USA > North Carolina > Historical papers of the North Carolina Conference Historical Society and the Western North Carolina Conference Historical Society > Part 21
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21
And now, Mr. Chairman, I am constrained to say with Israel's great leader when he had recounted the trials of the journey through "that great and terrible wilderness" and had reached the border of the promised land, "What hath God wrought?" and pray that we may be as consecrated and as faithful as those men who wrought in the other days.
North Carolina Conference as I First Knew It
BY REV. R. F. BUMPAS*
R. PRESIDENT and fellow-members of the Historical Society of the North Carolina Conference, ladies and gentlemen: It is with extreme reluctance that I accept the assignment of this hour. When this honor came to me, I was minded to treat it as I had on former occasions, but when I was assured that my brethren felt that it was my duty to address you this evening, I yielded my personal wishes and preferences, and am here to contribute what I may to the objects of our organization. I shall throw my heart wide open to you tonight, for I love you all, and I love the theme assigned me. The Church has occupied the first place with me all these years. So, I shall ask your sympathy and indulgence, as I speak to you out of my heart.
I have been asked tonight to speak of the personel of the Confer- ence at the time I joined. I was familiar with Methodist preachers from my cradle, my father being a member of this Conference, and our home a preacher's home. Just across the street was the Greens- boro College, whose commencement was like a little Conference. The Annual Conference met in Greensboro more than once during the period of my minority. At such times our house was filled with preachers, and at other times they were frequent guests. The coming of Methodist preachers into our home was an event anticipated with pleasure, especially by the younger members of the household. They came to us out of that great world, about which we knew so little and were so curious. What marvelous experiences they could relate, what good stories they told! Moses L. Witten, pastor of my mother's people in the West, Oscar P. Fitzgerald, afterwards Bishop. and Dr. John B. McFerrin, Veteran Missionary Secretary, and to mention the names of the veterans of our own Conference beginning with Peter Doub, N. H. D. Wilson, Sr., L. S. Burkhead, William H. Bobbitt, William Barringer, John Tillett, L. T. Hendren, Paul J. Carraway, D. R. Burton, R. A. Willis, Calvin Plyler, T. Page Ricaug, A. R. Raven, would be like calling the roll of the Conference.
Well do I recall the appearance and preaching of the Bishops of that early day: the tall form of John Early, with his high black stock cravat, his face furrowed thick with wrinkles, as was the kindly face of Robert Paine. Then came that peerless orator from Georgia, George F. Pierce, and later David S. Doggett, John C. Granberry, John C. Keener, Holland M. McTyeire, William Wightman,
*Annual Address before the North Carolina Conference Historical Society, meeting at Elizabeth City, November 13. 1923. Mr. Bumpas joined the North Carolina Conference in 1.871.
168
HISTORICAL PAPERS
Hubbard Hines Kavanaugh, who set the Conference shouting when he preached, and the spirit-filled Enoch M. Marvin, who before he went to live among the angels, while conducting a session of the Con- ference, would pause in the midst of business and sing: "O come angel band, come and around me stand, O bear me away on your wings, to my immortal home." And the preachers about me were sobbing, and some quietly rejoicing. There were other strong preach- ers; that man whom my county of Guilford gave to Virginia, Dr. John E. Edwards, who could articulate distinctly more words in a given space of time than any orator to whom it has been iny privilege to listen, not excepting my good friend, J. B. Hurley. Silver tongued James A. Duncan; and that brilliant genius William E. Munsey, who in a baccalaureate at Randolph-Macon brought the Virginia Confer- ence to its feet. Dr. Munsey put sixty hours' work on every page of that address. One of imagination less bold might have worked sixty days to a page and not have done it. Munsey had a genius for work; if an unknown science came in his way when he was preparing a sermon or lecture he would lay down his pen, acquire the science and then strive forward in his oratory.
May I take the portrait of some of the men of my boyhood days out of their frames and exhibit them to you? Robert S. Moran, stand- ing a little above the average height, with classic features, high broad forehead, long straight nose, expressive lips, always clean shaven, dark hair standing erect above his forehead and inclining' to arch forward, mild blue eyes, voice deep and resonant. Dr. Moran was a student, at home in logic, philosophy and the sciences. His sermons were thoroughly wrought out and delivered extempore. His preach- ing was always edifying, often deeply spiritual, and at times he rose to the sublime. He was of Irish decent, and possessed those gifts of oratory for which many of his compatriots have been famous. He was given to the use of words of imposing sound and unfamiliar. The College girls would jot them down in pencil to search out after- wards in the dictionary. One bright young lady took the unabridged in the gallery one night and attempted to keep up with the doctor, but soon abandoned the pursuit as impossible. Dr. Moran never married. A lady friend once suggested to Dr. Deems the propriety of selecting a companion for Dr. Moran. "What, Moran marry!" ex claimed Deems in astonishment, "Moran marry, when the Lord never thought of such a thing as making a woman to suit Moran." He was scrupulously neat in appearance, always faultlessly dressed in the best of cloth. It was his custom to spread out his cambric handker- chief to kneel upon, a custom which cost him his influence on one occasion. In the simple goodness of his heart, he visited a poor sick woman. She felt honored that Dr. Moran should visit her, and appreciated his scripture reading and his words of comfort, but when he spread his handkerchief down to kneel upon, afterwards relating the circumstance to a friend, she remarked that if her floor was not clean enough for Dr. Moran to kneel upon, she could get along very well without his prayers. He would sometimes employ unusual similes. 1 remember to have heard him in seeking to impress a truth upon the mind of his hearers say, that it was
169
HISTORICAL PAPERS
"beautiful enough to be written with a quill from an angel's wing in honeydew upon a lily leaf."
Charles F. Deems was below medium height; he was a skilled dialectitian, a trained elecutionist, a fearless preacher, rebuking sin of whatever sort and whenever found. When Dr. Deems was announced to preach the Church would be packed. Another leader of the Con- ference, a different style of a man, was Numa F. Reid, slender. frail, never of vigorous health, lacking the graces of the orator, his black hair stubborn, and his jet-black eyes seeming to flash fire when aroused. He would rise in the pulpit in a nonchalent manner, start off as if lacking words, or scarcely knowing what to say. Like Paul he reasoned. He would formulate his premises, develop nis syllogisms, unfold his argument, and then just as you were settling down to a quiet nap he would flash out some great truth with an unex- pectedness that would startle you and you never again so much as felt drowsy as long as he continued to talk. The lawyers were fond of him. They admired his close reasoning. He was the model chosen and copied by many of the young preachers.
The second and third years of my ministry my Presiding Elder was William Closs, a man of unique personality, quick at repartee, with a wit sometimes sparkling. Many good stories of Dr. Closs have been current. I have one which has not appeared. He immortalized the Straits; it was his first pastorate. Later the Doctor returned to con- duct a meeting, bringing with him two young preachers. He approached the house where he had formerly boarded. A gentleman he did not know met and asked them in, but when the lady of the house appeared the Doctor recognized her as the miscievous girl. daughter of the former proprietor. She had little to say and seemed all out of sorts, so after supper, under plea of fatigue, the Doctor proposed to retire. His host said they would retire after prayer and handed the Doctor the Bible. Meanwhile his wife had brought a pig into the next room and all the time Dr. Closs was praying she whipped the pig to keep it squealing. The Doctor had prayers next morning but there was no squealing pig. His host invited the preachers to leave their horses in the stable, and walk to the church which was not far away. Dr. Closs sent the young men on to start the meeting, "and I stayed behind," he said to me, in relating the story, "to see what would happen." He retired to his room, throwing open the window so that he could watch as well as pray. He heard his host order the servant to saddle the riding horse. His wife coming into the yard and seeing the horse at the block asked what it meant. "It's for you to ride to Church," he said: "I'm not going to Church." "But you've got to go." He stepped into the house, took down the cow hide from the rack, tapped his wife gently and told her to get on the horse and go to Church, and when she flatly refused he brought it down with some vigor. Whereupon she mounted and rode to Church. In due time the Doctor and his host walked over to the church to find that the boys were having a great time. There were mourners at the altar, and the people were singing. The Doctor took his seat in the congregation and soon was called to lead in prayer. "I got down," he said to me in relating the incident, "determined not to
1
170
HISTORICAL PAPERS
get off my knees until my hostess yielded;" and so he prayed, and on and on he prayed until the woman sprang up saying she could stand it no longer, and went forward for prayer, kneeling at the altar where she remained a long time. The meeting broke up but the Doctor and some friends continued to pray for this woman until at length she arose, her face radiant with joy, and throwing both arms around the neck of Dr. Closs shouted, "Thank God for the man that invented a cow hide! Thank God for the cow hide!" Years after as Presiding Elder, Dr. Closs was entertained in this home; he found this woman a devoted Methodist, rearing her children in the Church and an influence for good throughout the community. He asked her mischievously, calling her by her first name, "Do you still thank God for the cow hide?" "Yes," she replied, "but for that cow hide I should have been lost."
Later Robert O. Burton was my Presiding Elder. Some of you doubtless recall his erect figure and military air, the result of his West Point training. There is an unpublished story of Dr. Burton, which I think is pretty good. There will be no impropriety in my relating it. The point in this story turns on our relation to the negroes after they were freed. In slavery times our pastors preached to them and large numbers of them were gathered into our Church. At the close of the War, independent Methodist bodies of colored people, that had originated in the North, came in among our people and induced most of them to withdraw from us and join them How- ever, thousands of them refused to leave us and for their protection we set them up to housekeeping and Robert O. Burton, then a member of the Virginia Conference, was appointed to look after the religious interests of the colored people. In 1854, when the new church was built on Anne Street, Beaufort, the original church, now known as Purvis Chapel, was turned over to our colored members for their use. After the war this congregation affiliated with the A. M. E. Zion Church and received pastors from that Conference. Dr. Burton, hearing of this situation, concluded that it would be a happy place to commence operations. He visited Beaufort, secured an appointment to preach in Purvis Chapel at 11 o'clock Sunday morning. and delivered a sermon of such beauty and power as to completely capture his hearers, which they indicated by frequent and loud responses. He then unfolded to them his plans, he told them that the mother church still loved them, although they had strayed from the fold and as an evidence of our love he had been charged with the duty of gathering all the colored Methodists into one great church under our care, to be known as the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church of America. He invited them to come back home to the fold and urged them to reunite with us, and took his seat with a feeling of a man who had won his cause completely. The pastor, a minister of the A. M. E. Zion Church, who had been sitting quietly behind Dr. Burton, drinking in his every utterance and fully apprehending its import, now arose, announced and read Charles Wesley's hymn :
171
HISTORICAL PAPERS
"Jesus, great Shepherd of the Sheep, To Thee for help we fly; Thy little flock in safety keep; For O! The wolf is nigh!
He comes of hellish malice full, To scatter, tear and slay, He seizes every struggling soul, As his own lawful prey.
Us into thy protection take, And gather with Thine arm,
Unless the fold we first forsake The wolf can never harm.
We laugh to scorn his cruel power. While by our Shepherd's side,
The sheep he never can devour; Unless he first divide.
O! do not suffer him to part The souls that here agree, But make us of one mind and heart And keep us one in Thee!
Together let us sweetly live, Together let us die; And each a starry crown receive, And reign above the sky."
It is scarcely needful that I add that by the time the pastor had concluded the reading and the congregation the singing of this hymn, all the effects of the splendid eloquence of Dr. Burton had vanished into thin air.
I have been asked to speak of the beginnings of my ministry, but first I wish to say, if there is anything in me true or worthy it is due to the training of my sainted mother, who, before I was five years of age, had firmly fixed in my mind all those great principles that have moulded my life. Wonderful little woman she was, that mother of mine. A woman of rare tact and judgment, refined, cul- tured, ordering her large household in the fear of God, a woman of great faith and much prayer, diligent in every good word and work, and all the while maintaining her family by her pen. The marvel of it all to me now, as I look back, is, that with all her activities she was never too busy to answer a question, solve a problem, or give a satisfactory reason for any command she laid upon me. Quiet, gentle, patient, I have seen her under the most trying conditions, servants refractory, children rebellious, yet I never knew my mother to elevate her voice in addressing child or servant. She always employed the same clear, sweet tones that we heard from her lips at the morning and evening hours of worship when she talked to our Father in Heaven.
.
172
HISTORICAL PAPERS
My call to the ministry was as clear and distinct as was my con- version and was attained by an ecstacy of joy never hitherto exper- ienced. Yet definite as it was I did not at once yield. My natural timidity and my consciousness of my utter insufficiency for so holy a calling led me to struggle against it for four long years. It was not until I was brought down to the very gates of death; the doctor said I would die, the family gathered to see me die, I was conscious that without a great change I would soon appear in the presence of a Deity, who was displeased with me because I had refused to do his bidding. It was in that extreme moment, as I hung between life and death, that I surrendered, and my surrender was complete, and without reservation. I put everything upon God's altar, and to this good hour, I have taken nothing off. I said, "O. God if you let me up I'li preach." Three weeks from that day, I was carried to the pulpit, for I could not walk, and entered upon my life work. I was so emaciated, as the result of my four years' struggle, that arrange- ments were at once made for me to go to the mountains, where I spent the three fall months traveling on a large circuit with a senior preacher, preaching almost every day. I went with him to a camp meeting on a neighboring charge. Many ministers were there: Dr. William M. Robey preached Sunday morning, as he could preach, Dr. R. L. Abernethy, founder of Rutherford College, and William C. Wilson, a preacher of no mean order, George F. Round, George W. Ivey, Peter L. Hermon and others preached. At the preachers' tent one of the brethren said, "I never heard so much big preaching with no result in my life;" another said, "Perhaps there will be no revival at this time." George W. Ivey, who was in charge, came in, touched me on the shoulder and said : "We want you to preach this afternoon." I was sufficiently familiar with Methodist usage to understand that as a command. I repaired to the forest, sought a secluded spot, kneeled upon the dry leaves and sought for guidance and help. I had not long been engaged in this exercise, when the devil came to me and said, "You can't preach." "I am well aware of that fact," I replied. "Then you are a fool to try." "Perhaps so," I said, "but God told me to preach and I've got it to do." "Well," he said, "you'd better try something you can do, you could farm or run a store or if you must help other people you might make a school teacher, but you'll never make a preacher," and so we had it up and down. I was trying to pray and to get ready to preach and he was trying to stop me. How long the conflict lasted I do not know, but before I was half ready to preach, I heard the trumpet sound and knew that the people were assembling for worship. I arose, brushed the leaves and dust from my clothing, picked up my hat and walked straight to the pavilion, entered the stand and kneeled to pray. The devil kneeled at my side and whispered in my ear, "You're a pretty look- ing thing to preach, aren't you? If you ever get out of this trap I advise you never to be caught in another such!" To all of which at that moment I felt like saying "Amen." How I succeeded in getting through with the preliminaries, the two hymns, the prayer, the scrip- ture lesson, I do not know. When the time arrived I arose and read my text. I was conscious that a deep stillness had fallen upon
173
HISTORICAL PAPERS
that vast throng. The silence was painful and would have baffled me, but as soon as I parted my lips and began to speak, I became oblivious to my surroundings. I lost sight of myself in the ardent desire that now possessed me to deliver the great message of salvation that was burning in my heart. I had been speaking fifteen or six- teen minutes, when I saw the Holy Ghost fall upon that large assembly. You have seen a field of ripe wheat, every golden tip standing erect. A breath of wind came out of the sky and touched that field somewhere near its center and every head was bowed, and the movement swept out in an ever widening circle to the limits of the field. It was just like that. A good woman near the center of the crowd exclaimed "Glory" and from all around came the answering response, "Hallelujah." Then men and women were on their feet clapping their hands and shouting the praises of God, and sinners were calling aloud for mercy. My voice was drowned; it was useless to proceed. I sat down. George W. Ivey arose, announced the hymn and in a few well chosen words called for penitents. They came flocking from every direction. Glad of an opportunity to escape from public view, I slipped down into the altar upon my knees instructing the penitents and continued there until dusk. Many were converted, others came, the congregation dispersed, a few of us remained with the penitents until they were beginning to light up for the evening service. Some- one touched me and said, "You must have something to eat. Come with me, we have had supper but we saved some for you." I went to the back of the tent where I found a lamp and food on the table. I ate hurriedly and returned to the stand for the service which had already begun. Who the preacher was that night I do not remember, but when the call was made for penitents, I felt impelled to go out after the young men. The second long bench at my right was occupied by young men of about my own age. They were stalwart mountaineers and I a delicate stripling. With much trepidation I approached the man at the end of the bench, laid my hand upon his shoulder, looked up into his face and spoke to him about his soul. I discovered at once that he was under conviction and upon my invitation he went with me to the altar, I gave him directions what he was to do and returned to the second man with like results, then the third and the fourth. Presently the devil came to me and said, "These folks are not going to the altar because they are under con- viction, but simply because of your personal influence." I walked back and sat down on the pulpit steps. Then I realized that it was a device of Satan to hinder the work of the Lord. I felt within me the divine urge, I must go to the young men. Every man I spoke to that night went to the altar, and I made no mistakes. They were all strangers to me, yet I never once asked a Christian to go, and I spoke to no one who was not already under conviction. The Holy Spirit went to him first and convicted him of sin, then the Holy Spirit sent me to him to point him to Christ.
There was one circumstance connected with that meeting, which from some unaccountable cause, I do not at all understand. I remained in profound ignorance for a third of a century. Thirty-three years after this, I stepped into the office of the Raleigh Christian
,
174
HISTORICAL PAPERS
Advocate to find Dr. T. N. Ivey, the Editor, and Dr. B. F. Dixon, the State auditor, in close conversation. Both gentlemen arose and gave me a cordial greeting, then fell to talking about the first time they met me in the mountains. Dr. Ivey related to Dr. Dixon the story of that camp meeting and added: "When I went back to the preacher's tent that afternoon, my father sent me to the spring for fresh water. I filled the bucket and turned to retrace my steps. It was growing dark and as I looked toward the pavilion-under which we were still working with the penitents-I saw above its roof a bright halo. It looked like a cloud of fire." "Why, Dr. Ivey," I said in surprise "I never heard of that before!" "A hundred men saw it," he answered, "it was the talk of the time." I questioned Dr. Ivey very closely. "Could it not have been some natural phenomena, as the afterglow of the sunset?" I asked. "It was not in the right direction," he answered. Dr. Ivey believed that he had witnessed a display of the sheikinal glory, the pillow of fire that rested above the tabernacle in the wilderness.
As I approach the close of this address, I feel keenly the imper- fect manner in which I have rendered this service. There are scores of loyal laymen, godly women and faithful ministers with whom it has been my privilege to associate through these years, whom I have known only to admire and love, and to whose memory I would gladly have paid tribute at this hour. I would have been glad to have presented to you the triumphs of the cross through Methodism, both at home and to the ends of the earth. But then it is not in figures and statistics, in details or logic, that Methodism is to be portrayed. These indeed may serve to reveal in some man- ner its outward manifestations, but they can not express its life. For after all, my brethren, Methodism is a spirit, born in the sacred cloister, around the home altar, where soul meets soul, where soul meets God, in deep contrition, in holy sorrow, where we are born from above, the divine spirit witnessing to our spirits that we are children of God, and there is awakened within us a deep' yearning for God, a longing for a nobler, higher, purer life, for complete fellow- ship and union with God. "Sanctify them through thy truth, thy word is truth." Methodism lays the emphasis upon the spiritual. The material world about us, everything that reaches us through the avenues of the senses, all that we see, all that comes to us through the ear, everything we touch and taste and handle, is transient, is passing: only the spiritual is real, enduring, permanent,
"The things unknown to feeble sense, Unseen by reason's glimmering ray, With strong commanding evidence, Their Heavenly origin display."
"For the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal."
One Sabbath afternoon at the twilight hour, I wandered into England's ancient shrine, Westminster Abbey, where her rulers come for their coronation amid the dust of their ancestors. All around
175
HISTORICAL PAPERS
me were the tombs of Kings, Princes, Warriors, Statesmen, Explorers, Discoverers, Divines, Scientists, Artists, Poets. I walked into the South trancept, the Poet's Corner, and stood musing, surrounded as I was by the sculptured memorial of departed greatness. In front of me was the memorial erected to the Bard of Avon. Shakespeare is presented in bronze, standing in careless fashion, his left elbow resting upon a pile of his works, while in his right hand he bears a scroll on which I read these famous words of his:
"The cloud capped towers, The gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, This great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit shall dissolve, And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wrack behind."
And as I read once more these words from The Tempest, I said, "Must this then be the end of all human greatness and glory? What of the soul? Shall it too crumble, decay and pass away?" And as these thoughts passed through my mind, glancing up, my eyes fell upon the white marble figure of the Christian poet, Thomas Camp- bell, and on the pedestal beneath his feet I read these lines of his, which seemed to come as an answer to the question my mind had raised :
"The spirit shall return to him Who gave its vital spark, Yet think not, sun, it shall be dim, When thyself art dark.
No; it shall live again and shine. In bliss unknown to beams of thine, By him recalled to breath, Who captive led captivity, Who robbed the grave of victory, And took the sting of death."
Then I said, though man, earth, time shall end, the soul like its Maker shall live on. Then there came to me the words of the great evangelist: "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth forever."
-
23 3:1)
Return to Barbara P. Breece 2003 fort Bragg Rd Fayetteville . n.C
ج
2/9/2009 157695 1 30 00
HF GROUP- IN
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.