Chapter XLVII · ONE HUNDRED YEARS OLD—SPECIAL CENTENNIAL SERVICE. (continued 2)

So with the knowledge of sins forgiven; by the witness of the Spirit Methodism has done much to make this precious experience the common heritage of the Evangelical Church of to-day. A century and a half ago I doubt if there were ten men in all England who dared to say they believed that doctrine. When Benjamin Abbott was past thirty years of age, he had never heard a man say he knew his sins forgiven; and when he proclaimed it as his experience a deacon told him it was a dangerous heresy, and every man who held it ought to be put to death. And that within this century! But, my dear friends, after fifteen years of such service of God as few men have ever rendered—after fifteen years of such apostolic zeal for the relief of the poor, and the religious instruction of prisoners, and the bringing to morality and decency of the lowest of the sinful, as few men have ever passed through—a young man of Lincoln College, Oxford, at the age of thirty-three or thirty-four, hearing a Moravian read from one of Luther’s Commentaries about justification by faith alone, says that in that meeting, about half past eight o’clock in the evening, his heart was “strangely warmed;” and then Methodism was born. If it had not been for that strange warming of John Wesley’s heart we would not be here to-day. It was the vitalization, in the experience of the Methodists, of the old, forgotten doctrine that made them mighty, and sent forth this “great religious movement,” as Stevens so well calls it, “of the eighteenth century.”

I must not multiply words, sir. It is my prayer that in all the changes of our Church polity we may “make haste slowly;” that in all matters of Christian doctrine we may follow the word of God, and may have the truth interpreted to us as it was to Wesley, by the illuminating light of the Spirit, and that the great power of Methodism may ever be the power of its scriptural, personal, joyous experience.

Rev. David W. Bartine, D.D., delivered the closing address.

Dr. Bartine’s Address.

I feel weary at this moment with the journeyings of a hundred years—with the reasonings, the preaching, and the toil of a hundred years. And I presume that this congregation is weary too—weary for once with perfect delight in the enjoyment of an entertainment that we shall never forget, with a pleasure that will thrill our hearts till our feet touch the cold waters of Jordan. I am one of Father Boehm’s boys, and I delight in the privilege afforded me to-day, at the closing moments of these profoundly interesting services, to say so. When I was a little babe, (of course I don’t remember the circumstance, but my friends remember it,) Father Boehm, in company with Bishop Asbury, came to my father’s house. (My father, you know, was one of the old pioneers, a plain, grand old man, a hero through and through, who met the heresies to which my brother referred awhile ago and helped to conquer them.) Well, they came to my father’s house, and the bishop baptized me, as Father Boehm remembers and has often told me; and that put me in the succession, and I am as perfectly in the apostolic succession to-day as any man in America or in the world—not simply because the old bishop baptized me, but, my friends, afterward God converted me in the old-fashioned Methodist style. I learned the great principles of this wondrous Church in the company of such learned men as these, (pointing to Father Boehm,) sitting at their feet, listening to their words, and being taught in the schools of which they were the prophets. And I glory to-day that I feel like clinging to the good old-fashioned Methodist style.

In the year 1832, when I was a boy—and I suppose as we sometimes say, in cant phrase, somewhat “green”—I received a message from this venerable father inviting me to attend a camp-meeting; and those meetings were real camp-meetings; the people went there to pray all the time, and to look for the baptism of the Holy Ghost. I went, trembling, fearing, feeling utterly disqualified for the work I had entered on, and which I believe God called me to undertake; and I shall never forget the kindly greeting this precious father gave me as I entered those grounds. He took all the fear from my heart, and greeted me with a cordiality I have never forgotten; he said a few kindly, loving, simple words, that strengthened my heart through and through, and from that day to this I have been blessed and honored with the friendship of this venerable man of God.

If I had time to-day I should like to give a number of reminiscences which I could present, but the time has passed so rapidly that the close of these interesting services is necessarily near at hand. And before we separate this afternoon let us congratulate ourselves that we still have preserved among us such a grand specimen of the Methodism of the olden time. Dr. Foss presented us with some very interesting thoughts upon this subject, and that is one of the points I intended to present. But every one who has spoken to-day has stolen some of my thunders, so that I am compelled to manufacture thunder as I go along; and I find that its manufacture is not so easy a matter when others have used your material so freely as have these brethren who preceded me to-day.

But let me say to you, my friends, that we are not to treat lightly an example such as we find in this venerable man. Concentrated in him is Methodism in its simplest form, in its purest characteristics—Methodism as I pray God it may go down to the ages of the future. And I want it to be distinctly understood that I am not a believer in this modern idea that we are going easily to improve the system of Methodism which this venerable man helped to found. It may be tampered with, its success might be interfered with; but it is not a very easy thing to mend it. I am willing to be led, as my fathers were, where God shall lead; but I want to see the footprints of God where I put my feet, I want to see divine providence indicating the way in all the wondrous march of this form of Christianity.

There is one thing most assuredly a fact, and that is, that our system of itinerancy cannot well be improved. I do not know what Bishop Asbury would say to-day upon this interesting subject: whether it is the true philosophy to so change our ministerial arrangements as to continue a man in one or two appointments during a life-time, and still call it an itinerancy. I want to say, that though I would not be an “old fogy,” you will find it a hard thing to improve in this direction that system which has shaken the world. And the question with me is, whether, with all the improvement that is claimed for it, it is shaking the world to-day as it shook it when this venerable father, with heroic purpose and earnest voice, led on his combined forces on his grand old districts? The world did shake then; hell did shake then; the powers of unbelief and heresy did shake then, as the hosts of God marched on from battle to battle, and from victory to victory. A great many well-polished shafts were then hurled by these men of bluntest speech, with both force and effect, at the heart of the foe; and it is a question worthy of consideration whether, after all our advancement in learning and literature, and every thing of that sort—after all our boasted improvement—there is that real, old, divine unction that shook the dead Churches, and awakened the sleeping multitudes to a realization of their need of the saving grace of our Lord Jesus Christ?

I am reminded of all that, and of the simple effort and simple prayer that took hold of the citadel of death and Satan, and through the high and hidden things of the Gospel saved men by leading them to Christ. In Father Boehm’s early and later days, when persons would come to the altar to seek the Lord Jesus Christ, and it was fashionable to kneel and to throw themselves prostrate upon their faces, they would cry mightily to God and struggle hard for his mercy, and earnest people gathered around them with tears, and finally with songs of joy; and it was not the fashion then to pass around the altar and say, “Sister, do you feel any better?” “Brother, do you think you have found peace?” No; that was not the way. The common way was to pray on until the baptism of the Holy Ghost fell upon them, and without prompting they declared what God had done for their souls. Now there are some little points like that which I don’t think we can improve upon—some points which, if we could retain them in all our efforts to do good, would be better for the Church and the world. The very kind of testimony that this venerable patriarch and his compeers were in the habit of bearing to the world is what still needs to be borne. We should never speak hesitatingly upon the one great subject, “That God for Christ’s sake has pardoned all my sins.” They called it heresy then, they call it heresy now; but it was and it is a blessed truth that Jesus Christ had then, as he has now, power on earth to forgive sins, to change the heart, and make a man to know it.

And then that other doctrine which has not been referred to: it was a doctrine of Methodism—I have heard this venerable servant of God preach it, (for I have heard him preach many a time, heard sweet and precious words from his lips,) the fire of the Holy Ghost within him, the divine unction resting upon him, while he would tell us of the power of Jesus Christ to cleanse from all unrighteousness—it was a doctrine of Methodism that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. And that precious truth still lives, one of the most beautiful trees of God’s garden. The religion of Jesus Christ found man dead, polluted, corrupted, and that tree has so grown that to-day multitudes are plucking from it the ripe and rich and luscious fruits of living Christianity. All hail to that patriarch who, sitting in his tent door, watches to see how the battle is going! All hail to his heart as it fills to-day with the ancient fire, and flames with the ancient divine patriotism!

I think there was something said about my closing these services. I am very sorry Bishop Simpson is not here. We had hoped to reach the climax of these services in the closing speech of the excellent bishop. But following all the splendid oratory that has thundered in your ears to-day, it is a difficult matter for a small piece of artillery like me to do much on such an occasion as the present. I do honestly feel, my brethren, that I am in a very embarrassing position. Just look at it. Here is a man (Dr. Foss) whom they almost made a bishop at the last General Conference; here is a man (Dr. Todd) whom I found in the mountains of Pennsylvania, and sent him on his way as worthy to be one of the successors of this grand old patriarch; and here is a distinguished Professor, (Prof. Buttz,) just fresh from college, with his laurels thick upon him, a man beloved by every one who knows him. That these brethren have spoken, and spoken so well, only adds to my embarrassment.

As one of the brethren said, we are not here to cry, “My father, my father, the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof!” O no; we are not even where Joash was when he heard of Elisha’s illness, and came down to weep over him and cry, “My father, my father,” etc. But I will tell you where we are. You know it is Christianity that sanctifies the soul, the baptism of love which photographs the image of the Eternal upon the human affections, and extracts the sting from death. Now it seems to me when Father Boehm shall pass away there will not be any death in it. He has been under the experience and power of this saving faith so long, that every thing in that line comes as a matter of course, and after a little while, when his days are numbered, it won’t be dying, but going up in a chariot of fire into heaven. It has seemed to me all the morning as though we were taking the last three miles’ walk that Elijah and Elisha took after they got over Jordan. You remember that last three miles’ walk, perhaps the most delightful incident in the history of the prophet Elijah. Perhaps we are taking that walk this morning—that last three miles’ walk. You know Elijah had said—and perhaps we may imagine Father Boehm saying the same this morning—“Tarry here, I pray thee: while I go over Jordan,” and the answer was, “As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, I will not leave thee.” No, Father Boehm, these hearts cling to you to-day with all the ardor of youth, and they mean to cling to you until your spirit shall ascend to be forever at rest with God the Saviour. These last three miles—have they not been very pleasant to-day, my brethren, as we talked over the old patriarch’s history, as we talked over the glory that looms up in the future? Have we not rejoiced in it? It has been glorious—this last three miles’ walk! And it may be (though some of us may pass away before him, as the sainted Wakeley went from this pulpit and from the company of his brethren, so unexpectedly and so gloriously to his eternal rest) that many here may receive what Elisha did, a double portion of his spirit at the translation of our Elijah. “Ask,” said the prophet, “what I shall do for thee before I be taken away from thee.” I know Father Boehm’s heart would ask that question if he knew the day of his departure was near at hand; and I know the response of each heart here would be like that of Elisha, “Let a double portion of thy spirit be upon me.” O God, give us a double portion of the spirit of the fathers—their spirit of sacrifice, their spirit of love, their spirit of simplicity, their spirit of holy earnestness in the pursuit of knowledge, their spirit of consecration to their blessed work; and that divine unction that shall make every minister in our Church a power, and every member of our Church a power, thus presenting the banded forces of our Methodism moving on in one solid column against the hosts of this wicked world! That is what we want. May God grant the speedy dawning of that day!

Meanwhile, brothers and friends, the old bark is approaching the haven; the hoary head crowned with glory proclaims the beaming forth of the light of heaven; that venerable countenance is illuminated to-day with a supernatural light; as the bark approaches the haven he is striking his topmast and furling his sails, and after a little while he will drop his anchor in the waters that are never troubled, amid scenes and under skies that are never overcast with clouds. The old pilgrim rests to-day on the top of his staff. O, I am so thankful that a beautiful, calm twilight is shining softly upon his soul as he approaches “that bourne whence no traveler returns”—to that river which, as Payson says, has become a rivulet to him, over which he shall step at any moment when God shall permit! God grant that there may be no shadow on Father Boehm’s life in this world, and if it please God, that he may be permitted to remain among us longer yet as a living example. For we have a century of history, of ecclesiastical policy, and of preaching Christ with saving power, all concentrated in this venerable old man, a monument that stands firm amid passing years, and throws its light upon the traveler to the world of spirits, and the home of the good and the pure.

The quartet choir then sang the closing centennial hymn, written by Fanny Crosby:—

It was announced that, by advice of his physician, Father Boehm would have to dispense with all congratulatory hand-shaking, a single exception, however, being made in favor of the mother of President Grant. The services were closed with the benediction, pronounced by Father Boehm.

Evening Reception.

From eight o’clock till ten, on the evening of the same day, the parlors of Father Boehm’s son-in-law and daughter, Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Emley, at 59 Wayne-street, Jersey City, were thronged with a goodly company of friends, who came to spend the last hours of the day with the venerable centenarian.

Among others, there were present Rev. Dr. J. S. Porter of Burlington, N. J.; Rev. Dr. D. W. Bartine and wife of Morristown; Rev. R. Vanhorne, Presiding Elder of the Jersey City District, and wife; Rev. John Atkinson, of the Trinity Church, and wife; Rev. J. L. G. M’Kown, of the Hedding Church, and wife and daughter; Rev. A. J. Palmer, of the Waverly Church, and wife; Mr. and Mrs. Dusenbury, Mr. and Mrs. J. O. Rouse, Mr. and Mrs. Hopping, Prof. Martin, David Taylor, Esq., H. N. Ege, Esq., S. Sterling, Esq., and Dr. Walter Haddon, Father Boehm’s physician.

They were most delightful hours, those two, and they will live long in the memory of the happy people present.

The “hero” of the hour was happy as his guests, and received their congratulations with thankfulness to God. His strength seemed remarkable, for he had participated in the prolonged services of the morning, yet seemed in no way weary till a late hour at night. After an hour’s conversation presentations were the order, and many beautiful mementos of the love of his friends were given to Father Boehm. The gift of his son-in-law was a magnificent marble clock. Several superb bouquets and baskets of flowers were presented to him by other friends. Dr. Porter, in behalf of his daughter, handed him a huge cake, elegantly frosted, and lettered “One Century,” saying that he (Dr. Porter) remembered that Father Boehm used to be fond of cake and cream when he was a visitor at his house many years ago. Then Dr. M’Kown, in a neat little speech, presented him with a picture, the “Rock of Ages,” from loving friends.

Perhaps the most unique souvenir of all was a chest of tea, containing four choice kinds of that commodity, and bearing in printed letters the inscription, “Father Boehm’s Centennial Tea,” which had been sent all the way from China as a present by Rev. S. L. Baldwin. Rev. A. J. Palmer read a letter from Brother Baldwin, which accompanied the tea, in which the writer expressed his pleasure in having been united for years with Father Boehm in conference relations, (both are members of the Newark Conference,) his congratulations, and his gratitude to God for the long and pure life with which the venerable Father had been blessed. This token of love from the other side of the world was highly appreciated, and a “drawing” of the tea was presented to each of the guests of the hour.

One year before that evening Dr. J. B. Wakeley had presented Father Boehm with a picture of Bishop Asbury, since which time the giver, who was a dear friend of the recipient, has “fallen asleep in Jesus.” So, with great fitness, Rev. J. Atkinson presented Father Boehm with an elegant portrait of Dr. Wakeley, which was received in silence, but with appreciation.

Thus with presents and congratulations the evening passed. When it was ten o’clock Father Boehm rose, and in a clear, full voice, sang a little German song which he had learned ninety-five years before from his German teacher, a Hessian soldier, whom Washington captured at Trenton. Then, last of all, when the hour of parting came, the venerable man of God pronounced the benediction upon the company ere they separated.

Thus ended the exercises, public and private, on the one hundredth anniversary of the birthday of the Rev. Henry Boehm.

The words oftenest upon his lips throughout the day were echoed by all, “The Lord be praised!”