"When I heard of this circumstance," says Mr. B., "my heart, filled with love for the dear converts and brethren who were bereaved of their pastors by the counsel of the ungodly, caused me to feel my responsibility anew; as I was a citizen of the country, knew the manners and customs of the people, and could easily take a position from which the same persecuting powers could not drive me. My heart, like David's, began to burn with a holy resolve to go forth into the field, and take the place of my injured brothers."
Though a stranger in the town of Ascott, where these events occurred, (a town about twelve miles from Compton,) he started on Saturday, near Sept. 1st, to attend with them a general meeting of which he had previously heard, and as he was riding through a space of woods, it suddenly struck him that Mr. Moulton would be absent, and that he should be obliged to speak; and the hundreds who remember the simplicity and naturalness of the texts from which he almost invariably preached in after life, will see something characteristic in the passage, Heb. 13: 1, that came at once to his mind, "Let brotherly love continue." Hesitating for a time whether he would proceed or return, as he was satisfied that he should meet this great duty if he proceeded, he went forward, found a large audience assembled and no minister present. As he entered, all eyes were attracted to him, and though many present regarded him as one whom the Holy Spirit had called to preach, he remained through the meeting in silence, except at the close he owned his disobedience, and received from several present warnings to be faithful hereafter. In personal figure Mr. B. was a noble and commanding man, one that could not pass among strangers without drawing to himself a marked attention.
Saturday evening he was invited to pass at Mr. Bullard's, where they spent part of the evening in singing, and hours, he says, upon their knees in prayer,—an evening by him never forgotten, as the Holy Spirit consciously filled their hearts with joy. "I thought then," says our youth, "I never saw so happy a family. Oh, what a glorious age will it be when the principles of pure religion shall pervade the world!" On Sunday they repaired to the place of worship, where "Mr. M. most beautifully described from James 1: 25, the perfect law of liberty. Many were in spirit refreshed, and indeed we sat together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus." As the Lord's Supper was not then administered, another appointment was made, and from the happy influences of this meeting with saints, Mr. B. returned home "in the power of the Spirit," firmly resolved to do all that duty might ever require. He again returned to Ascott to attend the appointment made for the communion, where Mr. M. gave an able discourse on having "a sound mind," and where, for the first time in his life, he partook of the symbols of Jesus' truth and dying love. He says:
"I trembled at the thought of attending on so sacred an ordinance, and with so holy a band of brethren; but as I could not feel justified in the neglect of the privilege, I came forward in the worthiness of my Lord, and I believe with his fear before my eyes. A deep solemnity rested on the whole assembly, and our souls, at the close, were seemingly on flame for the realms above. I was never happier in my life at the close of a meeting.
"Mr. M., having appointments over St. Francis River, wished me to take a journey with him. I complied. We crossed the river, visited several families, had one meeting; then passing up the river to Westbury (eight miles), through a woody region mostly, we arrived in the afternoon much fatigued, as we had to encounter the buffetings of a violent storm. On our way, I had fallen back and rode several miles alone in the most serious meditations. I clearly saw the hardships of a missionary life, and felt that I must enter the field. We found a loving company of brethren, who received us kindly, and who appeared to be steadfast in faith. We held several good meetings in the place. Some were baptized. I also made the acquaintance of Mr. Zenas Adams, a young minister who had just begun to preach. This journey increased my confidence, as Mr. Moulton was a discerning man, and qualified both from knowledge and sympathy to assist young ministers. The conversations with Mr. Adams were also advantageous. He was but a few months my elder.
"I had now arrived at a crisis in which I must earnestly dispose of every practical objection. I had said, 'I am a child—I cannot speak.' I was but twenty years of age; I thought my friends might be unwilling. Soon, however, my father gave me my freedom; and I felt that there was much meaning yet in the good scripture which saith, 'It shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall speak.' I plead a comparative illiteracy, as the minister is ordained to teach, and ought to command the various resources of knowledge. This objection also fled before that potent scripture, James 1: 5, 'If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.' I was satisfied of this, that if God had called me to the work, with health, youth, and industry on my part, He would give me every necessary qualification. As swimming is learned by swimming, and agriculture is acquired by its active pursuit, it struck me that fidelity in the new work would secure the only effectual skill in conducting it. I thought of a kind father's house, of my loving parents who had watched over my childhood, of the four brothers and four sisters with whom I had lived in the greatest friendship; and I did not omit to think of the needful renunciation of worldly prospects, and of the censures I should get from some, and the various treatment I had reason to expect from the world if I went out as a faithful, uncompromising ambassador of Christ. To take the parting hand with my dear relatives, and to live in the world as a stranger and foreigner, called up many painful emotions in my breast as I glanced into the uncertain future. Still no tide of emotion could carry me back in my purposes, and with much feeling I felt to say:
"'Farewell, oh my parents, the joy of my childhood,
My brothers and sisters, I bid you adieu!
To wander creation, its fields and its wildwood,
And call upon mortals their God to pursue:
When driven by rain-drops, and night shades prevailing,
And keen piercing north-winds my thin robes assailing,
And stars of the twilight in lustre regaling,
I'll seek some repose in a cottage unknown.'
"Through all my discouragements and melancholy hours, interspersed throughout nearly a year's continuance, there were times when the sweet peace of God grew conscious in my heart, and always did this passage bring with it a cheering light, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world!" I felt that it was mine, that it was for me, and for all true ministers through time, as well as for the worthier ones who carried the Master's truth through suffering and trial over the earth. Feeling now that the time had come when I must venture forth, and finding that nothing among the armory of Saul would suit my form or answer my purpose, I concluded that no other way remained for me but to rely on 'the mighty arm of the God of Jacob,' under whose name I would fight the battle of life. In the latter part of October, 1812, on a pleasant Sabbath morning, while the people were gathering from every direction for meeting, the following passage came with power to my mind, and as no minister was present that day, I knew I could offer no good excuse for a refusal to speak. Phil. 2: 5. 'Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.' On this text, on this very glorious theme, my public life began, and doubtless in a weak, broken, and trembling manner. I have often thought of my first text, and have endeavored to make it my motto for life, for it is on the idea here advanced that the vital merit of ministers and Christians must forever depend. How important that the Gospel minister should have the mind of Christ! How can he otherwise preach Him to the world? How may he penetrate the centre of other souls and hold up the living evidence of Christianity without it? How important that all Christians have His spirit and temper! For it is this that directs, this that supports, this that adorns the child of God."
"But when the echo of the first effort came back from the community, 'Joseph Badger has become a preacher,' a sentence then in everybody's mouth, I was greatly mortified, particularly when the invitations came to me before the week had ended, to go and preach in different parts of the town. I complied as far as practicable with these requests, and our meetings were thronged with people who came to hear the new minister, the young man—young, indeed, in a double sense,—in years and in experience. Perhaps never before did surrounding circumstances unite to render me more thoroughly conscious of my weakness, dependence, and inefficiency. I spent much time in secret prayer, and in pensive meditation, and the cry I once before had made in the anticipation now arose with redoubled energy, 'Lord, who is sufficient for these things?' More than ever did I begin to fell the worth of souls by night and by day; and through the bodily fatigues to which my labors subjected me, the sense of responsibility and insufficiency that weighed upon me, my mind was somewhat shaded with melancholy, and often did my heart find relief in tears."
"The next Thursday evening after my first sermon, I attended a Conference, where I met Mr. Gilson, a well-known minister. He appeared much rejoiced at what he called 'the good news,' and insisted that as there were many present, I should occupy the desk as the speaker, and give the introductory sermon. This, to me, was a great cross, particularly so as one of my brothers was present. After enduring for a time the conflict of feelings, which may be easily imagined, I went forward in prayer, then arose to speak from 1 John 5, 19th verse: 'And we know that we are of God, and the whole world lieth in wickedness.' In speaking, I had a good time, and both branches of the subject, which run over the ground occupied by saints and sinners, seemed to have a good effect; it inspired joy in the one, and awakened solemnity in the other. Mr. G. approbated my discourse, but I felt much mortified that I, a mere lad, was called out to set my few loaves and small fishes before the great multitude."