USA > North Carolina > Historical papers of the North Carolina Conference Historical Society and the Western North Carolina Conference Historical Society > Part 3
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At the time that Evans turned over his work to the Mother Church, the nearest Methodist itinerant was the preacher in charge of the Bladen Circuit. To him, therefore, the colored preacher applied. Then, as stated above, the Bladen Circuit embraced the country extending from Long Bay, in South Carolina, to and includ- ing Lumberton, Elizabeth, Smithville, Old Brunswick Courthouse, and Wilmington. Assignment to such a circuit as that would throw any twentieth century preacher in Christendom into spasms. He would not only set up the cry of being afflicted, but would make out a case of conspiracy to annihilate. And yet, when Evans sent out the Macedonian cry from his flock in Fayetteville, the Bladen circuit- rider said: "Yes, I reckon I can take in one more preaching-place; it will add only a hundred more miles to my itinerary on horseback, and these sheep of the flock must be fed."
And so, one hundred and four years ago, the church was formally organized, with Thomas Mason as pastor. As early as 1810 the Quarterly Conference Records show that certain negroes were mem- bers of the official body, and an order was issued at the same time to enlarge the apartment for colored people so that they might have better accommodations. Thus, it will be seen that though the
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work begun by a negro had fallen into stronger hands than his, the white man's burden still rested upon sympathetic shoulders. Not for one moment did these men of God forget the slave; and again a vindication was given to Methodism, lifting more clearly from her name the suspicion that she was hurtful to the slave's usefulness, while condemning the shackles that bound him. For the higher the religious life of the slave, the better was his service to those that owned him.
Mr. James M. Lamb, in his "Sketch of Methodism in Fayette- ville," tells us, after a careful examination of old records, that for the first decade after organization, the Quarterly Conferences seen to have been given over to inquiry into the spiritual condition of its official members, and to the hearing of reports from their classes. This illustrates a phase of Methodism that is scarcely appreciated today. The membership was divided into classes of convenient size, and men of deep piety were placed in charge of them. They were supposed to meet weekly, at which time the leader would inquire into the spiritual condition of each individual. The members would tell of their trials, their battles with the devil, recounting victories and defeats, and would ask each other's prayers. The class meeting came into usage as a necessity, and served the church well for many years. And we must at least look with reverence today upon the sight of some old standard-bearer like Peleg Pearce, or Beverly Rose, or John H. Hall, standing before a company of brothers, and enquir- ing: "How fares it with you, soldiers of Christ? How is your strength, your faith, your courage? Be strong in the Lord." And it would arouse the heroism of this audience now, and cause not a few to buckle on the armor a bit more fast, if there could come floating down through the years upon their hearing a concluding hymn of one of those meetings:
"Am I a soldier of the cross, A follower of the Lamb? And shall I fear to own his cause, Or blush to speak his name?"
Another institution of great value in those days was the love- feast, a public experience-meeting, when a glass of water and a plate of broken bread were handed round in token of Christian fellow- ship. It still exists for special occasions, but not as formerly, for in those days the curious outsider was not admitted to the feast, only church members in good standing being permitted to attend and these by ticket only. When I was pastor of Hay Street Mrs. Ann Wood, herself almost a centenarian, showed me a card of admission to love- feast, the date of its issue being about 1830 as well as she could recall. This same "Aunty" Wood, as she was affectionately known, gave me not a few interesting facts and anecdotes in regard to early Methodism in this place. She could remember when it was by no means the popular thing for a young girl to attend worship at Evan's Chapel. It is true that after Evan's triumph, many whites went to hear him, and he became a local celebrity whom any visitor wanted to see and hear. But to go worship with the Methodists through an affinity for them, and a yearning of soul after their doctrines, required
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some courage in "Aunty" Wood's girlhood, and she remembered hav- ing gone to the services by stealth at one time, fearing censure for going, and yet driven on by a heart-hunger for the gospel as preached by Methodists. I often wonder, now that it is an honor to any man to be a Methodist, if we have kept intact our inheritance of piety and devotion that characterized the humble men and women of those days.
Of course Methodism grew; why should she not, with God at her very heart, and men of God leading her forces? Reluctantly, for lack of time, I pass over the roster of honored names, both white and colored, that are handed down to us, of the men who were spiritual leaders of the Fayetteville church in its earlier decades. Suffice it to say that the society grew to such an extent that in 1832 steps were taken to buy a lot and to build a new church and parson- age. The present site for the former was selected, and Old Hay Street erected. When it was completed, the congregation marched in a body from Evan's Chapel, through the streets of the town, and took up abode in their new home. I am sure it was not a spectacular scene, in the sense that flags floated and the band played. But I am equally sure that the Captain of the Host, whom Joshua met while reconnoitering Jericho, was in the van of the little army, and that the choir invisible must have joined in singing the simple hymns of praise that the people sang as they marched.
I can but pause for a little while to say something of the historic old church, which stood for near three quarters of a century, like a city set on a hill, whose light was not hid. With its four plain cylindrical columns, with their square Doric bases and capitals, sup- porting a projecting gable of the Greek parthenon type, the old building impressed the passer-by with a dignity and grandeur not easily forgotten. The interior of one large room had a gallery across the front end, extending along the entire sides right and left of the pulpit, though the side galleries were later cut down by one third. For years preceding the war the whites and blacks alternated, morn- ing and evening, in the occupancy of the first floor and galleries. One can almost hear those negroes sing, even over the long space of a half a century. Surely our fathers were better men for being privileged to sit under the sound of that simple melody, quivering with its deep spiritual emotion. When I came into my first pastorate at Hay Street twelve years ago, young and inexperienced (I ask pardon for personal reference) I well recall the tremor of hand and heart that possessed me as I began my ministrations in the hallowed old house. I learned to know something of its history, and to feel that the spirits of men like its Blakes, Pearces, Halls, Lillys, Rose, Steel, Thompson, Holland, Sedberry and a host of others were look- ing down upon me. I felt, when within its precincts, that a kind of Shekinah glory was present pervading the atmosphere. It is little wonder then, with the reverence I had for the Old Hay Street, that during my last visit to Fayetteville, before the structure was torn down, I stopped at the venerable sanctuary, got the big key from beneath the door-step, and going in, knelt and prayed once more in the pulpit, entreating the God who had sustained me during my younger
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manhood there, to help me to a better, more heroic service in the coming years. Surely the present beautiful, new structure will be stronger in its service to God and men for having behind it so noble a predecessor.
A glamour has ever hung about the period in our national life embracing that quarter of a century preceding the civil war. Like the Periclean or Augustan Age, it was golden, though, like all golden ages, prophetic of radical changes and revolutions. It was an age that boasted of its Ciay, Calhoun and Webster, resounding with the clash of words, precursors of the clash of swords. Our independence was fully established, the thirst for extended territory took hold of us. Texas was freed, only to be annexed, and large portions of the west were bought and added by treaty with Mexico. In the Church, like- wise, the walls of Zion had been mightily strengthened, and Metho- dism was already a great spiritual empire, with the zeal for world- conquest surging in her veins. Great clashes on the slavery question came in the Conference debates, and in 1844 the final division of the Methodist Episcopal Church became a matter of history. We pass over the slavery question from the standpoint of that division as irrelevant to this history; men equally good and great were on each side. But on matters of religious experience the two sides were a unit, and all through the period Methodism, North and South, main- tained an attitude of strict discipline, and rigid requirements to certain lines of conduct. We have already noted the love-feast and class-meeting, indicative of a close inquiry into individual experience. On matters of worldly amusements the Church was very explicit. In the records of Hay Street Church, one finds now and then the entry, "Expelled for dancing." I recall an elaboration of that simple state- ment opposite some offender's name into: "Expelled for dancing; God have mercy upon his soul." My late venerable friend, Hiram Whaley, has told me of a bit of experience of his own. It seems that the Odd Fellows had given a banquet, to which Mr. Whaley and a friend were invited, and that in order to get into the banquetting- room, he and his friend passed through an adjoining hall where a ball was in progress. Whether they looked straight ahead or paused to watch the dance, I do not remember, but at any rate, for merely passing through the ball-room, they were arraigned before the church tribunal and censured, and upon them was inflicted the penalty of six months' suspension. "And I had to beg like a good fellow," con- tinued Mr. Whaley, "to get off as light as that." When my pen would logically, in this connection, run into a contrast between the Puritanical application of the General Rules then, and the lax con- struction of them now, I forbear, and sorrowfully turn away.
Old Hay Street witnessed in those days the power of God in revival. It is a well-knwn fact that in the revivals under Wesley and Whitefield men often fell to the ground under conviction, and lay for hours in trances. They seemed to lose all power of physical resistance in these instances, and could not, if they would, reject the pleadings of the Holy Spirit for their acceptance of salvation. Mr. Whaley has told me of instances in the Old Hay Street of men being stricken with this same overwhelming power, and of being
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forced, with quaking and trembling, into submission to God. Mrs. Ann Wood, to whom reference has been made, told me that hier husband was a man of powerful build and imposing stature, a black- smith of brawny arm; and though "an excellent provider," as she always added, with a touch of pride, was a very profane man. But with all of his physical might and stoutness of heart, there came a day of revival when, under a powerful appeal, he started toward the altar, only to fall helpless in the aisle of the church, where he lay and groaned until God gloriously pardoned him. Little wonder that we Methodists, with all of our foundations laid in revivals, find it diffi- cult to dissociate our future as a Church from those great spiritual movements that fill the soul with an awful sense of condemnation before God on account of sin, and which, gripping the rebellious senses with a mighty hand, fling the trembling body down at the mourner's bench.
As I have gone over the annals of Methodism, glancing at her triumphant operations in all of the Cape Fear section, in the fair heart of which you are now gathered, I have been impressed afresh with the might of the men who wrought in those days, with the power of the God who wrought through them, and with the strength of the foundations that rest beneath all that we are doing and building today. If we are true to the call of the past we must be true to the demands of the present and future. And whoever has the spirit of the early founders and pioneers will surely find himself able to minister to the needs of any soul that lives under the peculiar conditions of the twentieth century.
Three Notable Women of North Carolina Methodism
EPIE SMITH PLYLER
STUDY of the wonderful Wesleyan movement will dis- close the fact that woman has had a large share in the development of the great body of Methodists. In an old volume, entitled "Extracts of Letters Containing Some Account of the Work of God Since the Year 1800," published in New York in 1805, there are found several letters from women written to their bishops giving an account of the glorious results of camp meetings and of wonderful revivals, showing their zeal in all matters that appertained to the Kingdom.
Though women have not until recently claimed the rights of the laity, they have, through the years, been enjoying the privilege of helping in every phase of Christian service since the time that a woman's home was converted into a meeting place for the first Con- ference of the Methodist Episcopal Church in America until the pres- ent hour.
Hitherto, the greater part of the work that woman has done in church life has been in the capacity of a helper rather than as a leader of new movements or the companion of a new cause.
It would be sad to reflect upon the state of North Carolina Metho- dism today, without the vast contribution that the women have poured into its treasury, yet their gifts have often been of so lofty and intangible a nature that history has been unable to record them.
Among the many of our loyal Methodist women in North Caro- lina, three are typical-one, a pioneer in missions; another, the leading spirit in the organization of the children; and the third, the editor of our first religious paper, who by her saintly life set a new standard of Christian living.
ELLEN MORPHIS WOOD
On December 17, 1859, the first Missionary to China from the' North Carolina Conference sailed from New York on the "Seaman's Bride," bound for Hong Kong. This was the wedding journey of Rev. M. L. Wood and Ellen Morphis, who had been married in West Market Street Church, Greensboro, by Dr. T. M. Jones on September 19, of the same year.
This wedding occasioned more than the usual amount of interest, for friends had gathered about Ellen Morphis for months previous in order to have a share in preparing her wedding outfit. It was some- thing strange to have one of their number preparing to make her home in far-distant China.
People were little concerned about the heathen world at that time. Let it be borne in mind that missions had a small place in the
*Annual address of the North Carolina Historical Society. meeting at Oxford, December 3, 1913.
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life of the church. In fact, the record of the whole cause of missions in North Carolina was inserted in the "Appendix" of the Minutes of the North Carolina Conference and the total amount raised was, in round numbers, nine thousand dollars, considerably less than is now raised by the women of one of our two Conferences.
But the secret of the Lord is with them that fear Him, so there was given Ellen Morphis a vision of the perishing millions of China. Since her love for her Master had thus transcended the borders of her own state, on December 16, 1855, she writes. "I am willing and anxious to be sent as missionary to any benighted land. Oh, what happiness to be counted worthy to bear the glad tidings of the Gospel to the heathen shores."
Ellen Morphis, the daughter of William and Nancy Morphis, was born in the western part of Orange-now Alamance County, on Janu- ary 5, 1835, being the youngest of nine children.
William Morphis, whose grand-father emigrated from England, moved to North Carolina from Pennsylvania. He was a man of up- right character, having the esteem of all who knew him. Though his educational opportunities had been poor, they were somewhat re- deemed by his extensive reading. However, little is known of the parental line of ancestry.
The maternal ancestry of Ellen Morphis is better known. Mrs. Nancy Morphis, nee Thompson, belonged to a family which came from Holland to this country. The grand-father of Ellen, John Thompson, with eight brothers, moved from Philadelphia and settled in what is now Alamance County. Their sturdy manhood, thrift and religious zeal soon left its stamp upon the community to which they had come; and it is said that their descendants to this day are found exerting a wholesome influence in that section of Alamance County.
Elizabeth Cox, the maternal grandmother of Ellen Morphis, was a woman of exceptional worth. From her, Ellen, who was the daughter of her favorite child, Nancy Hodge Thompson, must have inherited very largely; besides receiving much from personal contact, since she (the grandmother) lived to a good old age until after the death of Ellen's father. She possessed by inheritance a very fine mind, a noble spirit and a cheerful disposition. She was a close stu- dent of the Bible, much of which she committed to memory. The personal magnetism of this beautiful character, together with her energetic, generous nature made her a general favorite in the com- munity. The family records say : "She infused life and activity into all about lier," and when death came, "she was truly ready and waiting."
The early childhood of Ellen Morphis was spent at "The Big White House," as the neighbors termed it-a spacious dwelling sur- rounded by a grove of elms and walnut trees, situated on a large farm just five miles from Graham. Only a mile and a half from "The Big White House," stood Hawfield Church, the scene of extensive revivals in former days.
Through some misfortune, Mr. Morphis lost his property when Ellen was about three years old and moved to Raleigh where he became the proprietor of a hotel. For a time, her childish innocence delighted
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in the scenes and joys of her new home; but soon clouds began to gather and darkness settled on the horizon of this little fair-haired, blue-eyed creature of five short joyous years. Though she was too young to realize her unspeakable loss, she felt the pain; and when her oft repeated cry for "Mama" rang through the house and returned to her unanswered her mother lay sleeping out in the cemetery at Ral- eigh. In a few weeks the body of her oldest brother, William, who had prepared himself for the ministry, was placed by the side of that of his mother.
Soon afterwards, Ellen was taken to Fayetteville to live with her oldest sister, Lizzie, who had just married. A page from her diary will give some idea of the hard lot that came so early to one so young: "Four years passed, four years of childhood's heavy grief; though I lived with my sister, a sister who loved me tenderly, yet I soon learned to feel that my stranger brother's home was not my father's home-the home I was destined never to enjoy again. A heavier cloud was gathering to burst at the expiration of those four years-to burst in all its fury upon my poor heart. My father died, and left me a desolate, almost penniless orphan in a cold, heartless world. None but those who have tasted the orphan's bitterest woes can truly imagine my feelings as those awful words fell upon my ear: 'You have no father; father is dead.' I sorrowed for my lost parent only as a child who has lost its all and feels thrown out upon the world alone can sorrow. But God was my Father and friend- though I knew it not then."
The reference in the foregoing paragraph to her "stranger- brother's home" has an import that few can realize. Here a bright girl of tender years was made a drudge in order that the family treasury might be increased. She grew to expect nothing more than "angry looks and unpleasant words." Not even the falling rain or the wet ground brought relief from the daily appointed task; neither did fever or tired aching bones bring kindly consideration to the little weary worker. A pity it is and sad to reflect upon, that her sister's sweet affections for her had to be disguised to please another. Ellen's affectionate, genial, cheerful nature was kept congealed like the mountain stream in the clutches of winter. The tender impulses of her young life, like the frail tendrils of rare plants, were cut off by the cold breath of an unsympathetic world.
During these hard years, Ellen kept cheerful and sweet tempered; and so strong was the social instinct that she could in spite of all enjoy a friendly chat and a hearty laugh.
Deep down in her soul, there was a secret that the world knew not of-a sacred possession that no man could take away. Memory brought back scenes of her earliest years and visions of happy hours when she played at her mother's knee. Her mother's kind look, her tender touch and her soft voice, all came back clear and distinct. It was joy to think of that mother "who, with her dying breath gave her motherless child to God with the prayer that He would protect, bless and save her." It was natural that she yearned to know if her
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mother ever thought of her now and if she loved her still. It is also natural that she should seek to know her mother's God.
Early in her teens, she was converted, in her own room, after a long and intense struggle in prayer. On the fourth of July, 1847, she joined the Methodist Church at Fayetteville, N. C. This step brought her into a new circle, gave her social interests and attracted the attention of many to her charm of person. She had a talent for music, both vocal and instrumental, and her voice was heard every Sabbath in the Sanctuary and often in the home. The church hymnal brought her comfort and joy and she delighted to sing the old hymns as she went about her household duties.
About this time, Ellen and her sister Julia went to live with their sister Hattie in Fayetteville. Ellen began to realize that her heart- hunger to be of service to her fellowman could be gratified only on condition that she secured mental training. A penni- less orphan she was, but an unquenchable thirst for knowledge filled her soul. Arrangements were made whereby she and her sister Julia became the pupils of Mrs. Harden, an excellent teacher, much beloved by her scholars.
The Rev. Charles P. Jones became interested in the two girls, and first suggested their entering Greensboro Female College. He was a true friend indeed, and rendered them all possible assistance in starting them on their college career. In the year 1849, Julia having obtained a part of her grandfather Thompson's estate, entered Greens- boro Female College and remained until she graduated in 1853. Dur- ing her stay in College, she procured a scholarship for Ellen and they spent one year in college together.
After graduation, Julia established "Rose Hill Female Seminary" where Ellen assisted her one session in order to procure funds to complete her own education. However, when Ellen graduated in 1856, she had a heavy burden of debt for board and tuition.
In the spring session of 1854, Ellen speaks thus of her devoted sister Julia: "Oh, I love to linger in thought upon the bright and happy seasons I spent last year within these walls with my own dear Julia. I was happy for I felt that I had a friend in her to whom I could unburden my heart. And whenever I enter the Chapel, I miss her most; there where I often saw her and knelt with her in prayer. Now that seat is vacant or occupied by another. Oh, it was painful indeed and hard to school my heart to this great trial. Yet, I have done so by endeavoring to be more like her, remembering that, in order to gain that wisdom and knowledge I so much desired, I must tread the same path she trod."
It is illuminating to quote from her first composition on "The Value of Time." She concludes by saying: "Oh, that we may in the spring of life bring ourselves to value time as we would wish we had done when we come to die."
In the above paragraph, you have the keynote of her life-the desire for wisdom and knowledge that she might render service to mankind. This soul-hunger to do good was ever goading her on to
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obtain an increased, proficiency through books, through nature, and through prayer.
She was the recognized leader in the religious life of the college; especially was her influence felt at the "Girls' Prayer Meeting," held weekly in the college chapel. So deep was her piety that it seemed to permeate the entire student body. The late Mrs. Turner M. Jones remarked to an intimate friend that she learned the mastery of her own spirit through close contact with Ellen Morphis.
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