USA > Connecticut > Hartford County > Hartford > Centennial memorial of the First Baptist Church of Hartford, Connecticut, March 23d and 24th, l890 > Part 5
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When Brother James spoke to me of this Centennial, I said to him, "James, we will do whatever you may ask," and so we are here with you to-day, our fair, good mother, for the morning, and the afternoon, and the evening, and for all day to-morrow.
I am glad to see the children here this afternoon. What would a centennial church service be without rec- ognizing the Sunday-school and the children? And yet, while I say I am glad to see you here, children, I have been feeling sorry for you all day, and especially during this session, because I know it is getting to be lengthy and wearisome to you.
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ADDRESS OF THE REV. J. K. WHEELER.
I have been thinking of a story which I read some years ago. The lesson in Sunday-school was in regard to Philip and the eunuch, and a very faithful teacher asked her class why it was that the eunuch went on his way rejoicing (you know it states that he "went on his way rejoicing " after meeting Philip), and one bright boy answered quickly, to the discouragement of the teacher, " Because Philip had got through a teachin' of him !"
You want to go; and perhaps it is time you should go. You would be glad to go now " on your way rejoicing," but we have not quite finished torturing you yet. We have a little more "centennial " for you. You may not have the privilege of being here at the next one; so you must try to bear it.
I was to say a word about tree planting, or the setting out of trees, by which I mean, figuratively, the " plant- ing or setting out" of a boy. Now, a boy has to be "planted," a boy has to be " set out," just as well as a tree, before he can grow. You will find in the 92d Psalm, somewhere at the close of the psalm, these verses : "The righteous shall flourish like the palm- tree; he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon. Those that be planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall still bring forth fruit in old age; they shall be fat and flourishing." I see that the idea or thought which the Psalmist has here in mind is that planting a tree is like planting a man, or setting out a boy, because he said, "The righteous shall flourish." This is the greatest figure which he could possibly use: "The righteous shall flourish like a palm- tree."
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ADDRESS OFF THE
Every boy knows a great deal about a palm, so far as dates are concerned; we get one pound for ten cents, three pounds for a quarter. These palm-trees grow in the desert and have no leaves until you come to .the very top. And there they are; a crown of great, green, waving leaves, which seem like the waving plumes of a king. They grow a hundred or more feet in height, and they bear, in this tuft of leaves, great clusters of fruit, sometimes three hundred, sometimes four hundred pounds, and, they tell me, sometimes as many as six hundred pounds on a single palm-tree. I think dates ought to be a little cheaper than they are.
Well, this book says that a boy who is planted in the house of the Lord shall be like a palm-tree. These palms are not much affected by drouth, and not much disturbed by rain, for they have their roots down deep through the sand in the moist soil. And so they lift up their heads and laugh at the fierce sun.
And so in regard to the cedar of Lebanon. That is the greatest tree that we know anything about, or that the Psalmist knew anything about. They are there, cen- turies old. Some of them have been known, the iden- tical trees, three hundred years ago, living still. Here is a great figure; that a boy, planted in a certain place, is to be like the palm-tree; he is to be like the cedar of Lebanon.
We do not all have the same opinion as to where a boy ought to be planted. But, boys, if you were to set out a tree to-morrow, and it is time now for tree-plant- ing, you would look out for the best kind of soil, and for the very best place. And you would expect the tree to do
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best if you put it in the best place. If you wanted a tree to grow fair and strong, and be fruitful, and cast forth its shade, and live down the centuries, you would seek out one of the best places you could possibly find for it. Because if the soil be good, the tree responds to it ; if the soil be poor and sandy and gravelly, the tree feels it. So we want the best place for the tree. They used to set out these palm-trees in the palace courts, in these shelter- ed, sunny, favored places, and there they grew strong and beautiful. Where do you think is the best place to plant a boy ? I know of one father who planted his son in the saloon. And I said to him, " That is a poor place to plant a boy." I know some mothers who are very anxious to plant their girls in society, and they think that if they can get them rooted there, shallow and superficial though it be, that it is the best place to plant them. There are some fathers who are only anxious to plant their sons in business, in money-getting. And if they can plant them where they can make money, they think that is the best place to plant a boy. Well, that is not the way this word of God reads.
If you are to plant a tree right, you must know some- thing about the nature of the tree. You would not think of planting a willow on top of a rock, where the cedar and pine grow, but you would plant a willow down by the water-course. You would not think of planting an oak-tree or a hard-maple there, but you would plant it on the hill-side, or somewhere in deep, dry soil. You want to know the nature of the tree, and then you can tell something about the kind of soil it needs. Look at a boy, look at a girl, and see if society, see if money-getting,
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see if pleasure-seeking, see if the saloon, is a good place in which to plant them. Well, business is a good place, society is a good place, to a certain extent, but that does not cover all the ground. There is something divine, something godly, in a boy, and so he must be planted in such soil. A few weeks ago, when one of our Sunday- school scholars was dying, he said to his father, " Father, I wish there was a minister here; I wish you would pray with me, father." Dear friends, there is something in the nature of every boy and girl which reaches out towards God. There is a divine element, there are divine characteristics, there is a godly nature, in every boy and girl, and they need to be planted in sacred, divine soil, that their spiritual nature may be nourished.
Now, I was saying that the tree responds to the soil, to the external conditions or circumstances. I was buying some roses some years ago in the city of Chicago. I was selecting them because of their color, and also because of their fragrance. And so among the plants in the con- servatory I picked up a flower and said to the florist, " That is fragrant," and he said, "Yes." Then I picked up another and said, "This is fragrant." " No," said he, "that is not fragrant." I raised it up again, and said, " Yes, that is fragrant." " No," said he, "you are mistaken, but it was close to a rose that is fragrant, and so it borrows its perfume."
I remember reading some years ago of a little fellow who came in from the street one day into the Sunday- school. He had never been there before. He had never seen the children in bright faces and bright clothing. When he came home they asked him where he had been.
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" Been among the angels," he said! He had been bor- rowing sweetness from the Sunday-school; he had been inhaling perfume from the roses of the Sunday-school! There is no place in which to plant a boy or girl so good as the Sunday-school. Sometimes when I go home after some club-meeting or something of that kind, I don't go very often, for they smoke me out, my chil- dren begin to sniff, and they say, "You have been smoking." They know I don't smoke, but perhaps they think I have fallen from grace; so they ask me about it, and I tell them where I have been. Well, these exter- nal conditions always tell where we have been. If a boy is planted in a saloon, or on the street, or where those obscene pictures are, where those vulgar stories are told, you can tell it when he comes near you. I think you can see it in his face and eyes! He responds to these ex- ternal conditions and circumstances, to his surround- ings. No boy or girl is ever a member of a Sunday- school for a month without borrowing perfume, without inhaling the sweet fragrance of the room. That is a good place to plant a child.
I suppose my time is up, but there is one other ques- tion I want to speak of for a moment, the time to " set out " a boy. When would you set out a tree? I believe in setting out a tree very young. I may not be author- ized to do so, but I will make a confession for some of you gratuitously here this afternoon. Some of you do not believe in setting out trees very young. There was a member of one of our Sunday-schools represented here to-day, who, last week in family worship, after reading the Sunday-school lesson, was asked by his
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father to pray. This is a true story; I have it on good authority. They all kneeled down, and after a· moment the little fellow began to pray, he is nine years old, and, among other things, he said, "O God, help us to be good ; not so good that we can just slip through, but so good we can get in anywhere!" I think that boy is old enough to "set out," old enough to "plant" in the church of the Lord Jesus Christ. I would be glad to welcome him and to see him there to-day. But some of you don't believe in setting them out early. You want to wait until they have great tap roots, and big branches ! I have seen them setting out such trees in Chicago. They are impatient out there, and can't wait for a tree to grow after they set it out. And so they get a big tree, as big as a man's body, and it is a strange looking thing. It looks more like an electric-pole than like a tree, with all the roots cut off, and it has got top-heavy and heady, and you have to cut off the top, and cut off its branches, and then guy it up with ropes. And then you must wrap it around with a straw or hay rope, and keep watering it, and set a man to watch it. And then after it has stayed there for a few months, if the summer is a little dry, you must pull it over and carry it away, for it is dead. It could not live. It was set out too late ; the conditions were not right for its growth. Now, many believe in setting out " trees" when you have to cut off these tap-roots, and the arms, and the branches, and the head, and what a look- ing tree that is to come into the church! Forty to Sixty years old! I believe in setting out trees very young ! Many of us do not like to receive children into the church, to plant them in the courts of the Lord! Suppose a man
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should go into an orchard, and the nurseryman would say, " Here is a young tree," and the man asks "Has it blossomed?" "No." "I don't want a tree that hasn't blossomed !" "Here is a very good tree." "Has this tree borne any fruit?" "No." "Well I don't want to set out a tree that hasn't borne fruit !" There is an apple- tree, fifteen or twenty years old, laden full of blossoms, laden with a heavy harvest of apples, and he would like to take up that tree, with all its apples on, and carry it off, and set it out! But what will be the result? I am willing to take a very young apple-tree, just a sapling, one that has never borne a single apple, or a single blossom, one that is hardly in the leaf, and then set it out and wait for it to grow. Plant it in the house of the Lord. For by and by, in God's providence, under the shower and the sunshine, and its nurturing soil, it shall flourish in the courts of the Lord! You will see that the men who are strong in the church to-day were planted when young. The presidents of the colleges and seminaries of to-day were planted in the Sunday- school in early boyhood. I have their records; I have the figures. Many of the presidents of our colleges and theological seminaries to-day were members of the churches when they were nine, ten and twelve years old ! They were planted early. They were set out in youth ; just as Moses, Samuel and David were. It takes a long time to grow a man, and if you wish to grow him stal- wart and strong, you must give him time to grow, under the most favorable conditions possible. If you wish your boy or girl to become a man or woman of God, and a tower of righteousness in the community, you must
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plant them in childhood in the house of the Lord, and they will flourish in the courts of our God. . When Dr. Hartranft of this city stood over the silent form of the late beloved Dr. Thompson, he said, among other things, ' The fairest flowers of piety are the growth of centuries, the culture of the ages."
My dear friends, these are not my words, but God's. The best place to plant a man, woman, boy or girl, is in the house of the Lord, and by and by they shall become like palm-trees, and like the cedars of Lebanon.
Down on Wethersfield Avenue, and now I am done when I tell you this little story, there is an old friend of mine. He is one hundred years old. He is just cele- brating with you this year his centennial. He is a grand old monarch, a stately and glorious giant; one of your proud and far-famed New England elms. Oh, what a majestic trunk, some four feet or more in diameter! What grand and graceful sweeping branches, covering a circle with a radius of fifty feet! We often have a little conversation as I am passing. I speak to him, and thank him for his shade in summer and for his strength in winter. And for all his grand and stately proportions I honor him. Shall I tell you the history of that tree? I only learned it a few days ago. A little girl of the city of Hartford was out in these woods somewhere, or on these encircling hills, and, coming in, she pulled up a little twig, just a little slip, a little elm twig; one that she could wrest from the earth easily with her thumb and finger, and she brought it home and set it out in front of the old farmhouse. She was fifteen years old. Let me see, how old is the
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tree? She lived to be ninety years old. The tree was seventy-five years old when she died. She died twenty- years ago. It is the monarch of a century! Planted in that fair and favorable place when just a little twig, it has now grown up into its stately proportions. And sometimes, when the midnight winds are gathering and the storms are brewing yonder on those hills, I have thought of that old tree and the battle that he was to have with the storms. But he welcomed them and laughed at them, for he had in his fibre the strength of a century !
Dear friends, if this psalm had been written in Con- necticut, if it had been written here in Hartford, in regard to your boys and your girls, it would have said that if they were planted in the house of the Lord they would flourish like one of the oaks of the mountains, that they would spread abroad their stately branches like one of the elms of your happy New England !
SUNDAY EVENING.
7
>
JOSEPH W. DIMOCK
REMINISCENCES
BY
MR. JOSEPH W. DIMOCK,
Senior Member of the First Baptist Church, Hartford.
(When Mr. Dimock, who is in the ninetieth year of his age, was intro- duced, the entire audience rose to greet him.)
I have been requested to state some of the facts con- cerning the early years of this church.
The year of 1814 was a memorable epoch in the his- tory of this church, which has been a missionary church from its organization. It was on Wednesday, the 3Ist of August of that year, that the Baptist Society, auxiliary to the Baptist Board of Foreign Missions, was founded. It was accomplished through the influence of the Rev. Luther Rice, who went out as a missionary in company with Dr. Judson, under the direction of the Con- gregationalists, to India. They were both converted to Baptist principles on their voyage to Calcutta, and, being left in that foreign country without organized support, Mr. Rice returned to this country and commenced organizing foreign mission societies. He visited this church at that date, and, with several of the brethren, met at the house of our pastor, the Rev. Elisha Cushman. This house is now standing on Village Street. I had the privilege of being one of those present on that occasion.
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I believe that this was the first direct movement in foreign missions in this state.
At the same time the church enjoyed a special out- pouring of God's spirit, which resulted in the conversion of about fifty persons. And nearly all of them were young people. It was considered remarkable that nearly all of them were from families outside of the Baptist church.
The evening meetings of that period were generally held in private houses in different sections of the city. And the labors of the young people were very efficient in building up the church. Before that time very few young persons had been encouraged to join the church.
We had no Sunday-schools or Bible-schools at that time. But in 1818 the first Sunday-school was organized in the basement of the old wooden church which yet stands on the corner of Temple and Market Streets.
My first Sunday-school class consisted of five colored men, the youngest of whom was fifty years of age.
Within my time the membership of the church has sent out over thirty persons as preachers of the gospel, one missionary to Burma, who was the daughter of a former pastor, the Rev. Henry Grew, and another mis- sionary to Japan, the Rev. Mr. Arthur.
It has been my privilege to know personally all the pastors and deacons of the church from its organization.
When Dr. Turnbull was settled as pastor of this church, Dr. Hawes sent a special message to him saying it would afford him great pleasure to give him the right hand of fellowship, and the same kind feelings were cherished to the end. On several occasions he occupied his pulpit.
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MR. JOSEPH W. DIMOCK.
Dr. Jackson's pastorate was very successful. Seventy- five persons received the hand of fellowship on one Sunday.
Deacon Bolles always took a deep interest in me, and used frequently to inquire as to how I was succeeding, etc. He would come into my room every few evenings, and if I had two candles burning, he would blow one of them out. If I had two sticks of wood on the fire, he would take one of them off, and lay it on the corner of the fire-place. As I said before, he showed himself very friendly to me through all my connection with the church.
At that time we had no numbers on our houses, and no lights in our streets. We were obliged to locate a house by counting so many houses from a certain point. We had no steamboats or telegraph.
I will add that I have been connected with this church for seventy-four years, and I am the only person living who was a member at the time I joined it.
ADDRESS
OF THE
REV. THOMAS S. BARBOUR,
Pastor of the Baptist Church of Fall River, Mass.
It would be idle for me to attempt to express the pleasure I have had in the privilege of joining in this centennial service. And yet my pleasure is in some degree mingled with pain, particularly at this moment. I believe I have a feeling of sympathy for, say, the plum- ber, who has come to your house, and in the confusion attending his effort to respond to your call has neglected to bring along the necessary tools. I succeeded at a late hour in arranging to so far gratify myself as to make the journey to this city, but as for the means of being of any service to the committee, and to those who have gathered for this evening's service, that is a different matter. And yet, if it be true that " out of the heart the mouth speaketh," it seems to me that I ought not to lack for fullness of utterance to-night.
To say that this church is to me what no other church is, or ever can be, is to say a very matter-of-course thing. I was almost surprised to learn that the church is only one hundred years old, and thus to have the definite in- formation that there actually was a time when it was not in existence. I suppose if anyone had asked me if I thought that it was in existence before the year 1492, I should have faltered a slow "No," but, somehow, it
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always seemed to me to be a necessary part of the life of this city, and of the life of the world.
I shall make no attempt to express the emotions which are awakened in my heart by this place and this hour. There are many before me who do not need any expres- sion of such emotions. The language of their own hearts is sufficient.
Time turns backward in its flight, and again we are children. Again we follow up those letters upon the wall, and count them, and balance them, and think something of their significance: "God is a spirit, and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth." Again our eyes follow up the high arches that seem almost to reach to the heaven of which the preacher is speaking. Again familiar forms are about us; they steal from out the shadows, and are with us again, and the long pew is filled. Again we see familiar forms before us. We were told this morning that every address of the day should contain some reference to Deacon John Bolles. I knew a Deacon Bolles. His name might have been John-"the face that limners give to the beloved disciple"-but he bore the name of the other son of Zebedee. I am glad that I am old enough to have - known him. All these seats are filled; Deacon Bolles, Deacon Smith, Deacon Braddock, Deacon Howard, of whom two, not the least beloved, remain to this pre- sent time. There are other associations connected with this house. To say to one's self, "In yonder vestry I knelt and asked forgiveness of my sins, and consecrated my life to the Lord Jesus Christ." " Just here I was buried in the symbolical grave, and rose with a purpose of newness of life." "Just here I stood, a boy of ten,
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and looked down into the water, and out upon the people, and up toward God, my heart filled with a profound joy, and with the earnest desire to testify henceforth forever my gratitude to my Savior and Lord." " In yonder pew I received for the first time, for how many times, those sacred emblems which spoke of the Savior's love, and awakened ever anew the purpose to give better ser- vice to the Master." To say to one's self such things as these is to awaken thoughts that lie too deep for words.
One train of thought I am unwilling to-night to at- tempt to repress. It has to do with the central form of this group that was before us, the one pastor under whose leadership I was a member of this church. We have heard testimony concerning him to-day from those who were fitted by the years and the experience to which they had attained to judge of him as I could not. And yet I desire to-night to bring a tribute to his memory, though it be but the tribute of childhood. It seems to me that Dr. Turnbull had a rare power of influencing childhood. I do not mean that he was peculiarly a preacher for children, I do not know that he was that, but he was something better than that. He had a higher power than that of entertaining children for a half-hour. There were qualities revealing themselves in him which drew childhood to him and gave him a strong hold upon its affection and reverence. I thought of him as a model of all that was noble and kindly. I did not think of him as eloquent or learned. I thought of him as a man of God. The story is told of Whitfield that a little girl was wont to refer to him, in her childish way of expressing her thought, as " Jesus Christ's man." So seemed to me the pastor whom I knew in my relationship to this
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church; a man consecrated to Jesus Christ. He was more than a pastor to me. If I were permitted to choose whatever word I might please to characterize what he was to me, I should take from out the divine word that term which is used of the Holy Spirit of God, the term " comforter," which you know means more than com- forter, the counseller, the teacher, the guide, the friend. All this he was to me, and if it be right for one to use a term which the Lord Jesus used of himself in his relations to his people, if it be right to speak of a pastor as an under-shepherd, may we not speak of a pas- tor as an under-comforter, counsellor, instructor, guide and friend? All this, I say, he was to me in my early life. It was by his side, on a stormy night in January, that I knelt, we were alone together, he was willing to give his time that he might lead even a child to such a knowledge as a child could have of the saving grace of Jesus Christ, it was when kneeling by his side that I gave my heart to Christ. It was by his hand that I was buried in the baptismal waters. By his hand I was welcomed publicly into the membership of the church. And there is almost no one among the profounder experiences of my early life, whether of joy or of sorrow, of wandering or of Christian service, with which he was unconnected. I met him (I do not know that many of you are aware of this, but it seems to me a fact of interest, surely of deepest interest to me) in the closing days of his life. If I am not mistaken, the last public service which he performed was that which he rendered for me, when he laid his hands in consecration upon my head, as in public prayer I was set apart for the ministry of the word. He came, at my request, hundreds of miles,
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