Identifier: 01861476.emory.edu
Title: The illustrated history of Methodism (electronic resource); the story of the origin and progress of the Methodist church, from its foundation by John Wesley to the present day. Written in popular style and illustrated by more than one thousand portraits and views of persons
Year: 1900 (1900s)
Authors: Lee, James Wideman, 1849-1919 Luccock, Naphtali, 1853-1916 Dixon, James Main, 1856-1933
Subjects: Methodism
Publisher: St Louis New York : The Methodist magazine publishing co.
Contributing Library: Emory University, Pitts Theology Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Emory University, Pitts Theology Library

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across the Atlantic, wasborn at Hallowell, Maine, at the veryclose of the eighteenth century. He be-longed to a Boston family, and hisgrandfather is said to have taken part inthe storming of L,ouisburg. The lad,who early showed literary proclivities,was apprenticed to a bookseller; and hislife consecration took place in the sum-mer of the year 1X18. Two years laterhe preached his first sermon, and for sev-eral years he devoted himself zealouslyto the work of the ministry; but ill-health laid him low. In lS-il he wentsouth, and became a member of the Vir-ginia Conference; but his weak lungsstill troubled him, and the prospect ofdeath was constantly before him. Thedeath of his wife and of his infant childalso weighed upon his spirits. It was inMay, 1832, that the episcopacy decidedto send him to Liberia. That a bereaved soul like MelvilleCox, who had lost wife and child, andwas, moreover, in a precarious state ofhealth, should be willing to ventureupon the perils of an ocean voyage and
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u * K(AWft V,cu < <f, < i-r <! h CT; <W KH ft O K n MX ft Pih 0 ftW o (494) The Illustrated History of Methodism. 495 the risks of a residence in Africa, madea deep impression on the sympatheticheart of the poetess, Mrs. Lydia Sigour-ney. She sent him from her home inConnecticut the touching lines: THE MISSIONARYS FAREWELL AT THEGRAVE OF HIS WIFE. Once more, mid autumns moaning blast, I seek thy narrow bed;—And is this gush of tears the last I oer its turf may shed?—Though seasons change, and years depart, Yet none shall here recline,To twine thy memory round his heart With such a love as mine. Bound to a suffering, heathen clime, For our Redeemers sake,What tides of sympathy sublime At thy blest image wake;—Thy tender care—thy fearless trust— Thy fond, confiding tone,—But what avails—since thou art dust, And I am all alone ! Thou too, dear infant, slumbering nigh, How beautiful wert thou !Thy mothers spirit in thine eye, Her smile upon thy brow;—A littl

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