THE CHRISTIAN ADVOCATE. MARCH, 1828. Heligious Communicationg. MEMOIR OF THE REV. JOSEPH EAST- born, and where he had lived till BURN. His Parentage, Education, and first Religious Exercises. THE name and virtues of JOSEPH EASTBURN have already been celebrated in the four quarters of the globe. The last ten years of his life were so disinterestedly, assiduously, and affectionately devoted to all the best interests of seamen, that a large number of them regarded him with the veneration and attachment which dutiful children bear to a worthy parent; and with their characteristick warmth of feeling, they have proclaimed his praise, in every region to which their vocation has called them. Not only in many of the seaports of our own continent, but on the coasts of Asia and Africa, and in various parts of Europe, they have extolled his piety, commended his benevolence, and exhibited him as an example. In Britain especially, the religious journals which are occupied with the concerns of mariners, give abundant evidence of the high estimation in which he was held in that country. But the best evidence of a man's real character is derived from the publick sentiment, in the place of his stated residence, and where of course he is most fully known. Of this sentiment there was a striking expression, in reference to Mr. Eastburn, when his obsequies were solemnized, in the city where he was VOL VI.-Ch. Adv. he had entered his eightieth year. More than five thousand persons, it is believed, came to see, and many of them to weep over his remains, before the coffin was closed upon them. And although his funeral was of the plainest kind, without gloves, scarfs, pall or hearse; and although a copious fall of rain descended without intermission, while the procession was moving from his residence. to the place of interment; yet a multitude of all characters, from the highest to the lowest, and of all ages and both sexes, produced such a throng, through five squares of the city, that it was frequently necessary to stop, till an opening could be made through the crowd for the passage of the corpse. The feeling of respect for the deceased, manifested on that occasion, taken in all its circumstances, was certainly of a very singular and most extraordinary character. And how, it may be asked, was this celebrity and affectionate attachment obtained? Was it acquired by an illustrious parentage, by splendid genius, by great talents, by distinguished erudition, or by munificent donatives? Nothing, not an iota, of all this. The individual concerned was of humble birth, he had no pretensions to genius, no eminence of intellectual powers or attainments, little learning, and but a scanty property. The whole must be attributed to N simple, genuine, consistent, fervent, active, eminent piety. Of the influence and esteem which such a piety may secure to its possessor, by manifesting itself in all the forms in which it will, without seeking or expecting such an effect, become conspicuous, Mr. Eastburn was one of the most striking instances that the world has ever seen. To show what such a piety may effect, is a principal object of the present memoir; and what it has effected, has therefore been summarily stated at the entrance; that the whole of the subsequent narrative may illustrate and impress a fact, honourable to religion, and calculated to promote its influence and extension. Autobiography, or a man's life written by himself, has become fashionable; and doubtless it has some advantages. An individual is not only able, but permitted, to say of himself, a number of things which no one else could, or ought, to say of him. Till the writer of this memoir bad engaged to draw it up, he did not know or suspect that the subject of it had penned an account of the first part of his own life. It was however a very agreeable surprise when he found that this had been done; and as soon as the paper was perused, the resolu- and in what manner he expressed his thoughts in writing. He was in no respect an imitator; but he seems to have read the works of the inimitable John Bunyan, till he had unknowingly caught something of his manner. His narrative is as follows. "At the pressing request of some of my religious friends that I should give some account of my life and religious experience, it is with reluctance I now make an attempt to comply-truly willing that my name should be buried with my body, as to the opinion of my fellow men; for I do know and feel that in all things I have come short. As to my parentage, my father, ROBERT EASTBURN,* came from oldEngland when quite young, of a strict Quaker family, and continued for some time in that connexion, and was married in their publick meeting, in their way. My mother also belonged to the same denomination, and continued in their society until Mr. George Whitefield first came to America. My father had been under serious concern about his soul for some time before; but could get no relief, until hearing him preach. He went, as he said, with prejudice, to hear a young priest, but found he had been taught of the Lord, and could tell him the exercises of his heart; and his heart A memorandum found among Mr. Eastburn's papers, furnishes the following information. Robert Eastburn was born in old England, in the year 1710. He came to America with his parents, when he was four years old. He was married in the year 1733, to Agnes Jones of Germantown. She was born in the year 1713.-Robert Eastburn died Jan. 22d, 1778; his wife, Sept. 27th, 1784. They had six childrenSarah, Hannah, Thomas, Robert, John and Joseph. Sarah lived to the age of 83 years, and died in Sept. 1818. Hannah died in 1773. Thomas in 1802. Robert in 1815. John in 1806.-We here add, Joseph died on the 30th of January, 1828, -having entered his 80th year on the 11th of the preceding August, was now opened to attend to the preaching of the gospel by him, and this was the means of his spiritual comfort-Mr. Whitefield used to call him his first fruit in America. My mother, being of a meek and humble temper, and seriously disposed, and being also benefited by his preaching, left the Quakers and united with my father to follow him; which soon brought upon them severe trials from their parents and their former friends, which I do not wish to enumerate. Many of the followers of Mr. Whitefield united together, and erected a large building for worship, (now the old academy) and by his advice called the Rev. Gilbert Tennant to be their stated minister, and became a regular congregation. My father was chosen deacon, and was very active in promoting the interest of the society, and in attending religious meetings in many places through the city. I was born, according to the date in my father's Bible, on the eleventh day of August, 1748, in Philadelphia, the youngest of his children; and experienced the tender care of my kind parents, and the watchful providence of my heavenly Father. When an infant in my cradle, a cat had nearly drawn out my breath, when she was caught by my father, and just saved my life: when beginning to walk, I had followed my brother to the river, and fell in and narrowly escaped being drowned. I was early put to school, and had serious impressions on my mind when young; so that I would retire from school and go to the garret of the house alone to pray, and would weep freely. My parents finding me at times serious, and like to make a scholar, were desirous that I might have an education; hoping I might be useful to my fellow men in the work of the ministry. But it was a time of war, and my father having been a prisoner among the Indians, brought their circumstances too low to afford me more than a common English education. At fourteen years of age I was put apprentice to the cabinet maker's business, in a large shop of seventeen lads and young men-all thoughtless about eternal concerns, and making the Sabbath a day of idle amusement. I was tempted to go with them to skate on the Schuylkill; but had not gone far before my conscience so accused me of doing wrong, that I left them, ran back, hid my skates, and went to meeting. Thus I was an evidence of the truth of those words, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." I now quieted my conscience, and thought, by my regular conduct, praying in secret, and shedding a few tears at times, I should do well enough. But "evil communications corrupt good manners.” I was by degrees drawn into vain company. I had committed many trifling, jovial songs to memory, and having something of a turn for singing, I was often pressed to sing in company. I found I was going fast to ruin, and that a horrid snare was laid for my destruction; but the Lord was pleased to pluck me as a brand from the burning, and through his blessed restraints I was preserved from all scandalous outbreaking sins. I was now awfully alarmed with a view of eternity and the danger of losing my soul, which determined me to leave all vain company, and try afresh to seek salvation. But I found it hard to stand their solicitations, and afterwards their persecution; for they would come with great pretensions of friendship, and beg I would not leave them, or deprive myself of all the happiness of youthful pleasure; for Solomon, they told me, had said, there was a time for all things;" and the time to be merry certainly was, when we were young; and they said I could not pretend to be more holy than David, and he danced. My reply was, that we had been merry, but as we did 641659 not know how soon death might call us, as he did many as young as we, our time to mourn might soon begin, and never end; and I thought it high time for us all to cry for mercy, before it was too late. What made my alarm so great and lasting was, the views I now had of eternity, from one of Mr. Davis's Sermons. These words were fixed in my mind, "Oh! Eternity, Eternity! how will this awful sound echo through the vaults of hell"-It was upon my mind day and night. I thought if I could live as long as Methuselah, and be in as much misery as it was possible to bear, all the time, I would be willing to bear it, if I could have hope of happiness afterward. Finding they could not persuade me to return to them, they turned to be cruel persecutors, mocking and treating me with contempt: and if they found my place of retirement, they would be sure to disturb me, throwing stones where they only suspected I might be. For a long time I used to rise at midnight, when they were asleep, and spend the time in prayer for mercy. One of them happening to hear me, was so much affected, he could not conceal his cries; and said, if I was afraid of going to hell, what would become of him and the rest of them. From that time he ceased his opposition and became my friend till his death. But I had severe opposition, from a man in the shop, who had made a profession and turned back, and afterwards died in a bad way. I had at this time no religious acquaintance, for my father had moved from the city to Neshaminy. I attended worship on Sabbath days, and every opportunity I could have, with great care. I worked hard, and was trying to gain a righteousness of my own. Having done over work in my trade, I had gained a day clear, which I devoted to fasting and prayer alone. About this time I received a letter from a brother in New York, in which he in formed me he had been under soul concern for some short time, and had obtained comfort. I thought he had not been so long nor so much engaged as I had been, and yet I had not the least comfort. I then began to think the Lord dealt hard with me, and I was displeased with his sovereignty. The ninth chapter of the Romans filled me with discouragement-that it was " not of him that willeth, or of him that runneth, but of God that sheweth mercy." I feared I was not elected, and therefore would be lost after all. I went to the Episcopal Church, and when they read prayers and thanked God for their creation, my heart replied, I do not; for I wished I had never been born, and often wished I was a brute, a stock, or a stone, rather than an accountable creature. I envied the little birds their happiness. I found fault with the imputation of Adam's sin, and that through his fall we were rendered helpless and yet condemned. My wicked heart rose in horrid rebellion, and would wish there was no power that could punish me in hell forever. I continued a long time in this awful state of mind, and found truly that "the carnal mind is indeed enmity against God." I thought I had the very spirit of Satan, and began to wonder that the Lord did not strike me dead, and fix my place among the fiends in hell, for my dreadful rebellion against his awful majesty. And I did expect that must be the case at last, for I thought so vile a creature as I saw myself to be, could never be admitted into his presence; and often have I feared to close my eyes in sleep, fearing I should awake in torment. About this time my father returned to the city; but I could not for a long time open my mind to him; but he observing my distressed countenance, insisted upon knowing what was my trouble. I then made it known to him, and he did all he could to encourage me. He took me to see pious ministers; a Mr. Strain was often in town at that time, to whom I made my case known. He gave the advice Paul gave to the jailer, and pressed me to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, immediately; warning me against false resting places, and insisted upon it I was now doing so, and said while I hoped to be saved in any other way but through Jesus, I was practically calling God a liar, who declared there was no other way. That evening a strange minister preached upon the sin of unbelief. I determined then that I would never close my eyes in sleep again, until I had made the attempt; and I spent the night in a solitary place alone, trying to realize my need of a Saviour, as a guilty, polluted, lost sinner; and then thinking of the offices, fulness, and invitations of the Saviour-trying to give up myself to him, and praying to be accepted by him, but I could find no relief. I thought I could as easily clasp the moon with my hands, which was then shining over my head, as I could believe so as to obtain comfort to my soul; not realizing that faith was the gift of God. I wondered that ministers would press people to do what was impossible; or thought that I was not like any one else, for I could not believe. Here my carnal heart again began to find fault, that I was required to do what I could not; and therefore must be lost and could not help it. But my rebellious murmuring was silenced with a thought of who it was I was thus censuring; and I began to wonder he did not strike me dead, and send me to dwell among the wicked spirits in hell, which I often thought must finally be my place. But now that passage in the 9th of Romans came again to my mind, in quite a different way from what I took it up before-"It is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that sheweth mercy," was now my only encouragement. For if it was for any goodness or merit in the creature, I of all mankind must, it seemed to me, for ever despair; for I could deserve no fayour from the Lord. But if he did it for his own mercy's sake, who could tell but I might yet experience his power to save me: and therefore I again resolved I would try to wait in the use of means, and not give over until he might please to reveal the way of salvation to me, a lost creature. I now took much care to get spiritual instruction, tried to remember the sermons I heard, wrote down the texts, and what I could retain of them; but still found myself aw fully stupid, and felt all to be a task and burdensome; yet I thought I must wait until the Spirit of the Lord would come powerfully, and then would be my time to strive. My apprenticeship was now expiring, and the man with whom I learned my trade, through improper conduct, had become bankrupt. I had a new place to seek, and the kind notice of Providence surprised me. I had friends raised up beyond my expectation. My master's brother presented me with a complete good suit of clothes; a place was provided for me to earn my living; I was favoured with health and plenty of business, and could work well. I wondered that the Lord should regard my mean concerns, and show me any favour; and as he had taken care of my temporal concerns, I thought it was an encouragement for me to cast my soul's concerns upon him. But my wicked unbelieving heart would not go to that kind and gracious Father, who was manifesting his tender pity for such a poor wretch as I was. Instead of this, my unbelief still increased, and the abominable corruptions of my vile sinful nature, seemed as if they would overpower all my resolutions to do any thing that was good. I confined myself to attend on the means of grace in publick, and also attended society |