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Be calm and sink into His will

The sojourner shouldered his portmanteau and headed for the Battery.  He had intended to spend more time in New York City but two full days of sightseeing had more than satisfied his curiosity. He had to admit that at first he had been impressed by the city. The tall spires of Trinity and St. Paul's churches, the mammoth shot towers standing like sentinels against the horizon, were of such dimensions that it made him dizzy to gaze up at them. He had never seen five and six story buildings in his entire life. Before yesterday, he never could have imagined the grandeur and luxury of the Astor House and St. Nicholas Hotel lobbies. P. T. Barnum's American Museum had been a real treat for twenty-five cents. And he had come to the conclusion that there must not be a busier street in the world than Broadway. The street was a blur of activity, from the horse-drawn vendor carts and omnibuses, to the raised train platforms with pedestrian masses moving in and out.

"Foreigner," he thought to himself. He felt like a foreigner in his own country.  Never had he heard so many different languages spoken in one place. It was like Babel revisited, he mused. The unfamiliarity of it all was beginning to make him uncomfortable. Suddenly the city seemed to be swallowing him up and he wanted out. He would cut his visit short, he thought. Besides, he was anxious to get to his final destination.

The loud blast from a steamer at the waterfront made his heart quicken. All day he had suffered from a violent headache, brought on by a sleepless night in a sweltering city, where the incessant pounding of horses hoofs on cobblestone was relentless at all hours of the day. But suddenly, as he approached the large gray flagstones that lined the harbor promenade in lower Manhattan, he felt a soothing freshness in the sea breeze, a pleasant relief from the stagnant, dog-day heat of late summer, and his headache seemed to vanish in thin air. Booking passage on a steamer bound for Middletown, Connecticut, he boarded and waited in anticipation for his first voyage over the open waters of the Long Island Sound.

As the first shadows of evening began to lengthen across the harbor, the steamer, as if by signal, fired up its engines and navigated out of its berth and into the East River. The din of the engines quickly drowned out the sounds of the city along the shoreline beside him and his pulse began to race with the anxiety of the moment. Ever since coming to the city and inhaling the first zephyr of salty sea air, he had been overwhelmed by an uncontrollable anxiousness. He was certain now that the feeling was becoming keener as he stood looking down at the huge paddlewheels churning and lifting big gulps of water high up into the air. He seemed little interested in the endless rows of brick tenements standing high against the horizon of Brooklyn Heights, glowing almost fire red in the setting sun. Rather, he kept his eye forward, straining to look beyond the next bend in the river.

Eventually the channel began to widen and the waves became more noticeable.  As the boat began to rock in rhythm with the incoming waves, his soul was swept away with contentment. He knew now what it was that had beckoned to him these last few days. These waters of the Long Island Sound were a part of him although he had never seen them before. His ancestors had made their way into these waters nearly two hundred years earlier, had made their living upon them, and now lay buried within the sound of her breakers. With darkness closing in about him and the steamboat's machinery droning in his ears, his eyes became transfixed on the distant foggy shoreline of Long Island and he could envision the ghost-like forms of his ancestors and hear their well-worn tales once more. Yes, they were talking to him, and watching him too, he thought. All of them. He must not let them down.

When James Griffing left the steamer at the Middletown landing, it was very late at night. He hadn't slept much during the passage due to the noise and the excitement of the trip. But even those who had wanted to sleep had been prevented from it. At Essex, they had been told to disembark and board a smaller steamer with a shallower draft in order that they might continue up as far as Middletown. The inconvenience hadn't bothered him in the least and he didn't even seem to mind the complaints of the other passengers.

He reached in his vest pocket, withdrew his watch, and fumbled in the darkness to pry open the cover. Making his way to a nearby streetlamp, he saw that it was one o'clock in the morning. It was too late to go to the boardinghouse. Besides, Mr. Hartman wasn't expecting him to arrive for several more days. What to do, he thought. Without being conscious of it, his feet began to move and he found himself climbing slowly up the hill from the river into the town. Somewhere up there in the darkness beyond the village was the place that would be his new home. He would look for it, he thought. He wasn't exactly sure where it was but he remembered hearing that the University sat upon the highest point overlooking the town. He reasoned that he must be heading the right way and he continued his climb.

He was winded by the time he reached the sentry gate of the college grounds. He paused for a minute to catch his breath and turned to peer out into the darkness of the valley below him. Far away in the distance, beyond the river, he could see small flickers of light and he realized he was looking at Portland, Connecticut. Piercing the night's silence, a lonely train whistle sent a chill down his spine and reminded him how far away from home he was. He thought about his mother, his brothers and sisters, and recalled his sad departure from their home on Catlin Hill. He would make them proud, he thought, and with a renewed determination, he turned to walk through the arched brownstone gate.

The boardinghouse seemed nice enough but it was crowded with students who were just finishing their college terms. He never imagined he'd have to share a room with five other young men. It was never this bad even at home, he chuckled. But he hadn't expected a room to himself either -- at least not for a dollar and a half a week. He sorted through his things and started to put some of them away into the trunk provided him by his landlord. He hadn't had time to get unpacked yesterday. He had been busy touring the school, buying supplies and some new clothes. As he reached into the bottom of his portmanteau, his fingers wrapped around one last object and, as he withdrew it, he winced a little with shame. "My journal," he murmured aloud to himself. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd last made an entry.  It was time to write in it again, he thought. He picked up his pen, dipped in brown ink, and began:

Wesleyan University. Sunday, August 9, 1846. Yesterday morning at one o'clock, I was permitted to tread upon the ground to be my new home. It will be impossible to relate the variety of feelings that crowd upon my mind in view of all that I have beheld through the week just passed, called upon as I have been to leave my home and friends to go at a great distance among strangers. May it be a time when I can fully say henceforth, I will not live for myself but for Him who died for me and has risen again. At what period in my life was there a greater need of making a total sacrifice of all that I am aware? When was there a time when the cause of God more loudly called for the exertion of every faculty of my mind in His service? To be sure, I ought to have spared no exertions that could possibly have been put forth on my own part to aid in subduing the powers of darkness.

Today, have been permitted to meet with the children of God for worship. Heard Professor [Joseph] Holdich in the forenoon preach from "The power of the Cross of Christ." It was a good sermon, well delivered and evinced a man of decided talents. This afternoon the stationed minister spake from those words describing the death of the first martyr Stephen. His sermon was tolerable good. It seemed to come from a heart of feeling -- a heart filled with the love of souls and a desire to benefit them. He is a man of more than ordinary size -- has a large broad forehead, a pleasant expression of countenance and I should judge an individual of decided piety. 

Journal entry completed, James lay back upon his bed and thought about the days ahead of him. He picked up the University Catalogue and flipped through its pages. When he came upon a listing of the Board of Visitors, he scanned down through the list until he came to some names he recognized. He saw the Reverends Henry Bannister and Jarvis Nichols representing the Oneida Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and thought of his good fortune in being awarded that Conference's "permanent scholarship." [1]  It would have been virtually impossible, he reminded himself, to have afforded the thirty-three dollars for annual tuition at the University. Paying room and board expenses would be difficult enough.

He looked ahead to the list of names on the Freshman class roster and welled up with pride when he saw his name. He didn't even care that they had misspelled his middle name. He had been assigned to room 11 in the middle section of the college dormitory. He noticed that he would be sharing the room with some chap named George Stillman from Sheffield, Massachusetts, and he allowed his mind to form an image of what he might be like. He couldn't wait to move into the dormitory and to start his classes. He wasn't sure he could wait four more weeks for school to start. With confidence he looked over the "Requirements for Admission" and believed himself ready for the challenge.  The required works were familiar to him and he thought about each one as he perused the list:

Candidate for the Classical Course, must be acquainted with the rudiments of the English Grammer, Geography, Arithmetic, Davie's First Lessons in Algebra; Latin and Greek Grammars, (McClintock & Crooks' First Latin Book, and Kuhner's Elementary Greek Grammer, are preferred;) Latin and Greek Prosody; Eight Books of Virgil's AEneid, Cicero's Select Orations, Caesar's Commentaries, or Sallust; and the whole of Jacob's or Felton's Greek Reader.

Wesleyan University Catalogue 1846-1847
[click to enlarge image]

He was going to read some more but suddenly realized that his eyes were straining in the dim light. Darkness seemed to drop like a veil upon those living on the eastern slope below the college, the suns slanting rays cut off by the high ridge upon which the principal buildings sat. He laid down the catalogue and rested his head back against his pillow. Downstairs, he could hear his roommates chattering away in the sitting room about the war. It seemed everyone was talking about it and it disgusted him. It was bad enough to spend the Sabbath engaged in idle gossip, but to talk about war! And such a war! It made his blood boil to think how President Polk had initiated the conflict with Mexico. If only Henry Clay, his champion, had been elected. Then we wouldn't be in this war, he reasoned. He had known some Owego youths who had run off to join General Scott's army in Mexico and he though about them now. "Fools," he muttered, and rolled over to fall asleep.

The date was circled in his almanac. Yet he was certain that Thursday, September 3, 1846, would never arrive. Was it his imagination or were the hours passing slower and slower each day? Perhaps the world was spinning to a stop and the day for classes to begin would never come. The idea caused him to remember, in amusement, the prophesy of William Miller and his followers that the world would end on March 21, 1843 at 3 a.m.  He chuckled to himself as he recalled how followers of Miller had sold their earthly possessions, donned their white linen and trudged through the underbrush to the top of Catlin Hill where they sat all night waiting for the second coming of Christ.

During the days and weeks ahead, James employed his time making preparations for school and meeting new friends. Whenever he thought of it, he made an entry in his journal trying as best he could to confine his thoughts to spiritual matters. He would allow himself to write about other things in letters to his friends and relatives far away, but he decided not to fill the pages of his journal with such "earthly" nonsense. The journal, he reasoned, was more than just a collection of mementoes. It was his personal friend and confidant; it knew all about his weaknesses, desires, his loneliness, and his despair. It was now less than a week until classes were scheduled to start and his anxiety was beginning to rise; he needed his friend. Reaching deep into his trunk of clothes, he pulled out his journal, and glanced down through the entries he'd made since arriving in Middletown. Periodically, his eyes settled upon certain passages and he read them aloud to himself:

August 12, 1846. The day is quite warm and windy. Commenced boarding at a Mr. Hartman's. Shall I prove of no spiritual benefit to his family whilst I remain with them? Am I this moment striving for all the fullness of God? Finished writing a letter home. Have I maintained sufficient manly deportment in this correspondence? Do I seek to learn from God momentarily? Lord help me!!

August 14, 1846. This day feel quite gloomy. The occupants of my room having forsaken it leaves me all alone, and being very far from home, a stranger among strangers, causes many solemn and lonely thoughts to pass my mind. I have come to the resolution to cast my all upon the Lord, knowing that under His protection I shall be safe. I have been at this institution nearly a week. The time has seemed -- on account of the lonely hours I have spent -- near a month. It being vacation, the students have left for a short time on a visit to their friends. The school commences again two weeks from next Thursday, so I must content myself to remain alone until that time. Alone did I say? How can God's children be alone? I hope to share very largely of the Holy Spirit's influence that I may live in the constant enjoyment of the favor of God. I need to feel more sensibly the importance of improving every moment. There are infinite obligations binding upon me to do so. Not only the safety and welfare of my immortal spirit demands this, but the interest of the cause of God, the welfare of immortal souls about me, the wants of society, my country, and a thousand considerations of great weight present themselves, all testifying to the importance of this. Now shall I waste a single moment of my time? In the day of Eternity, when I shall gaze upon the vast catalogue of sins which will there be presented, among them shall it be found that after the 14th day of August 1846, I have squandered foolishly precious time? I feel more than ever the importance of passing a series of resolutions which in the abundance of strength which God giveth, I must try and keep.

Resolutions which, if kept, will keep me from a thousand evils.

Resolved 1st. That from this hour, I will endeavor to redeem my time and strive to have the remaining moments of my life profitably spent.

Resolved 2nd. That I will endeavor to draw some lesson of instruction from everything I shall hear, see and perform.

Resolved 3rd. That in order to be of effectual service in the world, I must come in possession of a sound understanding and a sanctified heart. That I must exercise great care in endeavoring rightly to develop my physical, mental, and moral powers.

Resolved 4th. That in the investigation of any science, it is of the utmost importance that an individual be thorough in whatever he undertakes; and on account of this, I will choose rather to loose a lesson than to pass over principles which I do not understand.

Resolved 5th. That I will endeavor to engage all the faculties of my mind upon the subject under investigation.

Resolved 6th. That I will place religion foremost in my mind. That I will live exemplary from day-to-day and leave an evidence in the minds of those with whom I may have intercourse that I am a disciple of Christ.

Resolved 7th. That I will faithfully and cheerfully enter upon the performance of whatever may seem to be my duty, relying upon God for assistance assured that he will be my helper.

Resolved 8th. That I will endeavor to stand foremost in the class in every respect and foremost in the Institution in Christian deportment. May the Lord help me so to do.

Resolved 9th. That I shall consider 7 hours a sufficient time for rest. Must retire at ten and arise at 5 or sooner.

Resolved 10th. That I will find time each day to read the scriptures and meditate upon the same. And that I will endeavor to write each day a few lines in my journal and Commentary, and will often, endeavor to correspond with my friends.

Resolved 11th. That I will endeavor as far as circumstances will allow to avoid light and trifling conversation, but will spend a few moments each day as opportunity offers itself in conversation upon some instructional topic.

Resolved 12th. That I feel it of the utmost importance and a duty to commit portions of God's revealed truth each day and will endeavor to comply with this duty.

Resolved 13th. That these resolutions will be of no service unless they are kept and that it becomes me to be faithful in keeping them, if I would have them work the desired reformation in my heart and life.

Resolved 14th. That from this hour I will endeavor to be punctual in all the means of grace and punctual in all my other duties, and endeavor at all times to despise sin and lift up religion.

Resolved. That I will find time each day for miscellaneous writing.

Saturday. August 15, 1846. This day accompanied Brother [William] Lawrence [2] to Middlefield [Connecticut] where there is a small congregation of Methodists over whom the Presiding Elder has given him charge. He is a young brother just entering the institution with the intention of preparing for a more extensive sphere of usefulness. He is small in stature, fair skin, black eye, possesses a retentive memory, a good faculty for communication, deeply devoted in his Master's cause and promises great usefulness to the church.

Sabbath. August 16, 1846. [Br. Lawrence] preached in the former part of the day from the parables of the tares and the wheat. He spake first of the sowers, 2nd of the seed, 3rd of the harvest. In the afternoon from Hebrews 7: 24-25. The ground, extent, and limitation of the salvation of Jesus. The sermons were very good and gave evidence of a fruitful and ready mind. The people in that section appear friendly, reverence the Sabbath, and are toiling against the trials and besetments of life to gain the heavenly Canaan.

This evening have been permitted to enjoy a gracious season in prayer at the room of Brethren J. P. G[riffin]. [3] and [William] Lawrence. The Lord was with us, our hearts were made tender, and our views of the Divine regard augmented.

Tuesday, August 18, 1846. Accompanied Br. Lawrence on a visit to the white rocks, distance about three miles. Had a very pleasant visit indeed. Took our books along and busied ourselves pouring over the Greek. If we had been geologists, we should have feasted whilst here as some very beautiful specimens of minerals may be found. [4]

Wednesday, August 19, 1846. Busy reading Virgil. Have read on the review 400 lines. Have not been as critical as I should have been.

Thursday, August 20, 1846. Just two weeks from today is the commencement of our labor here. I look forward with some degree of pleasure, hoping to meet the expectations of all.

Saturday, August 22, 1846. The last day of the week has overtaken me. How does it find me spiritually? Have I during the past week become strengthened in any of the Christian graces? Do I feel my heart more drawn out after God that ever in my life before? Can I with confidence look up to my heavenly Father and say, Lord thou knowest all things. Thou knowest that I love thee. All these are questions which I should be ready to give an affirmative answer. I have been reminded of the termination  of earthly existence by listening to the tolling bell reminding me that I must die and [for] this moment be prepared. Have I given up all for Christ? Lord help me to make a full surrender of all I have -- my strength, my talents, my time, my influence. Oh may they all be exerted in Thy cause, Oh Lord.

The period for study will commence in less than two weeks. I have engaged this day in cleaning my room [in the Dormitory] and fitting it for my reception. [5] Is my heart fitted for Christ's reception? Does he dwell there? Does he delight to dwell there? Oh Lord, cleanse, purify, purge, and sanctify me throughout.

Sunday, August 23, 1846. Heard Rev. James Floy [1806-1863] preach from Acts. The class meeting was among the best I have enjoyed for some time. The spirit of the Lord was richly shed abroad in the hearts of the brethren and sisters. There seemed to be a hungering and thirsting after the mind that was in Christ, not moved to action by mere animal feeling, but an inward craving to possess holiness of heart. If my life is spared, I hope to enjoy many precious seasons with these brethren who already begin to seem dear to me.

At six o'clock attended the prayer meeting. There were a great many praying souls present although but few prayed publicly. After a few prayers were made, the minister gave a short exhortation speaking of the wonder it produced in his mind to think we lived, [especially] when he thought of the very complicated machinery in the arrangement of our systems. He thought it strange that a harp of a thousand strings should keep in tune so long. In the evening at the Congregational Church, heard a young Brother preach from this text, "Ye are of more value than many sparrows" [Luke 12:6-7].

Thursday, August 27, 1846. Although my bodily strength is in a measure debilitated, I am glad that spiritually I take comfort in believing. I desire, I think, nothing so much as to know and do the will of my Savior. The most I have to regret is that I am not more zealous in endeavoring by prayer and supplication before God to ascertain what is His will concerning me. I know I am apt to borrow too much trouble concerning myself, placed as I am among strangers far from home and friends, almost destitute of funds. Things appear rather dubious in the future. But why need I exercise these unpleasant thoughts upon the future when an inward monitor is saying,

'Peace troubled soul, thou need not fear
Thy great provider still is near
Who fed thee once, will feed thee still
Be calm and sink into His will.'

[words by Samuel Ecking, 1757-1785]

Sabbath, August 30, 1846. Have been permitted to listen to the Presiding Elder of New Haven District, Rev. Mr. Kreah [as he preached in the forenoon and afternoon]. He is a gentleman of about 45, deeply loved by the church and bids fair to stand among her brightest gems. He delights to present gospel truth in all its simplicity and power. This evening attended lovefeast, it being the first time I ever attended one at that time [of day]. The Spirit of the Lord was among the people. Only two professed to have experienced the blessing of sanctification. The room was crowded and uncomfortably warm. The Presiding Elder appeared to be plentifully endowed by the spirit of grace to perform the duties of his station. Upon the whole, the meeting was good and has some advantages over the plan of holding them in the morning. First, it is more convenient for the members to be present at the appointed hour. Second, after listening to the sermons and engaging in the worship of the day, the mind is better fitted for devotion. Third, if the congregation through the day neglect to make up the Presiding Elder's fees, it is a favorable time to "square all up." The sacrament is attended to every mouth. 

A few days after his journal entry, James received the following letter from his brother, John Griffing, who was still living in Union Springs, New York.

Union Springs [New York]
August 26, 1846

Brother James,

I should have been surprised at the reception of your letter from Middletown [Connecticut] had Charles [Giddings] not have spoken about it and you dropt an occasional paper on the route, which I received, and which served for a trail to your wanderings. You passed by a cousin at New Milford six miles above the bend who would have been glad to made your acquaintance – Fanny L[ouisa] Griffing [daughter of Nerestan Griffing and Nancy Parmelee] of Guilford, Connecticut – a kind of buttonhole relation and fine girl. You probably passed Guilford Point in the night. If not, you probably recollect Faulkner’s Island on which is a lighthouse being about 3 or 5 miles out from the point. You neglected to give me [a description of] your excursion up the [Long Island] Sound, which I supposed would be the most pleasant part of your journey. One thing must have attracted your attention if you passed Hurl Gate [on the East River] in ebb tide, [and that would be] the hundred juvenile maelstroms that were in operation! Maybe so.

An 1846 J. H. Coulton Map of New York City
with the stretch of East River known as "Hurl Gate" or "Hell Gate" circled.

I am glad you have plucked up courage enough to make sail on this great voyage [of attending college]. I wish you pleasant breezes to waft you to your destined port. And all the good advice I have for you now is to go ahead! Look out for Stormy Petrels and Mother Carey’s Chicken [6] and other Monsters of the Great deep, and recollect there are such things as Land Sharks. It may be that they are not very common in that land of steady habits, probably all sent to Wethersfield raising onions or manufacturing cucumber seeds and writing on their own hooks.

I was at Auburn [New York] on Sabbath during Conference. Saw [our brother-in-law] Charles W. Giddings for about half an hour and heard Bishop [Elijah] Hedding & [Bishop Edmund S.] Janes preach. And also Dr. Levings, whom we saw and heard at Ithaca, preached in the Prison Yard to the convicts. He made them believe they were all pretty good fellows naturally, but had probably committed crimes under strong temptations, which were more readily forgiven than a series of petty meannesses arising from and natural to the character. It was pleasing to hear with what ingenuity he raised their hopes, while many of the populace thought within themselves they were the most guilty.

Bishop [Elijah] Hedding is quite an aged, and a natural eloquent man. Not as labored, far fetched, eloquence like your own Dr. [Stephen] Olin, [President of Wesleyan University,] but an easy flow of a few simple words dropt natural from the lips, with a feeble sway of an aged frame for a gesture. In short, he is an old man [and] eloquent. Bishop [Edmund S.] Janes is the reverse in many things. He is quite young – probably 40 – and is, I should think, learned and loves to display it. And [he] labors to be eloquent, and would be, probably, were it not for about 14 things. And the main one is his voice is like the screech of a panther or a woman in distress. Neither of them I think can compare with Bishop [Leonidas L.] Hamline to gain the attention of an audience.

I have not learned yet whether [Rev.] Charles [Giddings] returned to Norwich [New York], as I believe he expected or not. Have not seen the minutes of [the Methodist Annual] Conference. I shall go home in about a month, I expect, and may stay some time. I feel now as if I should like to ramble over those hills about a month without stopping. Possibly I may get tired in less time. If so, I will ramble somewhere else unless I get a chance to help [our brother] Henry finish his house, or [our brother] Sammy [with] his fall [farm] work. I am most too lazy to do much good with them and may return again to this place.

You must write me after you make your entree and, if possible, try to get an advance in the junior class. It seems like lingering to be a freshman so long. I want to know how you expect to come through and how the linings in your pocket stand it, or how cooking dinner or cold lunch serves you. Whether it makes fat or lean. And I want to know all about Yankee land and its primitive stars.

I learn from Owego that Melissa & Catherine Catlin are both married, probably before you left. Shaw. I can’t think of anything to write. Excuse me. [Your brother,] -- John [Griffing]