A Glorious Week in New England
What a glorious week it was for me to walk the beautiful autumn-arrayed grounds of New England that had, three and four hundred years prior, been tread by a more noble band of self-sacrificing men and women. Each day I was challenged as I gleaned truth from yourself and the other well-spoken guides, and each day my theology was strengthened, my love for history increased, and I departed with a greater desire to know more. My vision was enlarged!
For it was upon the old headstones at the hallowed resting places of Copp’s Hill and the Granary where I read with thanksgiving in my heart the great epitaphs of honored patriarchs, who being dead yet speaketh.
It was in a modest little house at Plimoth Plantation that I delighted in hearing Mistress Bradford speak of her Christian duty to be a helpmeet to her husband, and there where I reflected upon that first cruel winter and upon the endurance of those humble Separatists who, as visionary stepping-stones, correctly laid our country’s first foundations on the unshakable authority of the Scriptures.
It was at the ancient landmarks, such as the Pilgrim Sarcophagus and Forefather’s Monument, where I was inspired to study and know the lives, testimonies, and theology of valiant men who, even at the cost of all they held dear, remained faithful to the Lord Jesus and uncompromising in their convictions.
It was at the Old South Meeting House where I imagined myself at that critical span of our nation’s history — hearing first of God’s sovereign working in William Bradford’s life and then “Dr. Joseph Warren” speak of his duty to God and to his beloved land.
And it was at the “church” in Quincy where I was grieved that the legacy of the Adams’ faith had been polluted by the foul breath of humanistic philosophies, and that such a gloom of wicked darkness had befallen the city of Salem. But it was also in Salem where I rejoiced in my salvation, in the accurate portrayal of history and theology that I was learning from godly men, and where I took heed as that repeated line in Kipling’s poem-lest we forget- was often brought to my mind.
I give glory to God for my parents who have taught me truth, and Mr. Phillips, Dr. Jehle, Mr. Ford, and Mr. Potter, who have not neglected to tell the younger generations about the great works of our Lord and of the great men He raised up for such times that they were needed. Many, many thanks for another tour of lasting impact!