HISTORY OF OUR MISSIONS (Continued)
CLAY ASHLAND
Missionary, J. T. Richardson. This is a new town, but
bidding fair to become one of the most influential on the St. Paul’s
River. It is the growth of the last two years. The church have a
new, neat house of worship, erected at the expense of the members.
A flourishing day school, with forty-two scholars is in progress
under our direction. Our missionary refers to a most pleasant
season of religious interest, in which he says the Lord “gave
energy to his word in a manner such as had not been witnessed
there before.” “This,” he continues, “is a most inviting field for
missionary operations; we have free access to the heathen, and
they are saying ‘bring God palaver to our towns; take our children
into your schools and teach them God’s book.’”
Brother Clark, on his way to Yoruba, thus describes a scene
in which he was permitted to mingle, at this station: “It was my
pleasure to be present on the Sabbath at Clay Ashland, and preach
the opening sermon of the nice framed house, just built by the
industry and at the expense of the prosperous and zealous little
church. It was filled to overflowing, and numbers without could
not enter. After preaching, I enjoyed the privilege of baptizing,
before a large and interesting congregation, four youthful converts,
who, as they rose from the water, came up straightway, singing
praise unto God. Ah, my brother, it is not often we witness just
such scenes in our favored land. See the noble stream — the waters
troubled — the wilderness around — the gazing, admiring multitude
lining the elevated banks, — then those precious youths descending
the stream-buried-rising from the grave, shouting, praising God,
then hear those strains of music, as they rise to join in song the
chorus of the skies, -then behold a day, bright and beautiful, one
perhaps that months before had not seen, when the sun seemed to
come forth to adorn the scene, and honor the occasion, -- at last, let
your eyes, by faith, rise higher to the courts above, and there see
angels, seraphs and Christians, gazing with delight upon the
rapidly passing view -- and you may have an idea of what
transpired in the wilderness of dark, benighted Africa, on the banks
of the St. Paul, Lord’s day, about 1 o’clock, July 30th, 1854. — But
the day closed not with this scene: We returned to the church, and
there, after preaching by Brother Richardson, sitting around the
table of the Lord, partook the emblems of his broken body and
