscience as when I went.
It always added new guilt, made me afraid
to come to the throne of grace, and
spoiled that satisfaction I took in my good
character with which I habitually pleased myself.
But what rotten horror!
All my good self-conceptions were but self
-righteousness, not founded on a desire for the
glory of God.
About the end of April, 1737, being full
nineteen years of age, I relocated to Durham
to work on my farm, and continued about
one year, frequently longing after a liberal education.
But when about twenty years of age I
applied myself to study and was now engaged
more than ever in the duties of religion.
I became very strict and watchful over my
thoughts, words, and actions.
I concluded that I must be sober indeed,
because I designed to devote myself to the
ministry, and imagined that I did dedicate myself
to the Lord.
Sometime in April, 1738, I went to live
with Reverend Mr. Fisk of Haddam, and continued
with him during his life.
I remember he advised me wholly to abandon
young company and associate myself with grave elderly
people, which counsel I followed.
My manner of life was now wholly regular
and full of religion, such as it was,
for I read my Bible more than twice
through in less than a year, spent much
time every day in prayer and other secret
duties, gave great attention to the word preached,
and endeavored my utmost to retain it.
So much concerned was I about religion that
I agreed with some young persons to meet
privately on Sabbath evenings for religious exercises, and
thought myself sincere in these duties.
And after our meeting was ended, I used
to repeat the discourses of the day to
myself, recollecting what I could, though sometimes very
late at night.
I used occasionally on Monday mornings to recollect
the same sermons, had sometimes pleasure in religious
exercises, and had many thoughts of joining the
Church.
In short, I had a very good outside,
and rested entirely on my duties, though I
was not sensible of it.
After Mr Fisk's death, I proceeded in my
studies with my brother, was still very constant
in religious duties, often wondered at the levity
of professors, and lamented their carelessness in religion.
In this way I proceeded a considerable length
on a self-righteous foundation, and should have
been entirely lost and undone, had not the
mere mercy of God prevented it.
Sometime in the beginning of winter, 1738, it
pleased God one Sabbath morning, as I was
walking out for secret duties, suddenly to give
me such a sense of my danger and
the wrath of God, that I stood amazed,
and my former satisfaction I took in my
good character presently vanished.
From the view which I had of my
sin and vileness, I was much distressed all
that day, fearing that the vengeance of God
would soon overtake me.
I was much dejected, kept much alone, and
sometimes envied the birds and beasts for their
happiness, because they were not exposed to eternal
misery, as I evidently saw that I was.
In this way I lived from day to
day, being frequently in great distress.
Sometimes there appeared mountains before me to obstruct
my hopes of mercy, and the work of
conversion appeared so great that I thought I
should never be the subject of it.
I used, however, to pray and cry to
God, and perform some other duties with great
earnestness, and thus hoped by some means to
make the case better.
Hundreds of times I renounced all pretenses of
any worth in my duties, as I thought,
even while performing them, and often confessed to
God that I deserved nothing for the very
best of them but eternal condemnation.
Yet still I had a secret hope of
recommending myself to God by my religious duties.
When I prayed affectionately, and my heart seemed
in some measure to melt, I hoped that
God would be thereby moved to pity me.
There was then some appearance of the goodness
in my prayers, and I seemed to mourn
for sin.
I could in some measure presume upon the
mercy of God in Christ, so I thought.
Nevertheless, my most dominant thought was that the
foundation of my hope was some imagination of
goodness in my meltings of heart, the warmth
of my affection, and my extraordinary elaboration in
prayer.
At times the gate appeared so very straight
that it looked next to impossible to enter,
yet at other times I flattered myself that
it was not so very difficult, and hoped
I should by diligence and watchfulness soon gain
the point.
Sometimes after multiplying my duties in considerable affection,
I hoped I had made a good step
toward heaven, and imagined that God was affected
as I was, and that He would hear
such sincere cries as I called them.
And so sometimes, when I withdrew for secret
prayer in great distress, I returned comfortable, and
thus healed myself with my duties.
In February of 1739 I set apart a
day for secret fasting and prayer, and spent
the day in almost incessant cries to God
for mercy, that He would open my eyes
to see the evil of sin and the
way of life by Jesus Christ.
God was pleased that day to make considerable
discoveries of my heart to me.
Still I trusted in all the duties I
performed, though there was no manner of goodness
in them, there being in them no respect
to the glory of God nor any such
principle in my heart.
Yet God was pleased to make my endeavors
that day a means to show me my
helplessness in some measure.
Sometimes I was greatly encouraged, and imagined that
God loved me and was pleased with me,
and thought I should soon be fully reconciled
to God.
But the whole was founded on mere presumption,
arising from more strenuous duty, or warmth of
affections, or some good resolutions or the like.
And when at times great distress began to
arise as a sign of my vileness and
inability to deliver myself from a sovereign God,
I used to put off the discovery as
what I could not bear.
Once I remember a terrible pang of distress
seized me, and the thought of renouncing myself
and standing naked before God, stripped of all
goodness, was so dreadful to me that I
was ready to say to it, as Felix
to Paul, Go thy way for this time.
Thus, though I daily longed for greater conviction
of sin, when the discoveries of my vile,
wicked heart were made to me, then the
sight was so dreadful and showed me so
plainly my exposedness to damnation that I could
not endure it.
Even so, I thought that I must see
more of my dreadful state in order to
find a remedy.
I constantly strove after whatever qualifications I imagined
others obtained before the reception of Christ, in
order to recommend me to his favor.
Sometimes I felt the power of a hard
heart, and supposed it must be softened before
Christ would accept of me.
And when I felt any meltings of heart,
I hoped now the work was almost done.
Hence, when my distress still remained, I was
accustomed to murmur at God's dealings with me.
I thought, when others felt their heart softened,
God showed them mercy.
But my distress remained still.
At times I grew remiss and sluggish, without
any great convictions of sin, for a considerable
period of time.
But after such a season, convictions sometimes seized
me more violently.
One night I remember in particular, when I
was walking alone outside, I had opened to
me such a view of my sin that
I feared the ground would cleave asunder under
my feet, and become my grave, and send
my soul quick into hell before I could
get home.
So great was my anguish that I was
forced to go to bed, lest my distress
should be discovered by others which I much
feared.
Yet I scarcely did sleep at all, for
I thought it would be a great wonder
if I should be out of hell in
the morning.
And though my distress was sometimes thus great,
yet I greatly dreaded the loss of convictions,
and returning back to a state of carnal
security, and to my former insensibility of impending
wrath.
Such an outlook made me exceedingly exact in
my behavior, lest I should stifle the motions
of God's Holy Spirit.
When at any time I considered my convictions,
and thought the degree of them to be
considerable, I often trusted in them.
But this confidence, and the hope of soon
making some notable advances toward deliverance, would ease
my mind, and I soon became more senseless
and remiss.
Again, when I discerned my convictions to grow
languid, and thought them about to leave me,
this immediately alarmed and distressed me.
Sometimes I expected to take a large step,
and get very far toward conversion by some
particular opportunity or means I had in view.
The many disappointments, the great distress and perplexity
which I experienced, put me into a most
horrible disposition of contesting with the Almighty.
With inward vehemence and virulence, I found fault
with His ways of dealing with mankind.
My wicked heart often wished for some other
way of salvation than by Jesus Christ.
Being like the troubled sea, my thoughts confused,
I used to contrive to escape the wrath
of God by some other means.
I had strange projects, full of atheism, contriving
to disappoint God's designs and decrees concerning me,
or to escape His notice and hide myself
from Him.
But when upon reflection I saw these projects
were vain, and would not serve me, and
that I could contrive nothing for my own
relief, this would throw me into the most
horrid frame of mind.
Even wishing there was no God, or wishing
there was some other God that could control
Him, these thoughts and desires were the secret
inclinations of my heart, frequently acting before I
was aware.
But miserable me!
They were mine, although I was frightened when
I came to reflect on them.
When I considered, it distressed me to think
that my heart was so full of enmity
against God.
It made me tremble, lest His vengeance should
suddenly fall upon me.
I used to imagine before that my heart
was not so bad as the scriptures and
some other books represented it.
Sometimes I used to take great pains to
change my inner attitude to a humble, submissive
disposition, and hoped there was then some goodness
in me.
But, on a sudden, the thoughts of the
strictness of the law or the sovereignty of
God would so irritate the corruption of my
heart that I had so watched over and
hoped I had brought to good comportment, that
my heart would break over all bounds and
burst forth on all sides like floods of
waters when they break down their dam.
Being sensible of the necessity of deep humiliation
in order to obtain a saving relationship with
Christ, I used to set myself to produce
in my own heart the convictions requisite in
such a humiliation.
For example, I used to attempt to contrive
a conviction that God would be just if
He cast me off forever, that if ever
God should bestow mercy on me, it would
be mere grace, though I should be in
distress many years at first and be furbishly
engaged in duty.
I tried to make myself think that God
was not in the least obliged to pity
me the more for all past duties, cries,
and tears.
I strove to my utmost to bring myself
to a firm belief of these things and
a hearty assent to them, and hoped that
now I had toppled the idol of self,
truly humbled myself, and that I bowed to
the divine sovereignty.
I frequently told God in my prayers that
now I had those very dispositions of soul
which He required, and on which He showed
mercy to others, and on this basis I
would beg and plead for mercy.
But when I found no relief and was
still oppressed with guilt and fears of wrath,
my soul was in a tumult, and my
heart rose against God, thinking Him too harsh.
Yet then my conscience flew in my face,
putting me in mind of my recent confession
to God of His justice in my condemnation.
This, giving me a sight of the badness
of my heart, threw me again into distress.
I wished that I had watched my heart
more narrowly, to keep it from breaking out
against God's dealings with me.
I even wished that I had not pleaded
for mercy on account of my humiliation, because
thereby I had lost all my apparent goodness.
Thus, scores of times I vainly imagined myself
humbled and prepared for saving mercy while I
was in this distressed, bewildered, and tumultuous state
of mind.
The corruption of my heart was especially irritated
with the following things.
First, the strictness of the divine law, for
I found it was impossible for me, after
my utmost pains, to answer its demands.
I often made new resolutions, and as often
broke them.
I imputed the whole to carelessness, and the
need to be more watchful, and used to
call myself a fool for my negligence.
But when, upon a stronger resolution, and greater
endeavors, and close application to fasting and prayer,
I found that all attempts failed.
Then I quarreled with the law of God,
as unreasonably rigid.
I thought, if it extended only to my
outward actions and behavior, that I could bear
with it.
But I found that it condemned me for
my evil thoughts and sins of my heart,
which I could not possibly prevent.
I was extremely loath to own my utter
helplessness in overcoming sin.
But after repeated disappointments, I thought that rather
than perish, I could do a little more
still, especially if such and such circumstances might
aid my endeavors and strivings.
I hoped that I should strive more earnestly
than ever, if sin pressed firmly in on
me, though I never could find the time
to do my utmost in the manner I
intended.
This hope of future, more favorable circumstances, and
of doing something great hereafter, kept me from
utter despair in myself, and from seeing myself
fallen into the hands of a sovereign God,
and dependent on nothing but free and boundless
grace.
Second, another point that irritated me was that
faith alone was the condition of salvation, that
God would not come down to lower terms,
and that He would not promise life and
salvation upon my sincere and hearty prayers and
endeavors.
That word, Mark 16, 16, He that believeth
not shall be damned, cut off all hope
there.
I found that faith was the sovereign gift
of God, that I could not get it
as of myself, and could not oblige God
to bestow it upon me by any of
my performances.
This, I was ready to say, is a
hard saying.
Who can hear it?
I could not bear that all I had
done should stand for mere nothing.
As I had been very conscientious in duty,
had been very religious a great while, and
had, as I thought, done much more than
many others who had obtained mercy, I confessed
indeed the vileness of my duties.
What made them at that time seem vile
was how I had highly appraised them in
my thoughts previously, rather than because I was
all over defiled like a devil.
My inner defilement was the principal corruption from
whence my sins flowed, so that I could
not possibly do anything that was good.
Hence I called what I did by the
name of honest, faithful endeavors.
I could not bear it that God had
made no promises of salvation for such endeavors.
Third, I could not find out what faith
was, or what it was to believe and
come to Christ.
I read the calls of Christ to the
weary and heavy-laden, but could find no
way in which he directed them to come.
I thought I would gladly come if I
knew how, though the path of duty was
never so difficult.
I read Stoddard's Guide to Christ, which I
trust was, in the hand of God, the
happy means of my conversion, and my heart
rose against the author.
For though he told me my very heart
all along under convictions, and seemed to be
very beneficial to me in his directions, yet
here he seemed to me to fail.
He did not tell me anything I could
do that would bring me to Christ, but
left me, as it were, with a great
gulf between me and Christ, without any direction
how to get through.
For I was not yet effectually and experimentally
taught that there could be no way prescribed,
whereby a natural man could, of his own
strength, obtain that which is supernatural, and which
the highest angel cannot give.
Fourth, another point was the sovereignty of God.
I could not bear that it should be
wholly at God's pleasure to save or damn
me, just as He would.
That passage, Romans 9, 11-23, was a
constant vexation to me, especially verse 21.
Reading or meditating on this always destroyed any
hope of salvation, for when I thought I
was almost humbled and almost resigned, this passage
would make my enmity against God appear.
When I came to reflect on the inward
enmity and blasphemy which arose on this occasion,
I was the more afraid of God, and
driven further from any hopes of reconciliation with
Him.
It gave me a dreadful view of myself.
I dreaded more than ever to see myself
in God's hands, and it made me more
opposite than ever to submit to His sovereignty,
for I thought He designed my damnation.
At this time the Spirit of God was
powerfully at work with me, and I was
inwardly pressed to relinquish all self-confidence, all
hope of ever helping myself by any means
whatsoever.
The conviction of my lost estate was sometimes
so clear and manifest before my eyes, that
it was as if it had been declared
to me in so many words, it is
done, it is done, it is forever impossible
to deliver yourself.
For about three or four days my soul
was thus greatly distressed.
At some turns, for a few moments, I
seemed to myself lost and undone, but then
would shrink back immediately from the sight, because
I dared not venture myself into the hands
of God as wholly helpless and at the
disposal of His sovereign pleasure.
I dared not see that important truth concerning
myself, that I was dead in trespasses and
sins.
But when I had, as it were, thrust
away these views of myself at any time,
I felt distressed to have the same discoveries
of myself again, for I greatly feared being
given over to God and my complete inability.
When I thought of putting off the acceptance
of scriptural truth to a more convenient season,
the conviction was so close and powerful that
the present time was the best, and probably
the only time, that I dared not put
it off.
It was the sight of truth concerning myself,
truth respecting my state as a creature fallen
and alienated from God, and who consequently could
make no demands on God for mercy, but
was at His absolute disposal, from which my
soul shrank away, and which I trembled to
think of viewing.
Thus, He that does evil, as all unregenerated
men continually do, hates the light of truth.
He doesn't care to come to it, because
it will reprove His deeds and show Him
what He truly deserves.
John 3.20 Sometime before, I had taken
many pains, as I thought, to submit to
the sovereignty of God.
Yet I went about it the wrong way.
I did not even once imagine that knowing
the truth about my sin and helplessness before
God, which my soul now so much dreaded
and trembled at, was actually what I was
aiming for.
I had ever hoped that when I had
attained to that humiliation which I supposed necessary
to proceed faith, then it would be not
fair for God to cast me off.
But now I saw that this notion of
mine was itself evil.
It was not really an admission that I
was spiritually dead and destitute of all goodness.
On the contrary, my mouth would be stopped
by my complete helplessness and accountability before God.
My standing looked as dreadful to me as
that of a poor, trembling creature venturing off
some high precipice.
I saw myself and the relation I stood
in to God.
I a sinner and criminal, and He a
great judge and sovereign.
Hence I put off reading about my state
of depravity and helplessness in the Bible.
I tried for better circumstances to do read
difficult passages in.
Either I must read another passage or two,
or pray first, or something of the like
nature, or else put off my submission to
God with an objection that I did not
know how to submit.
But the truth was I could see no
safety in owning myself in the hands of
a sovereign God and could lay no claim
to anything better than damnation.
After a considerable time spent in similar exercises
and distress, one morning, while I was walking
in a solitary place, as usual, I at
once saw that all my contrivances and projects
to effect or procure deliverance and salvation for
myself were utterly in vain.
I was brought quite to a standstill.
I found myself totally lost.
I had thought many times before that the
difficulties in my way were very great, but
now I saw, in another and very different
light, that it was forever impossible for me
to do anything toward helping or delivering myself.
I then thought of blaming myself that I
had not done more and been more engaged
while I had opportunity, for it seemed now
as if the season of doing was forever
over and gone.
But I instantly saw that regardless of what
more I might have done, I would have
by no means improved my status one bit.
I saw that I had made all the
pleas I ever could have made for all
eternity, and I saw that all my pleas
were in vain.
The tumult that had been before in my
mind was now quieted.
I was somewhat eased of that distress which
I felt while struggling against a sight of
myself and of the divine sovereignty.
I had the greatest certainty that my state
was forever miserable, for all that I could
do would amount to nothing.
I marveled that I had never been sensible
of it before.
While I remained in this state, my notions
respecting my duties were quite different from what
I had ever entertained in times past.
Before this, the more I did in duty,
the more hard I thought it would be
for God to cast me off, though at
the same time I confessed and thought I
saw that there was no goodness or merit
in my duties.
But now, the more I did in prayer
or any other duty, the more I saw
that I was indebted to God for allowing
me to ask for mercy, for I saw
that self-interest had led me to pray,
and that I had never once prayed from
any respect to the glory of God.
Now I saw that there was no necessary
connection between my prayers and the bestowment of
divine mercy, that they had laid not the
least obligation upon God to bestow His grace
upon me, that there was no more virtue
or goodness in them than there would be
in my paddling with my hand in the
water, which was the comparison I had then
in mind.
And this was the case because my prayers
were not performed from any love or regard
to God.
I saw that I had been heaping up
my devotions before God, fasting, praying, pretending, and
indeed really thinking sometimes that I was aiming
at the glory of God, whereas I never
once truly intended it, but only my own
happiness.
I saw that as I had never done
anything for God, I had no claim on
anything from Him but perdition on account of
my hypocrisy and mockery.
Oh, how different did my duties now appear
from what they used to do!
I used to charge them with sin and
imperfection, but this was only on account of
the wandering and vain thoughts attending them, and
not because I had no regard for God
in them, for regard I thought I had.
But when I saw evidently that I had
had regard to nothing but self-interest, then
my duties appeared a vile mockery of God,
self-worship, and a continued course of lies.
I saw that something worse had attended my
duties than barely a few wanderings, for the
whole was nothing but self-worship and a
horrid abuse of God.
I continued, as I remember, in this state
of mind from Friday morning to the Sabbath
evening following, July 12th, 1739, when I was
walking again in the same solitary place where
I was brought to see myself lost and
helpless, as before mentioned.
Here, in a mournful, melancholy state, I was
attempting to pray but found no heart to
engage in prayer or any other duty.
My former concern, exercise, and religious affections were
now gone.
I thought that the Spirit of God had
quite left me, but still was not distressed,
yet disconsolate, as if there was nothing in
heaven or earth that could make me happy.
I continued to endeavor to pray for nearly
half an hour while I thought to myself,
but was unable to gain clarity of mind.
Then, as I was walking in a dark,
thick grove, unspeakable glory seemed to open to
the view and apprehension of my soul.
I do not mean any external brightness, for
I saw no such thing, nor do I
intend any imagination of a body of light,
somewhere in the third heavens, or anything of
that nature.
But it was a new, inward apprehension or
view that I had of God, such as
I never had before, nor anything which had
the least resemblance of it.
I stood still, wondered, and admired.
I knew that I had never seen before
anything comparable to it, for excellency and beauty.
It was widely different from all the conceptions
that ever I had of God, or things
divine.
I had no particular apprehension of any one
person in the Trinity, either the Father, the
Son, or the Holy Ghost, but it appeared
to be divine glory that I then beheld.
My soul rejoiced with joy unspeakable to see
such a God, such a glorious divine being,
and I was inwardly pleased and satisfied that
He should be God over all, forever and
ever.
My soul was so captivated and delighted with
the excellency, loveliness, greatness, and other perfections of
God, that I was even swallowed up in
Him, at least to the degree that I
had no thought, as I remember at first,
about my own salvation, and scarce reflected that
there was such a creature as myself.
Thus God, I trust, brought me to a
hearty disposition to exalt Him, and to set
Him on the throne, and principally and ultimately
to aim at His honour and glory, as
King of the Universe.
I continued in this state of inward joy,
peace, and astonishment till near dark, without any
perceivable abatement.
Then I began to think and examine what
I had seen, and felt sweetly composed in
my mind all the evening following.
I felt myself in a new world, and
everything about me appeared with a different aspect
from what it customarily did.
At this time the way of salvation opened
to me with such infinite wisdom, suitableness, and
excellency, that I puzzled how I could have
ever thought of any other way of salvation.
I was amazed that I had not dropped
my own contrivances and complied with this lovely,
blessed, and excellent way before.
If I could have been saved by my
own duties, or any other way that I
had formerly contrived, my whole soul would now
have refused.
I wondered that all the world did not
see and comply with this way of salvation
entirely by the righteousness of Christ.
The sweet relish of what I then felt
continued with me for several days, almost constantly,
in greater or lesser degrees.
I could not but sweetly rejoice in God
when I laid down and when I rose.
The next Lord's Day I felt something of
the same kind, though not so powerful as
before.
But not long after, I was again involved
in darkness and in great distress, yet not
of the same kind with my distress under
convictions.
I was guilty, afraid, and ashamed to come
before God, and exceedingly pressed for the sense
of guilt, but it was not long before
I felt, I trust, true repentance and joy
in God.
In the beginning of September I went to
Yale College and signed up there, but with
some degree of reluctance, lest I should not
be able to lead a life of strict
religion in the midst of so many temptations.
After this, in the vacation before I went
to stay at college, it pleased God to
visit my soul with clearer manifestations of Himself
and His grace.
I was spending some time in prayer and
self-examination when the Lord, by His grace,
so shined to my heart that I enjoyed
full assurance of His favor for that time,
and my soul was unspeakably refreshed with divine
and heavenly enjoyments.
At this time especially, as well as some
others, many passages of God's Word opened to
my soul with divine clearness, power, and sweetness,
so as to appear exceedingly precious and with
clear and certain evidence of its being the
Word of God.
I enjoyed considerable sweetness in religion all the
following winter.
In January of 1740, the measles spread much
in college, and I, having taken the illness,
went home to Haddam.
But some days before I was taken sick,
I seemed to be all alone and deserted,
and my soul mourned the absence of the
Comforter exceedingly.
It seemed to me that all comfort was
forever gone.
I prayed and cried to God for help,
yet found no present comfort or relief.
But through divine goodness, a night or two
before I was taken ill, while I was
walking alone in a very retired place and
engaged in meditation and prayer, I enjoyed a
sweet, refreshing visit, as I trust, from above,
so that my soul was raised far above
the fears of death.
Indeed, I rather longed for death than feared
it.
Oh, how much more refreshing this one season
was than all the pleasures and delights that
earth can afford.
After a day or two, I was taken
with the measles, and was very ill indeed,
so that I almost despaired of life, but
had no distressing fears of death.
Through divine goodness I soon recovered, yet owing
to hard study and to my being much
exposed to interruptions on accounts of my first
-year status, I had but little time for
spiritual duties, and my soul often mourned with
longing for more time and opportunity to be
alone with God.
In the spring and summer following, I had
better advantages for retirement and enjoyed more comfort
in religion, though my ambition in my studies
greatly wronged the activity and vigor of my
spiritual life.
It was, however, usually the case with me
that, in the multitude of my thoughts within
me, God's comforts principally delighted my soul.
These were my greatest consolations day by day.
One day, I think it was in June,
1740, I walked a considerable distance from college
in the fields alone at noon, and in
prayer found such unspeakable sweetness and delight in
God, that I thought, if I must continue
in this evil world, I want it always
to be there to behold God's glory.
My soul dearly loved all mankind, and longed
exceedingly that they should enjoy what I enjoyed.
It seemed to be a little resemblance of
heaven.
Sometime in August following, I became so reduced
in health by excessive attention to my studies,
that I was advised by my tutor to
go home and disengage my mind from study
as much as I could, for I was
grown so weak that I began to cough
up blood.
I took his advice and endeavored to lay
aside my studies, but being brought very low,
I looked death in the face more steadfastly,
and the Lord was pleased to give me
renewedly a sweet sense and relish of divine
things, and particularly October 13th, I found divine
help and consolation in the precious duties of
secret prayer and self-examination, and my soul
took delight in the blessed God.
The same happened on the 17th of October.
October 18th.
In my morning devotions, my soul was exceedingly
melted and bitterly mourned over my great sinfulness
and vileness.
I never before had felt so pungent and
deep a sense of the odious nature of
sin as at this time.
My soul was then unusually carried forth in
love to God, and had a lively sense
of God's love to me, and this love
and hope at that time cast out fear.
Lord's Day.
October 19th.
In the morning I felt my soul hungering
and thirsting after righteousness, while I was looking
on the elements of the Lord's Supper and
thinking that Jesus Christ was now set forth,
crucified before me.
My soul was filled with light and love,
so that I was almost in an ecstasy.
My body was so weak I could scarcely
stand.
I felt at the same time an exceeding
tenderness and most fervent love toward all mankind,
so that my soul and all its powers
seemed as it were to melt into softness
and sweetness.
But during the communion there was some abatement
of this life and fervor.
This love and joy cast out fear, and
my soul longed for perfect grace and glory.
This inner delight continued till the evening, when
my soul was sweetly spiritual in secret duties.
October 20th.
I again found the assistance of the Holy
Spirit in secret duties, both morning and evening,
and life and comfort in religion through the
whole day.
October 21st.
I had likewise an experience of the goodness
of God in shedding abroad His love in
my heart, and giving me delight and consolation
in religious duties.
And all the remaining part of the week
my soul seemed to be taken up with
divine things.
I now so longed after God and to
be freed from sin that, when I felt
myself recovering and thought I must return to
college again, which had proved so hurtful to
my spiritual interests the year past, I could
not but be grieved, and thought I had
much rather die, for it distressed me to
think of getting away from God.
But before I went I enjoyed several other
sweet and precious seasons of communion with God,
particularly October 30th and November 4th, wherein my
soul enjoyed unspeakable comfort.
I returned to college about November 6th and,
through the goodness of God, felt the power
of religion almost daily for the space of
six weeks.
November 28th.
In my evening devotion I enjoyed precious discoveries
of God, and was unspeakably refreshed with that
passage Hebrews 12, verses 22 through 24.
My soul longed to wing away the Paradise
of God.
I longed to be conformed to God in
all things.
A day or two after I enjoyed much
of the light of God's countenance, most of
the day, and my soul rested in God.
December 9th.
I was in a comfortable frame of soul
most of the day, but especially in the
evening devotions, when God was pleased wonderfully to
assist and strengthen me, so that I thought
nothing should ever move me from the love
of God in Christ Jesus my Lord.
Oh, one hour with God infinitely exceeds all
the pleasures and delights of this lower world.
Toward the latter part of January 1741 I
grew more cold and dull in religion by
means of my old temptation, ambition in my
studies.
But through divine goodness a great and general
awakening spread itself over the College, about the
end of February, in which I was much
quickened and more abundantly engaged in religion.
This awakening was at the beginning of that
extraordinary religious commotion which then prevailed through the
land, and in which the College shared largely.
For thirteen months from this time Brainerd kept
a constant diary containing a very particular account
of what passed from day to day, making
two volumes of manuscripts.
But when he lay on his deathbed he
gave orders, unknown to me till after his
death, that these two volumes should be destroyed,
inserting a notice at the beginning of the
succeeding manuscripts that a specimen of his manner
of living during that entire period would be
found in the first thirty pages next following,
ending with June 15th, 1742.
Except that he was now more refined from
some imprudences and indecent heats than before.
A circumstance in the life of Brainerd which
gave great offense to the rulers of the
College and occasioned his expulsion, it is necessary
should be here particularly related.
During the awakening in College there were several
religious students who associated together for mutual conversation
and assistance in spiritual things.
These were accustomed freely to open themselves one
to another, as special and intimate friends.
Brainerd was one of this company.
And once it happened that he and two
or three more of these intimate friends were
in the hall together, after Mr. Whittlesey, one
of the tutors, had engaged in prayer with
the scholars.
No other person now remained in the hall
but Brainerd and his companions.
Mr. Whittlesey, having been unusually pathetic in his
prayer, one of Brainerd's friends on this occasion
asked him what he thought of Mr. Whittlesey.
He made answer, he has no more grace
than this chair.
One of the freshmen happening at that time
to be near the hall, though not in
the room, overheard these words, and though he
heard no name mentioned and knew not who
was thus censured, informed a certain woman in
the town, also telling her his own suspicion,
that Brainerd said this of some one of
the rulers of the College.
Then she informed the rector, who sent for
this freshman and examined him.
He told the rector the words which he
heard Brainerd utter, and informed him who were
in the room with him at that time.
Upon this the rector sent for them.
They were very backward to inform against their
friend respecting what they looked upon as a
private conversation, especially as none but they had
heard or knew of whom he had uttered
those words.
Yet the rector compelled them to declare what
he had said and of whom he said
it.
Brainerd looked on himself as very ill-treated
in the management of this affair, and though
that it was injuriously exhorted from his friends
and then injuriously required of him, as if
he had been guilty of some open notorious
crime, to make a public confession and to
humble himself before the whole College in the
hall for what he had said only in
a private conversation.
He did not comply with this demand.
Also against him was that he had once
went to the separate meeting at New Haven,
when forbidden by the rector.
He was further accused by one person of
saying concerning the rector that he could hardly
believe the rector did not expect to drop
down dead for fining the scholars who followed
Mr. Tennant to Milford.
There was no proof of this last statement,
and Brainerd ever professed that he did not
remember saying anything to that purpose.
Yet for these things he was expelled from
the College.
How far the circumstances and exigencies of that
day might justify such great severity in the
governors of the College, I will not undertake
to determine.
It being my aim not to bring reproach
on the authority of the College, but only
to do justice to the memory of a
person who was, I think, eminently one of
those whose memory is blessed.
The reader will see in the sequel, particularly
under date of September 14th and 15th of
1743, in how Christian a manner Brainerd conducted
himself with respect to this affair, though he
ever as long as he lived supposed himself
mistreated in the management of it, and in
what he suffered.
His expulsion was in the winter, 1742, while
in his third year at College.
Chapter Two From Brainerd's Private Diary, except for
any explanations added by President Jonathan Edwards.
April 1st, 1742 through July 29th, 1742.
From about the time when he began the
study of theology till he was licensed to
preach.
In the spring of 1742, Brainerd went to
live with the Reverend Mr. Mills of Ripton,
to pursue his studies with him for the
work of the Ministry.
Here he spent the greater part of time
until he was licensed to preach, but frequently
rode to visit the neighboring ministers, particularly Mr.
Cook of Stratford, Mr. Graham of Southbury, and
Mr. Bellamy of Bethlehem.
The following are extracts from his diary at
this period.
April 1st, 1742.
I seem to be declining with respect to
my life and warmth in divine things.
I have not had so free access to
God in prayer today as usual of late.
Oh, that God would humble me deeply in
the dust before him.
I deserve hell every day for not loving
my Lord more, who has, I trust, loved
me and given himself for me, and every
time I am unable to exercise any grace
renewedly, I am renewedly indebted to the God
of all grace for special assistance.
Then what becomes of boasting?
Surely it is excluded.
When we think how we are dependent on
God for the existence in every act of
grace.
Oh, if ever I get to heaven, it
will be because God pleases and nothing else,
for I never did anything of myself but
get away from God.
My soul will be astonished at the unsearchable
riches of divine grace when I arrive at
the mansions which the blessed Savior is gone
before to prepare.
April 2nd.
In the afternoon I felt, in secret prayer,
much resigned, calm and serene.
What are all the storms of this lower
world if Jesus, by his Spirit, does but
come walking on the seas?
Some time past I had much pleasure in
the prospect of the heathen being brought home
to Christ, and desired that the Lord would
employ me in that work.
But now my soul more frequently desires to
die, to be with Christ.
Oh, that my soul were wrapped up in
divine love, and my longing desires after God
increased.
In the evening was refreshed in prayer with
hopes of the advancement of Christ's Kingdom in
the world.
Lord's Day, April 4th.
My heart was wandering and lifeless.
In the evening God gave me faith in
prayer, made my soul melt in some measure,
and gave me to taste a divine sweetness.
O my blessed God, let me climb up
near to him, and love, and long, and
plead, and wrestle, and stretch after him, and
find deliverance from the body of sin and
death.
Wretched man that I am, my soul mourned
to think I should ever lose sight of
its beloved again.
O come, Lord Jesus, amen.
April 6th.
I walked out this morning, had an affecting
sense of my own vileness, and cried to
God to cleanse me, to give me repentance
and pardon.
I then began to find it sweet to
pray, and could think of undergoing the greatest
sufferings in the cause of Christ with pleasure,
and found myself willing, if God should order
it, to suffer banishment from my native land,
among the heathen, that I might do something
for their salvation, in distresses and deaths of
any kind.
Then God gave me to wrestle earnestly for
others, for the kingdom of Christ in the
world, and for dear Christian friends.
April 8th.
Had raised hopes today respecting the heathen.
O that God would bring in great numbers
of them to Jesus Christ!
I cannot but hope that I shall see
that glorious day.
Everything in this world seems exceedingly vile and
little to me.
I appear so to myself.
I had some little dawn of comfort today
in prayer, but especially tonight I think I
had some faith and power of intercession with
God.
I was enabled to plead with God for
the growth of grace in myself and many
of the dear children of God, then lay
with weight upon my soul.
Blessed be the Lord!
It is good to wrestle for divine blessings.
April 9th.
Most of my time in morning devotion was
spent without sensible sweetness, yet I had one
delightful prospect of arriving at the heavenly world.
I am more amazed than ever at such
thoughts, for I see myself infinitely vile and
unworthy.
No poor creature stands in need of divine
grace more than I, and none abuse it
more than I have and still do.
Lord's Day.
April 11th.
In the morning I felt but little life,
yet my heart was somewhat drawn out in
thankfulness to God for His amazing grace and
condescension to me in past influences and assistances
of His Spirit.
Afterward I had some sweetness in the thoughts
of arriving at the heavenly world.
Oh, for the happy day!
After public worship God gave me special assistance
in prayer.
I wrestled with my dear Lord and intercession
was made a delightful task to me.
In the evening, as I was viewing the
light in the north, I was delighted in
the contemplation of the glorious morning of the
resurrection.
April 12th.
This morning the Lord was pleased to lift
up the light of His countenance upon me
in secret prayer and made the season very
precious to my soul.
Though I have been so depressed of late,
respecting my hopes of future serviceableness in the
cause of God, yet now I had much
encouragement.
I was especially assisted to intercede and plead
for poor souls and for the enlargement of
Christ's kingdom in the world, and for special
grace for myself, to fit me for special
services.
My faith lifted me above the world and
removed all those mountains over which of late
I could not look.
I wanted not the favor of man to
lean upon, for I knew that Christ's favor
was infinitely better, and that it was no
matter when, nor where, nor how Christ should
send me, nor what trials He should still
exercise me with, if I might be prepared
for His work and will.
April 14th.
My soul longed for communion with Christ and
for the mortification of indwelling corruption, especially spiritual
pride.
Oh, there is a sweet day coming wherein
the weary will be at rest.
My soul has enjoyed much sweetness this day
in the hopes of its speedy arrival.
April 15th.
My desires apparently centered on God, and I
found a sensible attraction of soul after Him
many times today.
I know that I long for God and
a conformity to His will in inward purity
and holiness ten thousand times more than for
anything here below.
Lord's Day, April 18th.
I retired early this morning into the woods
for prayer.
Had the assistance of God's Spirit and faith
in exercise, and was enabled to plead with
fervency for the advancement of Christ's kingdom in
the world, and to intercede for dear, absent
friends.
At noon, God enabled me to wrestle with
Him and to feel as I trust the
power of divine love in prayer.
At night, I saw myself infinitely indebted to
God and had a view of my failures
in duty.
It seemed to me that I had done,
as it were, nothing for God, and that
I had lived to Him but a few
hours of my life.
April 19th.
I set apart this day for fasting and
prayer to God for His grace, especially to
prepare me for the work of the ministry,
to give me divine aid and direction in
my preparations for that great work, and in
His own time to send me into His
harvest.
Accordingly, in the morning I endeavored to plead
for the divine presence for the day, and
was not without some life.
In the forenoon, I felt the power of
intercession for precious, immortal souls, for the advancement
of the kingdom of my dear Lord and
Saviour in the world.
I experienced the entire time a most sweet
resignation, and even consolation and joy in the
thoughts of suffering hardships, distresses, and even death
itself in the promotion of God's kingdom.
I felt a deep love in my heart
in pleading for the enlightening and conversion of
the poor heathen.
In the afternoon, God was with me of
a truth.
Oh, it was blessed company indeed!
God enabled me so to agonize in prayer
that I was quite wet with sweat, though
in the shade and the cool wind.
My soul was drawn out very much for
the world.
I grasped for multitudes of souls.
I think I had more love for sinners
than for the children of God, though I
felt as if I could spend my life
in cries for both.
I had great enjoyment and communion with my
dear Saviour.
I think I never in my life felt
such an entire weanedness from this world, and
so much resigned to God in everything.
Oh, that I may always live to and
upon my blessed God.
Amen, amen.
April 20th.
This day I am twenty-four years of
age.
Oh, how much mercy have I received in
the year past!
How often has God caused His goodness to
pass before me, and how poorly have I
answered the vows I made one year ago
to be wholly the Lord's, to be forever
devoted to His service.
The Lord helped me to live more to
His glory for the time to come.
This has been a sweet, a happy day
to me.
Blessed be God!
I think my soul was never so drawn
out in intercession for others as it has
been this night.
Had a most fervent wrestle with the Lord
tonight, for my enemies, and I hardly ever
so longed to live to God and to
be altogether devoted to Him.
I wanted to wear out my life in
His service and for His glory.
April 21st.
Felt much calmness and resignation, and God again
enabled me to wrestle for numbers of souls,
and gave me fervency in the sweet duty
of intercession.
I enjoy of late more sweetness in intercession
for others than in any other part of
prayer.
My blessed Lord really let me come near
to Him and plead with Him.
Lord's Day, April 25th.
This morning I spent about two hours in
secret duties, and was enabled more than ordinarily
to agonize for immortal souls.
At night I was exceedingly melted with divine
love, and had some apprehension of the blessedness
of the upper world.
Those words from Psalms 84.7 hung upon
me with such divine sweetness.
They go from strength to strength.
Every one of them in Zion appears before
God.
Oh, the near access that God sometimes gives
us in our addresses to Him!
These experiences may well be termed appearing before
God.
It is so indeed, in the true spiritual
sense and in the sweetest sense.
I think that I have not had such
power of intercession these many months, both for
God's children and for dead sinners, as I
have had this evening.
I wished and longed for the coming of
my dear Lord.
I longed to join the angelic hosts in
praises, wholly free from imperfection.
Oh, the blessed moment hastens!
All I want is to be more holy,
more like my dear Lord—oh, for sanctification!
My very soul pants for the complete restoration
of the blessed image of my Savior, that
I may be fit for the blessed enjoyments
and employments of the heavenly world.
Farewell, vain world, my soul can bid adieu.
My Savior taught me to abandon you.
Your charms may gratify a sensual mind, but
cannot please a soul for God designed.
Desist to entice, cease then my soul to
call.
Disfixed through grace, my God shall be my
all.
While He thus lets me heavenly glories view,
Your beauties fade, my heart's no room for
You.
The Lord refreshed my soul with many sweet
passages of His Word.
Oh, the new Jerusalem, my soul longed for
it!
Oh, the song of Moses and the Lamb,
and that blessed song that no man can
learn but they who are redeemed from the
earth.
Lord, I am a stranger here alone, earth
no true comforts can afford.
Yet, absent from my dearest one, my soul
delights to cry, My Lord!
Jesus, my Lord, my only love!
Possess my soul, nor from there depart.
Grant me kind visits, heavenly dove.
My God shall then have all my heart.
April 27 I arose and retired early for
secret devotions, and in prayer God was pleased
to pour such ineffable comforts into my soul
that I could do nothing for some time
but say over and over, Oh, my sweet
Savior, whom have I in heaven but You?
And there is none upon earth that I
desire besides You.
If I had a thousand lives, my soul
would gladly have laid them all down at
once to have been with Christ.
My soul never enjoyed so much of heaven
before.
It was the most refined and most spiritual
season of communion with God I ever felt
yet.
April 28 I withdrew to my usual place
of retirement in great peace and tranquility, spent
about two hours in secret duties, and felt
much as I did yesterday morning, only weaker
and more overcome.
I seemed to depend wholly on my dear
Lord, weaned from all other dependencies.
I knew not what to say to my
God, but only leaned on His bosom, as
it were, and breathed out my desires after
a perfect conformity to Him in all things.
Thirsting desires after perfect holiness and insatiable longings
possessed my soul.
God was so precious to me that the
world, with all its enjoyments, was infinitely vile.
I had no more value for the favor
of men than for pebbles.
The Lord was my all.
That He ruled over all greatly delighted me.
I think that my faith and dependence on
God scarce ever rose so high.
I saw Him such a fountain of goodness
that it seemed impossible I should distrust Him
again, or be any way anxious about anything
that should happen to me.
I now had great satisfaction in praying for
absent friends and for the enlargement of Christ's
kingdom in the world.
Much of the power of these divine enjoyments
remained with me through the day.
In the evening my heart seemed to melt,
and I trust was really humbled on account
of my indwelling corruption, and I mourned like
a dove.
I felt that all my unhappiness arose from
my being a sinner.
With resignation I could bid welcome to all
other trials, but sin hung heavily upon me,
for God showed me the corruption of my
heart.
I went to bed with a heavy heart
because I was a sinner, though I did
not in the least doubt of God's love.
Oh, that God would purge away my dross
and take away my sin and make me
ten times refined!