Phineas F. Bresee - A Prince In Israel - Media Sabda Org

country roads, unhindered and unprotected by fences, winding their ways in most enchanting places,
into glen and forest, crossing dashing brooks, and through the meadows, with the constantly
recurring farmhouse, usually painted white, with outbuildings red, mostly with an air of age and
comfort, with so many indescribably beautiful landscapes-- arouses in one a sense of beauty, the
thrill of which is not soon forgotten.
The cemeteries impressed us, many so large and all seemingly so full. Here the generations rest.
Life, struggle, and toil and sorrow, and fitful joy, are over; friend and foe and lover lie quietly side
by side. Already in some instances, the stone or board, or marble slab, is crumbling or falling, and
one involuntarily says, "Whence? Whither? Where?"
It was in this immediate vicinity that both Mrs. Bresee and myself were children, were reared, and
were converted. It was here that I came from the West, a youthful preacher, for my bride and bore
away from her home and friends, one who has fulfilled in largest measure, in all the difficult places
through which we have passed, as well as the more open paths, all that can be meant by that sacred
name, wife.
But one person is alive out of a large company that was at our wedding, and scare any whom we
knew in our youth are here. The hills and the rocks and the streams abide; many houses are just as
they were; but the people are gone hence.
In Our Childhood
As in our childhood, the two Methodist village churches about three miles apart, constitute a
circuit or charge. There is preaching at the one every Sunday, at 10:30 a. m., and at the other at 1 p.
m., and alternately at night. At the one Mrs. Bresee was converted; at the other I bowed at the altar
and found peace. I was very willing to accept the invitation of the pastor, and preach in both places.
Several times we have returned from our western wanderings and looked at these, to us, 'sacred'
places; but the memory of the saving grace of our Lord was never more sweet than now. Though all
who gathered here are gone, the experience and comfort of the grace of God abides.
One thing is impressed upon us, that all these lands are simply camping grounds for the people
as they march to the grave. How they need to hear with heaven-born energy the words from the lips
of Jesus, "I am the resurrection and the life."
A Memorable Day
Upon his return to Los Angeles, Dr. Bresee preached a great sermon at the First Church on the
resurrection. The scene is thus described by Rev. J. P. Coleman: "The Sabbath, June 12th, at First
Church was one of the greatest days we ever saw. Dr. Bresee's sermon was a masterpiece of
unanswerable argument for the resurrection of Christ from the dead. It was attended with a power
and unction that moved the assembled multitude as trees swept by a tornado. And such it was,
though sent from heaven. The people shouted and wept for joy until the noise could be heard afar.
At the close they broke forth with our hallelujah song of triumph, with waving of handkerchiefs and
great rejoicing. It w as worth a lifetime to be permitted to witness what our eyes saw, and to feel the