Saturday, June 24. Breakfast at Daniel Fulk's at foot of Mt. Pleasant in Brock's Gap, and then home. On this journey Brother John Wine and I traveled in my carriage 1,083 miles. Brother Benjamin Bowman was not with us all the time. He left us after we got among relatives and acquaintances who were not the same, in these respects, to us that they were to him. Otherwise they were the same to both alike, for they were nearly all Brethren. But we met again at the Annual Meeting, and returned home together. We had much pleasant conversation on the way, and endeavored to build each other up by giving a religious turn to our discourses. They are both clear-headed thinkers. I feel sure the time has been well spent by our mutually improving each other, aside from the good I hope we have done to others. May our heavenly Father bless this happy journey to the present and everlasting good of all who may have heard our public or private words of warning, of instruction, of encouragement to the weak, of confirmation to the strong, is my prayer. Amen.
Anna was safely conveyed home, nicely and tenderly cared for in my absence, and I find her as well as I could expect.
Thursday, July 13. Perform the marriage ceremony of William Carrier and Barbara Summers.
Wednesday, July 26. Meeting at Forrer's Furnace. I speak on the fiftieth verse of the one hundred and nineteenth Psalm. Text.—"This is my comfort in my affliction." I have chosen this subject on account of the afflictions which some of you have lately passed through, and which are, I learn, still clinging to others in this neighborhood. As I have been called—or sincerely believe that I have been called—to administer medical relief to the sick, and have thus had much experience in the sick room, and by the sick bed, I will venture to offer some observations regarding the ways in which the sick should be cared for and nursed, that they may be comforted in their afflictions as to their bodily feelings. This done, I will endeavor to say something regarding the ways in which their souls may be comforted.
The bed for the sick should be soft, but not heating. Nothing can be more regularly and uniformly comforting to the afflicted than a soft and easy bed. It need not be costly. Clean straw of oats, cut fine, is my preference over all other materials. To stir the bed, the patient need not be taken out, but gently, very slowly and tenderly, moved to the opposite side first prepared, left there awhile, and then in the same gentle way returned to the front, similarly prepared. Cleanliness is next to religion, pure and undefiled, in the sick room. All fumes of tobacco or other unpleasant smells should not be allowed for a moment in the sick room. All offensive odors can most readily be gotten rid of by ventilation. This can be best secured by opening doors or windows, or both, if necessary. This should be repeatedly done daily in all weathers. At this season windows should be open all the time; but the patient should not be exposed to heavy draughts of air. Unnecessary conversation is very distressing to most sick people, even though the words be spoken low or in a whisper. Some of you, no doubt, have had experience of this fact. People kindly feel it a duty to visit the sick. One does not know that another is going, and each being impelled by a sense of duty, more go than can be needed; and in determining who shall return home, and who shall stay, conversations take place that are often very distressing to the patient. I remember a conversation I had with one of my own patients once, who had just shortly before that time recovered from a severe and protracted illness. He said to me: "Brother John, do try to set the people right about visiting the sick. There is so much wrong about it the way it is carried on now that very often more harm than good is done. I remember," said he, "one night while I was sick. You had been coming, I think, near three weeks, and I was beginning to mend. In the evening I felt so much better I thought I was going to rest well and get some good, natural sleep. But about eight o'clock several neighbors came in who got to talking; and seeing that I appeared better they were encouraged to keep on, under the impression that I was strong enough now to stand it. Ah," continued he, "they did not know they were almost killing me; for I became restless; and being very weak every nerve and fiber in my body seemed to be excited into a state of distressful commotion, from which I did not fairly recover during the next three days. When you came again you gave very strict orders not to allow more than one attendant in the room at a time, aside from the nurse; and after that I began to mend again and got well."
One thing more, and I will leave this feature of the subject. This, although last in order, is first in importance, because it is the very basis of recovery. I mean food and drink. Very sick patients, we all know, can take, and require very little; but that little is all-important both as to quality, and uniformity as to quantity, and exact regularity as to time in its administration. I will say here with emphasis, that in no regard is it more important to comply punctiliously with the instructions of an intelligent physician, than in the nourishment given the sick. Without nourishment, recovery in any case is impossible. How very important, then, that it be rightly composed and properly administered! Food should be made as attractive to the patient as possible. This should be carefully kept in mind when preparing it for patients in a state of convalescence or recovery. The nerves of the stomach at such time are often very sensitive, and small excellencies in its quality will be highly appreciated, and slight deficiencies as readily detected.
You remember, I started out with the text: "This is my comfort in my affliction." I have tried to give you some bits of counsel as to the means and ways by which the afflicted may be comforted physically. I now turn to the means and ways by which they may be comforted spiritually. But here a difficulty confronts us at the very start. We cannot make pathological examinations of the soul's distress, and conclude from these what therapeutic agents to employ for its relief, as we can in that of the body. In the last we are governed almost exclusively by the visible and tangible symptoms; but regarding the first, we are deprived of all these, and are compelled to rely mainly upon the oral testimony of the sufferer himself. I have repeatedly been called to the bedside of the dying in compliance with their wish to receive some comfort, some consolation in their last moments, before launching out on the unknown deep of eternity. But, alas! with the exception of a few, paid to humble and obedient followers of the meek and lowly Jesus, nearly all such visits have caused me to feel my own absolute incompetence to do them any good, and only left me to witness the sun of their life go down in clouds and darkness. But David says: "This is my comfort in my affliction." In saying this he must have in mind some particular idea; some state of feeling springing out of some previous preparation of heart, which he can claim as his comfort in his affliction. The few verses preceding the text give a clew to this very state of mind and heart. Let us look over them and see what it was. In verse 44 he says: "I will keep thy law continually for ever and ever." Verse 45: "I seek thy precepts." Verse 46: "Of thy testimonies also, I will not be ashamed." Verse 47: "I delight myself in thy commandments which I have loved." These declarations make manifest David's love for the Lord; and the joy springing out of this love is what he calls his comfort in his affliction.
It was once my privilege, and I can say my happy privilege, to pass a night beside the dying bed of a faithful minister of the Word. His deathless and joyful spirit took its flight from earth about four o'clock the following morning. He did not suffer much pain, and had strength to express his feelings and thoughts to a limited degree. His mind was clear. He was dying of a hemorrhage which no power on earth could check. His comfort in his affliction was so great that from the joy and peace in his soul he distinctly said to me, in these exact words: "This is the happiest night of my life." He would sometimes say: "I love God. I love all his dear people. I will soon join the spirits of just men made perfect." About four o'clock in the morning he asked to be turned in the bed, and he was gone. Ah, friends, this brother had comfort in his affliction; nay, more, unspeakable comfort in death. This is what all may enjoy in a greater or less degree, who are laid on beds of affliction. A good life, a life lived in obedience to the commandments of our Lord, is sure to bring peace to the soul when we are in health, and this peace will not leave or forsake us when affliction or misfortune overtakes us. Our Lord says: "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you." Again he says: "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, and ye shall find rest unto your souls." We take his yoke upon us when we repent of our sins, believe on his name, love to do his commands, come over freely and fully on his side, and work for him. Instead of working for what is perishable, we work for that which endureth to everlasting life. We come out of the darkness of sin and death into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Monday, July 31. Harvest meeting at the Flat Rock. David Kline is elected speaker.
Saturday, August 26. The job of building the abutments for the bridge at Coots's is let to contract.