W. Ed. Snyder

Perrysville and Centerpoint—Industry Rewarded from an Unsuspected Source—A “Slick” Wedding—Fruitful Labors at Centerpoint—A One-Sided Union Meeting—The Doctrine of the Resurrection Again Demonstrated.

A year on the Perrysville charge in the Upper Wabash Conference, followed by a year at Centerpoint, in his own conference, the Lower Wabash, covering 1874 to 1876, closed Rev. Mr. Newgent’s work in the pastorate for a season. It was from the latter charge that he received his appointment from the Home, Frontier, and Foreign Missionary Society as Superintendent of the Tennessee Mission Conference. From thenceforth he was destined to serve the Church in a larger capacity, though there is no work that he regards as more exalted or more vital to the progress of the kingdom than that of the pastor. And it is but just to say that there is no work in which he has been happier or more in his element. The pastor, he regards, as the pivotal man in the church militant, around whose personality must revolve all the machinery of its organized life. Hence, in whatever position he has been placed, he has ever been in fullest sympathy with the men on the firing line, and has sought in every way to encourage and magnify their work.

His going to Perrysville was in response to an urgent appeal from his intimate friend, Dr. J. W. Nye, then a popular presiding elder in the Upper Wabash Conference. His work here was fruitful and congenial, and marked by some rich experiences, which he carries with him as refreshing memories. One of these teaches a practical moral lesson, namely, that honest industry has its reward in more ways than one.

It need not be explained here that industry is a part of his religion. He believes with Paul that it does not injure, or lower the dignity of a minister to labor with his hands. In this, as in other respects, he made himself an example to the flock. Odd moments are always occupied in diversions of a practical character. The outward appearance of the parsonage never failed to testify to his thrift and good taste. A garden served as an outlet to his surplus physical energies as well as a means of supplementing the usually modest income. Under his skillful hand it invariably became a thing of beauty and an object of just pride.

Some five miles from Perrysville lived a horny-handed son of the soil, a man who made industry not only the chief element in his religion, but the sum total of it. He was an infidel in his belief—or disbelief—and regarded the church as an imposition, and preachers as an indolent, worthless lot. Passing through the village one day, he noticed Rev. Mr. Newgent’s garden. It was by far the finest he had seen. His surprise can only be imagined when, upon inquiry, he learned that the owner of it was one of those lazy preachers.

A few days later he drove up to the parsonage with a barrel of flour, which he unloaded and unceremoniously rolled upon the porch. This time the surprise was on the preacher, as a reputation for benevolence was a thing of which, up to that time, the infidel could not boast. He explained that ordinarily he had no use for preachers, but as he had found one that was not lazy, he “wanted to help him.” The donation was an expression of his regard for the minister who showed a willingness, according to the infidel’s conception of the term, to earn his bread in the sweat of his face.

Another incident, picked up at random, occurred one cold day during the winter of his stay at Perrysville. A couple whose appearance did not indicate a superabundance of worldly prosperity, came to the parsonage to be married. They had come from the adjoining county, the boundary between the two counties being the Wabash River, on the bank of which Perrysville was located. The river was frozen over. The couple traveled afoot, having crossed the river on the ice. The preacher explained that they would have to recross the river before the ceremony could be performed, as the law required that marriages be solemnized in the county in which the license was issued. So he conducted the matrimonial candidates to the river.

When the preacher was satisfied that they had proceeded beyond the half-way point on the river, he ordered the couple to halt and join hands. By this time their presence had attracted the attention of the young people who were out on the ice in large numbers enjoying the fine winter sport of skating. As the wedding was a public function, no restrictions being placed on attendance, the ceremony was performed in the presence of an enthusiastic multitude.

The service completed, the groom, who was unacquainted with ministerial usages, inquired as to the amount of the fee. To save him the responsibility and further embarrassment of determining the sum to be paid for the service, the preacher suggested that a dollar would be sufficient, fearing lest he might set the price too high for his purse. Even at that it was painfully evident that the young man’s financial rating was overestimated. After nervously fumbling through his pockets he was able to produce but fifty cents. In his dilemma he found it necessary to call upon his bride for financial assistance. Happily she was equal to the emergency, and supplied the deficit from her own purse.

“This is the fairest wedding I have ever seen,” said the preacher. “It has always been my opinion that the lady ought to help pay the preacher, and she receives as much benefit from the ceremony as does the man. I hope you will always share each other’s burdens in this way.” And wishing them happiness and prosperity, he sent them on their way rejoicing.

The local paper gave a flowery account of the wedding that took place on the ice, stating that it was the “slickest” wedding that had ever occurred in that section. But the minister’s fee and the manner of paying it was not allowed to become public, lest it should become a troublesome precedent in matrimonial circles.

The following year, which was spent on the Centerpoint charge, was a most fruitful one. Here, as in so many other places, he found a splendid opportunity of demonstrating his favorite doctrine of the resurrection—the resurrection of dead churches. The spiritual life of the churches at Centerpoint was at ebb tide, and had been for an indefinite time. Soon after his arrival the Methodist pastor, who was also new in the town, called upon him to confer as to their plans for revival work. As workers were scarce, it was thought best to plan their meetings so that they would not conflict. Rev. Mr. Newgent, Abraham-like, let his brother do the choosing, and the brother, perhaps as anxious as Lot to get in on the ground floor, decided to commence a revival at once. Newgent began a meeting at the same time some few miles in the country. Newgent’s meeting immediately developed into a revival of so great proportions that it became the one overshadowing event of the whole country, drawing the Methodist pastor’s congregation from him and rendering it impracticable for him to continue. His situation was a rather lonely one. In his extremity he sought another interview with his fellow pastor, proposing to close his meeting at once if Newgent would join him later in a union revival effort.

This Newgent consented to do on three conditions, as follows:

1. That the meetings be held in the United Brethren church.

2. That the United Brethren pastor do all the preaching.

3. That the United Brethren pastor do the managing.

Hard as the conditions seemed, the brother agreed to them. The conditions, in fact, look egotistical and perhaps selfish on the surface, but when the United Brethren pastor explained his reasons for them they were seen to be neither. On the contrary they were meant for the highest good of both churches, and were abundantly vindicated by the outcome. He was intensely anxious that Centerpoint have a genuine revival of religion. To promote such a revival at any cost was his purpose. That this purpose might be realized he would not permit modesty, formality, or any other creature to stand in the way.

The United Brethren Church was the more commodious and had the advantage in location. This was the reason for the first condition. The reason for the second and third conditions was that Centerpoint had been preached to death. A change of methods was imperative if the people were to be reached. He wanted a meeting without preaching, without too much human agency, but where God himself might control to his own glory. Only by having the management left to him could he apply the remedy needed according to his diagnosis of the case.

His plan was now to be put to the test—a revival without preaching, the laity to do the work as they felt divinely moved. The meeting began on a Friday evening. But with no life there could be no real activity. The chariot wheels dragged heavily at the first. On Sunday morning he announced that at four o’clock p. m., a children’s meeting would be held. Aside from selected helpers, only children within a certain age limit would be admitted. Such meetings even at that date were quite uncommon. The announcement, therefore, aroused a great deal of curiosity. But that was one point in the announcement. Something must be done to stir the people. There must be a new avenue of approach to their cold hearts.

The children’s service produced the desired effect. At the appointed hour the house was filled to overflowing. There were three helpers, all ministers, present, who did their part according to Newgent’s directions. Songs were sung, prayers offered by the ministers as they were called upon, a brief talk by the leader, some simple propositions, and the meeting closed in less than a half-hour from the time it began. But that half-hour turned the tide in Centerpoint. The children became the vanguard in a religious movement that was to shake the town from center to circumference. Many of them went home weeping to speak of the longing of their tender hearts to fathers and mothers, who, in turn, were awakened to a consciousness of their own need.

At the evening service which followed, seventy-five persons came to the altar, most of whom professed conversion. The revival was no longer a problem. It spread throughout the town and community like fire in dry stubble. The church arose from the grave of lethargy and formalism, cast off her grave clothes—and the doctrine of the resurrection was again abundantly demonstrated.