of THE subject of this Memoir pos- rent of time, I have left behind sessed uncommon excellence of me the scenes of childhood and character. His amiable and dig-youth. Much that I have enjoynied conduct, blended with uni-ed, and much that I have suffered forin piety and active benevolence, until the present moment, are now has rendered his memory pecu- buried in oblivion. The sports of liarly dear to his surviving friends. childhood, and the excesses Although he occupied a station in youth; the illusions of hope, and private life, yet it is thought, that the pangs of disappointment; the he exhibited an example worthy of pleasures of knowledge, and the imitation, and that it is due to the bitterness of guilt, have each in living as well as to the dead, to their turn occupied my mind. delineate some of those moral fea- But the ideas associated with tures by which he was distinguish- most of these scenes have passed ed. This task is undertaken, not away, like the baseless fabric of a merely to gratify the feelings of vision, without leaving a single personal affection and respect, but trace behind. Yet this impression that others may e.nulate whatever is distinctly left on my heart, in him was virtuous and praise- that I have lived almost exclusiveworthy. ly under the direction of wrong It is now more than principles. Mr. Freeman was born at Brewster, (Mass.) Aug. 9, 1791. With the history of his early life, weare not sufficiently acquainted to give any satisfactory information. In a journal which he kept with more or less regularity to the end of his life. he remarks, Aug. 9, 1812 This day I am 21 years Borne on the rapid cur of age. NOVEMBER, 1825. four years since I professed to have experienced religion. For a time, I enjoyed inexpressible delight in its services. My closet was often visited, and I engaged in devotional exercises with fervour and alacrity. I hastened with willing feet to the courts of God; and the tears of affection 41 effect of a supernatural agency. I rather considered those who were the subjects of this work, as and penitence often bedewed my cheeks. The bleeding cross filled me with admiration and joy; and I returned home with new reso-highly visionary and enthusiastic. lutions to pursue a holy life." At times, however, my skepticism But after lamenting that it was forsook me. The evidence, that not with him as in months past, the power of God was in this he closes his journal of this date, work, was too clear to be resisted. with the following prayer-" O! But yet I had no realizing sense may the cleansing blood of Jesus of my own condition. A little wash my polluted soul. And may more sleep, a little more slumber, pardoning grace blot out the mem- was the language of my heart. ory of actions, which deserve the If I should become religious, most exemplary punishment." I often said to myself, my happiness will be at an end. Religion is a dull and melancholy thing. It is important, indeed, that I should be acquainted with it before I die. But now, just as I am entering on the world, to bid adieu to all that felicity which I have so fondly anticipated, to give the parting hand to my old companions, and probably receive nothing but their scorn and derision in return, are considerations too painful for me. I was, therefore, determined not to make the sacrifice. Mr. Freeman left his father's house and became a resident in Boston while he was yet a youth. Although in this new situation, he very laudably endeavoured to improve his understanding, yet he neglected the state of his heart. He was preserved from immoral practices, but he felt an aversion to a course of humble and selfdenying piety. And it was not till he had attained his seventeenth year, when on a visit to the town of Barnstable, that his views and feelings on the subject of religion were completely changed. The nature of this change, and the manner in which it was effected, will be best described in his own words. "In the summer of 1808, my attention was first arrested by the power of divine truth. I was, at that time, on a visit at my father's house in Barnstable. Until my arrival, I knew nothing of the revival of religion which had just commenced in that town. I was filled with astonishment at the change which appeared so visible in the conduct of many of my former associates. A universal seriousness prevailed. The common avocations of life were suspended; and the time of most individuals was almost exclusively occupied in religious meetings and in christian conversation. At first, I was disposed to speculate on the subject. I very much doubted whether what I witnessed was the "But forever adored be that grace that plucked me as a brand from the burning. To rich, sovereign, unmerited mercy, I would ascribe all my salvation. Blessed be God, he did not suffer me to have my own way. He did not seal my sentence of condemnation by saying, "he is joined to idols, let him alone." After spending a day in a very careless manner, and in using every effort to divert one of my friends from an attention to religion, I left the company I was in, and agreeably to my usual practice, took a walk in the adjacent fields. Here, all at once, the subject of religion occurred to me with uncommon force. I had some discovery of its vast and immediate importance. The danger of my condition as a sinner, filled me with anxiety. knew indeed, that there was a Saviour provided for the wretched and guilty, but alas, I feared that I his mercy would never reach me. ligion was the only thing which My estimation of the world seem-appeared to me important. Give ed to be instantaneously changed. me, blessed Jesus, I would often I became indifferent both to its say, give me a sense of thy parscorn and applause. At that mo- doning mercy. Let me but know ment the resolution was formed that thou lovest me, and I will that I would seek the Lord. I cheerfully sustain poverty and disthen felt determined while I lived tress, but a wounded spirit who that I would supplicate the throne can bear? I continued in this of divine grace; and plead for par- desponding state, for a number don continually. And should of weeks; utterly destitute of years revolve, and even the hour consolation, until I was enabled of death come, before the Lord ap- to make an entire surrender of peared for me; yet I would per-myself to the Lord. All my legal sist in my application, and if I expectations vanished, and the perished, I would perish at his language of my heart was: "Here feet. From that time until I Lord, I give myself to thee, found peace in believing, my distress increased. "I knew that I had despised and rejected the Saviour; that I had resisted the admonitions dictated by parental affection, and although the light had shone around me, yet I had loved darkness rather than light, because my deeds were evil. I now feared that darkness and misery would be my inevitable portion. I had broken the holy law of God, and its awful thunders aroused my conscience from its slumbers. I felt that I was condemned; and I acknowledged the justice of the sentence that consigned me to everlasting ruin. Often did I fall on my knees in an agony of distress. I hardly dared to utter the words that were ready to burst from my lips. Could I plead for mercy? Could I expect forgiveness, who had so long slighted the overtures of pardoning grace? My heart appeared to me harder than a rock. I thought myself dead to every tender emotion. I knew that my feelings and views were essentially changed, but yet, I could not believe that my exercises were of the right kind. I feared that my convictions were all superficial, and a mere momentary excitement, entirely distinct from the exercise of gracious affections. And yet I was conscious that, re "Tis all that I can do." the time of thy love. The peace "It was then, glorious Immanuel, of God now took possession of my bosom. were dissipated; and I felt as "My rapture seem'd a pleasing dream, "A satisfaction unknown before, pervaded my soul. All nature smiled around me. Every surrounding object seemed to proclaim the goodness of God. O! thou precious Saviour, I was ready to exclaim, hast thou indeed taken my feet out of the horrible pit and miry clay! Hast thou indeed redeemed my life from destruction, and crowned me with loving kindness and tender mercy! To thee, then, blessed Jesus, I devote my life. Do with me as thou pleasest. Make me any thing that may seem good in thy sight, only let me be engaged in thy service. Such were my reflections. And never shall I forget the interesting moment when I followed my di vine Saviour into his liquid grave. If ever I enjoyed communion with God; if ever the world appeared to me less than nothing and vanity, it was then. I enjoyed a peace which I believe the collected universe could not have disturbed. It was a sweet tranquil lity produced by a consciousness || for him. There were seasons that I was in the presence of God, and that he viewed me with approbation. From this period the Bible became the man of my counsel; and the people of God appear ed to me, to be the excellent of the earth in whom was my delight." Having given himself to the Lord, Mr. Freeman believed that it was both his duty and interest to join himself to a Christian Church. He made a publick profession of his faith at Barnstable, but afterwards he became a member of the Second Baptist Church in Boston, under the pastoral care of Rev. Dr. Baldwin. His connexion with this people was a source of mutual happiness and advantage. His correct deportment and enlightened zeal, which were associated with unaffected modesty, gave him a large place in the affections of his brethren. While he was thus deservedly beloved, he was growing in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, under the ministry of one whom he never ceased to venerate and love. Without feeling the least alienation of attachment from his Pastor and Christian friends, circumstances occurred which induced him to solicit a dismission to the Third Baptist Church in Boston. • request was kindly granted, and he continued a highly valued member of that body, until, as we confidently trust, he was called by death to join the Church triumphant. His As he had, under a deep impression of the mercies of God, expressed a strong desire to dedicate himself to his service, it will not be difficult to believe that a consecration of his life to the work of the ministry was to him a subject of long and painful solicitude. For more than four years his mind was perplexed in attempting to ascertain the path of duty which Providence had prescribed when he seemed to have an irresistible conviction that he ought to preach the Gospel, and then again, the work appeared so great to him, that he sunk under the most distressing feelings of despondency. An extract from the record which he has left of the state of his mind at this period will perhaps be read with interest. Having expressed great fears lest he should run before he was sent, and thus be guilty of presumption in taking upon him a work to which he was not called, he says, "I think, if I know myself in this case, a desire to do the will of God, and to submit entirely to his guidance, is the governing principle of my heart. If I am under a mistake, I pray God to convince me of it; but I do think that I should infinitely prefer a large participation in all that variety of distress which has been the portion of the most distinguished champions of the cross, with a consciousness that I was engaged in the service to which the Lord had appointed me, than to be able to call this little globe my own with all its pleasures, honors, and emoluments." And yet, at last, he came to a conclusion which was afflictive to himself, that it was not his duty to become a preacher of the Gospel. Had he engaged in the work of the ministry, he would no doubt have been one of the most popular preachers in our country, but the humble opinion which he formed of his own talents and attainments, and the qualifications which he thought ministers at the present day ought to possess, finally settled the question which had so long agitated his mind. Had there been the same facilities for obtaining literary and theological knowledge, which now exist, it is believed that Mr. F. would have given himself to a work that was most congenial to his mental habits, and to all histributed liberally when pecuniary feelings as a man of piety. aid was required. Tract Societies, Domestick and Foreign Missions, Theological Institutions ; and Sabbath Schools, from their first establishment, found in him a generous, efficient, and constant friend. Not only were his tongue, and his pen occasionally and successfully employed in recommending these benevolent associations, but his purse was ever open to their just claims. There are beneficiaries now pursuing their studies, and ministers who are occupying respectable stations, who will never forget the delicate, but timely and substantial aid which he afforded them in their literary and theological pursuits. He took an active part in the promotion of Sabbath schools when they were first organized in Boston, and pleaded their importance and He did not suppose, however, that if he was not a minister, knowledge would be of no importance to him. Nor did he think there was no sphere of usefulness for him in the Church of God. He regularly appropriated certain portions of his time for the purpose of extending his information on literary and religious subjects. He composed many discourses, which, had they been delivered, would have been heard with profound attention. And he adopted one practice which his biographer would venture to recommend to others. The remarks with which he so frequently delighted and edified his hearers at conference meetings were the result of previous meditation. Some of his exhortations which produced such an intense interest as to be dis-utility in several communications tinctly remembered after a lapse of twelve years, have been found in substance among his papers. And why should not christians, if they mean to be edified themselves, or to instruct others, meditate on some subject, in the anticipation of speaking at a social religious meeting? If it be admitted that ministers ought to meditate on divine truth before they preach, we can see no peculiar advantage which private brethren possess that renders it more unnecessary for them when they offer a word of exhortation. Were the example of the deceased in this instance imitated, conference meetings would be greatly more interesting; they would be much more generally attended, and more conducive to general edification. Mr. Freeman manifested a lively interest in the pious and charitable institutions of the present age. When the object was good, and practicable, calculation might always be made on his support. His charity was not confined to expressions of good will. He con from his pen, when many good men viewed them with indifference. He assisted in the formation of the Howard Benevolent Society, and for several years from its commencement was its secretary. Indeed, in works of compassion he abounded He not only endeavoured to do good to the souls, but to the bodies of men. And his deeds of kindness were not circumscribed to his friends, or the members of the church with which he was connected. The writer of this memoir had at different times the happiness and the honor of being the almoner of his bounty and the only intimation he received was, that it might be best to relieve those who in their lonely and destitute condition, had no friends to whom they could with confidence look for aid. It is possible however for an individual to be active in publick charities, and yet lamentably defective in personal religion. He may shine abroad like a star of the first magnitude, but at home he |