Benjamin Abbott was born on Long Island, N. Y., in the year 1732. But little is known in regard to his early life, as he did not embrace the religion of the Saviour, until he was forty years of age. His father dying while Benjamin was a lad, and having made provision in his will, that his sons should be put out to learn trades, the subject of this chapter was indented as an apprentice to a hatter, in Philadelphia, where he soon fell into bad company, and became addicted to card-playing, cock-fighting, and many other evil practices. Leaving his master before the expiration of his apprenticeship, he went to New Jersey, and labored on a farm with one of his brothers. Soon after this he married, but the domestic relation, instead of having the effect of drawing him into the paths of virtue, only seemed to rekindle the desire for vicious indulgence. So that he continued to live in rebellion against God, drinking, fighting, swearing, gambling, and attending fairs and other places of public resort, for the purpose of meeting with those of his own disposition, and sinful habits. In a word, he was what even the world would call, a very wicked man, and the only redeeming trait in his character at that time, appears to have been a disposition to treat his family kindly, and provide for them comfortably, a trait not often found in the case of the hardened inebriate.

Yet during this wild career of wickedness and sin, Abbott was not without a respect for religion. He even attended church, and professed to be a Presbyterian in sentiment, and was often convicted of his sins and wickedness, by the Spirit of God which spoke in thunder tones to his guilty conscience, and alarmed him of his danger and his doom. Often did he make promises of amendment, and as often did he forget to fulfill them.

When he was about thirty-three years of age, he had a dream of being carried to hell, where the devils put him into a vice, and tormented him till his body was all covered with blood: he was then hurried into another apartment, where he was pierced by the stings of scorpions, and as fast as he would pull one out, another would strike him; he was next introduced to a lake of fire, into which the devils were throwing the souls of men and women. Two regiments of devils were moving through the chambers of the damned, blowing up the flames, and when it came his turn to be thrown in, one devil took him by the head, another by the feet, and while in the act of throwing him in, he awoke, and found it was a dream. We make mention of this dream not because of its singularity, but as a specimen of the horrors which haunt the pillow of the wretched inebriate. The effect of such terrible and awful visions of the night, — which appeared as realities to him, — was such, that he would promise solemnly to amend his ways; but, alas, poor man, he had not as yet learned the necessity of seeking divine aid in so doing; thus he lived until he was forty years of age, a miserable sinner, being “without hope, and without God in the world,” tormented by day and by night, and yet in his ignorance, not knowing precisely how to escape from his apparently hopeless condition.

One Sabbath-day his wife attended a Methodist meeting, a few miles distant from their place of residence, On her return, Abbott asked her how she liked the preacher. She, answered that he was as great a preacher as she ever heard in her life, and persuaded her husband to go and hear for himself. Accordingly, on the next Sabbath, Mr. Abbott went and heard a sermon from the text, “Come unto me all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Says Mr. Abbott in relation to the services, “The preacher was much engaged, and the people were crying all through the house; this greatly surprised me, for I never had seen the like before.

The sermon made no impression on me; but when he came to the application, he said, ‘It may be, that some of you may think that there is neither God, nor devils, nor hell, only a guilty conscience; and indeed, my friends, that is bad enough. But I assure you that there is both heaven and hell, God and devils.’” Mr. Abbott now remembered his dreams, and his misspent life, and all his sins were brought vividly before his mind, and he returned home under the influence of deep convictions, but still was ignorant of the way of salvation.

Soon after this, the preacher went to preach in the neighborhood where Mr. Abbott resided, and as Methodist preaching was a new thing, many went out to hear him; he preached with power, and the word took such hold of Mr. Abbott, that it “shook every joint in his body,” and he cried aloud for mercy. When the sermon was ended, the people flocked around the preacher and began to dispute on doctrines; as for Abbott, they said he was going mad. He returned home in great distress of mind, and having been brought up under the teachings of Calvinism, and believing in the doctrines of election and reprobation, he concluded that he was a reprobate, and that he must be damned, do what he would. From this time onward, his burden of sin increased, and he was tempted to commit suicide, and no doubt would have done so, had it not been for the reflection that the torment of the damned is still more insupportable than the upbraiding of a guilty conscience; at length, after suffering the most intense anguish of spirit, and having been properly instructed in relation to the way of salvation by faith, he ventured his all on Jesus Christ, and found rest to his soul on the 12th day of October, 1772. “My heart,” he says, “felt as light as a bird, being relieved of that load of guilt which before had bowed down my spirits, and my body felt as active as when I was eighteen, so that the outward and inward man were both animated.” “I arose and called up the family, and took down the Testament, and the first place I opened to, was the ninth chapter of Acts, where Saul breathed out threatenings and slaughter against the Church or disciples of the Lord, and if I had had a congregation I could have preached, but having none but my own family, I expounded the chapter and exhorted them, and then sang and prayed. After breakfast, I told my wife that I must go and tell the neighbors what the Lord had done for my soul. The first place I went to, the man and his wife were both professors of religion and members of the Baptist Church. I expected they knew what these things were, and would rejoice with me; but to my great surprise, when I related my experience, and told what God had done for my soul, it appeared as strange to them as if I had claimed possession of Old England, and called it all my own. I then set out to Jacob Elwell’s mill, about two miles off; where I expected to meet with divers persons, and to have an opportunity to exhort them, and tell them what I had found. On my way there, I exhorted all I met with to turn to God. When I got to the mill, while I was telling them my experience, and exhorting them to flee from the wrath to come, some laughed, and others cried, and some thought I had gone distracted. Before night, a report was spread all through the neighborhood that I was raving mad; at evening I returned home, and asked my wife about her conviction and conversion, expecting, she professed religion, that she knew what heart religion was; but to my astonishment, I found she never had experienced a change of heart. She had been awakened when young, under a sermon of Mr. Hunter, a Presbyterian minister, which brought her to prayer, but in progress of time it wore off again. About seven years after that, as a brother of hers was sitting under a fence, watching for deer, another man who was also hunting, about sunset, seeing his head through the fence, and taking it to be a fox, shot and killed him; this unfortunate affair gave her another alarm, which brought her again to prayer; but this also wore off in a short time, and she lived in neglect of that duty until after we were married and had three children; at which time the measles came into the family, and under her afflictions and distress, she covenanted with God to be more religious: from which time she became a praying woman, and joined the Presbyterian Church, and was looked upon as a very religious person, although she rested short of conversion, and remained a stranger to the new birth. I told her that she had no religion, and was nothing more than a strict Pharisee; this gave her displeasure, and she asked me if none had religion but those who knew it? I told her no, not one; for all who had it, must know it. Next day she went to her minister, to know what he thought of it. He told her she was right, for people might be good Christians and know nothing about what I insisted on; and advised her not to mind me for I was expecting to be saved by my works. This gave her a momentary satisfaction, and home she came quite strong, and attacked me, and related what her minister had said; she also brought a book which he had sent me, entitled Belamey’s New Divinity, in which he insisted upon conversion before conviction, and faith before repentance. I read it about half through, and found him a rigid predestinarian. His doctrine of decrees, and unconditional election, and reprobation, so confused my mind, that I threw it by, determined to read no more in it, as my own experience clearly proved to me that the doctrines it contained were false. Next day, my wife carried the book back. I desired her to tell the minister from me, that it was full of lies, which Scripture and experience both [dis]proved. He sent for me to come and see him; accordingly, the day following I went and dined with him; after dinner, he requested all the family to withdraw from the dining-room; they did so, and he and I were left alone. He then told me he understood that God had done great things for me; whereupon, I related my conviction and my conversion; he paid a strict attention until I had done, and then told me that I was under strong delusions of the devil. He got a book out of his library for me to read; as he handed it to me, the Lord showed me by the voice of his Spirit that the book was not fit for me. However, I disobeyed the Divine impression, and took it at the minister’s request; I returned home and felt a temptation to doubt, and called to mind my various sins, but none of them condemned me. I then thought upon a particular sin, which I concluded would condemn me; but in a moment I felt an evidence that that sin was forgiven as though separate from all the rest that ever I had committed; but recollecting the minister had told me ‘I was under strong delusions of the devil,’ it was suggested to my mind, it may be he is right; I went a little out of the road and kneeled down, and prayed to God if I was deceived to undeceive me, and the Lord said to me, ‘Why do you doubt? Is not Christ all-sufficient? Is he not able? Have you not felt his blood applied?’ I then sprang upon my feet and cried out, ‘Not all the devils in hell, nor all the predestinarians on earth, shall make me doubt;’ for I knew that I was converted: at that instant I was filled with unspeakable raptures of joy.”

We have given these lengthy extracts for the purpose of showing the exercises of Mr. Abbott’s mind, after having obtained the “adoption of a Son,” and for the purpose of showing the power of grace in “converting such a sinner from the errors of his ways.” Having at length gained the victory over his doubts and temptations, in reference to his being truly converted, the next important question to be decided by him, was in relation to the Church he should join. He accordingly commenced reading the different Confessions of Faith, Articles of Religion, etc., of the various Churches, and then read the Bible from beginning to end, with reference to the same subject. His natural feelings would have prompted him to join some other Church than the Methodists, but after delaying the matter for some six months after his conversion, and while one day meditating prayerfully upon the subject, he exclaimed, “I am a Methodist! I am a Methodist!” He then returned home resolving to be such, although he knew that persecution and reproach would be poured upon him from every quarter. In a few days after, he joined the Methodists, and his wife being happily converted to God, she united with them also, and in the course of three months after his wife’s conversion, six of their children were also converted to God; a small class was formed in the neighborhood, and Mr. Abbott was appointed Leader.

One day being invited to dine at the house of a friend, Mr. Abbott on sitting down to the table proposed asking a blessing upon the food; as soon as he began, two workmen present began to laugh. This was too much for Abbott to endure in silence; he consequently rose and began to exhort them in a very rough manner, thundering out hell and damnation against them, with tears in his eyes. This broke up the dinner and neither of them ate anything at that time.

Mr. Abbott soon became a man “full of faith and the Holy Ghost,” and his neighbors when sick, would send for “Old Abbott,” to pray with them; and soon he received an impression, that it was his duty to preach the Gospel; and as in those days, there was not that degree of formality observed, as at the present day, in reference to allowing men to preach who thought themselves called to the work, he appears to have begun preaching before he was called by the voice of the Church, but evidently not before he had received a call from God. His first effort at preaching was on the occasion of a funeral which he had been requested to attend. As soon as it became noised abroad that Mr. Abbott had become a preacher, he received frequent invitations to hold meetings in different neighborhoods. While at one of his appointments the following occurrence took place: Mr. Abbott was preaching with great zeal and power, and in the course of his remarks, said, “For aught I know, there may be a murderer in this congregation!

Immediately a lusty man attempted to go out, but when he got to the door he bawled out, and stretched out both his arms and ran backward, as though some one had been pressing on him to take his life, and he endeavoring to defend himself from the attack, until he got to the far side of the room, and then fell backward against the wall, crying out bitterly, that he was the murderer, for he had killed a man about fifteen years before!” The man lay in great anguish of soul, while Mr. Abbott having recovered himself from his surprise and astonishment, resumed his discourse. The man finally recovered himself, and went away into parts unknown, and was never seen, nor heard from afterwards.

Shortly after the above occurrence, the war of the Revolution commenced, and in some parts of the country, the name Methodist, was considered as synonymous with Tory. This arose from the imprudence of a few of the English Wesleyan Missionaries, who believing it to be their duty to “fear God and honor the king,” were not sufficiently guarded in their expressions in reference to the politics of the day; hence, many of the Methodist preachers and members were looked upon with suspicion, and became the subjects of bitter persecution and reproach. This was the case with Mr. Abbott, who because he was a Methodist, became exposed to the sneers and scoffs of the wicked and profane, who under the pretense of patriotism, aimed a blow at vital Christianity, and godly sincerity; but Mr. Abbott frequently called to mind the words of the Saviour, “The servant is not greater than his Lord,” and he resolved to preach and labor for his divine Master even though he should die for it.

On a certain evening after having preached, Mr. Abbott was accosted by a minister who was present, who asked him if he was a Wesleyan. Mr. Abbott replied in the affirmative. Then said the minister, “You deny the perseverance of the saints.” “God forbid,” replied Mr. Abbott, “for none can be saved unless they persevere to the end.” “But you believe in the possibility of falling from grace?” Mr. Abbott said yes; on which the minister abruptly gave him the lie; but Mr. Abbott appealed to the testimony of Scripture on this point, and requested the minister to explain a passage in Ezekiel 3:20,21, but the minister refused. His elder being present, said he ought to explain the passage, but instead of doing so, he became passionate, and said he was brought up at college, and certainly knew about these things, but that Abbott was a fool, and that he could cut such a fellow’s throat; then turning to his elder, he said, “If there was a dog’s head on your shoulders, I would cut it off: Do not you know the articles of your own church? I will teach you better.” Mr. Abbott told him that the curse of God was upon all such watchmen as he was, who did not warn the people against sin. The minister replied, that he could cut such a fellow’s throat, and that it made his blood boil to hear the perseverance of the saints denied. Mr. Abbott desired him to explain the passage; but all the reply he received, was “You are a fool, you know nothing at all. I was brought up at college, and I will have you before your betters.”

At another time, in the same town, while he was preaching to a crowded house, a mob of soldiers came rushing in with guns and fixed bayonets, and while the rest surrounded the door, one went up to him and presented his gun, as though he would run him through. While the soldier was piercing with his bayonet, Mr. Abbott kept wielding the “sword of the Spirit” — the word of God, proclaiming the terrors of the law in a loud voice, which finally made the assailant quail before him, and retreat to the door. His comrades tried to urge him back, but he refused to cope any longer with a man who was so evidently armed with the “whole armor of God.” Mr. Abbott was then allowed to finish his discourse in peace. At his next appointment there, he found one hundred men under arms. When he began to preach they grounded their arms and listened to him in a quiet and orderly manner. Mr. Abbott, about this time, also was drafted to serve in the militia, but as he could not make it appear right for him to fight with, and kill his fellow-men, he was excused by paying a sum of money sufficient to furnish a substitute.

At one of his appointments, the Lord made bare his arm so that many fell to the floor; their cries were great, and sinners sprang to the doors and windows, and fell one upon another in getting out: five jumped out at a window, one person called out to Mr. Abbott that he was a devil. A young man cried to a magistrate present to command the peace, but the magistrate answered that it was the power of God. Another person, with tears in his eyes, entreated the people to hold their peace, to which an old woman replied, “They cannot hold their peace, unless you cut out their tongues.” At another place, shortly after, while he was preaching, a lady fell to the floor; Mr. Abbott asked the people what they thought of it, and if they did not think it was of the devil. “If it is,” said he, “when she comes to, she will curse and swear, but if it is of God, she will praise him.” When she “came to” she praised the Lord with a loud voice.

Mr. Abbott had the happy art of always being able to give a word of advice in season, which frequently like bread cast upon the waters, was found after many days; an instance of this kind he relates in his autobiography. “I set out for quarterly meeting, and on my way I stopped to get my horse shod, and went to a house where I found an old woman spinning, and asked her for a drink of water; she gave it to me. I said to her, You have given me drink to refresh my body, I will strive to give you the waters of life, by persuading you to make application to Jesus Christ. After telling her the terrors of the law, and the promises of the Gospel, I asked leave to pray, which she granted. Three years after, as I was on my way to a quarterly meeting, I met with about twenty persons who were on their way to the same meeting. As soon as they saw me, a woman from among them ran to me and said, ‘How do you do, my father?’ I asked her how she came to know me? She answered, ‘I will soon convince you, I have cause to know you: do you not remember asking me for a drink of water, and that you set before me the plan of salvation, and went to prayer with me? You had not been gone half an hour before I expected to be in hell every moment, I cried to God mightily without any intermission, until he set my soul at liberty: therefore, I will call you my spiritual father.’” While Mr. Abbott was thus instrumental as a Christian of doing good to individuals, he by no means neglected the spiritual welfare of communities; hence we find him urging the people where he occasionally labored to the work of building a house for the Lord. In a place called Penns-Neck, he had for four years tried to prevail upon the inhabitants to erect a church, during which period they were obliged to meet in a grove, when the weather permitted; at length growing weary of their tardiness, he agreed with a carpenter to build one, who went on to the spot at the time appointed. Mr. Abbott told him he had no timber for the building, and therefore he must go begging. He accordingly went to a neighbor and said, “We are going to build a house for God, what will you give towards it?” “Two sticks of timber for sills.” He then went to a Quaker widow, and obtained two sticks more. He went to another person, who gave him timber enough to complete the house. He then told others that they must draw the materials, and in four days the latter were all on the spot. In a week more the frame was raised, and in six weeks the job was completed, and Mr. Abbott begged the money to pay the carpenter. The consequence of the erection of this house was the “moralizing and Christianizing” of the whole neighborhood.

The following extracts will no doubt be found interesting by the reader: — “Next day I set out for my appointment, but being a stranger, I stopped at a house to inquire the way, and the man told me he was just going to that place, for there was to be a Methodist preacher there that day; and our preacher, said he, is to be there to trap him in his discourse and if you will wait a few minutes until a neighbor of mine comes, I will go with you. In a few minutes the man came, who, it seems, was a constable. So we set off, and they soon fell into conversation about the preacher, having no idea of my being the man, as I never wore black, or any kind of garb that indicated my being a preacher, and so I rode unsuspected, The constable being a very profane man, he swore by all the gods he had, good and bad, that he would lose his right arm from his body if the Methodist preacher did not go to jail that day. When we arrived at the place appointed, I saw about two hundred horses hitched. I also hitched mine, and retired into the woods, where I prayed, and covenanted with God, upon my knees, that if he stood by me in this emergency, I would be more for him through grace than ever I had been. I then arose and went to my horse with a perfect resignation to the will of God, whether to death or to jail. I took my saddlebags and went to the house; the man took me into a private room, and desired I would preach in favor of the war, as I was in a Presbyterian settlement. I replied I should preach as God should direct me. He appeared very uneasy, and left me, and just before preaching he came in again, and renewed his request, that I would preach up for war; I replied as before, and then followed him out among the people, where he made proclamation as follows: — Gentlemen, this house is my own, and no gentleman shall be interrupted in my house in time of his discourse, but after he has done you may do as you please. Thank God, said I, softly, that I have liberty once more to warn sinners before I die. I then took my stand, and the house was so crowded no one could sit down. Some hundreds were round about the door. I stood about two or three feet from the constable who had sworn so bitterly. When he saw that I was the man that he had so abused on the way, with so many threats and oaths, his countenance fell, and he turned pale. I gave out a hymn, but no one offered to sing; I sung four lines, and kneeled down and prayed. When I arose I preached with great liberty. I felt such power from God rest upon me that I was above the fear of either men or devils, not regarding whether death or jail should be my lot. Looking forward, I saw a decent-looking man trembling, and tears flowed in abundance, which I soon discovered was the case with many others. After preaching, I told them I expected they wanted to know by what authority I had come into that country to preach. I then told them my conviction and conversion, the place of my nativity and place of residence; also my call to the ministry, and that seven years I had labored in God’s vine yard; that I spent my own money, and found and wore my own clothes, and that it was the love that I had for their precious souls for whom Christ died, that had induced me to come among them at the risk of my life; and then exhorted them to fly to Jesus, the ark of safety — that all things were ready — to seek, and they should find, to knock, and it should be opened unto them. By this time the people were generally melted into tears. I then concluded, and told them on that day [in] two weeks they might expect preaching again.

I mounted my horse and set out with a friendly Quaker for a pilot.

We had not rode above fifty yards when I heard one hallooing after us. I looked back and saw about fifty running after us. I then concluded that to jail I must go. We stopped, and when they came up, I crave your name, said one — I told him, and so we parted. He was a justice of the peace, and was the person that I had taken notice of in time of preaching, and observed him to be in great anxiety of mind. No one offered me any violence; but they committed the next preacher on that day two weeks, to the common jail.”

The following extract, though somewhat lengthy, is both instructing and amusing: “Next day we went to our appointment, where the congregation was chiefly Germans, and a well-behaved people. Here the Lord wrought wonders, divers fell to the floor, and several found peace. I lost both the power of my body and use of my speech, and cried out in a strange manner. The people also cried aloud; here I thought I should frighten them, being in a strange country and among a people of a strange language; but glory to God, it had a contrary effect, for they continued all night in prayer. “Next morning, I set out with about twenty others for my appointment, where we found a large congregation. When I came to my application, the power of the Lord came in such a manner, that the people fell all about the house, and their cries might be heard afar off. This alarmed the wicked, who sprang for the doors in such haste, that they fell one over another in heaps. The cry of mourners was so great, I thought to give out a hymn to drown the noise, and desired one of our English friends to raise it, but as soon as he began to sing, the power of the Lord struck him and he pitched under the table, and there lay like a dead man. I gave it out again, and asked another to raise it: as soon as he attempted, he fell also. I then made the third attempt, and the power of God came upon me in such a manner, that I cried out, and was amazed. I then saw that I was fighting against God, and did not attempt to sing again. Mr. Boehm, the owner of the house, and a preacher among the Germans, cried out, ‘I never saw God in this way before.’ I replied, this is a Pentecost, father. ‘Yes, be sure,’ said he, clapping his hands, ‘a Pentecost, be sure!’ Prayer was all through the house, up stairs and down. I desired Mr. Boehm to go to prayer; he did so, and five or six of us did the same. A watchnight having been appointed for that evening, and seeing no prospect of this meeting being over, although it had begun at eleven o’clock, I told Boehm that we had best quietly withdraw from the meeting-house. When we had got out of the door, a young man came out and laid hold on the fence to support himself from falling, and then cried again for God to have mercy on him. ‘To be sure,’ said Mr. B., ‘I never saw God in this way before.’ We exhorted him to look to God and not to give up the struggle, and God would bless him before he left the place. I took the old gentleman by the arm, and we walked quietly to the house to get some dinner. About five o’clock, a person came from the preaching house, requesting that I would go there immediately, for there was a person dying. We went without delay.

I went up stairs, and there lay several about the floor, some crying for mercy, and others praising God. I then went into the preachingroom, and there they lay about the floor in like manner. I then went to see the person said to be dying; she lay gasping. I kneeled down to pray, but it was instantly given me that God had converted her soul, and therefore instead of praying for deliverance, I gave God thanks that he had delivered her, and immediately she arose and praised God for what he had done for her soul.” “We set out with about forty friends, to the next appointment. The people being gathered, after singing and prayer, I began to preach, and God laid to his helping hand; many cried aloud for mercy. One young man being powerfully wrought upon, retired up stairs, and there thumped about upon the floor, so that Mr. B was afraid that he would be injured in body. ‘To be sure,’ said he, ‘I never saw God in this way before.’ I told him there was no danger, he was in the hands of a merciful God. In a few minutes after, attempting to come down stairs, he fell from the top to the bottom, and hallooed aloud, ‘The devil is in the chamber! the devil is in the chamber!’ which greatly alarmed all the people. This brought a great damp over my spirits, for I thought if I had raised the devil, I might as well go home again. However, after a little space, I bid some of the dear people go up stairs and see if the devil was there: several went up to see what the matter was, and there they found a man rolling, groaning, and crying to God for mercy; they returned, and told us how matters stood.” “Next day, at my appointment, we had a crowded house, and the Lord laid to his helping hand; divers fell to the floor, and several cried aloud for mercy. After preaching, an old Presbyterian gentleman attacked me, and told me it was all the work of the devil — that God was a God of order — and this was perfect confusion.

Well, said I, if this be the work of the devil, the people, many of whom then lay on the floor as dead men, when they come to, they will curse and swear and rage like devils; but if it be of God, their notes will be changed. Soon after, one of them came to, and he began to praise God with a loud voice; and soon another, and so on, until divers of them bore testimony for Jesus. Hark! hark! said I to my old opponent — brother, do you hear them? this is not the language of hell, but the language of Canaan. I then appointed prayer-meeting at a friend’s house, in the neighborhood. After the people had gathered, I saw my old opponent among them. I gave out a hymn, and brother S. went to prayer, and after him myself. I had spoken but a few words, before brother S. fell to the floor, and soon after him every soul in the house, except myself and my old Presbyterian opponent and two others. I arose, and gave an exhortation, and the two men fell — one as if he had been shot; and then there was every soul down in the house, except myself and my old opponent. He began immediately to dispute the point, telling me it was all delusion and the work of the devil. I told him to stand still and see the salvation of the Lord. As they came to, they all praised God, and not one soul but what professed either to have received justification or sanctification, eight of whom professed the latter. I then replied, hark! is this the language of hell? Here your eyes have seen the salvation of the Lord. — Time called us away to our next appointment, which was about seven miles distant. Here we met with my old Presbyterian opponent again; on seeing him, I was sorry, for I concluded that we should have some disputing again. I fixed my eyes on him, and cried mightily to God that if one man fell that day, it might be him. As I was preaching, I heard several cry out, ‘Water water! the man is fainting!’ I looked round, and saw it was my old opponent, trembling like Belshazzar: I told them to let him alone, and look to themselves, for that it was the power of God that had arrested him. They let him go, and down he fell on the floor, struggled awhile, and then lay as one dead. When I finished my discourse, and dismissed the people, in order to meet the class, I desired some of our friends to carry him out, as he was in our way: they did so, and laid him on a bed in a back room. After class, I went in to see my old opponent; he had just come to, and was sitting on the bed. Now, thought I, is this the work of the devil, or not? but said nothing to him, nor he to me. “Next morning we went to our appointment, where we had a large congregation. Looking round, I saw my old Presbyterian friend again. This was nine miles distant from my former appointment. I felt great freedom in speaking: a woman began to shake in a powerful manner, and three or four cried out ‘Water! water!’ I told them that it was the power of God that had fallen on her, so they let her go, and down she fell on the floor. I bid them to look to themselves, and went on with my discourse; some wept, some sighed, and some groaned. When I dismissed the people, not one offered to go. I then desired some one to speak to them, and brother C. arose and said, ‘You stand amazed at the power of God, and well you may,’ and gave a smart exhortation. By this time I had gathered a little strength, and gave them an exhortation; they wept all through the house. I then said, For God’s sake, if any can speak for God, say on; for I can speak no more. Who should arise but my old Presbyterian opponent, and began with informing them that he was not one of this sect, that he had been with me four days, and that he never had seen the power of God in this way before and added, It is the power of God! and gave a warm exhortation for about three quarters of an hour. I then dismissed the people.”

It would no doubt be interesting, to multiply extracts as found in the life of this “Son of thunder,” but our limits oblige us to hasten with the narrative of his labors in a more summary manner. After laboring as a local preacher for upward of sixteen years, he felt it his duty to join the traveling connection, which he did in 1789, at the Conference held in Trenton, New Jersey, in April of that year, and was appointed to Dutchess circuit, in the State of New York. The circuit was new, and he found but a few converted souls on it. He, however, began to preach the doctrine of Bible holiness, and although the people mostly belonged to other churches, yet the Lord graciously owned his word, and rendered his labors a blessing to the people. In 1790, Mr. Abbott was elected to the office of a deacon, and in 1793 was admitted to the office of an elder, and he labored in his holy vocation until the year 1795, when on account of ill health, he was obliged to retire from the itinerant field, and was never able to resume his duties as a traveling minister.

Mr. Abbott’s last appointment was Cecil circuit, in the State of Maryland, where he proved himself to be the same holy man that he had been for the previous twenty years. On the 3d of February, 1795, he was seized with a violent ague, which was followed by scorching fever, and pain in his side.

The doctor being called, pronounced his case hopeless, and gave him up as a dead man. He, however, revived, and was able to walk and ride out, and even to attend Church, and visit his friends. The winter of 1796, was spent by him in Philadelphia. An instance of his fidelity in reproving sin occurred in the spring of this year. At a funeral sermon which was preached on the occasion of the death of a pious lady, Mr. Abbott was able to be present, and at the close of the sermon, he rose and gave an exhortation. Seeing a gentleman present who had once been a fellow-laborer with him in the gospel, but who had wickedly departed from God, Mr. Abbott felt it his duty to address his exhortation particularly to him, and called to mind the many happy hours they had spent together in the service of God. The gentleman received the advice given, as an affront, and thought himself illused.

On Mr. Abbott’s being informed of the manner in which his wellmeaning effort had been received, he simply said, “Why if I were able to take my horse and go and see him, I should not have made use of that opportunity; but as I am not able to go and see him, I was convinced that if I let that opportunity pass, I should never have another; and I thought it was my duty to speak as I did: therefore I leave the event with God. I am sure that it cannot hurt him, or do him any injury; for a man that is posting in the broad way to damnation, cannot be easily worsted. O! I have seen the time that we have rejoiced together as fellow-laborers in Christ, and it grieves my soul to see that the devil has got the advantage of him!” The final result of Mr. Abbott’s plainness was, that at the next quarterly meeting after his death, the gentleman alluded to rose in the love-feast, and declared that God had healed all his backslidings, and that he had made Father Abbott the instrument of his restoration to the favor of God.

About the first of June, Mr. Abbott was able to attend another funeral, at which the officiating clergyman in the course of his remarks said, that, “Death is the king of terrors, and that he makes cowards of us all.” After sermon, Mr. Abbott took occasion to converse with the minister, and dissent from the doctrine taught in the above quotation. “For,” said he, “perfect love casteth out fear;” “and for my part,” said he, “I can call God to witness that death is no terror to me I am ready to meet my God, if it were now!”

On the 12th of August, he being very feeble, said to a brother who came to see him, “Brother F. I am going to die, and tomorrow you must go to Philadelphia for Brother McCluskey, to come and preach my funeral sermon:” to which the brother replied, “Father Abbott, you may continue some time yet, as the time of your death is uncertain.” “No,” said Mr. Abbott, “I shall die before you would get back from Philadelphia, unless you travel in the night.” The brother replied, “It will not answer to go before your decease.” “Why,” rejoined Mr. Abbott, “I shall die, and I do not wish my body kept until it is offensive: you know the weather is warm, and the distance is considerable.” “That is true,” replied the brother, “but if I were to go to Philadelphia for brother McCluskey to preach your funeral sermon and you not dead, the friends would laugh at me, and he would not come.” “Ah!” said he, “it may be so; I never thought of that; perhaps it will be best to stay till I am dead.”

On the day but one, following the above conversation, this eminently useful servant of God breathed his last. The last sentence which he intelligibly articulated was, “Glory to God! I see heaven sweetly opened before me!”

After this, he frequently repeated single words as “See! — See! — Glory!

Glory!” etc., in the meanwhile clapping his emaciated hands together, until nature became exhausted, and he ceased at once to work and live. He died in Salem, New Jersey, on the 14th of August, 1796, in the sixty-fifth year of his age, and twenty-third of his ministry. He was buried according to his oft-repeated desire, in the Methodist burial-ground in Salem. His funeral being attended by a large concourse of his fellow-citizens, and by Christian ministers of different denominations.