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eyes to see himself a sinner, and that all his former “confessions to the priest were delusions of Satan,” and that he was still in the broad road that led to hell. “ My distress,” he writes, “was inconceivably great, I was afraid of God and man, I could neither eat, drink, sleep for some time, I felt such a pressing load of guilt.” It was then affirmed, by priest and people, that the Methodists had made him distracted, and his father, looking upon him as a disgrace to the family, threatened to turn him away from his home if he did not desist: a threat he subsequently put into execution. He applied himself to reading the scriptures and prayer, until God spoke deliverance to his soul, and ushered in the day of salvation and hope. He became at once a shining light. He entered the itinerant ranks, and for thirty-four years swept across the country from south to north, a coadjutor in that band of early Methodist pioneers who have won such noble trophies to Christ, and left a fragrant memory and influence on earth. He died as the Christian warrior wishes to die, with his armor on, and in the field.
His son, the subject of the present sketch, was awakened and converted at the age of fourteen years, though he did not always, in his early days, enjoy the life and power of religion in his soul. Not long after his conversion, he so far backslid as to omit the outward forms of religion. He was aroused to a sense of his duty in the following manner: The Rev. John Crawford, of precious memory in the church, was visiting at his fa. ther's, and in his presence was discoursing respecting the spiritual condition and prospects of his family. He asked in regard to John, “And what is your son ?" The father replied, “ he is a nothingarian.” This called out the expression from the son, “ I have my principles.” ' “Yes,” replied the faithful minister, “corn stalks with
out corn.” This singular reply struck home conviction to his soul, and was the means of calling him out into active and efficient Christian life. He immediately united with the church, at the age of twenty, and thence forward to the hour of his death, maintained a consistent, and as far as health permitted, an active Christian life. Not long after this he was married to Anne Laird, who shared his labors and toils till death dissolved the connection,
In the fall of 1813 or 1814, he removed to Albany, and became connected with the Division Street Church. Here his piety and talents were appreciated, and he was elected a trustee; and soon after, without solicitation on his part, was licensed to exhort. The pastor not long after said to him, " Brother Moriarty, the people complain of you, and say you preach; you had better have license to do so," and accordingly gave it. At the next session of the New York Conference, he joined the traveling connection, and was appointed to Coeymans circuit, with Gershom Pierce, as his colleague. He traveled this circuit two years, and saw the work of God revived, and many sinners brought into the king. dom.
The next two years he traveled Kingston circuit, and the two following, Newburgh. Here he had many diffi. culties to contend with in the church, such as left upon his mind a very unpleasant influence, and he always looked back to those two years as the most arduous and trying of his ministry. From Newburgh, he was removed to Fonda's Bush, and, during his two years there, was favored with some gracious seasons of revival. His next appointment was Johnstown circuit. Of his labors there, his colleague, the Rev. M. Bates, writes:
with him on Johnstown circuit, during his second year, Brother Moriarty was greatly
esteemed there. His influence was extensive and salutary. A church was built in the village of Johnstown, through his instrumentality. He was mild, dignified and energetic. During this year, those afflictions commenced (a partial paralysis of his lower extremities), which laid him aside from his labors, and attended him more or less through the remainder of his days. During the last half of the year, he was able to perform but little labor, The year was, to him, one of great affliction and temporal embarrassment, perhaps the most so of his whole life. While physically prostrated, he had a large family of young children dependant upon him.”
At the close of this year, the colleagues set off together, to attend the session of the conference, in the city of New York. They rode to Coeymans, and then took the steamboat for New York. In getting on board, they were obliged to take a small boat from the shore, to meet the small boat of the steamer. Brother Mori. arty was heavy, and had but little use of his lower limbs. As he was getting from one small boat to the other, they were separated by the waves, and he was with the utmost difficulty saved from a watery grave. Brother Bates remarks: “I love to cherish the recol. lections of my association with John D. Moriarty, as my colleague. I was then but in the third year of my ministry, and his kind, communicative, gentlemanly and Christian deportment, was, to me, alike pleasing and profitable.” At the close of this conference, his name was announced in connection with Saratoga circuit. To this charge he removed with beclouded prospects, and a heavy heart. Here closed his itinerant labors. His failing health continued to decline, and ended in confirmed prostration.
In the month of April, 1831, he removed his family to Saratoga Springs, to try the healing power of its
mineral fountains. He went there a confirmed invalid, so utterly prostrated that he was unable to move, except on crutches. He hired a small dwelling, and with his family entered it. At the close of the first year, he purchased that dwelling, which afterward expanded into the proportions and character of the Congress Spring Temperance House, of which he was proprietor, eighteen years. Here he was appointed to take charge of the Springs congregation, and often in his own house held class and prayer meetings, and sometimes public preaching. He often officiated in the pulpit, sitting in a chair, after having been borne there by his brethren, Gradually he recovered the use of his limbs, but was never afterward able to take an appointment, and sustained, up to his death, a superannuated relation.
The society at the Springs was feeble at that time. Methodism was comparatively unknown, or unfavorably regarded, and but few attended upon its ministrations. Identifying himself with this feeble society in all his feelings and interest, he labored assiduously and successfully, to promote the welfare of the church of his choice. He saw the place of her tents enlarged and • the curtains of her habitation stretched forth" until " the little one became a thousand.”
Whatever appertained to the interests of the church was of paramount importance to him. The interest of the cause of God was his interest, the prosperity of the church a cause of deep rejoicing, and whatever conduced to this result received his cooperation and support.
During the winter and spring of 1848, a gracious revival of religion visited the place, in which some of his family were converted, and he himself shared largely in labors and in blessings. It was observed by many, who had been long acquainted with him, that he manifested
an unusual interest and engagedness in religion, and an evident ripening for heaven.
The last sabbath but one that he spent on earth, was in the house of God, and one of unusual interest to him. He bowed for the last time at the sacramental board, and there commemorated the sufferings and death of our divine Redeemer,
When that table was approached shortly after by some of his children, who had lately found redemption in the blood of atonement, his heart was too full to speak, and the tears coursing down his cheek, told of strong emotion and joy within.
His death was sudden and unlooked for, but the mes. senger found him ready. His illness was of such a character as to admit of but little converse, but that was satisfactory. To an aged friend, who stood by his bed side as the lamp of life burnt feebly in its socket, and inquired the prospect before him, he replied, “Glory to God, all is clear,” and his last testimony, uttered in presence of his brethren, respected the preciousness of religion, and the glorious prospect it opened to his vision of immortality beyond the tomb. On the morning of June 18th, 1849, in the presence of his family, he fell asleep, in holy tranquility, and now rests forever from his labors.
As a citizen, in the community where he was best known, he was highly respected, and his loss deeply felt. As a Christian, he was esteemed and honored, and his faithful admonitions and counsels, his prayers and entreaties, have had an impressive effect upon the minds of many with whom he had intercourse.
As a minister, he was laborious and successful, with fearless heart uttering the startling truths of the Bible, or administering discipline in the church. He never shrank from responsibility, and whether his duty was pleasant or painful to himself, he did it fearless of re