^ PRINCETON, N. J. xN Division 7?^ .„■■"' " Section ."r^*** ./..^J Shelf Number Ewmved byKS,;.„',i.;/ Au.^u^r ■ifj,m.Jf^->-/i «(> Tr-iiv .;Si.rM.->ii/i.< r.ivtrp-'nl. l-ublLrhfi Jmbn"il'ii l-y Kr.Mnn * Tirylfr. MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE h- MINISTRY OF THE LATE 3^t\i, Wi)omK6 §>ptttcer, OF LIVERPOOL: WitH AN APPENDIX, CONTAINING A SELECTION FFvOM HIS PAPERS, &c. BY THOMAS RAFFLES. Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth. Solomon. How many fall as sudden, not as safe ! Yoi no. LIVERPOOL: Printed by G. F. Harris's IVidow ^ Brothers, FOR RESTON& TAYLOR, church-street.-sold also »y wal- ker, LONGMAN & CO., Sc HAMILTON, PATER-NOSTEIl-ROW : CONDEH, BLCKLERSBL'RY; HATCHAKD, PICCADILLY; BACiSTEK, STRAND; & BURTON, LEADENHALL-STREET, LONDON ; OLlHIIANf] WAUGII, & INNES, EDINBURGH ; & RICHARDSON, MANCHEST, R. 1813. TO THE CHURCH AND CONGREGATION LATE UNDER THE PASTORAL CARE OF THE Rev. THOMAS SFE^^S$E^-.\^ ^ ^' .fi£C. H, iWemotrs. XfexKi^^;. COMPILED AND PUBLISHED AT THEIR REQUEST, AS A TESTIMONY TO THE WORLD OF THE ADMIRATION if ESTEEM BIS GENIUS AND HIS PIETY UNIVERSALLY INSPIRED; AND AS A GRATEFUL MEMORIAL OF HIS ACCEPTABLE LABOURS AND TRANSCENDENT EXCELLENCIES, AS A MINISTER, AS A MAN, AND AS A CHRISTIAN, ARE RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, BY THEIR AFFECTIONATE PASTOR & SINCERE FRIEND, THOMAS RAFFLES. PREFACE. 1 HE volume now presented to the public, owes its origin to one of those mysterious events in providence, which seem commissioned, at distant intei'vals, to alarm and admonish the church of God. A loss so sudden, so awful, so uni- versally deplored, as that of Mr. Spencer, demanded improvement. Many impres- sive discourses were delivered on the sad occasion, several of which have issued from the press. But his life was not less instructive than his death; and the more it was contemplated by his friends, the more deeply they felt the importance of rescuing from oblivion those traits of his character, and circumstances of his his- tor}% by which their own private circles had been interested. Upon my accep- VI tance of the solemn office from which he was so unexpectedly removed, his be- reaved people, anxious to see some au- thorized memoirs of their beloved pas- tor embodied and preserved, committed the mournful duty to my hands. My respect for the honoured dead, and at- tachment to the living, induced me to accept the charge : how I have executed the important trust reposed in me, I must now leave it with a candid public to decide. Various causes have contributed to create the delay which has attended the publication of the book. It was with considerable difiiculty that I collected the materials necessary for my purpose. I had imagined, from the general impres- sion which prevailed, at least amongst Mr. Spencer's friends, of the propriety of such a publication, that information would have been spontaneously offered from every quarter whence it might be furnished. But in this I was disap- pointed ; and it was some considerable time from the annunciation of my design, vu before I was sufficiently supplied to com- mence, with any degree of prudence, the composition of the volume. In addition to this, the laborious du- ties of a new and most extensive charge, conspired often to suspend the prosecu- tion of the work, for the appearance of which I knew many to be anxious, but none more so than myself. Had I at first anticipated the extent of these Memoirs, I should most pro- bably have shrunk from the undertaking. But the volume has grown almost im- perceptibly beneath my hand. What I have recorded of the dear departed is strictly true, so far as the veracity of the most excellent men can warrant the as- sertion ; and whatever opportunity the narrative has afforded of administering instruction I have gladly seized, and con- scientiously improved, leaving the issue to a higher agent. I have at length completed the work; and now, with the deepest humility and diffidence, I resign it to the blessing of God—the consideration of friendship— vau and the candour of the public. If to those who knew and loved him, it shall sometimes recall, with grateful emotions, the image and the excellencies of their departed friend ; if it shall induce any to emulate the bright example of his manly virtues, and his christian graces ; or if but one, anticipating or commenc- ing the laborious duties of the christian ministry, shall derive from the contem- plation of Spencer's character, instruc- tion, caution, or encouragement — I am amply recompensed — I have not labour- ed in vain ! THOMAS RAFFLES. ToXTETir P^RK, LlFERPOOL, Tehrunri/ Ibth, IS 13. y^, ■■•■A, VRJ TKEdL'b'GICi MEMOIRS, «irc. Seldom has a task so painfully arduous fallen to the lot of a biographer, as that which, in the mysterious providence of God, has unexpectedly devolved on me. The recollection of departed excellence, which a long series of years had de- veloped and matured, is mingled with a melancholy feeling, and not unfre- quently excites the tribute of a tear: but the individual who erects a monu- ment to friendship, genius, usefulness and piety, prematurely wrapt in the oblivion of the grave^ must necessarily B prosecute his mournful work with trem- bhng hands, and with a bleeding heart. And yet the mind is soothed by the communication of its sorrow ; the bosom is relieved of an oppressive burthen while it tells the virtues of the friend it mourns ; and the best feelings of the heart are satisfied with the conscious- ness, that instead of indulging in solitude the luxury of unavailing grief, it has employed its powers to pourtray, in lively colours, for the improvement of the living, the excellencies of the beloved and pious dead. For myself, with mourn- ful pleasure, I hasten to sketch the rude outline of one of the loveliest and mOSt finished characters the present age has known; — pausing only -to express my d€ep regret, that one so ripe for htavfen, and yet so eminently useful upon earth, should be called from the itriportant sphere he occupied, so soon ; and that to hands so feeble should be committed, — together with the solemn trust which he resigned in death, the painful duty of erecting this monument to his worth. Th^ Reverend Thomas Spencer, was born at Hertford, January 2,1, 1791. — He occupied the third place out of four Who surrounded his father's table, but shared equally with them in the tender and affectionate solicitudeof parents, who, placed in the middle sphere of human life, were respectable for their piety, and highly esteemed in the circle in which a wise Providence had allotted them to move. It cannot be expected that any thing peculiarly interesting should mark the early childhood of a youth, retired from the observation of the world, and far removed from the presence of any of those circumstances which might be con- sidered as favourable to the excitation of latent talent or the display of early genius. And yet the years of his infancy and childhood were not undistinguished by some intimations of a superior mind^ from which a thoughtful observer might have been induced to augur something of his future eminence;, and which his amiable father it appears did with si- lence watch. He himself observes, in a hasty sketch of his life, which now lies before me, — " As far back as I can re- collect, my memory was complimented by many as being very retentive, and my progress in knowledge was more consid- erable than that of my school-fellows; a natural curiosity and desire of know- ledge, I think 1 may say, without vanity, distinguished even the period of my in- fancy. I now remember questions that I asked when about four years old, which were rather singular, and which were confined chiefly to biblical subjects. No child could be more attached to places of worship, or could be more inquisitive about their concerns than myself; and I may add, more given to imitate the ac- tions of the minister and clerk."* When he had completed his fifth year, he suffered the severest earthly privation a child can know, in the loss of an affectionate mother. Though then too young correctly to appreciate a pa- rent's worth, he deeply felt the stroke ; * M. S. Mefnoirs. and in the liveliest manner he recalls the impression which at that early period this melancholy circumstance produced upon his tender mind. " When the fu- neral sermon was preached I could not help noticing the grief which seemed to pervade every person present. Deeply affected myself, I recollect, that after the service, as I was walking about our little garden with my disconsolate father, I said ;to him, ' Father, what is the reason that so many people cried at the meeting this afternoon.' — He, adapting his language to my comprehension, said, ' They cried to see little children like you without a I mother.'"* This event, which shed so deep a gloom upon his family, seems to have excited emotions of a serious nature in his mind never totally effaced. ,, From this time he applied himself g with diligence and delight to the busi- ; ness of his school. There was at this early age soniething amiable and engag- ing in his manners ; and this combined * M. S. Memoirs. 0 with his attention to his learning, soon secured the esteem and approbation of his respective teachers, and gained him, to- gether with the first place and highest honours of his school, the character of ^'agood boyy It is pleasing to mark the early combination of superior talent and sweetness of disposition in this extraor- dinary young man ; and it would be well, did the patrons of early genius more deeply ponder the reflection, that the graces of a meek and quiet spirit are far more estimable than the rare qualities of a prematurely vigorous mind ; and that the talents they cultivate with such anxious care, if unassociated with real excellence of soul, may render the idols of their fond adulation sources of anguish to themselves and incalculable mischief to mankind. Whilst a school-boy, he became pas- sionately fond of novels, histories, ad- ventures, &c. which he devoured with the greatest eagerness in numbers truly astonishing. The perusal of these he al- ways preferred to play and other amuse- ments adapted to his ye^rs. He delighted BOU^h in solitude ; nor did he know a happiness superior to that of being alone, with one of his favourite books. He took no delight in the games of his com- panions, nor did he ever mingle in their Httle feuds. His natural levity, how- ever, was excessive; and his wit, fed by the publications he so ardently perused, would often display itself in impurity of language to the laughter and amusement of his fellows. Yet he was not without his moments of serious reflection, and that of a very deep and dreadful kind. — iHe was often overwhelmed with religi- ^ous considerations, and the solemn ser- mons he sometimes heard, filled him with terror and alarm. So intolerable at one "period were the horrors of his mind, that in an agony of despair, he was tempted, as many have been before him, to destroy himself. — Thus at an early age he became intimately acquainted with the depravity of his nature ; and from the deep waters of spiritual distress through which he was called to pass, his soul imbibed an 8 air of humility and a habit of watchful- ness, which enabled him to meet with firmness the dangers of popularity, and to maintain a steady course, notwith- standing the press of sail he carried. To these deep convictions of his early years may perhaps be traced the pecu- liarly pressing and empassioned manner of his address, when he strove to arouse the slumbering conscience, or direct the weary wanderer to the cross of Christ. The sacred poems and the passages of holy writ, which most he loved, were those of a cast similar to that of his own fervent mind ; and I have heard many tell, with tears, of the animation and rapture with which he would often re- peat from that beautiful hymn of Henry Kirke White, his favourite author, whom in many , shades of character he much resembled, and alas! too much in his early and lamented fate — Once on the stormy seas I rode. The storm was loud, the night was dark ; The ocean yawn'd, and rudely blow'd The wind that toss'd my found'ring bark. m Deep horror then my vitals froze ; Death struck, I ceas'd the tide to stem^ When suddenly a star arose, It was the star of Bethlehem. It was my guide, my light, my all. It bade my dark forebodings cease ; And thro' the storm of danger's thrall It led me to the port of peace. Now safely rabor'd — my perils o'er, I'll sing, first in night's diadem, .For ever and for ever more. The star 1 — the star of Bethlehem. ,irhe bias and inclination of his mind J^egan at this early period to be disclosed ; preachers and preaching seemed to oc- o P^Py ^^^ ^^^ thoughts, and often he would exercise himself in addressing such da- ^ ,ji[iestic congregations as may be supposed to constitute the usual auditories of an infant. Thus in his earliest childhood he displayed his fond attachment to the Christian Ministry, and the first efforts of his infant mind were directed to that sublime and dignified profession, iri which the capacities of his maturer age were so brilliantly displayed. These infantine compositions were not infre- quently entirely his own; and when they 10 claimed not themcrit of originality, they were derived from hints collected from what he had heard or read. But his preaching exhibitions could not long be confined to the narrow circle and scanty congregation his father's house supplied ; tidings of his early pulpit talents soon cir- culated through the neighbourhood ; many were anxious to listen to the in- structions of this extraordinary child ; and most regarded him, as he himself expresses k, " a parson in embryo '' At this age also he Wrote verses. He seems however to have had but a mean opinion of his talent for poetry. It cer- tainly was not the art in which he most excelled. Though an individual may have a power of rhyming sufficient for throwing his feelings into tolerably easy v^rse, yet something more than this is required in a production which, undfer *he dignified title of a poem, is to meet the public eye. And while most men of an enlightened mind and cultivated taste, have solicited the nmses' aid for purposes of private inslruction and amusement, 11 and the domestic and social circle have been privileged to share in both, yet is it not necessary to the perfection of the pulpit orator, that he should be an ex,- quisite poet, nor is it at all a detraction from the greatness of his character, tliat the world should hesitate to pronounce unqualified praise upon poetical effusions, on which the eye or the ear of friendship might linger with delight. These observations will serve to ac- count for the circumstance, that none of Mr. Spencer's poetical productions are preserved in these pages.. And while some partial friends, who saw with plea- sure the pieces which circulated in pri- vate, may regret for the moment their entire exclusion here, his biographer hopes, that he shall render a mor^ essen- tial service to the memory of his de- parted friend, by occupying their place, with extracts from his papers of a moife solid and interesting kind. These early displays of talent how- ever introduced him to the notice and friendship of some individuals of wealth 12 and consequence. This was doubtless considered by himself and bis Ibnd parent as no inconsiderable circum- stance in the history and prospects of a child, who, if he rose into eminence at all, could have no facilities afforded him, by the auspicious omens of his birth, or the rank of his father's family. But alas ! the fond anticipations which from this quarter he cherished, and perhaps with some degree of reason, were not all realized, to the full extent to which his sanguine mind had urged them. It was doubtless well for him, however, that they were not. The disappointments of childhood will give a sober cast to the else too glowing pictures and too anxious hopes of youth ; and while they excite a caution in respect to the confidence we should place in the prospects that unfold themselves before us, admirably prepare the mind for the event, when the pledges of friendship lie long unredeemed, and the fair blossoms of hope are blasted and destroyed. ' In the mean time he applied himself .13 with surprising diligence to the acquisi- tion of knowledge. In his favourite pur- suit he met with the most important aid, from the valuable friendship of the late Rev. Ebcnezer White, then the pastor of the Independent Church at Hertford.— For this amiable and pious man, so early lost to the church of Christ,* Mr. Spencer ever cherished and expressed the warmest affection ; whilst he survived but a few ■weeks the melancholy pleasure of pay- ing the last tribute of respect to his be- loved remains, and giving utterance to Hhe warm and authorized feelings of his ^heart, in a most impressive oration at his grave. From Mr. White he learned the rudiments of the Latin tongue ; and tho* * Mr. White died Sunday, May 5th, 1811. An inte- resting memoir of his life (together with his select remains) has been published by the Rev. Joseph Fletcher, A. M. of Blackburn ; with a recommendatory preface, by the Rev. Dr. Collyer, of London. In the melancholy but pleasing task of selecting these papers for the press, Mr. Fletcher was originally jouied by the subject of these memoirs:— but whilst Mr. Spencer was thus engaged in rearing a mo- nument to the memory of his departed Iriend— he too was suddenly removed, and it devolved upon the hand of friendship to perform the same office for himself. 14 the early removal of that gentleman to Chester deprived him of his kind and va- luable assistance, vet his father, w ho had discernment to perceive, and wisdom to foster the unfolding talents of his son, afforded him the means of nwre ample instruction, by sending him to the best school bis native town supplied. Appro- bation cannot be expressed in language too unqualified of the <:onduct, in this respect, pursued by the parents of this amiable youth, who though surrounded by every circumstance of a worldly nature to -check its progress, yet nobly determined to afford every degree of culture, which such sacrifices as they might be able to make would yield to a mind which promised to rise superior to the obscurity of its birth, and consecrate -at some future period no common share of genius to the noblest and the best of causes. Nor must these expressions pass Tinmingled by regret, that many impor- tant accessions are lost to the interests of religion and literature by the neglect of ignorant, or the reluctance of sordid parents, who in the one case have not the capacity to discover talent, or in the other a disposition, where their Avorldly circumstances are narrow and scanty, to make any sacrifice of ease on their part, or expected emolument on that of the child, for its cultivation. Full many a gem of purest lay serene, 'File dark unfathora'd caves of oceaii bear ; Full many a flow!r is bom to blnsh unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. *»'^''At about the age of twelve yearsj Mr. Spencer considers himself to have become the subject of serious impressions of a deep and permanent kind, and to liave felt something experimentally of the powei' of religion. This most' in- teresting circumstance he simply states in the memoir of his life before refen^d to, but mentions no particulars respect- ing the mode in which these impressions were wrought upon his mind, or in what way they operated upon his character, his conduct, and his vieWs. The gmerdl effect, howe\^er, he distinctly recordsto have been that of hei^tening 'hT$ dc- 16 sire of the Christian ministy, for which, it was strongly impressed upon his mind, God had destined him ; whilst it reconcil- ed him to his present situation, which was most uncongenial to the bias of his mind, and most unfriendly to the accomplish- ment of his ardent wishes ; for the cir- cumstances of his father's family were at that time of such a nature as to ren- der his assistance necessary between the hours of school, and at length compelled his parent, however reluctantly, entirely to remove him. His removal from school, however, was not in consequence of his fathers having abandoned the prospect of his one day entering on the work of the ministiy , but an act dictated by prudence, which afforded him an op- portunity patiently to wait, and calmly to watch ' the leadings of providence, and the occurrence of any circumstances which might tend to fix the future des- tiny of his son. These prudential ar- rangements, however, were a source of keenest anguish to the mind of Spencer. He bowed at first with reluctance to the 17 yoke of manual labour when but par- tially imposed — rapidly performed the appointed task, and leaped with joy from toils so repugnant to the elevated and ardent desires of his soul, to solitude and to books ; and when compelled entirely to leave his school and pursue from day to day the twisUng of worsted, which he calls the worst part of his father s business^ his grief was poignant and his regret se- vere. But religion, in early life, assumed in him her mildest and most amiable frms. Its characters were those of uiij- complaining acquiescence in the will of God, and cheerful resignation to his earthly lot. If, indeed, with patient submission to the arrangements of Pro- vidence, he occasionally mingled a warm expression of desire, and suffered his imagination to dwell upon the bright visions of better days, and the animat- ing promise of pursuits more congenial to the tone and inclination of his mind, which hope would give, till, for a mo- ment, it seemed reluctant to return ; — it was natural ;— nor is it incompatible with c 18 the most perfect resignation to the divine will thus to dwell on scenes of promised pleasure with delight. Such a combina- tion of light and shade is beautiful in na- ture; and not infrequently in the history of a Christian's feelings does the sunshine of resignation break in upon the tears of sorrow, and produce a commixture of in- definable feelings, which, like the bow of heaven, are a pledge not unredeemed, of fairer scenery and happier days. The writer, in thus recording the mingled feelings of his friend, has par- ticipated too deeply in circumstances and emotions similar to his, not to do it with the warmth of sympathy. He knows how hard it is to give a cheerful and un- divided attention to one pursuit, though less repugnant than mechanical employ, when the- heart is intently fixed upon another. Ill does the mind adapt itself to the narrow rules of business, the drudgery of manual labour, or the habits of com- merce, when panting after study, devoted to the love of books, or eager to engage in the noblest work that can occupy the 19 powers of man, — the ministry of the gospel : — impressed with a consciousness, that if it is the will of God that the desire enkindled and cherished in the bosom should be fulfilled, some event will trans- pire to afford facilities and point the way, — but day after day expecting that event in vain, till hope deferred makes the heart sick, and all the visions with which she has charmed, seem gradually yielding to the influence of despair. Yet even here, religion has a power to sooth ; she sheds the milder influence of resignation, when the glare of hope is gone, — " Gives even affliction a grace. And reconciles man to his lot.'' He continued working at his father's business and in his father's house, for about a year and a half, anxiously ex- pecting some situation to present itself more congenial to his wishes, but no circumstance arose to interrupt the mo- notonous sameness of his every day's employ. It seems, however, that he still attended to the cultivation of his mind, and never wholly lost sight of 20 the Christian ministry. Meanwhile bu- siness languished, and his father was de- sirous of seeing him comfortably settled. Their mutual anxiety increasing to im- patience, and his father reading on the cover of a Magazine an advertisement for a situation which appeared to be suitable, they set out for London, but upon an interview with the advertiser they found insuperable difficulties in the way, and returned, with disappointment, to Hertford. Some weeks after this fruitless jour- ney, Mr. Spencer was recommended by a friend to place his son with Messrs. Winwood and Tbodey, respectable glo- vers in the Poultry, who also introduced him to Mr. Tbodey 's notice. The first interview between the parties was satis- factory ; CA'ery arrangement wa& made preparatory to his being bound appren- tice, and Thomas soon after entered, in a new capacity, this worthy gentleman's house. The services connected witli his new situation, the belter part of which was far from grateful to the wishes of his 21 heart, slill panting for the ministry with unconquerable attachment, were some of them such as his spirit, at first, but re- luctantly submitted to perform ; yet aware that then the providence of God pointed out no other path, he cheerfully acquiesced and exchanged, not without regret, the calm and tranquil enjoyments of an endeared domestic circle, lor the bosom of strangers, the drudgery of a shop, and the bustle of the Poultry. — But here, as formerly at school, his ami- able manners — his modest behaviour, and engaging appearance, soon won the af- fection of the family, (which was large,) whilst his fervent piety and superior talents, excited emotions of a higher order. An extract of a letter, obligingly addressed to me from Mr. Thodey him- self, will best record his manner of life, whilst under that gentleman's roof. " His appearance, his genuine mo- desty, diligence and integrity, created an interest in our hearts, so as it were almost to identify him as one of our own chil- 22 dren ; he shared our privileges ; united with us in family devotion; and I occa- sionally took the same opportunites of conversing with him on divine things, which I had been accustomed to do Avith all those under my care. I well recollect one Sabbath evening, being thus engaged with him alone, when fiom his pertinent replies to some questions I put to him about the concerns of his soul and the importance of an interest in the Saviour, I perceived he possessed an uncommon share of talent and intellect. This con- versation gave me an impressive idea of his general knowledge of the doctrines of the gospel, and I saw in him the traits of a very strong and ardent mind." Whilst at Mr. Thodey's he conscien- tiously devoted himself to promote the in- terests of his employers, notwithstanding his natural aversion to business. He even became peculiarly attached to the family, and receiving from them tokens of affec- tionate attention, superior to any thing he had a right to expect, and of which 23 he always spoke with gratitude, he be- came as happy as the circumstances of his lot could possibly allow him to be. He formed an acquaintance with several pious young men, who, though rather above his station, did not hesitate to respect genius and religion, even in a lad of inferior rank in life. Several times, also, he exercised his preaching talents at the house of a relation of the young man who was then his fellow- servant, but was afterwards a student in the same academy with himself, and is now a useful minister of the gospel.* He describes the exercises of his mind and the mode in which he passed his time, during his residence in the Poultry, with great simplicity and feeling. " At this place my time was entirely employed, as it was fit it should be, in executing the will of my two masters ; ♦ The Rev. Thomas Heward, of Clare, to whom I cheerfully take this opportunity of publicly rendering ray thauks for several interesting letters of Mr. Spencer's, which will appear in these pages. 24 for the young man, who was active and friendly, I formed a great attachment, and was indeed interested in the welfare of the whole family. Marks of respect were shown me which were, I believe unusual to any of my predecessors. I made my- self upon the whole tolerably com- fortable ; some difficulties and disagreeable circumstances of course fell to my lot, yet upon the >vhole I had many enjoy- ments. My acquaintance, whilst here, encreased : with several young men, who indeed were rather above my station in life, I was particularly intimate, and more than twice or thrice did I give an exhortation at the house of a relative of the young man's, who was my fellow- servant. The opportunities I had of hear- ing the word were very delightful, and a higher relish was given to them by the toils and business of the week."* To youth who may be placed in simi- lar circumstances with the amiable subject of" these memoirs, his mild and cheerful ♦ M. S. ISIemoirs. 25 deportment in scenes so uncongenial to the bias of his mind, should prove a salutary and impressive lesson. Impatience and fretfulness are but ill adapted to the fur- therance of any design, and a disposi- tion to murmur, under the arrangements of our present lot, marks a state of mind most unfriendly to the patient sufferance of the toils, the anxieties and the disap- pointments inseparably connected with the ministerial life ; and whilst it is an obvious fact, that every young man possessed of piety cannot be emj)loyed as a preacher of the gospel, to such as conceive themselves endowed with ta- lents for that solemn office, and yet are placed in circumstances, which seem to forbid the indulgence of a hope they still cherish with an anxious pleasure ; — to such, the subsequent history of Mr. Spencer, will afford another striking proof, in an innumerable series, — that where God has actually called and quali- fied an individual for the ministry, he will, in his own time and by unexpected methods, make the path of duty plain 26 before that individual's feet. Let no one, then, rashly attempt to break the con- nected chain of opposing circumstances by which his providence may have surround- ed him ; but rather wait in patience till the hand that has thus encircled him opens up a passage, and by events, which may justly be considered as intimations of the divine will, invites him to advance. These remarks, the result of frequent observations on the ways of God in cases similar to this, not improperly connect the future scenes of Mr. Spencer's life, with those we have already contemplated. For the time was now arrived, that the cloud which had hovered over his future prospects should be dissipated, and ano- ther path, — a path to which he had from infancy directed his attention with fond anticipation and intense desire, present its varied and momentous objects of pur- suit for the cheerful, but, alas I the short- lived exercise of his superior powers. After a residence of about four months with his employers in the Poultry, cir- cumstances occurred of such a nature as 27 to render his services no longer neces- sary, on which account he left London and returned for a while to his parents at Hertford; but some time previous to the event which caused his departure from London, he had been introduced to the notice of Thomas Wilson, Esq. the benevolent and indefatigable trea- surer of the Academy for educating young men for the work of the ministry, at Hoxton. Mr. Wilson perceived in him piety and talents far above his years. His whole appearance and his en- gaging manners excited in that gentle- man's breast, an interest in this amia- ble youth, which he never lost, and he gave it as his decided opinion, (without elating him with a hope, of the ulti- mate failure of which, there was still a probability,) that his views should in some way or other be directed towards the ministry. This revolution in Mr. Spencer's af- fairs was not unnoticed or unimproved by Mr. Wilson, who wisely regarding it as a favourable opportunity for car- 28 rying into effect those generous designs respecting him, which horn their first interview he had cherished, sent for him ; conversed witli him upon the subject, and introduced him to the Rev. Wilham Hordle, of Harwich, a gentle- man to whose care some of the young men were committed, whose youth or other circumstances did not allow of their immediate entrance into the acade- my, though they were considered as proper objects of its patronage. To this gentleman, at length, Mr. Wilson pro- posed to send Mr. Spencer for trial of his talents, and piety, and for preparatory studies; a proposition to which Mr. Spen- cer acceded with unfeigned gratitude and joy. The time fixed for his entrance into Mr. Hordle's family was January, 1806. The interval between this period and that of his departure from the Poultry, which was in October, J 805, he spent in his father's house, and for the most part in his father's business. Though this was repugnant to his feel- ings, he had yet learned, by five months' 29 absence, in the bustle of a shop in the city, to appreciate the calm and tranquil pleasures of a domestic circle, to which he became more endeared as the lovely qualities of his mind unfolded, and the dignified and pleasing prospects of his future life were disclosed. But though considerable light was thrown upon his destiny, yet on leaving London it was not finally determined ; and this pressed with peculiar weight upon his spirit, which, susceptible of the slight- est emotion, must have deeply felt in leaving one scene of action, the un- certainty which as yet partially veiled from him that which should succeed. Of the day of his departure he thus writes : — " I anticipated it with mingled emotions ; a strong desire to see my father, mother, brother and sisters, a sensation of sorrow at parting with my old friends, and the idea of uncertainty as to my future engagements in life, equally affected me. Although I had been absent from home but five months, the desire 1 had again to see Hertford was so very great, nor do I suppose I shall often spend more pleasant evenings than the first one I spent at home, after the first time of being absent for any considerable season ; two or three days were spent in seeing other relations and friends, till — ."* Here the narrative, first referred to, and often quoted, writtenby his own hand, and evidently for his own use, abruptly closes ; and here for a moment his bio- grapher will pause. It is a charming domestic piece, which the hand of his de- parted friend, obedient to the warm and vivid recollections of his fervent mind, has sketched ; but scarcely has he pictured to himself the countenances of that in- teresting group which gathered around him again to bid him welcome to his father's house, and committed the rude outline to his paper, than he is sud- denly called ofiP, and lays down the recording pen for ever ! So did his life abruptly terminate ; but the mys- terious voice that summoned him from his endeared connexions upon earth in- * M. S. Memoirs- 31 troduced his emancipated spirit to the bosom of a happier family above — not another family, but one most intimately connected with his own, for which whilst here he cherished such a warm affection. The sentiment this sentence breathes was familiar to himself, and often seen in the energy and fervour with which he would repeat these admirable lines of Kelly : — One family, we dwell in him ; One church above, beneath. Though now divided by the stream. The narrow stream of death. One army of the living God, To his command we bow; Part of the host have crossed the flood, And part are crossing now. Ten Thousand to their endless home This awful moment fly; And we are to the margin come. And soon expect to die. Dear Jesus, be our constant guide ; Then when the word is giv'n. Bid death's cold stream and flood divide And land us safe in Heav'n. At Harwich Mr. Spencer was com- pletely in his element. He commenced the year 1806 in Mr. Hordle's family, 32 and was then about completing the fif- teenth of his own life. At this interesting age, when the powers of the mind begin rapidly to unfold, — when a tone is often given to the future cast of thought, and sentiments and habits are imbibed and formed, which constitute the basis o;;^ become the germ of the matured and finished character ; — it was a circum-^ stance peculiarly auspicious in the his- tory of this lamented youth, that he was introduced to the pious and en-, lightened care of such a man as Mr,^^ Hordle. In his preaching, in his lec-,j tures, and in his conversation, he saw^ most admirably applied, those ele- mentary principles of theological sci- ence, the scholastic forms of which must else have been unintelligible or insipid to his mind. In the liberal and sacred current of his habitual thought, Mr. Spen- cer would find a safe channel for the yet infant stream of his own conceptions; whilst he would imperceptibly form his character upon that mild, correct, and amiable model, constantly before him. 33 It must be of incalculable advan- tage to a young man destined for the Christian ministry, as it evidently was to our departed Spencer, to pass a year or two beneath a faithful and enlightened pastor's roof, — to be a spectator of his toil, — a daily witness of the varied scenes of duty and of trial which the Christian ministry perpetually presents. It is true, that in academies, lectures on the pastoral care are read, and discourses on the du- ties of the Christian ministry delivered : but one week of actual observation must impress more deeply on the mind all that such lectures can contain, and unnum- bered other circumstances, equally im- portant, but which no general analysis can include, than months or years of the most devoted study. And to the diligent improvement of this peculiar advantage, perhaps, may in part be attributed that early maturity at which Mr. Spencer's capacity for the sacred office had arrived. He had the seriousness, the reflection of the pastor while but a student ; and when 34 he actually entered on that holy office, the exercises of the pulpit, and the hiibits of his ministerial liie, bespoke the know- ledge of long experience, rather than of recent theory, and indicated the presence of a masters^ not a learners hand. At Harwich his diligence was ex- emplary: a judicious course of reading, was marked out for hirn by his respected tutor, which he conscientiously and un- weariedly pursued ; but besides this, he had the use of an excellent libraiy, with rich supplies from which he amply oc- cupied his leisure hours. He had made some considerable progress in the Latin ; and soon after his introduction to Mr. Hordle, he commenced, under his direc- tion, the study of the Hebrew. With this sacred language he was particularly pleased, and soon demonstrated his at- tachment and his diligence, by complet- ing, with considerable labour, an abridg- ment of Parkhurst's Hebrew Lexicon. This work he accomplished in a small pocket manual, which, proved of con- 35 slderable use to him, and was almost his const, nt companion.* Here, too, he first became acquainted with the principles of Moral Philosophy ; and whilst from the lectures of Dod- dridge, and the essays of Locke, His mhid derived vigour and energy ; from the study of the Latin poets, and the classic authors of our own country, it gained amusement, and his compositions gradu- ally assumed an 'dir of elegance and ease. But not only in literature and science was his progress conspicuous during his residence at Harwich ; but he also made considerable advances in the knowledge and experience of divine things. That in the midst of all his studies, which yet he pursued with diligence and ar- dour, religion was the object of his chief regard and dearest to his heart, is evident from the uniform strain of his letters * Of this Manual he made two fair copies, one of which is ill possession of his tutor, and the other is amongst the papers from which these Memoirs are sup- plied. The design is honourable to his judgment, and the execution to his perseverance and his accuracy at tluir early age. 36 to liis most intimate and beloved friend Mr. He ward, whose fellow labourer he had been at Mr. Thodey's, and the pri- vation of whose society he seemed deeply to deplore. His views of the Christian ministry became more and more con- sistent, and the impression of its vast importance more deep and solemn on his mind. The intense desire with which he panted for that sacred and honourable oflfice became tempered, though never checked, by an awe of its vast responsi- bility, and a consciousness of incapacity for the full disdiarge of its numerous and laborious duties. With Mr. Hordle he would some- times indulge in the most free and un- reserved converse on the state of his heart, and his private walk with God. In such conversations he was always much afifected, and susceptible, from the constitution of his nature, of the most delicate impressions and the keenest feel- ings, it may be well supposed that in religion he would deepli^ feel. Hence the tenderness of his conscience, and the 37 susceptibility of his mind, would often overwhelm his bosom with convictions of guilt, and agitate him with unnum- bered inward conflicts. Yet in the midst of all he evidently grew in spiritual strength — his mind acquired confidence — his principles became daily more and more confirmed — and he had advanced far in a deep and experimental acquaint- ance with the ways of God at an age when such advancement is rarely to be found Whilst at Harwich he regidarly shared with Mr. H. the pleasing duty of conducting the devotions of the family, and frequently performed the sacred ser- vice with an enlargement of heart, a fervour and propriety of expression truly astonishing. But this was a circumstance he particularly wished should be con- cealed ; his modesty and diffidence shrunk from the observation of men, even of his nearest friends ; and in one of his letters to his friend* he writes, " My situ- ation is comfortable, more so than ever; * Mi". Heward. I am considered like one of the family ; of an evening I generally, by Mr. H.'s desire, engage in family prayer, he in the morning. O tell it to nobody on any account. When he is out I always do." To those who knew not the beloved original, the outlines of whose character these pages but hnperfectly present, the detail of minute particulars may be un- interesting and insipid ; but those who were familiar with him will dwell with pleasure on the faintest lineament that may be here preserved of a dear departed friend, so. ardently, so deservedly es- teemed ; whilst a combination of these varied and retired beauties may form a portrait on which the eye of a stranger may dwell witli admiration, and the mind reflect with profit. It is in confi- dence of this that his biographev pauses to record another and a pleasing trait in his character at this early age — the pecu- liar warmth and constancy oT his friend- ship. He seems, indeed, at this period to have had but one bosom friend, e:?c- cept those of his own immediate family ; 39 to him his letters breathe an affection the most glowing, spiritual, and pure; and perhaps no little incident more strikingly displays the tender cast of his mind than that which he himself relates, with great simplicity, in a letter to his friend : — " This morning we read (M. H. and myself) the second night of Young's Night Thoughts — the very place that treats of friendship ; I was rather affected at the reading of it ; and after it was fi- nished, and we were alone, I told him (Mr. H.) I was no stranger to Young's sentiments in that place. He asked me 'if I had lost any friends?' I told him no — not by death. He asked me ' if I had by treachery ?' O no, Sir. 'How then?* Only by separation T Thus in pleasant and farriiliar inter- course with one for whom he mingled veneration with affection, and of whom he never ceased to speak with all the rapturous energy of gratitude and filial love — in exercises and pursuits every way adapted to satisfy his ardent thirst of knowledge — in scenes and in society 40 congenial to the tone and bias of his mind — in conscientious preparation for closer studies and severer labour, pre- vious to his entrance on that sacred office long the object of his choice — and in deep communion with himself and God — did he pass the allotted period of his stay at Harwich^ As the term (a year) fixed for his residence with Mr. Hordle drew towards its close, his anxiety considerably in- creased ; he anticipated, with regret, a departure from scenes and society so much endeared to him ; and the trial through which he was to pass previous to his admission into the academy at Hoxton, when viewed in connexion with his youth, excited in his mind consi- derable apprehension and dread. But the hope of success never entirely aban- doned him ; whilst the pleasing prospect of being again associated with his friend, who had by this time entered as a student in the same academy, tended not a little to gladden and animate his heart. In November he drew up a state- 41 ment of his religious experience, his views of theological truth, and his rea- sons for desiring the Christian ministry, according to a standing order of the aca- demy with respect to young men pro- posing themselves as candidates for its patronage. These papers, written in a style of dignified simplicity, and dis- closing a knowledge and experience of divine things, which in a youth, scarcely sixteen years of age, must have excited the admiration of all to whom they were submitted, — were duly presented to the committee, and passed, though not with- out some difficulty, arising from his age ; but the extraordinary qualifications he appeared to possess, and the strong re- commendations of his friend and tutor, Mr. Hordle, overcame this obstacle, and the 5th of January following was ap- pointed for his personal appearance be- fore the constituents of that institution, in order to give them a specimen of his talents for public speaking. Mr. Spencer left Mr. Hordle's family on the 18th of December, and spent the 42 interval of time between his departure from Harwich and the day of his exami- nation at Hoxton (which was postponed to the 7th of January) at his father's house at Hertford. Whose imagination does not follow this beloved youth into the bosom of his family again ; who does not picture to himself the charming scenes of social and domestic joy his presence would in- spire. With what tenderness and affection would his venerable father bid him wel- come to his paternal home again ; with what delight would he gaze upon the animated features of his countenance, smiling in all the ingenuousness of youth ; while with nobler feelings of delight he marked the unfolding graces of his mind, saw his improvement in the best of sci- ences— religion, and beheld him daily growing in favour both with God and man. With what adoring gratitude would they retrace together the scenes of his childhood, and the many alarming ob- stacles which once almost forbad the indulgence of a hope that the object of :43 their ardent wish would ever be attained; and how, in the transport of those happy hours, would his family anticipate lor him they loved, in the future stages of an honourable ministry, years of useful- ness and comfort. Ah ! pleasing visions never to be realized ! Little did that in- teresting g^roup conceive that it was his appointed lot but just to taste the joys and sorrows of a pastor's life, and then expire. Already they had seen the bud swelling with fulness — teeming with life ; now thev beheld the blossom, and ad- mired its beauty ; and they thought long to gaze upon the promised charms of the unfolded flower ; happy strangers to the melancholy and mysterious fact, that so soon as it had opened it must be suddenly cut down and die! But such and so frail is man — " In the morning they are like grass that groweth up, in the evening it is cut down and wUhereth." — Psalm xc. 5, 6. Such and so uncertain is human life — " // is even as a vapour^ that appeareth for a lilik time, and then vanishtth awaij.'^ — James iv. 14. 44 At this interesting period of Mr. Spencer's life it will be pcrhiips gratify- ing to the reader to pause, and gain a more familiar acquaintance with him, than can be supplied by a narration of events and circumstances in his history, by perusing some extracts from his cor- respondence and other papers, which will throw much light upon the forma- tion of his character, and afford a pleas- ing specifiien of his early genius* » iu vill 99 do wrong if you do not join God's people in that manner, for it is an incumbent duty. Your going to Hoxton would not make any difference, for the students there sit down at the different places in London — some at Hoxton chapel — some at Mr. Brooksbank's — some at Mr. Clay- ton's, and in short wherever they have been members before, or where the Mi- nister admits them as occasional commu- nicants. For myself, I cannot yet think of doing it. I am glad you are reading Halyburton's life, and hope you will find it profitable. I hardly know what to do about the Youths' Magazine — carriage is too dear ; however, I think you had better send them with your next letter ; all, you know, except September and October last, which I have. " Questions lately studied. — ' What perfections dwell in God, and how do you prove them to be in him without referring to the scriptures?' " ' How do you prove that the scrip- tures are the word of God?' " ' How do we know that the scrip- 100 tures have been faithfully conveyed to us, and not corrupted?' " I have not heard any thing of Sa- muel for these two letters ; hope he is well. Make my best respects to him. And now, commending you to our glo- rious Saviour, and hoping that one day it will appear more particularly, that we were designed for great blessings to each other, I remain, " Your affectionate k faithful friend, " THOMAS SPENCER." No. 12. Harwich, June 14, 1806. " My dearest Friend, " I received your parcel the morning after you sent it, and read your letter with the greatest pleasure. You judge rightly when you say, you suppose that I was anxiously waiting to hear from you. The providential dealings of God lOJ Avitli you have (I hope) filled me with wonder and praise. Surely both of us have great reason to say, ' Bless the Lord, 0 my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name.' Let us not forget any of his benefits, but for these displays of his goodness, dedicate our bodies and souls to his glory, which is only our reason- able service. Let us both rejoice, that God has put this his treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of inan. Little did you expect a few years ago, that you should be providentially called into the work of the ministry ; but now you can rejoice, that unto you, who, in your own view', are less than the least ol all the saints, is this grace given, that you might preach among poor sinners the unsearch- able riches of Christ. Observe now the deaUngs of Providence hi this circum- stance. You are in a waiting frame, and when so God appears to grant you the desire of your heart. He has now made your path clear before you, and as to its being the call of God, I have not the least 102 doubt ; but however, I hope you will re- collect, that though your way has been thus shewn to you, it may not always be so ; difficulties, great and many, may await us both in our journey through life ; but God has said, when thou passest thro' the waters, I will be with thee, and will prevent the Hoods from overflowing thee. Having such promises as these, my dear friend, let us press forward, and with holy resignation say, ' Where he appoints I'll go and dwell.' 'lis true, we know not what a day may bring forth ; but this we know, that God will never forsake those who put their trust in him, but will be their sun to illumine them, their shield to defend them, and their God eternally to bless them. 1 do not at all wonder at your being perplexed, in your mind about mentioning matters to . Had I been in your state, I should have dreaded it ; but you did well in making it a matter of prayer before God, and God was very gracious in ordering it as he has done. You know that prayer to God is tlie best way of making things J03 sure — so you, I trust, have found it, I should like to know the other circum- stances at which you hint, but 1 dare say they are too tedious to mention ; perhaps we may see each other soon, when conver- sation will settle it. I am much pleased, nay delighted, with the conversation you had with Mr. W. He is, I doubt not, a warm friend to the cause of Christ, and does all he possibly can to forward it in the world. I am like him in regard to zealous and earnest preachers, and like to see animation and life in a pulpit, and where the preacher's mind is fettered with notes there can be none. You know I thought, when I lived with you, that and were good sort of men ; they would not do any harm, but wanted to see something of their growing useful- ness. I don't doubt, but I shall soon have a letter from you, dated Hoxton Academy, kc; and I wish we may be there together, for it will be very awk- ward for you or me at first to go there when there is nobody we know. I wish we might be in the same class, kc. so 104 that we might be helpers one to another, and sliew that we are the servants of the living God. I know that Mr. H. writes to Mr. W. about me. I know I am, as Mr. W. says, young and inexperienced ; but I want divine grace, kc. to strengthen me for every duty, and prepare me for every duty. But, however, 1 don't think that Mr. T. knows any thing about the time when I shall be admitted. Though I did not mention it in my last, yet I do not think Mr. 's is a proper church for you to join as a student ; when con- sideied as a Christian, merely, it would do very well, but as now you are to con- sider yourself as about entering the work of the ministry, it alters the case. I never heard Mr. , therefore know nothing ol him, or his church ; but Mr. B 1 have heard more than once or twice ; and if I were to recommend any church that I know in London as ])roper for you to join, it should be his. I have often thought that I should like to sit untler him myself. Concerning j/oiu re- ligious experience — doctrinal senlimtnts — and 105 ministerial motives' — I should rather think that your own phui, however simple, would be much better than any I can pre- scribe ; but as you know most of my tenets pretty well, I do not know that I shall now write a confession, but will here give you a few directions only, which, if )'0U like, you can adopt, but if not, discard them totally. In your religious experience, I would observe the order of time, state when you first re- ceived serious impressions, how they were fastened on your mind, what effect they had on your conduct, kc. in your own way. In your doctrinal sentiments, begin with the object of worship — God. State your views of the persons in the Godhead, quote scripture to prove your ideas of the trinity. Then about man, his creation, lull, ruin, recovery, and so on. Be particular in saying there is no salvation but in Christ. Speak your * Referring to that suniniai-y of his views on these points, which, as a candidrtte for admission into Hoxlou Academy, his friend was about to present to the torn- Oiittee of that institution. 106 opinion of the influences oF the spirit, the efficacy of divine grace, in tlie con- version of sinners. The dealings of God with his people. The doctrines of elec- tion, perseverance, kc. Then that you think, (if you do) that it is the duty of all men to believe the gospel (I believe it.) That God will soon judge the world. That sinners will be sent to hell, and saints taken to heaven and glory, kc. kc. I have read Mr. H 's piece against C., and I by no means approve of it. He evidently has written on a subject for which he is by no means capable, for he does not at all understand the difference between natural and moral inability — on which my mind has lately been much employed, and about which Mr. H. and I have conversed. There have been two pieces about it in some of the last nuin- befs of the Evangelical Magazine. Now, natural or physical inability is such as a man feels who, we'll suppose, is quite blind, when another tells him to open his eyes. Now this is naturalli^ im- possible. Moral inability is such as a 107 man feels if he is told, for instance, to come to Harwich. He says, I am very busy, and indeed I can't come: now we know he migki come if he would. He has power to walk to the coach, &:c., but his cannot is his -wlU not. Now, w hich of these two is the inability of sinners to come to Christ ? Pause here a moment, and think. I once w^as almost ready to suppose, it was hke that of a blind man lo open his eyes; but if so, why does God command him to see? Why does he feel remorse that he has not done so on his death-bed, or at other times? He knows he might have done otherwise if he would. The swearer may forbear to take God's name if he will : can he not? If not, why will not God hold him guilt- less? Their defect is then not natural, but moral : that is, it is a defect in the will, which nothing but grace can re- medy. Now, then, I am well convinced with Mr. C., that the defect is not natu- ral, but moral — what think you? Per- haps you never thought much on the subject. I would advise you to read a 108 little tract of Moseley's on the subject. Now Mr. H. does not understand this dis- tinction, but supposes, by saying it is not natural ; we mean, that it is not common to all, or universal : now we know it is, and that in this sense it is not natural : but had Mr. C. used the word physical^ or explained his meaning a little, perhaps he would not have been attacked bv an Antinomian . " I am very glad you sent the Youths' Magazines : I like them very well. I am very sorry that you were not at prayer meeting in time ; but 1 attach not the least blame to you, because of your hard work on Saturday, and so late. I think there is generally something to embitter our comlbits a little. I should also have rather heard that you were very happy in the time of prayer, than that you were very uncomfortable ; but don't be cast down. Mr. W. encourages you ; your friends do the same, and God appears to be on your side ; and you know, if he is for you, none can prevail against you. Do, now, take encouragement from the 109 circumstance of the cheesemonger's man, (now the Rev. J. G. of Devon,) and Mr. C, kc; and I am confident, that as God sends you into tiie work of the ministry, he will give you abihties sufficient. — Trust, then, in him — pray to him — be humble — be resigned — and I do hope you will experience divine consolations, heavenly support, and abilities suffi- cient. The preaching at the poor-house pleased me much ; your text was very appropriate ; and there is something in the nature of the gospel which is pecu- liarly adapted to the poor. Now there does not seem any congruity between a fine chapel, very elegant and grand, with carriages at the door for the hearers, and the doctrines of the meek and lowly Jesus. This does not, I say, appear fit ; and the gospel was originally preached to the poor. I am glad you was not em- barrassed at all, and hope you will be the means of doing much good. Get your subject well into your mind for Mr. K.'s room; think of how you shall ar- 110 range it, &:c. as Mr. W. told you. Tell me in your next your plan, heads, fcc, and whether you use notes or no. If you think you cannot do without short ones, use them ; but do not slavishly attend to them. I think you had better work it well into your mind first, and then de- liver it extempore, or without notes. Don't be too delicate, or mind too much the smells of rooms, and so on ; but con- sider hhn who endured all kinds of hard- ships, lest you be weary, and faint in your mind. I find I must not expect to hear from you till after your examination in July : well, let me have the more when you do send. About the logical definition, I shall say no more ; only that I think you are very much mistaken when you imagine that I increase / so much in knowledge, for I really do not think I do so much as 1 ought ; indeed these blundering letters are evidence of it, so pray don't flatter. I did write a little in my last about my present ex- perience, I believe, because I thought it Ill was what you wanted. You say it is not quite possible to recollect all one has written in a former letter : I say, I know it is quite impossible. You say you should like to see the answers to the ques- tions which I sent you ; having room, I will transcribe some of them for you. " Question. — ' How do you prove the existence of a God, without referring to the scriptures, or from the light of nature?' *' Answer. — ' (1st) All nations, Hea- thens, Jews, Mahometans, and Christians, harmoniously consent that there is a God, who created, preserves, and governs the world.' " ' (2d) There is a great impression of Deity on the mind of every man ; that is, an indistinct idea of his being, and a readiness to acquiesce in the truth of his existence.' " ' (3d) The works of creation demon- strate it ; their alterations and dependence prove them not to have been from eter- nity— they could not form themselve^r— 112 chance could not produce them — matter cannot change its own form, or produce hfe or reason ; therefore there must he a God; " ' (^Uh) It is agreed from the sup- port and government of the world — the heavenly bodies — seasons — weather — ve- getables— sagacity and instinct of ani- mals— herbs, &:c.' "'(5th) From the punishments which have been inflicted on nations and per- sons for their excessive immoralities.' " ' (6th) From the terror and dread which wound men's consciences when guilty of crimes which other men do not know, or are not able to punish or re- strain, as in the case of Nero, Domitian, and others, and that, too, when they la- boured to persuade themselves and others that there was no God, &;c.' — See Brown, Doddridge's Lectures, Ridglej/, Buck's Dic- tionary/, r interest- ing. And it is also gratifying to know, that by the earliest labours of this ex- cellent youth, happy and saving effects were produced, which remain to this day. On the evening of Thursday, July 23d, he preached at Bunllngford, a town about ten miles from Hertford, from John, chapter x. verse 9, * Bj/ me, if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture.' On Sunday, July 26th, he prea^ched again, afternoon and evening, at Collier s End. In the afternoon from John, chapter vi. verse 44, ' JVo man can come to me except the father which sent me draw him : and I will raise lum up at the last day.' In the 160 evening from II. Timothy, chap. ii. ver. 19, ' JVevertheless the foundation of God standetk sure^ having this seal, the Lord hioweth them thai are his, and let every one dial nameth the name of Christ depart from iniquitj/.' On the Wednesday evening lol- lowing he preached at Hormead, from Psalm iv. ver. 6, ' There be many that say^ •who will shew us any good? Lord, lift ihou up the light of thy countenance upon us.* And on the Thursday evening again at Brickenden. At Hormead his congrega- tion amounted to six or seven hundred persons, and the place where they were assembled w as a barn. ' Indeed by this * The circumstance of Mr. Spencer's preaching in a, hnrn, and in the open air, may perhaps excite unpleasant feelings in the breasts of some who, having occasionally heard bim with delight, may honour these pages with a perusal. They may feel regret, perhaps, that he siiould ever have been so irregular, or have ever trodden in the steps of niln, who are universally condemned as enthusiasts and fanatics. It is necessary, therefore, in order to vindicate him, and all who Jiavc been guilty of a similar offence against the laws of ecclesiastical de- corum, from the charge of enthusiasm and fanaticism, to produce some passages of scripture, by which their con- duct, m this respect, is fully justitied: ' IJoicbiit, the 161 time his fame had so widely circulated, that wherever he preached, numbers flocked from all parts to hear and see this wonderful youth ; and he might have preached every day in the week, had he been so inclined, so numerous were the invitations that crowded upon him. However, his vacation drew to- wards a close ; and his return to Hoxtop suspended for a while these public exer- cises. He preached on the evening of Sunday, August 2d, at Roydon; and wc hear no more of his preaching till De- cember. It certainly admits of doubt, whether these early exercises in public preaching are beneficial or injurious. That they are injurious, may be ar- Most High dwdkth not in temples made ivith hands.' — Acts, chap. vii. ver. 48. * Whae (whether in zi Jield, a bam, or a temple) two or three are gatfured toge- ther in my nasne, there am Tin the midst of them.' — Mat- thew, chap, xviii. ver. 20. ' Go out into the highways and hedges and compel them to come in.' — Luke, chap. xiv. ver. 23. The most impressive sermon ever preached was delivered in the open air, upon a mount. And the wil- derness of Judea was the scene of his ministry, who wait kououred to be the forerunner of the Messiah. u 162 gued from the circumstance, that thejr tend to elate and dissipate the mind — to inspire it with conceited notions of its own superior powers — too soon, alas ! to familiarize the ear to the insinuating sounds of flattery, and, in- vesting the youth with high conceptions of his present qualifications, to anni- hilate those humiliating views of his own ignorance and imperfection, — and that ardent panting after knowledge in which lies the great source of respecta- bility and usefulness in after life. Not to notice those practical errors into which the ignorance and incaution natural to youth may lead him, when engaged in directing men in affairs of infinite a'nd eternal moment. If the aged Evangelist, — the venerable Pastor, is heard so fre- quently to deplore his imperfection and lament the possibilitj/ of error in his pub- lic instructions — a young man may well proceed in his early labours with caution, and had need to be possessed of no com- mon discretion and knowledge, to coun- teract the suspicions necessarily excited. , 163 in the breasts of the thoughtful, by his youth. But perhaps, on the other hand, there are pecuHar advantages connected with an early entrance on the work of preach- ing. The novelty of the circumstance excites attention, and many are con- verted, who, but for the juvenility of the preacher, had never heard the Gos- pel from his lips, and this is doubtless amongst the many means which an infi- nite wisdom has selected, for accom- plishing, in the conversion of sinners, the purposes of an infinite love. Besides that on the preacher's own mind, his early employment in ministerial labour may have a most happy influence. By an early initiation into the difficulties and trials of the work, he may attain an ease and a skill in its execution, which is perhaps but seldom reached by the man who has commenced much later in the day. In youth the mind is all activity, and difficulties which are met with then are far more easily sur- mounted than when they are presented 164? to the opposition of maturer age. But after all, much depends upon the pecu- liar circumstances of the individual case. Many a man is better prepared for the work of the Ministry at sixteen than others are at forty ; and whilst the po- pularity and flattery which usually at- tend the course of youthful preachers would be the ruin of some, there are others indued with a prudence and a pi- ety sufficient to resist their influence. And be it remembered, that the time al- lotted to every man for labour is at best but shorty and that for many of our Mi- nisters— alas ! that these should be, for the most part the most eminent and use- ful ! — is prepared an early grave ! To be squandering away the precious time which ought to be devoted to the salva- tion of immortal souls, in the acquisition of profound and extensive erudition ; to be immured for years in the walls of a study, and confined to the precincts of a college, impairing the physical strength by midnight application, and smother- ing the flames of holy zeal amid the ices 165 qT metaphysics and th^ lumber of hea- thenish philosophy, whilst thousands of immortal souls are perishing, to whose eternal interests those years might be successfully devoted— is certainly a con- duct highly culpable, and not in the spi- rit of him who said — ' work whilst it is day^ for the night conieth, when no man can work ! ' Far be it from the writer of this volume in any way to undervalue or de- <3ry that knowledge, which, in a Minis- iter of the Gospel, the circumstances of the present times render so essential.— These remarks only apply to those cases in which years are expended in adding to a stock already more than sufficient for present purposes, without beginning to apply to any practical use that which is so largely possessed ; and may affect such institutions as, having for their object the preparation of young men for the work of the Ministry, suffer the zeal for God, and the love of souls, which led them to its patronage, at least to lose a dittle of its fire by years of dry scholastic ^disquisition, ere they are suffered to go 166 forth into the world and expend them on their proper object — the conversion of their dying fellow men. With respect to Mr. Spencer, the world will judge whether he began to preach too soon or not. I believe that Liverpool, by far the most competent to judge in this case, will, without hesita- tion, decide in the negative. Per- haps there are, who may be disposed to say, " this was an exception." — Granted ; — but in such exceptions, let a similar liberty be allowed. Where ex- traordinary gifts, attended by extraordi- nary grace, so early develope them- selves, allow them a proportionably early exercise, nor rob the church of God of an useful Minister, who, ere the period a cautious policy has fixed for the commencement of his labour is arrived — may be summoned to his rest. On his return to Hoxton we find Mr. Spencer preaching occasionally in the workhouses — an admirable school for young divines. Surely this is no incon- siderable circumstance in which our dis- 167 ■senting colleges are superior as schools of practical divinity, to those of the establishment. There the student em- erges at once from the retirement of private life to ail the publicity of the sa- cred office ; which sudden transition, to a delicate mind, must often be attended with considerable pain, and may lead, in the first few instances, to a confusion and embarrassment most distressing to himself, and most unfriendly to his prospects of future respectability and usefulness. On the other hand, with us the student graduallj/, almost impercep- iibhj, gUdes into the Ministry, and by continued, but slow enlargement, of the sphere in which he is allowed to move, he rises from a few poor people in a workhouse, to address the most respect- able auditories. On his return to his father's house, for the Christmas vacation, Mr. Spencer preached for the first time at Hertford. It did not happen to him, as is often /he case, that he had no honour in his own country. Numbers pressed, urged no 168 doubt, in the first instance, by curiosity, to hear him ; and those who are accus- tomed to mark the influence of similar circumstances upon a susceptible mind, will enter a little into his emotions, when rising to address, upon the most solemn of all subjects, a vast multitude of his fellow- townsmen, amongst whom he recognised many of his juvenile companions — the several members of his own family — and, not the least in- teresting object in the groupe, the ve- nerable matron who had early in- structed him in the principles of his mo- ther tongue, and whose lot it was to ob- serve the first faint dawnings of a talent, then fast hastening to its fullest ex- ercise and strength. But long after the influence of novelty may be supposed to have subsided, he continued to excite the admiration of his native town. His first sermon at Hertford was preached on the evening of Sunday, December 50th, at the Rev. Mr. Maslin's chapel, from Ephesians, chap. v. ver. 11^ ' Jnd have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of 16y darkness' He preached again on the Wednesday evening following, and on the evening of Christmas day, on which occasion his text was, Michah, chap. v. ver. ^, * But thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou be little among the thousands of Judah^ijet out of thee shall he come forth unto fne that Is to he Ruler in Israel, whose goings forth have been of old, from everlasting.' The passages of scripture selected hy Mr. Spencer, as the subjects of his earli- est discourses, afford another demonstra- tion, in addition to many others, of the general bias of his mind. They are ^uch as dne may well imagine a preacher panting for the salvation of his fellow- men, would select for the commence- ment of his public labours. The topics which they suggest are of all others the most solemn, as they are the most simple and the most important in the whole range of inspired truth, and hence they were best adapted to the preacher's age, and the unlettered cha- racter of his auditors. It seems, that in his earliest sermons there was nothing of 170 that parade and glare — nothing of that excessive fondness of figures and love of imagery, which too often mark the first compositions of youthful preachers — preachers who, in a more advanced stage of their Ministrv, have not been less res- pectable or useful than he. Whether this is to be considered as an excellence or defect, it is probable, with some, may be a matter of debate. Dr.Blair, (or rather Quintilian, from whom he copies,*) in his remarks on the early compositions of public speakers, urges in favour of that exuberance of imagination and excess of ornament, — that time and experience will prune all this away, and in proportion as the fii^e of youth declines, the glare of the com- position will sink into the settled lustre of maturer age. And hence he argues, for an excessive indulgence of the ima- gination at this period ; since by the * Quintilian again quotes from Cicero, the great master of eloquence; whose remarks on this subject are woi thy his immortal pen. — Vid. Quint. Just. Orat. lib. ii. ch. 4. ct Cicero de Orat. lib. ii. ch. 21. 171 time the powers are called into full and steady exercise, they will have under- gone a certain train of discipline, and have found their proper limits ; but if the composition has all the judicious sobriety of that maturer age, amid the vigour and vivacity of youth, what is it likely to be in the more advanced stages of its exercise, but cold, insipid, and dull. But surely all depends upon the na- ture of the subject, and the source whence the public orator is to draw the energy which must give animation to his discourses. The fire of genius, the glow of imagination, must be the enkindling torches in the senate — at the bar; but though not altogether useless in the pul- pit, yet they are not the lawful sources of animation there. It is not the blaze of genius, or the glow of imagina- tion ; but the sacred flame of fervent piety, — the holy kindlings of a mind moved by principles derived from hea- ven, and the generous efforts of a soul impelled by an intense desire for the 17^ salvation of a dying world, that must impart life and energy to the correct, but glowing statements, — the warm and cmpassioned appeals of the ambassador for Christ. Other sources of animation may be exhausted by exercise, and dried up by time ; but this can never fail. It will remain the same when the head of the venerable prophet is covered with hoary hairs, and the body is sunk in the decrepitude of age. Nay, as in the case of the apostle Paul, it will rise into brighter radiance as he advances to the termination of his course, — a more ar- dent panting for the salvation of man- kind will mark his dying hours, than that which attended his entrance on his la- bours ; and with David, the last prayer his spirit breathes will be for the univer- sal diffusion of that gospel, which it has been the business and the honour of his life to preach — ' Blessed be the Lord Cod, the God of Israel, who only doeth wondrous things. And blessed be his glorious name for ever ; and let the whole earth be filled mth his glory. Amen and Amen' 173 We now arrive at a period in Mr. Spencer's history, peculiarly critical and important. During the vacation of Christmas, 1807, the Rev. Mr. Leifchild, of Kensington, was supplying the pulpit at Hoxton Chapel. One Sabbath after- noon, in January, Mr. Spencer being then returned to the academy from Hertford, Mr. L. expressed a wish that he should assist him, in the public service, by read- ing the scriptures and engaging in prayer. The request was granted, and an extract of a letter obligingly addressed by that gentleman to me, will convey a lively picture of the deep impression which his appearance and manner produced upon the large congregation before whom he stood. " But when he appeared in the pulpi^ — after the first emotions of sur- prise were over, and after the mistakes of some, who supposed that he was a little boy belonging to the gallery, who, from ignorance or thoughtlessness, had gone up the pulpit stairs, instead of those leading to his seat, had been corrected 174 SO sweetly did he read the chapter,* so earnestly, so scripturally, so experi- mentally, did he engage in prayer, that for the whole six Sabbaths afterwards he became the chief magnet of attraction to the place. The people now insisted up- on it he should preach. I need not name his subsequent success." The entreaties of the people having prevailed, Mr. Spencer, though contrary to the standing order of the institution, was allowed to preach. It was a delicate situation. Yet it was one to which he had long and anxiously aspired. In- deed, so strong was his desire for the public engagements of the Ministry, that the fear of being long denied the gratification of his wishes, on ac- count of his youth, actually preyed upon his spirits so severely as even to af- fect his health. But it was not from the * On the evening of the following Sunday, Mr. L. ad- dressed young people ; when Mr. Spencer again con- ducted the devotional part of tlie service. The cliaj)ter which he then read was Ecclesiastes xii. A person since received into the Church at Hoxton, dated her first se- rious impressions from the reading of that chapter, and the solemn prayer then offered up. 175 love of fame or popular applause that he cherished this desire, but from the hope of being early and extensively useful ; — as if urged by a presentiment of his impending fate — immediately to com- mence those honourable labours from which he was to be called so soon. — When he appeared in the pulpit at Hoxton, a youth just seventeen years of age, he betrayed none of that distress- ing anxiety which marks the candidate for public approbation ; but stood with all the dignified composure, and spoke with all the unembarrassed energy of an ambassador for Christ. His text was, Psalms xxxii. ver. 6, ' For this shall every one that is godly pray unto thee in a time -ivhen thou may est be found ; surely in the floods of great waters they shall not come nigh unto thee!' At the close of his dis- course, the sentiments which dwelt upon the lips and countenances of his auditors were those of pleasure, admiration, and surprise. His excessive youth — the sim- plicity of his appearance — the modest dignity of his manner — the sweetness of 17(5 liis voice — the weight and importance o,f his doctrine — and the force — the affec- tion— and the fervour with which he di- rected it, to the hearts and consciences of those who heard him — charmed and delighted, whilst they edified. And retiring from the sanctuary to the social circle, they dwelt alternately on the loveliness of the preacher, and the im- portance of the truths which they had heard from his lips. Upon this scene the Christian student may, with advantage, pause and medi- tate. Looking forward, perhaps with considerable apprehension, to the period of his public entrance on the labours of the Ministry, he may be anxious to as- certain what was the secret spring — the hidden source, of that calm composure and unfettered boldness, which charac- terised the earliest addresses of this interesting youth. To such then I can confidently say, — it was not the proud consciousness of superior powers, — of erudition — of genius, or of elo- quence; hut it was the influence of a 177 heart warmed with the love of Christ, big with the vast moment of his solemn theme, and panting with an ardour which no circumstances of difficulty could sup- presss, for the salvation of sinners. Such an influence as this will make the coward bold, and convert the most timid and feeble into valiant and successful cham- pions of the cross. Before an influence like this, the love of fame, — the glare of popularity, the opinions and the plau- dits of mankind retire. No considera- tion remains but that of the worth of immortal souls, and the importance of their salvation. This, under the agency of the eternal spirit, whose assistance every faithful minister may with confidence ex- pect, will supply a closeness of appeal to arrest the attention — furnish topics of discourse to inform the judgment, and animated expostulations to warm the heart. When the blaze of genius and of oratory is extinguished, this will continue with a steady flame. And whilst many, his acknowledged superiors N 178 in talent and in literature, are left behind, the preacher in whose breast it glows will be conducted to scenes of extensive usefulness, and the enjoyment of an ho- nourable renown. Mr. Spencer now became the topic of general discourse. — the subject of univer- sal enquiry. His name spread far and wide. His danger became daily more and more imminent. Letters pressed upon him, filled with flattery — hivita- tions arrived at the academy from all parts, for his services ; and he ap- peared, as a friend, who witnessed his sudden. and extraordinarv elevation, observed, like one standing on the brow of a precipice, amid the most violent gusts of wind. Disapprobation cannot be expressed in terms too strong of the conduct which is usually adopted by the religious public towards their fa- vourite, and especially their youthful preachers. And the censure which may, in a lamentable degree admit of universal application, falls with pre-eminent pro- piiety on the professors of religion iu 179 the metropolis and its neighbourhood. There, indeed, by the constant acces- sion of fresh objects, to the sphere in which they move, such a love of novelty — such a fondness of variety — such a taste for something perpe- tually orignal — is excited and constant- ly fed— that whatever is uniform and solid, in the ministry of their estab- lished and experienced pastors, while it secures the attention and regard of the judicious and discerning, is too often ne- glected as stale and insipid by the more lively and enlightened class of hearers. A new name is announced on the cover of a Magazine, or from the pulpit of some celebrated chapel, and thither the unstable multitude direct their steps. — They sit in solemn judgment on the preacher's maimer — his appearance — his action, and his voice ; for amongst too many, alas ! it is to be lamented, that the solemn truths which he delivers are but secondary objects of regard. If there should be nothing striking in his J 80 manner — nothing melodious in his voice, — nothing singular in his appearance — nothing peculiar in his system — and no- thing particularly favourable in the cir- cumstances of his introduction to the pul- pits of the metropolis, there he may con- tinue his appointed period, and when it has expired, return to the peaceful vil- lage or the quiet town, where it is his lot to labour — " The world forgetting — by the world forgot." On the other hand, with this class of hearers the preacher who secures their admiration instantly becomes their idol. As if irresistibly impelled to extremes, they lavish on him the warmest eulogies and adulation, often too palpable to he endured. Forgetting that he is a man of like passions with themselves, they heap their honours on his head as though he could remain insensible to the plaud- its they bestow, and perfectly supe- rior to the influence of every principle of pride. The following lines of the inim- itable Cowper too well express the senti- 181 inents which in these remarks must sug- gest themselves to every thinking mind, not to obtain insertion here :--- " O Popular Applause ! what heart of man Is proof against thy sweet seducing charms'? The wisest and the best feel urgent need Of all their caution in thy gentlest gales ; But sweli'd into a gust — who then, alas! With all his canvass spread and inexpert. And therefore heedless, can withstand thy power * Praise from the riveli'd lips of worthless bald Decrepitude, and in the looks of lean And craving Poverty, and in the bow Hespexjtful of the smutch'd artificer. Is oft too welcome, and may much disturb Th^bias of the purpose. How much more Pour'd forth by beauty splendid and polite. In language soft as Adoration breathes 1 Ah spare your Idol ! think him human still. Charms he may have, but he has frailties too. Dote not too much, nor spoil what ye admire." But the preaching of Mr. Spencer, even in his earliest discourses, was not of that light and meretricious kind which may secure the temporary * admiration ♦ I believe that general experience will justify the ob- servation, that however attendant circumstances may con- tribute, in the first instance, to render an individual popu- lar, nothing but sterling worth can secure its perpetuity; 182 of the wandering and unsettled. It pos- sessed much of the solid, — the experi- mental, and judicious ; and this secured him the attention and esteem of those, whose approbation any man would es- teem it an honour to possess. But this only tended to heighten his danger. God, however, gave him grace equal to his day. His letters during his popularity in London breathe the same spirit of humility as that which marked his earlier correspondence ; and a piety seldom surpassed in fervour and sin- cerity tended to preserve him steady in the midst of that tempestuous sea, and whenever the preaching of a popular minister has en- dured, without injury to his reputation, the ordeal of a ten or twenty years' trial, he may safely be regarded as possessing an excellence superior to any thing his manner could exhibit. But I feel the delicacy of the topic I have thus ventured to introduce, and gladly refer to illustra- tions of the same subject by more experienced and far abler hands. — See Fuller's Life of Pcarct ; 4" Jay's Life of Cornelius Winter. Books in which examples, the one of more public, the other of more retired, but not less tran- scendent excellence, seem to live before us for our instruc- tion. To every student for the Christian Ministry they must prove an invaluable treasure. 183 upon whose billows, though young and inexperienced, it was his lot to ride. Numerous and pressing however as were the invitations from different parts of the metropolis and its neighbourhood, yet Mr. Spencer did not preach again in London (except in the workhouses, which the students regularly supplied, and also once in a small chapel in Hackney Road) until September. In the meanwhile his talent for preaching had ample exercise in various parts of the country, which during this period he was allowed to vi- sit. So that, from January 7 th to Sep- tember 8 til he preached no less than sixty times. The following are the prin- cipal places which were then favoured with his labours : — Roj/don, Godinan- chestety Ripton^ Buiituigford^ Htiifordy Dorking, Runiford, Hatloi\\ Roijston^ Hadliam^ Haijts, Clugivell, and Mill- Hill. At all these places the attention he ex- cited was considerable, and the impres- sion he left remains with the people to this day.* * For specimeDS of his early pulpit compobitiuas, se« Appendix, No, II. 184 Mr. Spencer's second sermon at Hox- ton chapel was delivered on the evening of Thursday September 8th. It confirm- ed the opinion of his excellence produced by the first. His text was, Acts x. ver. 36, ' He is Lord of all : The general sentiment of approbation and delight at first excited by his youth- ful appearance and his extraordinary pul- pit talents, was now deepened and estab- lished, and he began to preach pretty ex- tensively in the pulpits of the metropo- lis" and its neighbourhood. On Sunday, September 1 8th, we find him in the pulpit at Holywell Mount chapel, and on the Sunday following in that at Kennington chapel ; and on the afternoon of Sunday December the J 3 th, he supplied the chapel in Old Gravel Lane, Wapping.* During the Autumn of this year he also visited several parts of the country im- mediately surrounding London ; and he preached, among other places, at Upmin- * The church assembling in Old Gravel Lane formerly sat under the ministry of the late Rev. Noah Hill, but now enjoy the pastoral care of the Rev. Mr. Hooper, one of the tutors in the college at Hoxton. 185 ster^ Epsom, Guildford, Roydon and High Wycombe. With respect to the wisdom and pro- priety of permitting such extensive pub- lic labours, in one so young, and at so early a stage of his academical course, there will be perhaps a diversity of opi- nion. On the general question, in which this is but an individual case, there can be but one sentiment. Nothing tends more to dissipate the mind, than much travelling and much society ; and parti- cularly injurious to the fixed and labouri- ous habits of a student's life is that kind of intercourse with society, which the young Minister, in his occasional visits, usually obtains. The esteem in which, for the most part the name of a Minister is held, in the circles which he enters, secures him an at- tention and an ease by far too flattering not to be injurious ; whilst the refined and fascinating manners of some societies but ill prepare the mind for the im- peratively severe characters of academic 186 life. But perhaps a far more serious ob- ject of regard is the time which is thus necessarily and irretrievably lost to the great and avowed object of his pursuit. — • It is impossible to take a review of the past year of Mr. Spencer's life, and num- ber up the several places at which he has preached — at some of them two or three times, whilst others he visited more than once, calculating their respective dis- tances from Hoxton, and the time neces- sarily occupied in travelling, together with the many hours, perhaps days, which must have been consumed 'in pre- paring the discourses there delivered — without being struck with a conviction, of the immense loss which in a literary point of view he must have sustained ; and the pursuit of literature is, after all, the professed object of our dissenting col- leges. Considering too, that this was but Mr. Spencer's second year of study, and connecting this with the shortness of the term he had to stay, and his exceeding youth, the impression is yet deepened. But Mr. Spencer's was an extraordinary 187 case. His fort was the composition and delivery of sermons. He was at home and happy only in this sacred work. He seemed but to live for this object. Other objects he might contemplate, with re- spect and even esteem, excited by an im- pression of their utility and excellence — on this his heart perpetually dwelt with a fervent and impassioned love. It was evidently for this God had especially de- signed him ; and for the work he had to accomplish, and the early account he had to render, — all perhaps are now con- vinced that he was not suffered to begin too soon. For one whose day of useful- ness has proved so short, and over whom the night of death so early and so sud- denly has shed its gloom, we cannot but rejoice that the first dawn was devoted to his honourable labour, and not even a soli- tary hour neglected, from the commence- ment to the termination of his career.* > A contemplation of the facts connected with the in- teresting, but melancholy history of Spencer, may how- ever tend to shew, that, whilst much preaching and much travelling are to be deprecated as evils, especially in the 188 Mr. Spencer preached again at Hox- ton Chapel on Christmas day, morning and evening; and also delivered an Ad- dress, on the following evening, at the prayer meeting. A day or two after he left London for Brighton^ and preached his first sermon in that celebrated seat of gaiety and fashion on the evening of Thursday, December 29th, at the Coun- tess of Huntingdon's Chapel, from Zacha- riah, chap. vi. ver. 1 2, ' Behold the man whose name is the branchy and he shall build the temple of the Lord.' On Sunday, 1st January, 1809, he preached in the after- noon at the Rev. Mr. Styles's chapel, and again in the evening at the Countess's. ' I am the more particular in marking the date of his first visit to Brighton, as it commences a new year, and forms also a most important epoch in his history. earlier stages of a student's, course, yet that no specific rules can be established in this case for universal and in- variable application. On (he propriety of the tiling, in every case of students under their care, tiie TLTOitsare the best qualified to decide. 189 The interesting and endeared connexions which he afterwards formed there, tend to throw a new and brilHant light upon his character ; whilst they shed a softer air of melancholy around the circum- stances of his early and lamented fate!* Alas ! of what moment to the Chris- tian Minister is the formation of connex- ions such as these. Delicate as the sub- ject may be, and ill qualified as I feel I am to enter fully into its discussion, I yet cannot suffer it to pass without some observations on its vast importance. — By imprudence here, how many have destroyed, if not their character^ yet to an alarming extent their usefulness and comfort. Upon the partner which a Minister selects much of his hap- piness depends. He must be indeed a child of sorrow, who with a heart • Those who knew Spencer, will enter fully into the meaning of this paragraph. I owe it however to those who knew him not to say, that tenderness to feelings I should dread to wound, compels me to draw a veil over one of the most interesting scenes in his life. 190 hroken by disappointment, and a brow clouded by care — such cares and disap- pointments as too frsquently impart a character of gloom to many a pious pastor's life — finds no relief in his domestic circle, and seeks in vain for the soothing influence of sympathy in the individual whom he has chosen to be^ a ' help meet for him.' The important subject thus reluct- antly though unavoidably introduced, distributes itself into many branches, each interesting in its kind, on each of which age and experience might with considerable propriety descant; and how- ever unwilling I might be to enter more largely into the discussion, yet did' I think myself sufficiently possessed of either, I vt^ould certainly reprobate in the severest terms that rash and thoughtless haste which too often marks the decision of students and youthful ministers in this respect, and which too frequently leads to settled distress, — final ruin, — or shame- ful infidelity ! To the honour of Spencer be it recorded, that his choice in the first 191 intance dis}3layed his wisdom : his uni- form attachment until death, — his con- stancy ! Mr. Spencer preached again at the Countess of Huntingdon's chapel at Brighton on Thursday evening, January 5th, and left that place on the following day. On the ensuing Sunday he preached at Holloway, morning and afternoon ; and on the evening of Tuesday the 1 0th, addressed an immense congregation from the pulpit of that truly excellent man the Rev. Rowland Hill, at Surrey chapel. The subject of his discourse was Deutero- nomy, xxxiii. ver. :3, ' Tea he loved the peo- ple ; all his saints are in thy hand, and they sal down at thy feet, every one shall receive of thij words .'' Between this date and the following Midsummer, his labours appear to have been, in point both of number and suc- cesss, truly astonishing. He now preach- ed much in and about London, and wher- ever his name was announced, the crowd that flocked to his Ministry, proved how extensive and deep the impression was which it had excited. Besides occupying 192 many of the most respectable pulpits in the metropolis, during this period, he vi- sited and preached in the following places : Guildford, Epsom, Worthing, Barking, Roij- don, Dorking, Buntingford, Winchmore-Hill, Saffron Walden, and Hertfor^d. * ' During his stay at Worthing, which was in the month of February, he made several excursions to Brighton, which be- came more endeared to him by every visit. The attachment was mutual. His ministry excited universal attention : multitudes pressed to hear him. The public prints declared their admiration of his powers; and the private circle forgot the- trifling topics of the day, intent upon the discussion of his rare and extraordinary talents. More espe- cially did he bind to him, in affec- tionate remembrance, the hearts of the young, by the warmth, simplicity, and affection of his addresses to them : and in no plaoe which was honoured by his labours, was his worth more fully appre- ciated in life, or his loss more deeply and universally lamented in death ! la-] On the evening of Thursday the 18th or May, lie preached again at Hoxton Chapel. His text on that occasion was Isaiah, chap. Ixi. ver. JO, ' I wilt greatly rejoice in the Lord, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for he hath cloathed me mth the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righleousness.' But by so much preaching and fa- tigue, his strength became exhausted and his health impaired ; and during the Midsummer vacation, the Committee su- perintending the stations of the preach- ing students, appointed him to spend some weeks at Dorking, in Surrey, where the labour was but small, the retirement deep, the country beautiful, and the air salubrious ! To this place he went in the beginning of July,— having first paid a visit to his family at Hertford, and preached again in his native town. At Dorking he was conmiitted to the care of Mrs. Alexander, a kind and pious matron,, whose hospitable atten- tion to all the servants of Christ who 194 have had the happmess to repose beneath her roof, renders her worthy the appro- priate epithet of" — " Mother in Israel." The praises of such pious women are, and ought to be, in all the churches. Happy is that congi'egation wliich possesses one or two such valuable and useful charac- ters. To the youthful preachers who may be commissioned from their respec- tive academies to labour for a while in the congregations to which they belong, they often prove an inestimable bless- ing. By their timely assiduities, not un- frequently, diseases the most serious and alarming may be averted, by which valu- able ministers might have been early snatched from the church and from the world ; and, at any rate, those little offices of unaflPected kindness, in the per- formance of which they so much excel, will tend to seothe the anxieties by which, in early life, many a delicate frame is prematurely wasted and impaired ! For Spencer too the spot was admir- ably chosen. Nothing could better suit 195 his fondness for retirement, and love of so- cial or solitary walks. I am not a stranger to the scenery — I once visited it, like him, for relaxation ; and the remembrance of those happy clays, in a thousand pleasing pictures and enchanting forms, crowds at this moment on my mind. The country is sufficiently bold and varied to inspire with ideas of grandeur and magnificence, though not so romantic and vast, as to ex- cite astonishment and terror. From the summit of abrupt and lofty hills, cloath- ed with luxuriant foliage, the delighted eye may roam at leisure over woods and valleys, that will not yield in fruitful- ness and beauty to the fairest plains of Italy ; and in deep embowered glens, made cool and fragrant by meandering streams, the mind may yield to melan- choly musings and to solemn thought — ■so unbroken is the silence, — so profound the solitude !* * In one of these retired dells, where art lias followed up the rude design of nature, a rustic temple, unadorned apd simple as the genius of the place, affords to the wearj 196 During his stay at Dorking it was his happiness to form a friendship tlie most in- wanderer its temporary rest. A grateful poet has left some tributary lines in honour of the scene, of which they are so descriptive, that I hope I shall be pardoned if 1 introduce them here. " Stranger, whencesoe'er you come. Welcome to this rustic dome ; Welcome to the hill — the glade ; Welcome to tlie forest shade. To our simple homely fare. Come and welcome — banish care ; Climb our hills, and hjealth inhale. Borne upon the scented gale. Bury in this wooded glen. All the cares of busy men ; While the streams that round us roll, / Sweetly murm'ring, soothe the soul ! See, the glorious orb of day Gilds us with his parting ray ; Whilst above the woods afer Sweetly shines the Ev'ning Star. Stranger, rest thee here awhile, Till the morning sun shall smile, Then explore the fairy scene. Lovely as a waking dream. 197 timate and endeared with Mr. J. Haddon, of London ; and on the return of that gentleman to town, Mr. Spencer began an epistolary correspondence with him, which continued till his death. A valu- able assortment of these letters have been kindly put into my hands, and with the greater part of them I shill enrich these pages. The following is, I believe, the first in the series. Worn aud wasted by disease. Pale and languid — ill at ease, Say, does health thy care employ — Health, the fost'ring nurse of joy 1 Come, and chase her ou our hills ; Meet her by our purling rills ; Woo her mid our shadowing trees ; Catch her on the balmy breeze ! Healtli and peace, and joy are here; Come and welcome — banish care — Cease thy wand'rings — lose thy woes. Yield to pleasure and repose !" 198 No. 15. TO MR. JOHN HADDON. Darling, Julij^blh, 1809. " My worthy Friend, " I know no other way of ex- pressing the pleasure your letters and your society have afforded me, than by endeavouring to repay your kindness, or at least by shewing you that I am sensi- ble of the obligations under which I am laid by you. The pleasant interviews, the truly social walks, and the various other enjoyments which we experienced together, have left an impression of at- tachment to yourself on my mind, which I am persuaded will not be easily oblite- rated. The country is indeed as pleasant in itself now, as it was the week before last ; yet, believe me, it is not half so much enjoyed by me as it was then. — The same streams indeed glide pleasantly along — the same hills majestically rise — the same enlivening prospects strike the 199 eye, and pervade the soul, with admira- tion— and every thing around me seems to say, ' 'Tis Surrey still f but there is a sad deficiency in all my perambula- tions— it is, ' that I am all alone.'* — * This is a quotation from a beautiful poem of Henry Kirke White's, to whose charming productions Spencer was most ardently attached. The poem itself so accurately describes the state of his own mind, and the melancholy musings in which he indulged, in his solitary walks, when deprived of the pleasure of his friend's society, that I oeed not apologize for its introduction here : — SOLITUDE. It is not that my lot is low. That bids this silent tear to flow ; It is not grief that bids me moan. It is, that I am all alone. In woods and glens I love to roam. When the tir'd hedger hies him home ; Or by the wood-land pool to rest. When pale the star looks on its breast. Yet when the silent ev'ning sighs, With hallow'd airs and symphonies. My spirit takes another tone. And sighs that it is all alone. The autumn leaf is sear and dead. It floats upon the water's bed ; I would not be a leaf to die Without recording sorrow'* sigh ! 200 Yesterday I went to Brockham ; but there was no Haddon to^meet me on my way The woods and winds with sullen wail, TeU all the same unvaried talc ; I've none to smile when I am free, And when I sigh, to sigh with me ! Yet in my dreams a form I view. That thinks on me, and loves me too : I start, and when the vision's flown, I weep that I am all alone. To these mild complainings of this sainted bard, a re- ply, characterised by the same tenderness of thought and elegance of expression, has been furnished by the pen of Mr. Josiah Conder, of London : — ON READING THE POEM ON SOLITUDE, In the Id vol. of H. K. White's Remains. But art thou thus indeed alone 2 ' Quite unbefriended — all unknown? And hast thou then his name forgot, Who form'd thy frame and fix'd thy lot ? Is not his voice in evening's gale ? Beams not with him the star so palel Is there a leaf can fade and die, Unnoticed by his watchful eye ] Each fluttering hope, each anxious fear^ — Each lonely sigh, each silent tear. To thine Almighty Friend is known : And say'st tbou, thou art " all aloae V 201 thither, or to return with me any part of the way home. Last Tuesday evening Mr. Moore very poHtely offered to take me to Epsom, to hear Mr. Clayton the next day ; which offer I most willingly ac- cepted. On the whole, we had rather a pleasant day. Mr. George Clayton preached on Matthew xxi. and ^8th. It may perhaps give you pleasure to hear, that I preached very comfortably last Lord's day from the new bible, which is exactly the thing. I should know very little of the trials and difficulties of life, were I always to live as I now do. I re- ally feel sometimes as if I needed some- thing to quicken me to diligence, and put the graces of the spirit in exercise, which, I am afraid, were I long to glide down life's stream so easily as I now do, would begin to die. Ease is a dangerous foe to the prosperity of religion in the soul, and opposition of some kind is es- sentially necessary for us who profess a religion which is described as a race to be run ; as a battle to be fought, and which is represented to us by every me- •202 taphor which gives us the idea of active labour and unceasing exertion. I hope to have the happiness of frequently meet- ing with you after my return to town ; and I have the pleasure to inform you, that my appointments favour such inten- tion. Mr. Wilson has written to inform me, that I shall preach in town for five Sabbaths after the vacation. The manu- scripts you sent highly delight me. Mrs. Smith wishes me to leave Herbert with her, to which 1 know you will not object. I continue about the same in my health as I was when you left me ; and am very thankful that here I have not to preach so many times as at several other places. That the good will of him who dwelleth in the bush may ever countenance and console you ; that the divine spirit may ever lead you into all the truth ; that you may possess every evidence that you have found favour in the sight of the Lord ; and that Christ Jesus may be your eternal portion, is my humble, earnest prayer. Let us hope hereafter to behold his face together, in a world where we *203 shall be liable to change and separation no more, but where we shall be enclosed in glory, changeless as his own. This is the desire of one who can truly call him- self " Your's most affectionately, " THOMAS SPENCER." " My kind hostess desires to be res- pectfully 1 cmembered to you. I expect I shall be in town next Tuesday." Mr. Spencer left Dorking after the last Sabbath in July, and preached the six following Sundays in and about Lon- don. The places at which he laboured during these six weeks were White-Row, Pell-street, Jewin-street, Camden chapel, Adelphi-chapel, and Hoxton-chapel. At Jewin-street he preached four Sabbaths, out of the six, afternoons and evenings. In the meanwhile his health still continu- ed but indifferent, and indeed so much exertion both of mental and of physical strength was but ill calculated to promote its vigour. His mind however seemed every day to grow in activity and zeal. 204 In the pulpit, — in society, he was all ani- mation and life. Like most who are the victims of much nervous irritability, his flow of spirits was excessive, which fre- Tjuently led to ungenerous and merciless observations from those, who either had not the wisdom or the candour to at- tribute, what might appear as levity in him, to its real cause. It is indeed an unhappy circumstance, when such is the natural tendency of a man's mental con- stitution, and from nothing perhaps have young ministers suffered more than from this. At the same time, it is a shame and scandal to the Christian world, that there should be so many, who, professing to be the friends of students and youth- ful preachers, encourage and excite this unhappy bias, for their own amusement, and are then the first to censure the youth they have betrayed ! But where such is the natural disposi- tion of a pious and devoted mind, its exercise in company is often followed by the keenest anguish and the deepest me- lancholv, in hours of solitude and re- 205 flection. The severe and malignant cen- surer should remember, that he is not om- nipresent ; and that there may be scenes in the retired life of the character he in- jures, which would put him to the blush! These remarks have been suggested by «ome passages in the following letter. No. 16. TO MR. JOHN HADDON. Hoxton, August 15, 1809. *' My dear Friend, " I am sorry to inform you, that it is not in my power to gratify yourself, to please our friends, or to ful- fil my own wishes, by devoting any evening in the week to visiting. I really cannot do it. My engagements this week are such as peremptorily to require my continuance at home, most likely till Sabbath day, at any rate till Saturday afternoon. I am obliged to those kind friends who expressed their concern about 206 my exertions. I feel that I am not wor- thy of their sympathy. May their com- passion lead them to pray for me, that I may be strengthened with all might by the spirit in my inner man ; and that he whose pleasure it is to increase strength to those that have no might, would help the infirmities of one who is weaker than a bruised reed, and yet has undertaken an office, to the discharge of which an angel is incompetent. My health is cer- tainly in a better condition than it has been, but I am afraid I am still far from well : my head frequently aches, and I feel a sickness in my stomach. These are some of the miseries that flesh is heir to ; but it is a joyful thought, that in the kingdoni of glory our bodies will be no longer susceptible of pain, nor our minds of disquietude. Perfect health, compo- sure, and joy, will be our happy lot when we see each other in a better world. And can we not hope that we shall do this ; and that for ever we shall adore our common Saviour together? 207 The leadings of his providence first brought us acquainted with each other ; and the methods of his grace will, I hope, lead us on to glory, and in our way thither make us helps to each other. Pray for me, that my diligence may be excited ; my levities checked ; and my spirituality promoted. After all I say against the world, I must confess with shame that I am very like many of the men of the world in this respect; that I indulge in a lightness of disposition which is inconsistent with the character of a Christian, and makes us resemble those who never think of eternity and the solemnities of religion. Ah ! my dear friend and brother, I have expe- rienced in my short life many a bitter hour, occasioned by my own folly in this respect. But what a scandal is it to a professing Christian, that natural disposi- tions and surrounding temptations should overcome a principle of grace in the heart — a principle which ought ever to operate powerfully in weaning us from 208 folly, and making us every day more and more serious and holy. Never do you be afraid of cautioning, or reproving me, but give me opportunity to prove that ' Faithful are the wounds of a friend /' I have felt more, in reference to yourself, than I have ever yet expressed. More affection for you ; more gratitude that Providence placed you in my way ; and more determination to make you my counseller and friend — than I have ever yet told you. The Lord help us to strengthen each other's hands in his good ways. I shall not like your letters so well if you do not direct them yourself. This you will say is folly, but I cannot help it. Adieu! " Your's affectionately, " THos. spencer; " N. B. Saturday afternoon, if possible, I will see you." The history of th^ following month is from the pen of his most intimate friend. 209 *" At his return [from Dorking] he sup- plied Jevvin-street meeting for a month, in the afternoons and evenings, where the attention he excited will not be easily for- gotten. Before he left, numbers could not get admittance. The church were very anxious that he should settle among them,* but their desire could not be complied with. 1 have heard him blamed respect- ing that business: but it was only by those who did not know the circumstances of the case. I was in the possession of his heart in that affair, and it would be unjust to his memory not to declare, that he was free from blame. His affection- ate spirit keenly felt for them in their dis- appointment. ' The good people at Jew- in-street,' said he, in a letter to me, * have a strong claim upon our prayers ;' and it was to soothe their minds that he composed his sermon upon Isaiah chap, xxxiii. ver. 20. The time of his supply- * The church was then under the pastoral care of the Rev. Timothy Priestley, a truly venerable divine, >vhose age and infirmities rendered the aid of a colleague ne- cessary. P 210 ing at Jevvin-street was very pleasant to me. I claimed the whole of his time be- tween and after the services, which in- clined him to enjoy that retirement which was so congenial to his lowly soul. When going to preach no one saw him. — I used to knock at his door — give in his refresh- ment— and watch the time for him. — It was from the mount of communion that he always went to the pulpit, and this caused his sermons to shine glorious- ly.— Frequently in passing to the house of God we kept perfect silence, while his mind has been so entirely absorbed, that I have found a necessity for guiding him ; and after worship he loved to stop as long as he conveniently could, that l;e might pass away unnoticed. — But such was the character of Spencer — his deep humility — fervent piety — and amiable simplicity, that 1 am fully convinced it cannot be fairly stated without suspicion of exaggeration ; and I nmst confess, that 1 should have found great difficulty in giving fallen nature credit for the excel- lencies, which, from the closest inspection 211 I saw resident in that truly illustrious and holy youth. " The following letter, written on the Sa- turday previous to the last Sabbath of his supplyingJewin-street chapel, discloses his feelings with respect to the church in that place, and will prove to the people with how much affection he wrote and thought of them. Nor will it be less valuable for the spirit of filial love and duty which it breathes. No. 17. TO MR. JOHN HADDON. September^, 1809. " My dear Friend, ^ " Truly sorry am I in any case to disappoint you, and yet it must be so as it respects this evening. — Before seven o'clock I am necessita- ted to go from home, nor can I re- turn till late in the evening. You ask, * can you not give up this engagement?' I 212 answer, this is impossible ; because nor- thing short o{ Jilial duty is the cause of my absence from home. This morning I received a letter from my dear father, telling me that he must be in town to- day, although he has been travelling in the country all the week, and he wishes me to meet him this evening, at half past six o'clock. This, I am sure will be re- garded as a sufficient reason by you, and nothing short of such a reason could in- duce me to go out at all this evening, for to tell you the truth, I am very unwelL My head and my side have suffered ex- ceedingly for a day or two past, more es- pecially to-day. Nor are my prospects of the morrow of the most enlivening kind. In fact, too, my spirits are very low. The sight of my aged parent may perhaps revive them, and make ' my heart rejoice, even mine!' Mr. W. has just told me, that he has informed Mr. S. that I cannot supply them any longer than to- morrow. The opinion of the Committee Sec. goes against them ! For my part, I can only say, ' Mi/ God, Ihy will be done /* 213 You will see me at Jewin-street in the af- ternoon, but whether able or incapacitat- ed to perform my ckity there, 1 know not. Pray for me, that much grace may com- municate to me sufficient strength. " Whether well or ill, cheerful or mel- ancholy, I am your's affectionately, -THOMAS SPENCER." Having completed his engagements at Jewin-street, Spencer's labours became again miscellaneous and widely diffused. On Sabbath day the 1 7 th, he preached at Roydon, a village near Hertford, when he availed himself of the opportunity which this appointment afforded him of visiting his family. I cannot but con- ceive the bliss which such occasional interviews would cause in that little circle, which had once the happiness to call him theirs. To them the recol- lection of those happy hours devoted to social or sacred intercourse with their departed friend, must yield a soothing, though a melancholy pleasure. Nor is 2114 the reflection less honourable to his me- mory, than it is consolatory to their minds. In the midst of the unbounded popularity which he enjoyed — surround- ed by new and splendid connexions — the admiration of listening crowds, each eager to express his approbation — all am- bitious of his friendship — he ever thought with the warmest affection upon those whom he had left in that obscurity from which he had himself emerged. — Gladly did he seize the opportunity, when it occurred, of retiring from the public eye to taste again the tranquil plea- sures of his home, and enjoy the inter- change of all those sacred and delightful feelings, which strengthen and endear the ties and obligations of social or do- mestic life. — He was not unduly elated by his popularity. In his new associations he did not forget his kindred and his fa- ther's house. — His family did not sink in his regard, in proportion as he rose to emi- nence. The voice of universal praise did not drown the milder whispers of pater- 215 5ial love. — But in a heart whose best af- fections were devoted to the noblest ob- jects, and to which new scenes of exertion were perpetually unfolding, the family at Hertford held an honourable and distin- guished place. The most extensive pub- lic engagements, are not incompatible with the retired duties of private life — and the cares and responsibilities of the most laborious ministry may be sustained and discharged, without absorbing those affec- tionate regards so justly claimed by parental kindness and fraternal love. 'Tis true, that as a christian, and in his official capacity, every believer in Jesus is to the faithful minister a father — a mother — a sister — and a bro- ther. But as a man the relations of life exist for him — and the feelings of huma- nity must be common to him too. A heart from which these ties are' rudely severed — is but ill adapted to that sooth- ing influence by which the office of the ministry becomes a source of comfort to the wretched ; — and a man whose bosom is a stranger to the tender sympathies of 216 human life — alike insensible to joy or sor- row— may with propriety administer the cold rites of a Stoical philosophy — but must ever be a living contrast to the re- ligion of Jesus — a system whose charac- teristic spirit is that of the purest and tenderest philanthropy. Before his departure for Roydon, the following letter was addressed by Mr. Spencer to his friend. The observations at the beginning upon Christian boldness are judicious — and, though ignorant of the particular circumstances which might have called them forth, cannot fail to prove interesting and instructive. No. 18. TO MR. JOHN HADDON. Thursday Evening, Sept. 14, 1809. " My dear Friend, " I know you wish me to write you a great deal ; but I must plead the 217 old excuse — want of time ; for I find that , instead of calling tomorrow morning, must have this directly, and I have but this minute left the chapel. You tell me your ' mmd recoils from public duty, however plain and clear,' and you need not to be told that this is a pity ; and in this respect you do not dis- play that Christian boldness which is after all consistent with genuine hu- mility— which the apostles displayed and enforced — which the bible every where recommends — and which is well calcu- lated to evidence our decided attachment to Jesus and his cause. It shall be my part, however, not to reproach you for the want of it, but to carry your wants before our Father's throne, and intreat him to fill you with all holy boldness and Christian courage ; whilst at the same time I would most earnestly intreat you to consider the foolishness of your fears : the little need we have to seek to please our fellow-creatures, or to dread them, and above all the constant inspection of Him who said, whosoever shall confess 218 me before men^ him shall the Son of Man also confess before his holy angels. But I am persuaded that you are not ashamed of Jesus ; yet there is great need for us all to ask ourselves repeatedly, * am I fully on the Lord's side?' because this very examination itself produces the best effects, as it prompts us to give evi- dence before others of the reality of our hope, and it brings us near to God, who can make us strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus, and faithful even unto death. Your letters always affect me; your company you know delights me ; and what shall I say of your attachment to me, but tfiat it meets return. I am often indeed induced to believe that you afe too careful of me, and too much con- cerned about me. Expressions of grati- tude on my part from my mouth or pen I know you do not want, therefore I shall not trouble you with them. My mind is perfectly at ease about the present or fu- ture laws of the house, as well as about any situation after I have filled it. O that I may be stayed on God ! I often 219 think what a pity it will be, if from our friendship there sliould arise no good ef- fect ; however here I am wrong, because I am myself a witness that good effects have arisen to me ; but I long that to us there may be opened fresh sources of comfort and joy in God, and that we may then be made abundant blessings to each other. — I am going to preach next Sab- bath at Roydon, a village near Hertford, where I have reason to hope God has owned and blessed my unworthy labours before. May he do so again. Perhaps I may go to Hertford to-morrow afternoon, as it was the place of my nativity, and is now the residence of my dear father, my sisters, brother, and mother-in-law. I could say much more, (though in the same feeble and desultory style) but you perceive my paper is full. I cannot ex- pect to see you at all till Tuesday. The coach comes in town on Monday evening, about half past six. If I can, I will walk then to Fleet-street. *' Adieu, my dear friend, " THOMAS SPENCER." 220 From this period to that of his first visit to Liverpool, I am not in possession of any remarkable occurrences in Mr. Spencer's history. At any rate, I am aware of none which tend to illustrate any particular feature of his character — . or of such a nature as to warrant their publication to the world. But there yet remain many interesting letters to his friend Mr. Haddon, which will tend very much to supply the want of a connected narrative — and that friend who during this period, enjoyed the most intimate acquaintance with him — and obtained a most accurate knowledge of his charac- ter, has furnished me with a series of anecdotes and observations, which wiJl make the reader familiar with the man, — and most strikingly exhibit the holy, humble and fervent bias of his mind. For the present I shall content myself with making a selection from these let- ters, with such occasional remarks as may be necessary to illustrate their sub- jects or occasions ; whilst the charac- 221 teristic sketches above alluded to, will occupy some of the succeeding pages. No. 19. TO MR. JOHN HADDON. Iloxton, October 12, 1809. *' My dear Friend, " With pleasure it is that I in- form you, that I am appointed for Faux- hall. I feel pleasure, because this assig- nation gives us another opportunity of enjoying each other's society. I have not yet written to those friends in the country, but intend doing it to-morrow. May the young lady die in such a peace- ful and happy state of mind, as shall, in- stead of suffering the survivors to sorrow as those who have no hope, rather give them to say — Behold how he loved, her.' I mentioned the circumstance to Mr. W. at the same time stating the wish of the Roydon people that I might supply them on Sabbath day. He told me it could not be complied with, assigning as a reason, 222 that I was given out at Vauxhall. As the affair now stands, I am quite satisfied, because I wish to resolve all my appoint- ments into the will of the Head of the Church. — ' Where he appoints, I'll go.' — Of all evils, I pray to be particu- larly delivered from leaning to my own understanding, and indulging my own wayward will. May obstinacy never characterize me. May grace always be given me to suppress it when it rises. — To these requests I know, that from your inmost soul you say, Amen. One of our fellow students has just delivered us a good sermon from — ' The righteous hath hope in his death.' — J enjoyed his sermon much more than I generally do those which are delivered to us on a Thursday evening. This was so experimental — so scriptural — so pious, that it found its way to my heart. May you and I, when- ever we shall come to die, have a lively, a sure and a certain hope of reigning in life by Jesus Christ. Whilst so many are called away around us, surely we should recollect the uncertainty of our 223 own continuance upon earth ; and as death is still potent, still inexorable, ana still delights to surprise, let it be our chief concern to have an interest in the affections of the heart of that Saviour, who shall destroy this last enemy, and give to his followers a crown of glory changeless as his own. — On him may we now both live by faith, that so when we have served our generation according to his will, we may fall asleep in his arms. " Adieu ! Your's affectionately, " THOMAS spencer; The young lady to whom he refers in this letter, appears to have been one of the seals to his early ministry, and then at the point of death. One of the letters written by him on that occasion, I am able to lav before the reader. No. 20. TO MRS. - " Dear Madam, " Both your letters were safely and joyfully received by me. I say joy- 224 fully, because they shew that Cod is put- ting honour upon my feeble and un- worthy labours, and making use of them for your spiritual welfare — a circumstance that gives me more real pleasure than any other circumstance possibly could. You are much mistaken in supposing that I neglected to write to you, because you had in your letters said any thing im- proper ; nothing could be more opposite to my ideas. Had this been the case, I should have felt it my duty to have set you right : but I can tell you what I can tell my God, when I say that I never heard or read an account of a young con- vert which appeared more satisfactory, or filled me with more delight, than tjiat which you give me of yourself I say this not to puff you up with spiritual pride, but to make you more thankful that you have obtained mercy, and to as- sure you that your suspicions of any dis- satisfaction on my part are altogether groundless. Rather would I exclaim, * what hath God wrought!' and wrought too (well may I wonder) by his blessing 225 upon my weak exertions. Oh ! let tlie glory be ascribed to him who gives testi- mony to the word of his grace. The ex- cuse I have to plead for not writing to you before, is want of time and mukipH- city of engagements— for in the Academy my time is not my own. I have just been writing a long letter to Mrs. W. , stating my views, wishes and hopes, for the welfare of her amiable and beloved daughter. May she be resigned to the divine will, and ready when the hea- venly bridegroom cometh ! From all that I can learn, I have no doubt of her interest in the affections of that same Jesus who is now, I trust, all your salvr. tion, and all your desire. When I recol- lect that she, a seal to my Ministry, is apparently going to join the heavenly musicians in singing that song which no man can learn but the redeemed, it is im- possible to express my feelings. I am very desirous to hear from her own lips an account of the way in which the Lord met with her, and a statement of the sensations of her mind in prospect of the 226 last conflict. I wished to come down to see her — I asked permission. — This could not be granted me, because I was given out last Sabbath day at the place to which I am going. But I have the hap- piness of informing you, that the next Lord's day I shall preach at Roy don, and so shall have an opportunity of going to Thundridge Bury Farm. I hope that our covenant God is leading you in a plain path, and teaching you more of the corruption of your own heart and the love of Christ, by his holy spirit. All I can recommend you to do is, to be much engaged in secret prayer to him. Oh ! aim to gej, near to him in holy commu- nion, then you will find a heaven begun below. You will have Christ for your constant companion, and you will obtain the desire of your heart. I view this as the time of your first love. May the zea- lous affection for Christ which I hope you now discover, increase yet more and more. Live by faith upon the Son of God, who loved you, and gave himself for you. Commit your soul into his 227 hands, and the souls of all ihe members of your family. It ts my earnest prayer, that you may grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ; that so I may have to rejoice that you received the Gospel when delivered by me, as in deed and in truth the word of God and not of man. As for your re- quest about a settlement for me at Roy- don, I should recommend you not to ex- pect it. I am always happy to come amongst you as an occasional supply, but I must venture no further. I have a va- riety of reasons for not considering it my duty to settle with any congregation as yet, or even to think of it, and I have thus far not engaged to do so at Roydon. Therefore I must request you not merely to check, but actually to eradicate the thought. Wishing you — your respected partner — and all your family, the best of blessings, I remain " Your's sincerely, " THOMAS SPENCER." Had he then been sufficiently ad- 225 vanced in his studies to have cherished the idea of an immediate settlement — and had he been left to the free, unbiassed expression of his fecHngs — there is no spot on which he would have fixed as the scene of his stated and pastoral labours, in preference to a village so tranquil and retired as Roy don. He did not value popularity, except as it afforded him an opportunity of doing good. No one ever was more averse to pomp or to parade. He loved simplicity in all its forms. It was indeed a characteristic feature of himself ; and had not the prospect of more extensive usefulness allured him to a wider and more public sphere, his passion for retirement would have guided him in his selection of a residence for life. Talking with him on the subject of his health, which seemed declining, beneath the pressure of so much exertion, his friend said — " Do you wish to be early laid aside — or do you desire a premature grave?" " Oh no," said he, " you know my wish — to have a Meeting in the coun- 229 try, surrounded by trees — occasionally to see the shadows of the leaves quivering on the walls, in the reflection of the set- ting sun. — A burial ground near, in which I and my people can together lie !* To live a long, honourable, and useful life, bringing many souls to the Saviour ! — * May I be indalged in another extract from the poems ©f Kirke White 1 It was a passage which Spencer often read with peculiar emphasis, and seems a melancholy com- ment on his own ideas. " Beneath this yew, I would be sepulchred. It is a lovely spot ! The sultry sun. From his meridian height, endeavours vainly To pierce the shadowy foliage ;" " 'Tis a nook Most pleasant." " Yet may not undistinguished be my grave ; But there at eve may some congenial soul Duly resort, and shed a pious tear. The good man's benizon — no more I as.k. And oh ! (if heavenly beings may look down, From where, with Cherubim inspired, tliey sit. Upon this little dim discover'd spat. The earth), then will I cast a glance beloiv On him who thus my ashes shall embalm." " Wishing he may not long be doom'd to pine In this low-thoughted world of darkling woe; But that, ere long, he reach his kiadred skies." 2.'}0 This is the summit of my wishes." Tho* it was denied him to enjoy the first, the last object of his desire, and by far the most important and dearest to his heart, he did possess ; for never was so short a ministry honoured by the conversion of so many souls. — Every week in Liverpool discloses some fresh instances of its suc- cess— and one and another is perpetually rising up to say-—' By the grace of God I am what I am,' but it was the ministry of Spencer that led me first a humble suppliant to the throne of mercy." The situation of young m.inisters is peculiarly delicate and dangerous. The eyes not only of the religious public, but also of the world are fixed on them. And it is to be deplored, that where they have a right to expect the greatest kind- ness, they often meet with an undue se- verity ; and those who ought to be the first to throw the mantle of love over their defects, are not unfrequently the most forward and exulting in their ex- posure. To an unhappy and inordinate 231 love of scandal, many a fair and unblem- ished reputation has fallen the victim. The scattered wrecks by which they are surrounded, should inspire succeeding voyagers with caution. There is acheef- fulness, compatible with the deepest seriousness — the most fervent piety ; and there is a levity, in which the dig- nity of the minister and the sanctity of the Christian, may alike be lost. Where this is witnessed, whatever claim the in- dividual may have upon the generosity and lenitij of the spectators, he has none upon their justice— ih^y have a right to censure, ---and however we may depre- cate their severity,— none can deny them its exercise. And here it is perhaps that students are most exposed to danger. Fatigued and wasted by the close applica- tion and intense thought of many studi- ous weeks, they enter, as they imagine, the circle of friendship, and instantly relax. Those who only see the effect, and are unacquainted with its cause, hastily form an unfavourable opinion of 232 their character, and cruelly propagate the opinion they have rashly formed.* These observations are not altogether inappropriate to the subject of the follow- ing letter. No. 21. TO MR. JOHN H ADDON. Iloxton College, October 27, 1809. " My dear Friend, " The expressions of affection your last letter, all your letters, and the * I remember a case in point upon this subject — the mention of which may not be useless. A student from one of our Academies had been spending some days with a pious and intaJligent gentleman in the country, who was in the habit of having the servants of Christ beneath his hospita- ble roof. On his departure, the gentleman accompanied his guest seme miles on his road, and in the course of conver- sation said—" I cannot forbear expressing to you. Sir, the satisfaction which I have enjoyed in your society. I must confess that 1 have been too often grieved i)y the levity of students, whom yet I have highly valued ; but whilst yon have displayed a cheerfulness which has enlivened our circle, you have preserved a uniform re.sjxct to your sacred office, which has securetl the esteem and admira- tion of us all." 233 whole strain of your conduct towards me evince, greatly affect me, and you will find my feelings upon the sub- ject in Proverbs, chap, xxvii. ver. 19. Sanctified friendship appears to me to be one of the best sweets in the cup of life. It is what the Saviour recommended bv his own example, and what the best of men have experienced beneficial in every age. May this kind of friendship be ex- emplified in us, and may we mutually share in the affections of the heart of him, who, " having loved his own which were in the worlds loved them unto the endT To his will in all things we nmst bow, and in his dispensations, however contrary to our inclination, acquiesce; but '''• not my will hut thine he done^' is language which re- quires a large degree of grace to use in all cases, and from the bottom of our hearts. " Many eyes are indeed upon nUy and much do I fear that they will sec something in me ere long that will take them from me. Your warnings are faith- ful, but my heart is still deceitful, and Satan may, for any thing I know, be 234 about to sift me as wheat. You are not ignorant of his devices. Oh ! then, pray for me, that my faith fail not, so that, instead of the number of those who be- hold me, turning away from me with dis- gust and aversion, they may rather glori- fy God in me, and take knowledge of me that I have been with Jesus. The thought that affords me some degree of encouragement, is, that Jehovah know- eth my path, and that he is able to make me standi yea to remove the suspicions of those who ' fear and wait to see.' But re- ally I cannot help thinking that there are some people in the world who seem as if they wished for something to hinder one's usefulness ; and who by their too signifi- cant expressions on the subject, lead me to suppose that they would rejoice in such a circumstance, and say, ' Oh ! so would we have it.' And why ? Because then their clever prophecies would be fulfilled, and we should for the future put such confidence in their forebodings as to view them as certain omens of ill events. I do hope, however, that God will in great 235 mercy either keep me from the snares that lie in my way, or take me to himself. " I have to-day written to the Kid- derminster people, referring them to the Doctor, or Mr. Wilson. I will try and be with you to-morrow by 12 o'clock. Do not be disappointed if I should not be able. " I remain your's affectionately, '" THOMAS SPENCER." On Sunday the 5th of November he was appointed to preach at Cambridge, in the pulpit lately occupied by the Rev. Robert Hall, A. M. a name dear to genius, as to religion. The day following he spent in viewing the University. In a letter dated the 3d he says, " last night my surprise was excited by seeing that I am not appointed on the list for any place in town, but for Cambridge. I am to stay Monday over at Cambridge, to look at the Colleges, &:c. I shall think much of Kirke White;" and aware of the respectability, both in wealth and talent, of the congregation he was called •236 fo address, be adds, " the Lord make me prudent and faithful ; may it appear that he has some good end to answer by con- ducting me thither." He was exceedingly attached to the poetry of Henry Kirke White. He could repeat a great part of it, and frequently qu-oted it with great emphasis and feeling. " And yet," said he, in conversation with the friend to whom these letters are ad- dressed, " there is a thirst for fame some- times discovered which pains me. * Fifty years hence, and who will hear of Henry.' *' Well, suppose nobody does, and what then ? If Henry has served his day and generation, and is gone to glory, neither the church nor he will be losers ; and the hearing of Henry will be too small a con- sideration to be brought into the ac- count." Public as Spencer's life had now be- come, and exposed as he was to the in- fluence of every unholy passion which popularity might awaken, he yet main- tained a close and humble walk with God. 237 He courted solitude, and for the best of purposes. Of him it may be truly said, ' his Jellowship was with the father ^ and with his son Jesus Christ.' The holy and the heavenly tone his mind re- ceived in those retired hours, gave a pecu- liar unction to his ministry ; and the knowledge which, by deep communion with his own heart and constant inter- course with God, he had obtained, ren- dered his preaching remarkably profitable to believers, and gave him a skill in ad- ministering instructions adapted to all the varieties of their experience. Of this, the following is a pleasing spe- cimen. No. 22. TO MR. JOHN HADDON. November 9, 1809. '* My dear Friend, " Be assured that I, as well as yourself, have walked in darkness, and complained that there was no light. 238 Fluctuations in experience are I am sure, my lot, whilst my only consolation in such circumstances still remains--- 'tis the unchangeableness ol" Christ. Oh ! what is so calculated to reconcile our minds lo the wav our father calls us to travel, as the recollection, that whilst we are found in it, Jesus is the same, and that to the end of the journey ; and in every trying circumstance he is a present help. In darkness he will enable us to trust in the Lord, and to stay ourselves upon our God ; yea, he will cheer our desponding souls with visitation sweet. Seasons in which we experience darkness of mind, and depression of soul, are necessary: they form the analogy between us and those who through Irilmlation are gone to heaven: they render us fit subjects for the illuminating and refreshing grace of Christ : they add a higher relish to the renewed enjoyment of the light and liberty of the Gospel ; and they serve to prepare us for that world where the Lord shall be our everlasting life, and our God our glory. 2»9 " Reflecting upon deliverance from such times of depression should teach us to say---' Return unto thy rest, 0 my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifulli/ with thee /' It should lead us to anticipate fu- ture favours, and rejoice that he that hath delivered us can and will deliver ; and since the day has dawned, and the sha- dows have fled away, we should most cordially adore him who has been ap- pointed to give light to them who sit in darkness, and to guide our feet into the way of peace. May you and I ever enjoy the presence of Jesus, our best friend ; share in his tender sympathy ; his kind reproofs ; his excellent counsels. May he be our God for ever and ever, and our guide even unto death. Then we need fear no evil. If sensible that he is with us, we may pass through mid- night glooms, and experience a season of great darkness, and yet look forward to a future time, when with pleasure we shall sing, ' The Lord is my light, of whom shall I be afraid.' Oh ! that I may be en- abled to commit your soul and my own 240 into the hands of Jesus as unto a faithful Creator. I can now add no more, than to say that " I remain affectionately your's, ^' THOMAS SPENCER. " The next letter furnishes another proof of his humility and diffidence. It was written the dav before it became his turn to preach again in the chapel at Hoxton the Thursday evening lecture, which the tutors usually attend. No. 23. ' TO MR. HADDON. December 6, 1809. " My dear Friend, " I am sensible that Mr.,S.'s po- liteness ' merits' much of us, and if I must name some day for us to meet there it must be Monday next. This we will speak of to-morrow evening. I am sorry you have been so busy about so worth- less an object as myself. I need not say, 241 pray especially for me, that a divine blessing may attend me to morrow even- ing in preaching before those whom you know I too much dread as hearers. — * The Lord grant unto his servant, that with all boldness he may speak his word.' I trust your desire and expectation of ob- taining - good on Friday evening will be gratified. My mind is rather more com- posed than it has ever been before, when I have had to preach here on the Thursday evening. How it will be when the time comes, I know riot. Many eyes are upon me, and different, very different are the feelings with which my brethren hear me. But if the head of the church gives each of them a blessing, they will I hope be satisfied. " Your's affectionately, " THOMAS SPENCER." It is indeed much to be regretted, that any feelings but those of (nutual af- fection, forbearance, and candour, should be cherished in the hearts of brethren — and such surely are the students in the 242 same academy. Bat in the present im- perfect state of our nature, it must be expected, that superior excellence, while it is the object of universal admira- tion abroad, will, in too many instances, be exposed to the malignant glance of envy and of jealousy at home. And when the scourge of criticism is supplied with knots by these, who but must ex- pect to smart beneath its strokes. It is certainly to the honour of the institution to which Mr. Spencer belonged, that its members for the most part knew, admir- ed, and confessed his worth ; — and if there were any exceptions — let them re- main in that oblivion in which is their best security.'' But the solemn admoni- ♦ " Those who admire and cherisli rising talent, can have no bitter reflections when they contemplate the grave of Spencer. They hailed his entrance into public life, and strengthened his hands by their prayers and their appro- bation. Tliose who could envy him, and such I know there were, must be covered with merited shame, when they behold him so early stript of those honours, talents, advantages, and successes, which exposed him to their jealousy and malignity. If these unwortliy men were be- fore me, I would * speak daggers to them, but use none !' " — See Stj/les's Funeral Sermon for the Rev. T. Spencer, page 28. •243 tion of his early death, should tend to check the bitter exercise of that unhal- lowed sarcasm by which the rise of ex- traordinary usefulness or genius is too- frequently assailed. In academies of re- ligion and literature, where the avowed object of every student is, not his indi- vidual advancement, but the glory of God, a spirit of detraction and envy ought to be unknown. The most devoted and useful, should be most esteemed. Every private interest should be lost in the general welfare of the church of Christ. One may behold, indeed, with less concern, the strokes of satire when they fall upon the arrogant, the presumptuous, and the vain ; — but when talents are attended by humility — when popularity is connect- ed with diffidence — and eminent piety is mingled with extraordinary displays of genius, — to such an object the severity of sarcasm is improperly directed, and every well-regulated mind must view its exercise with pain. About this time his health again declined. A severe cold for some days 244 deprived him of his voice — and he was compelled to rest one Sabbath day from his public work. What were his feelings in prospect of that Sabbath, this letter will declare. No. 24. TO MR. JOHN HADDON. December 6, 1809. " My dear Friend, " It appears that your sus- picions that I should preach three times to-morrow, will not, cannot be realized, for Mr. Western, as well as those around me are agreed, that I must not go to Hert- ford at all, judging it dangerous for me to go out, much more so to preach. Yester- day I passed a miserable day. The thought of the pain of mind the letter I sent home would occasion to my friends, hurt me much, and I was much worse than I had been before, as my lun£s and throat felt more inflamed. To- day I think 1 am better, but still very far from well. 1 tan scarcely bear the pros- 245 pect of a silent Sabbalh. I think I shall be quite out of my element to-morrow. Oh i that I did but more firmly believe, that he who is my Saviour does all things well, and that he who sustains the dread character of judge of all the earth must do risht. If 1 am able, I shall hear Mr. Hordle in the morning. I have no voice yet. I hope it is not irretrievably lost. 1 need not say, that if you can call this evening it will give me unspeakable plea- sure. Yours affectionately, - THOMAS SPENCER." Reflecting on this temporary indispo- sition in a letter to his father, he says, — " I have reason to hope that the measure of affliction with which our heavenly fa- ther thought lit to visit me, has been made a blessing to my soul. It gave me time for reflection and close self exami- nation. It gave a new zest to my feelings, and when it was removed, I hope I was inspired with fresh ardour to live for the glory of God." Amid the constant bustle of a public 246 life, the retirement which temporary in- disposition afibrds, must be most benefi- cial to a pious mind. Then it can relax into a calm and intimate communion with itself. It can quietly indulge in such a review of the past — and such an an- ticipation of the future, as will tend not a little, under the sanctifying influence of the holy spirit, to curb its impetuosity — correct its levity — and regulate its princi- ples. From the chamber of sickness, the exercises of the pulpit will be furnished with materials of the highest order ; and the beds of the diseased will be at- tended with a sympathy, which expe- rience of similar affliction onl) can excite. The greater part of the Christmas va- cation Mr. Spencer spent at Brighton, and on the first day of the year 1810, he preached at the Rev. Mr. Styles's chapel, to young people, from II. Chron. xxxiv. chap. 27, 28 ver. ' Because thine heart was tender^ and thou didst humble thyself before God, when thou heardest his words against this place, and against the inhabitants there- 247 of^ and humbledsl thyself before me, and didst rend thy clothes and weep before me : I have even heard thee also, sailh the Lord. Behold I will gather thee to thi/ fathers, and thou shall be gathered to thj/ gi ave in peace. JVei- Iher shall thine eyes see all the evil that I will bring upon this place, and upon the inhabi- tants of the same.' The good seed which he was the in- strument of" scaltenng in Brighton, very rapidly sprang up. In a letter to his fa- ther, written immediately on his return from thence, and dated January 12th, 1810, he says, " a young person who heard me at Mr. Styles's last year, was called by divine grace under my in- strumentality, and died before I went this time, bearing an honourable tes- timony to the religion of Jesus, and to her interest in it. Oh I what hath God wrought !" During his stay at Brighton, he had occasion to solicit a favour of his friend in London, the performance of which was acknowledged in (he following letter. 248 No. 25. TO MR. HADDON. Brighio)2i JanuarT/ \st, 1810. " My dear Friend, *' However you may smile at the idea of my writing you a ' letter of thanks,' I assure you I think you have a claim upon it, for you have done for me what I should have liked few others to have done; but suffice it to say, it came safe to hand. Last Thursday even- ing I preached on Luke, chap. xxiv. ver. 32. Yesterday morning at the Countess's, on Ephesians, chap. ii. ver. J 4. Jn'the evening at Mr. Styles's, it being the close of the year, onExodus, chap.xxiii. ver. 20. To-night I shall onlj/ preach, as one mi- nister will commence, and another close with prayer. It is said that I shall preach at the chapel on Thursday evening. You ask me, where I shall be next Sabbath. Many advise me to remain at Brighton ; but it is my present intention to return 249 home on the Friday, though I really fee. myself in a difficulty about it. I hope I have, since! have been at this place, enjoyed the divine blessing — those with whom I associate are the excellent of the earth — with no others have 1 any occa- sion to be at all connected. In this re- spect I am like your good friend Mr. H — , of Westminster. We certainly do not in general sufficiently estimate the worth of the society of those who discover the mind that was in Christ ; — great is the benefit we may derive from their com- pany. Oh i let those of us who fear the Lord speak often with one another ; one may thus come at each other's follies, and stimulate each other to the perform- ance of that good, acceptable, and per- fect will of God. I think my cold is getting better. After I had preached last night, a vahiable young Scotch clergy- man, who was there, wished I might live to i)reach many such serix.ons — What could I say, but * all the daj/s of my ap- pointed time will I wait 'fill mi/ change come.' It is a great satisfaction to know, that we 250 are training up for heaven, and ' ripen- ing apace for the vision of God.' Pray lor me, that this perseverance may be given to me. You know my object is the glory of God in the good of souls — that this may be accomplished, by my exertions, is my prayer, my hope, my aim. Whether living or dying, may we be the Lord's. I have, however, at pre- sent no other idea, than that I shall be spared yet, and not die, but live ami declare the works of the Lord* Wishing you the enjoyment of the good-will of him that dwelt in the bush, and assuring you of my steady attachment, " I remain your's affectionately, " THOMAS SPENCER." On Wednesday the 28th of February, being a day appointed for a general fast, » Alas! how blind urc we lo futurity! A clergyman not long since, while uttering these very words in the pulpit, suddenly turned pale — his voice faultered — he fell back and expired ! Little did the amiable Spencer think, that the hand which thus conveyed to his friend the pleas- ing anticipation of a long and usefid life, should lie so 8OO0 in the impotence of death ! 251 Mr. Spencer preached a sermon at Hox- ton chapel, adapted to the occasion ; his text was Ezekiel, chap. Ix. ver. 4, ' Go through the midst of the cilj/^ through the midst of Jerusalem, and set a mark upon the men that sigh and cry for all the abomina- tions that are done in the midst thereof.' The general scope and style of this ser- mon may be ascertained by the following extract from the communication of his friend : — " A minister said to me, * I don't know how a good fast sermon can be preached, without touching upon politicks.' — 'If you will hear Spencer to-morrow, I think you will find that it can be done.' When we met again, he told me that he had heard an excellent fast sermon, without a word upon politicks. I remember, that in that sermon he said, ' when your ear is pained with oaths and imprecations as you pass the street, remember that that swearer is your fellow countryman, calling for ven- geance upon your country, and do you, by ejaculatory prayer, strive to avert it.' To enter into a minute detail of the 252 places at which Mr. Spencer preached be- tween this period and the ensuing vaca- tion, would be useless. Suffice it to say, that his labours were unremitting — that he visited several congregations in the country — particularly those at Hertford, Beading, Henlej/, and Brighton. He was appointed one of the three students who should deliver the public orations at the coming Anniversary — held at Midsummer. This preyed with considerable anxiety upon his mind, and although one should have imagined that by this time he had become familiar with large auditories and critical hearers — yet we find him shrinking from the task, and expressing many fears respecting it. The subject allotted to him was, " The influ- ence OF THE Gospel on the spirit and TEMPER." His colleagues in that trying service were, Messrs. John Burder and Stenner; and to these gentlemen were given as topics of discussion, " The DOCTRINE OF THE AtONEMENT," aixl " ThE influence of the holy Spirit.' The 253 day before that on which the discourses were to be delivered, he expressed his feeHngs thus : — No. 26. TO MR. JOHN HADDON. J/oztoTiy June 19, 1810. *' My dear Friend, " Consonant with your re- quest, I here transmit to you the notes of the sermon on Eutychus : if you can, Jet me have them again before I go into Lan- cashire. You mention lo-morrow, and oh! what anxiety do I feel in the prospect of it ; already it has cost me some tears, it may cost me many more. Would to God that I may experience the assisting grace of him who has before proved him- self able to do for me exceeding abund- antly above all that I could ask or think. " If the light of his countenance shine upon me, then I shall shine in the sight of heaven, and in the eyes of his saints, who know and can recognize the reflections 254 of the Saviour's glory. From what 1 can anticipate of the congregation, it will be terrific ; bat does not the promise, * J am with you always^ extend to par- ticular occasions ? Most certainly it does ; then it takes in this trying service. May I have faith and trust in it, and be fa- voured with an experimental confirmation of its truth. Believing that you do sin- cerely and constantly commend me to the kind care of your Father and my Father, of your God and my God, I remain " Affectionately your's, »' THOMAS SPEiNCER." We now arrive at the period of Mr. Spencer's firit visit to Liverpool. Before we pass on with him to that new and in- teresting scene, it may be well to pause, and take such a general view of his mode of thinking and acting, while a student, as the following characteristic sketches from the hand of his most intimate friend, will furnish. I shall present them in a miscellaneous way just as they occur. Thus the reader will converse with him, 255 — hear his own sentiments, expressed in his own language, and imperceptibly be- come familiar wdth the man. *' That passage,' said he, ' is much upon my mind — ' Let no man despise thy youth.' I understand the Apostle thus : — Let your walk and conduct be such, that no man can despise thy youth. And such shall be my own." " He W' as favoured with peculiar facility in composition. ' Many a sermon,' said he, ' have I composed between Hoxton and your house.' His ideas flowed faster than he could write them, and when alone our conversation has met with fre- quent interruption from his stopping to commit to paper, before they escaped him, the ideas crossing his mind. Turn- ing to me privately, as I sat by his side one evening at the tea-table of a friend, ' Look at that' said he, ' will it do?' It was the sketch of a sermon, which he had composed during the conversation. ' I don't know,' said he, (and those who 256 suppose my friend was boasting, did not know him) ' I don't know,' said he, ' that for a long time I have had time enough for any one sermon ; I was crampt in every head for want of time.' His ser- mons at that time were 65 minutes to 75 in preaching ; though his hearers were not aware of it." " In composing, he used to fold a sheet of foolscap paper in eight leaves, leaving the last side for the heads of ap- plication. However long the sermon might be, he never wrote more of it ; and in preaching, varied the sermon every time he preached it. ^ How do you obtain your texts?' ' I keep a little book in which I enter every text of scrip- ture which comes into my mind with power and sweetness. Were I to dream of a passage of scripture, I should enter it ; and when I sit down to compose, I look over the book, and have never found myself at a loss for a subject." " His memory was remarkably tena- *2o7 cious; hecould regularly repeat every ser vice in which he had ever engaged, with the chapter which he had read, and those of his acquaintance who were present. Re- turning from HoUoway, after preaching, said he, ' Did you perceive any thing particular in me this morning?' ' No.' ' I was very ill in the pulpit ; my me- mory totally forsook me ; I could not re- collect my subject, but having my notes in my pocket, I took them out and read them.' ' I am glad of it ; I give you joy ; you can no longer condemn assist- ance to an imperfect memory.' ' O no, I boast no more ; from henceforth, I am silent upon that subject." " The young man that has just pas- sed my study door,' said he, ' is fearful that he shall not keep up varidy in his sermons. The best wav that I find to attain variety is continually to ask myselt ' What is there in the circumstances be- fore me, that will benefit my sermon on Sabbath morning?' for a minister should turn every thing into gold. And by s 258 Iceeping my eye continually upon that point, I am seldom at a loss for variety." " Few persons have held pulpit elo- quence in higher estimation than Spencer did, or in more contempt when it stood in competition with the interest of souls. I remember asking his opinion of an elo- quent sermon which he had been hear- ing— ' Why,' said he, ' I could have wept over it — I could have wept to hear im- mortals so treated." " Your morning sermon yesterday was approved, but not that in the after- noon.' ' No, I suppose not, and I Avill give you the reason. In the morning, when I preached on privileges, they were pleased ; but when, in the afternoon, I came to duties, they remembered their treatment of their late venerable pastor. I particularly respect aged ministers, and love to assist them, and generally add a trifle to the collection, when I have been preaching in behalf of a church which has an aged minister." 259 " He was much tried by the envy of some Hitle minds. ' Mr. S.' said to him, ' You was very late, I hear, at Wal- worth.' ' Yes, Sir, and there you may see your own error ; you know^oa say I am too eager for the pulpit, now you see your mistake.' At another time, ' Spencer,' said a person whose name shall be secret, * Popularity is a dangerous thing.' ' It is.' * No one is popular long.' ' Very true.* ' You are popular now, but you will not be so long.' ' That I certainly shall not. Sir, if i/our wishes are accom- plished ; but I fully believe, that my po- pularity hurts you more than it does me.' The bell soon after summoned him to read (in his turn) a sermon for general criticism. The first person called upon said, that its merits were such, that he liad nothing to say of its defects. That sentiment was universal. ' And,' said he to me afterwards, ' when I considered what had passed, I felt that that was a moment of gratification." *' A lady, who had misunderstood an 260 idea in his sermon, wrote me a hasty letter, charging him with antinomianism, and me with gross impropi iety in hearing him. It was Saturday night, and he was to preach in the same pulpit the next day. I went to inform him ol tlie circum- stance, that he might take an unperceiv^- ed opportunity of explaining himself. He held out his hand to give his usual affectionate squeeze, when I drew back. ' I don't know how to shake hands with an antinomian.' ' An antinomian! What is the matter?' ' Read this proof of it.' He read it ; his pleasantry subsided ; and with a countenance which spoke the feel- ing of his noble soul, ' O,' said he, ' this letter does me good. — The attention of that congregation would have led me to suppose that they were pleased, and per- haps profited by what they heard ; and yet you see, that there were those pre- sent who not only misunderstood me, but supposed that I was a preacher of an- tinomianism. This letter does me good ; for sometimes Satan claps me on the back, here in my study, and says, ' That ser- 261 mon will do very well, and especially from one so young as you' — and ihen I begin to mount, and fancy that I am somebody; but such a letter as this clips my wings — and then,' said he, (with in- describable expression) * I drop into my place, — the dust. Do bring me all the intelligence of this kind that you can." " How I wish they would begin the service with Watts' 15 2d hymn, II. book.* • SINAI & SION.— Heb. chap. xii. ver. 18, &c. " Not to the tenors of the Lord, The tempest, fire and smoke ; Not to the thunder of that word. Which God on Sinai spoke; But we are come to Sion's hill. The city of our God, Where milder words declare his will, And spread his love abroad. Behold th' innumerable host Of anjiels, cloth'd in light! Behold the spirits of the just, Whose faith is turn'd to sight! Behold the bless'd assembly there, Whose names are writ iu heav'n ; And God, the judge of all, declares Their vilest sins foreiv'n. 262 That hymn always sooths my mind In the opening of worship. My whole soul enters into it, especially the last two verses.* * Why do yon not request that it may be given out?' ' Because it does not become one of my age to dictate.' ' Tis no dictation, but a gratification of your friends ; it secures congeniality through the service when you mention the hymns you wish.' ' And can we have it to Staughlon?' ' No, to Prospect.' ' No, no, Staughton ; that is my tune for a com- mon metre, and Shirland for short metre.* The 5th verse he frequently quoted." " One day, mentioning to him an in- teresting text of Mr. Cecil's, preached on the last night of the year, said he'. The saints on earth, and all the dead, But one communion make ; All join in Christ, their living head, And of his grace partake. In such society as this - My weary soul would rest: The man that dwells where Jesus is. Must be for ever blest." 263 ' That will just do for me to preach at Brighton, to conclude the services of the present year. But don't shew me Mr. Cecil's till I have composed mine. I would not borrow a single idea." " Preaching one morning at Hoxton, after he had prayed as usual at his en- trance into the pulpit, I missed him ; he bent forward for a considerable time so low, that I could scarcely perceive him from the gallery. When I afterwards asked him if any thing ailed him, said he, ' When I went into the pulpit, and saw that crowded audience, recollecting that they were all looking to me for instruction, and remembering my own youth and inexperience, I was over- whelmed, and leaning forward, implor- ed more earnestly the divine assistance.* " " While preaching at Jewin-street, he one afternoon took the two lower steps at once, in ascending the pulpit stairs. — When we afterwards met, I asked, ' Did you notice the manner of your going into 264 the pulpit?' 'I did, and thought that you would also — it was inadvertent ; but it was wrong. It did not become the so- lemnity of the place. — I never remember such a circumstance before, and will be more guarded in future.' As a proof of the necessity of his watchfulness over the minutiae of his actions, I mention that an aged Christian said to me some time afterwards, * I loved Spencer's sermons, but there was a lightness about him.' — ' A lightness ! when, and where did he discover it ?' ' At our meeting, in jump- ing up the pulpit stairs.' ' Did you see it more than once?' ' No.' ' Then I can tell you, that that once he felt and la- mented it as xleeply as you could ; and I am sure that he never repeated it. li not that satisfactory?' ' It is." " Spencer followed Cecil ; he united deep humility with true ministerial dig- nity : nop do I conceive it possible lor a youth to be less affeeted by popularity than he was ; and as to flattery, if his flatterers had known the light in which '2G5 he viewed them, they would have heen silent. Coming from a vestry, where adulation had been offered — ' Don't fear for me,' said he, ' on account of what has passed ; it was too weak to hurt : my danger is when those, on whose judg- ment I depend, speak unguardedly !' At another time, after a young man had been very lavish in his praises, (who had several times been guilty of the same impropriety) I told him I thought the next time he addressed himself to me, I should give him a hint of it. ' O no,' said he, * treat it with the same contempt that I do. To mention it, would give too much importance to his judgment. I would not have him think that ^^5 judg- ment could do any harm.' " " Spencer was particularly happy in his choice of texts for particular occa- sions ; * I feel great difficulty,' said he, ' in preaching at Hertford, where I have to address many who walked M'ith God before I was born. To-morrow will be the first Sabbath that I have rcgularlv 266 supplied there. I have chosen for my subject, Romans, chap, xvi, ver. 7.' In which he shewed what it was to be in Christ ; and the duties which aged Chris- tians owe to younger ones — faithful re- proof and exhortation — prayer for them, kc. For his sermon on regeneration, he chose James, chap, i. ver. 1 8, which, as he said, comprised the whole subject ; — the efficient cause — ' The will of God ;* the grand means used — ' The word of truth ;' the great end in view — that be- lievers should be — ' First fruits of his creatures.' A gentleman, who possesses a fine mind, said to me, ' I had heard so much of Spencer, that when I went to hear him, I expected to be disappointed; but I found the reverse to be the ca^c. When he gave out his text, it was with an emphasis which so forcibly laid open the apostle's argument, that my atten- tion was rivetted, and I was perfectly as- tonished." " He loved to improve the festivals of the church, such as Christmas and 267 Easter, 'because,' said he, ' people expect then to hear upon the subject, and I think we ought to meet every appearance of preparation of mind with suitable in- struction. The passage of scripture which led my mind to the ministry, and which satisfies me as to the propriety of my engaging in it, is that promise of God to the Gentile church, Isaiah chap. Ixix. ver. 21 . — Oh ! that text is very pre- cious to me ; while the death of Miss at Brighton, and Miss at , tends to convince me that I am right.' Those ladies died in the Lord, and were called under Spencer's ministry." " I used,' said he, ' to feel very much in preaching before certain charac- ters. My difficulty is now removed by considering, that, let them be as learned or as pious as they may, it is prol)able that they have not turned their attention to the individual point before me so closely as I have, and therefore it is likely that my sermon may afford some 268 instruction even to them, and this thought gives me courage." " Spencer's simplicity in dress was well known. He avoided in that respect the very appearance of evil, that his mi- nistry might not be blamed. One Sab- bath morning, when he called for me, he had a new coat on, which I told him I thought was more fashionable than he would approve. ' I did not know it,' said he, and on the next Sabbath morn- ing, he asked me if I thought it more be- coming then : he had had it altered." " I was desired by several medical gentlemen to inform him, that unless he slackened his exertions, he could not live to see five and twenty. When I men- tioned it, he said, ' that it certainly must be attended to, for that his hope was to live a long and useful life.' He therefore de- termined to alter the length of his ser- mons from an hour or sixty-five minutes to forty-five." 269 " I am going,' said he, ' lo preach at Vauxhull to-morrow, where you may come with a very safe conscience. You need not be afraid of a large congregation there. You do not hke large congrega- tions for rne ; but don't you remember how much more encouragement and sa- tisfaction the man has who fishes in a pond which is full of fish, than he who fishes in a place where he knows there are but two or three." " Before S. left the academy, a gen- tleman, whose judgment, or piety, few are disposed to dispute, said to me, ' If it were not for the sound of his voice, with my eyes shut, I could suppose him a man of seventy. He is ripening fast for heaven — I can fancy him an angel, come down into the pulpit, soon to return." " Another gentleman, possessed of undeniable critical skill, and difficult to please, after he had heard him, said, ' I stood the whole service — and I could have stood till midnight. I felt as under 270 the influence of a charm I could not re- sist, and was ri vetted to the spot, intent only upon the fascinating object I saw before me." " It was with sincere pity that he saw any young minister descend from the holy dignity of his station, by atten- tion, as soon as the service was conclud- ed, to the advances of females, who, had they really received the benefit they professed, would have shewn it in a very different way."* Mr. Spencer was appointed by the committee to spend the midsummer va- cation in this year at Newington chapel, Liverpool, then destitute of a pastor, by the death of the Rev. David Bruce. The report of his extraordinary talents and amazing popularity had already, from va- rious quarters, reached that place. And * This is to Spencer's honour. Those who are accus- tomed to attend the vestries in London, after the sermons of popular preachers, will enter into tiie meaning of this observation. It would be well, if some wliom it may concern would also take the hint it aAbrds. 271 the congregation amongst whom he was, for a few weeks to labour, had some pleasing expectations, that they might find in him a future pastor, every way qualified for the important sphere of use- fulness, which so large and populous a town presented. But on the mind of Mr. Spencer far other impressions had been unhappily produced. From what- ever sources he had drawn his informa- tion of the state of religion and manners in this place, it was certainly most in- correct— and such as led him to antici- pate his visit with feelings of considerable uneasiness and reluctance. Nor did he seem at all anxious to conceal the fact, that his coming was the consequence of a necessity, to which he was compelled to bow. So deep was his prejudice against Liverpool, it\vs <>( Liverpool, loo, A j;re;ii t han^;c was wrought hy the iv mark il)li' tirtumsl antes aKcndant ou Uh minishv. The Lind assichiiilcs ol the lannly midi r whose hos|)it;ihlc rool he resided, .md an intereoursc with the |>ioirs part ol ihe e()iigre^Ne.»k(n his piejiidiees, ;md at length completely lo turn (he \uas, and reverse tlu ptnpose ol his mind. Th^ period ol. his stay was limited to Tu vith his liiends in London, to add anothei to the nnmhct. And in the alieinoon ol the last Sahhath, \\t prcaehed IromDenteronomy, ehap.xxxiii. ver. 3i * )'m ht lovfd the fnvple,' in sueli a style ol endearment aiitl alleetion, aft seeiucti lo waiiaiit ihu indiilgenee ol' theil' 27 r> warmest hopes. The last week of his visit was spent in the most delightful in- tercourse with christian friends ; and on Tuesday, the 7 th of August, he left Li- verpool with reluctance and tears. The following extracts are from his correspondence while at Liverpool. No. 27. TO MR. HADDON. Liverpool J Jult/ 3d, 1810. " My dear Friend, * * * * * *' I had a most uncomfortable journey. The distance was so great, the company so disagreeable, and I so low- spirited, that I can truly say, I never travelled in such misery before. When 1 arrived at Manchester, there was no one to meet me at the coach. No one expected me. After a great deal of trou- ble I found out Mr. Smith's house, and I •276 shall always feel indebted to him for the kindness with which he received mc, though unexpected, and for the hospita- lity with which he entertained me till Saturday morning, when I left Manches- ter for Liverpool. And say you, what are your sentiments about that ? — 1 freely tell you then, that I think it is an excel- lent town, &:c. &:c.; but I had rather any any one should be here supplying than myself, and I long for the time when I shall leave for Hoxton. ***** " Depend upon it, if possible, I will set off for London on Monday, July 30th ; I wish it were to-morrow — but perhaps I do wrong in complaining. May you enjoy the presence of him who has shut me up from the society of my beloved companions for a time, perhaps that 1 might seek more earnestly after his omii. ^' I remain, ," Your's affectionately, " THOMAS SPENCER/' 277 No. 28. TO MR. HADDON. Liverpool, July 17, 1810. " My dear Friend, " I suppose you have been looking for a letter for a day or two past from your friend at Liverpool, so here it is come at last. I did not preach at Manchester, for notice had been given the Sabbath' before, that there would be no preaching there the next Wedneday evening — nor have I been to . I saw no one from his house when I was at Manchester, nor have I heard any thing from him since : most likely I shall not see him at all. In fact I have quite vi- siting enough among the people of the congregation. *' Here are some excellent people, very pious, and zealous for the honour of God, and the good of immortal souls, 278 in this town. With some of tliem I shall be almost sorry to part. " Last Sunday evening I preached the sermon for Hoxton ; we collected above ^40. The place I preach in is called JVewinglon Chapel. I forget the name of the street it stands in. There are many more dissenting places of wor- ship here than you seem aware of I am not yet certain whether I stay six Sabbaths. " Mr. has written me a long and pressing letter for me to go to Plymouth Dock, which he says is just the thing for me — he wishes me to settle there — gives an exceedingly high character of the place. , According to his request I must write to him soon, but I scarce know in what manner. It is a large congrega- tion, and he says, that there is there ' a huge army of the soldiers of the cross.' " I will take care to get you a plan of the town. I hear that a fire has con- sumed Huntingdon's Chapel in Tichfield- street — is it true '^ Dr. W. has written 27^ ito me, requesting me to supply New Court the first Sabbatli in August. " Tfae Wednesday after I >vrote to you, I pii^eached on Psalm , Ixi. yef . 2. Following Sabbath — morning, Colos^i^ns, chap. iii. ver. 3 : afternoon, John, cl^ap. X. ver. 9 : evening, Job, chap, xxxvi. ver. 1 8. The next Wednesday evening, Ga- latians, chap. iv. ver. 7. Last Sabbath morning, Zachariah, chap. A^i. ver. 13: afternoon, the same coaicluded : evening, Zachariah, chap. iii. ver. 7. Monday evening, at the prayer meetings, I either go ov^r the outline of one of the ser- mons preached the day before, or else give a short exhortation, as at Hoxtoi?. " I suppose you know that I have written toD. C — — but not to Mr. B^ — r-r- For the fact is, I had rather not. I do not know li^ow, and I do not see that ii would do any good, so must decline it. I am out almost every dsiy. Oh why should people be afraid to let me b.e alone ; why will they not let me enjoy (my much- loved solitude ! On several accounts I feel anxious to get home ; and 280 can now indeed say, ' Hoxton, with all thy faults, 1 love thee still.' " Present my respects to all our friends in town. Give me as much intelligence as you can in your next, and believe me still " Your sincere friend, "THOMAS SPENCER." Very soon after his return to Hoxton, Mr. Spencer received from the church and congregation at Newington chapel, an unanimous and pressing invitation to accept the pastoral office over them. The call was dated on the 8th of August, 1 8 J 0. After near seven weeks deliberation, Mr. Spencer returned an answer in the affir- mative. In what exercises of mind these seven weeks were spent, those who knew the peculiar circumstances of his situa- tion can well conceive. On the one hand, — the unanimous request of a people to whom God had directed him contrary to his wish, and to whom he had become singularly endeared : — the imperious call of duty to a sphere of action lor which 281 his talents seemed every way adapted, in which his labours had been already re- markably successful, and which promis- ed most extensive usefulness. These were circumstances of no common magnitude. But on the other hand, there were many powerful ties to bind him to the neigh- bourhood of the metropolis. His family —his best friendships---his most endear- ed connexions — the scenes of his early and honourable labours — all conspired in the prospect of his removal to so great a distance, to awaken the most painful and distressing feelings in his mind. — And re- solutely to resist the importunities of friends, the value of whose society we fully know — to rise superior to those lo- cal attachments which long and happy intercourse cannot fail to form — and to leave the circle to which time and hequent interchange of sentiment have rendered us familiar and endeared, for a land of strangers — involve a sacrifice which only the voice of duty can demand, or the hope of uefulness repay. Yet such are the sacrifices which the Christian minis- ter must frequently be called to make ; 282 and whilst on his part tliey are with cheeri'uhiess surrendered to the call of duty, and the cause of Christ, let those in whose particular behalf they are claimed, seek by every affectionate office of friendship, to blunt the edge of sepa- ration, and relieve as much as may be by kindness, the memory of distant friendships and endeared connexions. I insert a copy of Mr. Spencer's an- swer to the call which he received from the church and congregation at Newing- lon ; as it will afford to the reader an ad- ditional opportunity of obtaining an ac- quaintance with its amiable author. No. 29. To the Independent Church of Christ, assemhUn^ in Newington Chapet, Liverpool. " My Christian Friends, " Being unwilling to keep you any longer in suspense than is absolutely necessary, upon the important subject of my settlement with a church and congre- 283 gatloii, I feel it my duty to reply to your obliging and respectful invitation. You are well aware, that I came amongst you influenced by the strongest prejudices against the place, and resolutely deter- mined never to think of it as a sphere calculated for me. Whilst I was amongst you, however, several circumstances unit- ed to remove the strength of my preju- dices, and I trust to make me determined by every appointed and lawful means to ascertain the will of God, and when as- certained, cheerfully to fulfil it, however opposed it might be to my private wishes and inclinations. A review of the par- tial degree of success with which my la- 'bours in Liverpool were honoured, does afford me considerable pleasure, and I must say, that I speak the real sentiments of my heart when I confess, that the manner in which you, my respected friends and brethren in the Gospel, have conducted this important affair, has raised you exceedingly in my esteem, and given me to believe, that a preacher would find among you as a people, those 284 motives to diligence and those sources of real happiness in the prosecution of his work, which, alas ! are denied to many a faithful minister of the New Testament. " When I regard you as a church and congregation, I feel anxiously con- cerned for your spiritual and eternal wel- fare, and indeed earnestly desire, if con- sistent with the good pleasure of his will, the ereat head of the church would make use of me to build you up in faith and holiness ; but my motives for thinking favourably of your invitation arise also from other sources. I look at the state of thousands of inhabitants in that vast town, to many of whom I hope to be the instrument of conveying the ' joyful sound ;' my soul longs that they may re- ceive the salvation which is in Jesus Christ, with eternal glory, and influenced I have reason to believe by the direction of my God, I resolve to preach among them the unsearchable riches of Christ. " I assure you, my fellow travellers to Zion, I can observe, with admiration, peculiarities in this dispensation which 285 never before struck me in reference to any other situation. Oh may it appear, that this work and this counsel is of God I " Some difficulties must be met, and some sacrifices must be made, bi^ me, when I leave the scenes of my former exertions in the cause of Christ, for the sake of the people at Newington. But these are things which I must ever expect ; these are circumstances which I resolved should never move me, when I first gave myself to God and his Christ ! " Truly believing then that I am act- ing under the direction of an all wise Je- hovah, and humbly asking that this may be made manifest in after days, / accept the invitation you have given me to exer- cise over you the pastoral office.— I com- ply with your unanimous request, and shall from this day consider myself as so- lemnly bound to you, if you see it right to allow me the following requisitions : " That I preach among you regularlv but twice on the Sabbath, viz. morning and evening. I mention this, because I know 286 that my constitution will not admit of three services in the day, and I am sure it is not consistent with your wishes, that I should prevent myself from future exertions by presuming on too much at first ; and the plan I propose will I am persuaded after trial prove beneficial ra- ther than injurious to the cause at New- ington. To preaching to you twice on the Sabbath and once in the week, I shall never feel the least objection. My other wish is — " That i may have in the Spring of the year six weeks annually to myself, to visit my friends, and occasionally see other parts of the Lord's vineyard. " I do^ not leave Hoxton Academy till after Christmas, and perhaps m^y not be with you so early as you wish. — It is my intention, however, to com- mence my labours among you, if conve- nient to yourselves, on the first Sabbath in February, 1811. Your sentiments on the subjects I have mentioned you will be pleased to communicate to me as early as possible. 287 '' And now just allow mc, my res- pected friends, to request you not to form too sanguine expectations in reference to the pleasure you expect to enjoy when I become your pastor. You will doubtless find in me much to pity and to blame ; )'et it is my earnest prayer that you may never have to charge me with neglect in watching over you in the Lord ; finally, 1 request your supplications for me at the throne of the heavenly Majesty, that a door of utterance may be opened unto me, that on me the communications of divine grace may ever be bestowed, that Christ may be magnified by my preach- ing and my life, that I may be preserved faithful unto death, and then receive a crown of life. " Accept my cordial wishes for the prosperity of your own souls, of your families, but especially of your Christian society and of the cause of Zion amongst you. Cease not to pray solemnly, fervent- ly, and without intermission, for me, and believe me your's in our glorious Lord, *' THOMAS spencer;- Iloxton, Sept. 26, 1810. 288 This official communication to the cliurcli was accompanied by a private letter to the friend, under whose roof he had resided during his occasional visit, and to whose care the preceding docu- ment was addressed. No. 30. Iloxton College, Sept. 19. *' My dear Sir, " If you wish immediately to know the purport of my enclosed an- swer to the respectful and pressing invi- tation I have received from Newington, turn to the- 22d verse of the Epistle to Philemon. " I hope you will forgive me for the long, the doubtful suspense, in which I have been obliged to detain you ; in my own view I have acted rightly, and I have no doubt but you will say that it was all proper, when you come to hear my statement. It is astonishing what I have had to meet with through the kind- 289 ness of my London friends — kindness you will think improperly manifested, when I tell you, that they, with very few ex- ceptions, intreat, beg, and request, that I would not settle at Liverpool. I can only tell them, that in this affair, ' I hear a voice they cannot hear ; ' I see a hand they cannot see !' And have the leadings of providence lost their importance ? or the direction of hea- ven become merely matter of idle talk? 1 have not written individually to any person in Liverpool beside yourself: I should have found a difficulty in speaking of the business before I had made known my determination. By the first Sabbath in February next year, I shall (God wil- ling) be again in Liverpool, when I hope the presence of my covenant God will accompany me, and his spirit grant me wide success. The prospect of leaving my friends and connexions for so distant a place as Liverpool, and especially as many of them oppose the plan, some- times fills me with melancholy gloom; u 290 but ' thy will be done' is a petition that well becomes me in my situation ; may I have grace given me to use it with a sin- cere and believing heart. *' I trust it will appear, that the ge- neral good of the church of Christ, and of the inhabitants of Liverpool, is the object to which I have directed my warm and unremitting exertions. Farewell. " I remain sincerely your's, "THOMAS SPENCER." To this may be added an extract from a letter, d?ted September Jst, 1810: — *' My mind still inclines to Liverpopl, and that for the most substantial reasons. If I accept this invitation, I shall be obli- ged to make some sacrifices ; but ought I not to make them cheerfully, when the honour of God,. and the happiness of immortal souls require them ? especially as I am bound not to count even my life dear unto me, so that I may finish my 291 course with joy. The sacrifices to which I allude are chiefly, perhaps altogether, occasioned by absence from my friends and connexions, and a removal from those interesting scenes of exertion which have witnessed my first efforts to disse- minate divine truth, and in which I have been favoured with some success." Thus happily was a point of so much importance to the interests of religion in Liverpool determined. A considera- tion of the issue of this affair, together with many others perpetually occurring, should teach us to suspend our judgments of persons and places we have never seen — -and should tend to weaken those unjust and injurious prejudices against them which we too hastily form — too te- naciously cherish. Often we picture to ourselves the most enchanting scenes, the most delightful associations, in connexion with a spot we are about to visit, and are disappointed — and as often we find those charming scenes, and happy asso- ciations, in regions which our prejudices 292 had invested with every tiling gloomy and repulsive. Had Spencer yielded to the impulse of his feelings, he had never become pastor of a church in Liverpool. And although the memory of his la- mented fate may induce, from feelings generally regarded as honourable to hu- manity, a wish that he had not — yet the Christian sees in this the hand ol God — and, contemplating the mighty work which in his short ministry he was ho- noured to perform, rejoices that, how- ever mvsterious the decree, it was or- dered so. It is not for us to calculate whether he would have been more useful, or less useful, or as useful elsewhere — he was eminently useful in Liverpool — and though all must weep that he should be bO soon, so suddenly removed — yet none who witness the extraordinary impres- sion which his labours produced in so large and populous a town, but must re- joice in their success, and adore the pro- vidence which brought him there. Nor was it from the want of other calls that Mr. Spencer was induced to ac- 293 cept that which he received from Liver- pool. Many were the churches which desired to enjoy his valuable ministry : amongst others, the following places may be named — Kidderminster^ Kentish Town, Jewin-street, Worthing^ Southampton^ and Tonbridge Chapel. This last-mentioned chapel is a re- cently erected building, in the New Road leading from Pentonville to Paddington, near London — in a populous, respectable, and increasing neii^hbourhood. During its erection, an impression was encouraged, both on Mr. Spencer's mind and that of the surrounding inhabitants, that he would probably be the preacher. The idea was not at all unpleasant to him. In most respects the arrangement met his wishes ; aiid he had even laid the plan on which he resolved to act, provided his expectations had been realized. He purposed to reside a few miles out of town, to prevent the dissipation of his time, and to come to London on certain days to visit his people. He expected much gratification from the neighbour- 294 hood of his friend and fellow-student, the Rev. S. Haslock, minister of Kentish Town chapel, with whom he hoped to unite in plans of usefulness for their vi- cinity. But circumstances did not con- spire to call into exercise those judicious and benevolent designs. The chapel was opened early in No- vember, IS 10; and on Sunday, the 18th, he preached his first sermon there. It was in allusion to its recent opening, founded on Hebrews, chap. x. ver. 19 — 32. After the congregation was dismis- sed, he went over the whole building, the plan of which pleased him much. He was particularly delighted with the deep front gallery, which by exhibiting a multitude of attentive faces, encouraged him, he said, in his preaching, hi that chapel he frequently addressed large and deeply interested auditories — and in that pulpit a public tribute of respect was paid to his memory in a funeral sermon, delivered by the Rev. Richard Slate, mi- nister of Stand, near Manchester.* * Mr. Slate was formerly a fellow- student with Mr. 295 From the period of his acceptance of the call to Liverpool, till February, 181], when he actually entered on the pastoral office there, his time was wholly occupied in the diligent pursuit of his stu- dies, and the labours of the pulpit. Not a Sabbath passed, but witnessed twice or thrice his faithful publication of the gos- pel of peace. On Sunday, the 26th of August, he re-visited Dorking — a spot endeared to him by the beauty of its scenery — but more by the memory of those happy hours, which introduced him to the knowledge and esteem of a most beloved and valued friend. The first Sabbath in November he spent at Brighton, where he preached three times in the pulpit of the Rev. Mr. Styles. Spencer. He was supplying tbe pulpit at Toubridge cha- pel in the autumu of 1811, the period of Mr. Spencer's death. His discourse is founded on John, chap. v. ver. 35, ' He was a hurning and a shining light.' It was at- lerwards published— and has reached a second edition. The sentiments it breathes are honourable to the authors «haracter as a man, a christian, and a friend. 296 Returning to town he continued preaching in and about London till the close of the year, when he again visited Brighton, at which place he entered on the year 181 1 — the last of his life. In what way his mind was exercised during this period — and how his princi- ples as a Christian triumphed over his feelings as a man in the prospect of a long and painful separation from those he loved — may be seen by the following letter to a friend in Liverpool : — No. 31. Hoxion, December 5th, 1810. " My dear Sir, " I am persuaded that you will excuse my neglecting to write to you so long, when you recollect that the hope I daily entertained of seeing you in town appeared to represent my troubling you with an epistle as unnecessary. I am ex- tremely pleased to hear of the increase and welfare of your family ; I cannot but 297 feel an interest in their prosperity and happiness ; may the Lord pour his spirit upon your seed, and his blessing upon your offspring, that they may spring up as among the grass, as willows by the water courses ! I suppose I need not in- form you, that I anticipate my journey to Liverpool with mingled emotions of mind. The idea of a long and painful separation from my connexions does cer- tainly at times overwhelm me with me- lancholy gloom ; I have not yet learned to conquer my feelings, nor am I parti- cularly eminent for philosophic heroism. The idea that I am going where divine providence has directed me, does occa- sionally impart to me strong consolation ; may my wishes as to extensive usefulness among you be answered ; may they be exceeded in the prosperity of the church and congregation, and in the increase of spirituality and holy enjoyment in my own soul ! " I am glad you are successful in get- ting acceptable supplies ; this is a point which should be attended to. I should 298 like the congregation to have the best of preachers. My books, &c. I must seiid from London before Christmas dav, that I may have no trouble with them after my return from Brighton. " I am extremely happy in the pros- pect of being with your family on my first entrance into Liverpool ; it will be far superior to my being with strangers. This half year has been a trying one as to preaching engagements, both on Sab- baths and on week days. I continue supplying Hoxton, and the New Chapel, Somer's Town, till Christmas : the day after Christmas day I hope to go to Brighton, to- stay there three Sabbaths, and to return on the 1 7th of January, t& supply Roydon, and Hertford the next week ; and the last Sabbath in January, to take my leave of this part of the king- dom by two sermons at Hoxton. ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ "Tell our friends at Newington cha pel that I am tolerably well, and wish 299 to be kindly remembered to them. Fare- well, my valued friend. " I am sincerely yom*'s, " THOMAS SPENCER." The purposes expressed in this letter were accomplished according to the order in which they are stated. He visited Brighton, and preached on the last Sab- bath of the old year three times, at Mr. Styles's chapel — in the evening a sermon adapted to the season, from I. John, chap, ii. ver. 17, ' And the world passeth away^ and the lust thereof; but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever!' On the evening of the 1st of January, 1811, he preached an appropriate discourse at the Countess of Huntingdon's chapel ; and on the following Thursday, and three times on the Sunday, he preached at Mr. Styles's. On the Monday evening, being the first Monday in the month, the mis- sionary prayer meeting was held in Brigh- ton, when he delivered a most animated and impressive address from Matthew^ chap. xiii. ver, 16 — 17, ' Blessed are your 300 eyes for they see^ and your ears for they hear ; forveriljj I say unto you^ that many prophets and righteous men have desired to see those things which ye see^ and have not seen them ; and to hear those things which ye hear^ and have not heard them.' He continued ano- ther Sabbath in Brighton, and left that place some time in the following week. Passing through London, he went into Hertfordshire. On Sunday, January the 20th, he preached at Roydon, morning and afternoon, and at Hoddesdon in the evening. On the Tuesday evening he preached at Hertford, and slept again under his paternal roof. On Wednesday evening he preached at Stansted, and on Thursday evening again at Hertford. This . was, I believe, his last visit to his native town, and to his father's house ! The separation which then again took place between himself and his beloved family was final. The farewell which he bade to the scenes of his infancy and child- hood was eternal ! I cannot suppress the melancholy leeHng which this reflection has awakened in my mind. I am ar- 301 rived at length upon the eve ol' a mourn- ful detail, which all along I have antici* pated with emotions of distress. Alas I that one so useful should be so soon re- moved ! And that ere we enter on the solemn engagements of his pastoral life, we should be compelled to notice cir- cumstances so closely connected with his death ! The following Sabbath, January 27 th, was the last he spent in London. On that day he preached in the morning at Hoxton chapel, from PhiHppians, chap. iii. ver. 8, ' Tea^ doubtless, and J count all things but loss J or the excellency of the know- ledge of Christ Jesus my Lord.' And in the evening at Tonbridge chapel, from II. Corinthians, chap. iv. ver. 3, ' But if our gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost.' The labours of this Sabbath com- pleted his engagements at Hoxton and Tonbridge chapels ; but on the evenhig of the following day (Monday) he took an affectionate leave of his beloved friends — the constituents — the tutors — the stu- dents— and the ccKigregation at Hoxton, 302 from the pulpit of that chapel. The crowd that pressed to hear his last ser- mon (for so it proved) in London was immense. One common sentiment of attachment and grief seemed to pervade the assembly. A friend charged him on that occasion not to play upon the pas- sions. Not that he was in the habit of doing this; but there appeared on this occasion a probability that he might. To that suggestion he replied — that " neither his feelings nor his conscience would ad- mit of such trifling." He addressed the people on this interesting occasion from those memorable words of Paul — Acts, chap. XX. ver. 24, ' Bui none of these things move me, neither count I my lije dear unto me, so that I may finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus.'* Thus were Spencer's labours in the metropolis closed for ever — labours — the renewal of which thousands anticipated with delight. But he was ripening fast for glory — and rapidly advancing to the '• See Appendix, No. IV. 303 termination of his course. Yea, the im- pression of his excellence — the feeling of regret at his departure— was yet strong and lively in the hearts of many, when the tidings of his death shed a deeper sorrow through the scenes and circles which he had edified by his public in- structions, or enlivened by his private friendship I It was on the ^Sth of January, that Mr. Spencer preached his farewell ser- l^on at Hoxton chapel — and it was on the 15th of August, in the same year, in the same pulpit — and to nearly the same congregation — that his funeral ser- mon was delivered by the Rev. Henry Forster Burder, one of the tutors of the academy. In that discourse, a just and elegant tribute was paid to the mingled piety and talent which formed the charm of his ministry. From the known en- dowments of the preacher, and from the opportunities which he enjoyed of ob- taining a correct estimate of Mr. Spen- cer's powers, that tribute must derive considerable propriety, and force: and .^04 as it chiefly regards his ministerial la- bours in London, I shall close these im- perfect memoirs of them with an extract from it. " During the last two years of our valuable friend's residence at Hoxton, he was very frequently engaged in preaching in London and its vicinity. As this cha- pel has been, on many occasions, the scene of his labours, and has been often thronged with the multitudes attracted by his abilities and piety, I need scarcely attempt an estimate of his pulpit talents. That they were eminent — that they were brilliant — that they were captivating — will not, I think, be denied by any who witnessed'their exhibition. He undoubt- edly displayed no small degree of pulpit eloquence, and his eloquence was distin- guished by characteristic features. It was not the kind of eloquence in which a youth of genius might be expected most to excel, and of which luxuriance of imagination constitutes the chief attrac- tion ; it was not a peculiar vivacity of fancy, which gave life to his addresses, 305 although in this respect they ^verc not deficient ; but they rather owed their ef- fect to the energy and animation infused by the ardour of his soul, and to the un- affected fervour of his religious feelings, the impression of which was aided by no small advantages of person, voice, and elocution. In endeavouring rightly to appreciate his qualifications for the duties of the christian ministry, I must not omit to notice the truly edifying manner in which he conducted the devotional ex- ercises of the pulpit. His gift in prayer was peculiarly excellent. The language of his petitions seemed to breathe the ardent aspirations of a heart alive to God, and accustomed to enjoy fellowship with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ.*" That he was maturing fast for the en- joyment of his reward, even when he left London to commence his pastoral » See a Sermon, delivered inHoxton chapel, on the death of the Rev. T. Spencer, by the Rev. Henry Forster Burder, M. A, one of the tutors of the Hoxton academy— page 32. X 30(y engagements, is a conviction indelibljr impressed upon the minds of those who- were accustomed to attend his preaching, or mingle in his society. They remem- ber certain expressions, both of counte- nance and language, which seemed to in- dicate a tone of piety — a spirituality of feeling — too exalted for a long continu- ance here. And it is to be regretted, that such expressions, at the time so powerful in their influence, and so care- fully preserved by a tenacious memory, no pen — no pencil can pourtray. Hence the sermons of animated and extem- porary preachers, when introduced to us from the press, lose half their force and beauty. The scope of the discourse — the process of the argument — may be indeed preserved ; but the unpremedi- tated, momentary flashes of holy fervour, and of brilliant genius, cannot. The elociuence of the eye — the expression of the countenance — the meaning which is sometimes thrown into every limb and muscle of the frame — are wanting. — 307 And though 'tis pleasing to possess a me- morial oi those, whom living we revered an:! loved, yet the imperfection of the cO|jy only deepens our regret at the loss of the original. hi the preaching of Spencer, it seemed as though he saw before him every object he described — and felt the full force- — the vast impor- tance of every subject upon which he spoke. Preaching one evening at Back-street, Horslcy Down, and speaking of the re- ward of the faithful gospel minister, " Me- thinks," said he, ^' 1 already hear the me- lodious accents of the Saviour s voice, saying ' fVell done, good and jaithful ser- vant, enter into tkejoy of thy Lord.' If was remarked, that he appeared as though he heard a voice personally addressing him. His anticipation was in a very few months realized ! Anxious for the usefulness and va- riety of his ministry, he begged of his friend, upon his leaving London, to send him any useful pamphlets or works which might come out; " Let me know," said 308 he, " when popular ministers are in town — the texts they take for particular occasions — festivals, kc. the settling or removal of my fellow students," kc. The last time he was with his friend alone, prior to his setting off for Liver- pool, their approaching separation was, as may be well imagined, the topic of discourse — when, with his own peculiar affection and energy, he said — " Through Clirist when we together camp. In singleness of heart. We met, O Jesu ! in thy name ; And in thy name we part. We part in body, not in mind. Our. minds continue one ; And each to each, in Jesus join 'd, ' We happily go on. Present in spirit still we are, And intimately nigh ; While on the wings of faith and prayer. We Abba! Father! cry. O may thy spirit, dearest Lord, In all our travels still Direct and be our constant guard To Zion's holy hill. 309 Oil! what a joyful meeting there, Beyond these changing shades ; White are the robes Ave then shall wear, And crowns upon our heads. Haste, Lord, and bring us to the day \Yhcn we shall dwell at home; Come, O Redeemer, come away, O Jesus quickly come." On Sunday, 3d of February, 1811, Mr. Spencer commenced his stated, pas- toral labours at Newington chapel, Li- verpool. He was then just twenty years of age — possessed of every endowment that could render him eminent as a minister — and every amiable disposition that could endear him as a friend. The people of his charge, together with num- bers who participated with them in their joy, hailed his entrance on his sacred duties with delight. From him they fondly anticipated a long series of va- ried and useful instructions — on him they gazed with admiration, as affording them no mean example of a holy and devoted life— and to him they looked with plea- 310 sure as their children's friend. That he was prcpaied to meet the^e high expec- tations, none who have contemplated the superior endowments of his mind can, for a moment, doubt — his literary at- tainments, though not splendid, were respectable — his theological knowledge was considerable — his acquaintance with mankind indeed was scanty ; he had only moved amongst the excellent of the earth ; but this, while it might expose him to certain inconveniences, gave him this advantage — that he appeared in all the native ingenuousness of unsuspecting youth. His love of study was great, which insured a constant supply of inte- resting materials for his public ministiy — whilst he possessed a facility, an eas6, an elegance, in the communication of his thoughts, displayed by few. To all these, he added the graces of the spirit in no common degree — the glorious attributes of a soul eminently devoted to God — a solemn awe of his sacred office — an ha- bitual reference to the final account he 311 should be called to render — and an ar- dent zeal for the Redeemer's glory ! — Such was Spencer when he entered on the duties of his stated ministry ! But I shall justify this sketch of his character by some extracts from his letters. In one dated Brighton, January the 9th, 1811, he says — " I dread the termination of the hap- piness I now enjoy. It will be the com- mencement of a long and agonizing se- paration. Oh ! that henceforth I may live more devotedly to God than I have ever yet done. I can truly say this is my desire ; for to be a preacher of the gos- pel, and not to feel its due abiding influ- ence on the heart, is awful indeed. Since 1 have been here I have trembled for my- self, when I have recollected the nume- rous follies of the four years I have spent iit Hoxton. The Lord pardon me, and leach me to be more holy. Pray for me. Affectionately your's, " 312 Mr. Spencer is certainly a striking ex- ample of what some persons are unwil- ling to admit — the possibility of a close and humble walk with God, even amid the snares and temptations of an acade- my. That in colleges, even the best re- gulated, temptations to levity exist, can- not be denied. Where many young men, of a lively turn of mind, are associated, it must be so. But although such a spirit may be partially, and at intervals encouraged — yet where there is true piety, the mind will be elevated above their habitual influence, and occasional instances of failure will excite to di- ligence for the future, whilst they awaken deep regret and poignant sor- row for the past . If to this there w^s a natural tendency in Spencer's constitu- tion, how sweetly is the influence of bet- ter principles displayed in the hu- mility with which he confesses and de- plores his error. If upon this page the eye of a cold, phlegmatic, stern profes- sor should dwell, let it not be averted 313 in disgust, when it beholds this amiable youth's confession of an error, of a temptation to which he is incapable — and to others, if such there be, who happy to discover in such a character, any thing like the shadow of a fault, should be preparing to pronounce a sensorious and malignant judgment, I would say — ' Let him that is without sin cast the first stone.' The following letter was written the day after his arrival in Liverpool. No. 32. TO MR. JOHN HADDON, Liverpool, Februarj/ 2d, 181 J, *' My dear Friend, " I am safely arrived at the scene of my future labours. My jour- ney, though long, was far less irksome than any one I have before undertaken. The roads were bad ; tliis made us late in our arrival at Liverpool. We did not 314 reach it till a quarter before twelve last night. The short time that I have yet spent here has been quite pleasant — it has been happj/. The serious people of the congregation have already paid me many kind and Christian attentions. With the blessing of the master whom I serv^, I expect to-morrow to spend a very de- lightful Sabbath. My best feelings for the glory of our Lord, and the increase of his kingdom, will I hope be more strongly excited than ever they have yet been. I cannot but think that the Head of the church has some great work to accomplish in Liverpool, and the desire of my hear t is that I may be the instru- ment employed to effect it. Oh ! for a large measure of the influence of the blessed spirit to render me ardently pi- ous, and to keep me zealous in my endea- vours to do good to souls. I know here are numbers who praj/ earnestly for me, and whilst these pious people besiege the throne of grace on my behalf, I will not fear that my God will desert me! — To be holy and to be useful at this mo- 315 ment, appears to be the first wish of my heart. Do you say, ' indulgent God, let it be accomplished ! ' *' I am tired with my journey and pressed for time. Believe me, in the bonds of Christian affection, " Sincerely your's, " THOMAS SPENCER. " According to his anticipation, he did en- joy on the Sabbath a happy day, although in the morning he was considerably agi- tated by the peculiarly solemn circum- stances of his new and most responsible situation. In the morning his text was admirably adapted to the occasion. — Genesis, xxviii. chapter, ver. 22 — ' Jnd Jacob vowed a vow, saijing^ if God will be with me. and keep me in this way that I go^ and will ziv^ me bread to eat and raiment to put on, so that I come again to my father s house in peace^. then shall the Lord be mij God, and this stone which I have set up for a pillar, shall be God's house, and of all that thou shall give me I will surelr/ give the tenth unto thee.' In the evening he preached 31« from Corinthians I. chap. xv. ver. 49,--- ' And as we have borne the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly.' In the course of the ensuing week, he wrote as follows. No. 33. Liverpool y Feb. 7, 1811. " Oh ! what a memorable day to me was the first Sabbath I spent in this place ; every circumstance that took place appeared worthy of attention and big with events ; never before had I entered a pulpit, with those awful, solemn feelings with which I was impressed that mornipg. The idea of appearing in a new character, of entering on a station which I have no view of relinquishing till the day of my death ; the weight of responsibility which attaches to the ministerial character ; the dread lest I should act in any way unworthy of my sacred office ; all these things would naturally impart an unusual 317 solemnity to the mind. On that day heaven is my witness of the holy resolu- tions I formed. Oh ! that God may ever enable me to put them in execution." The attention which his labours had excited, while an occasional supply, was repeated, now that he had com- menced his stated ministry. Soon the chapel became again crowded to excess. The town was filled with his praise — the most respectable of the inhabitants were perpetually disappointed in their at- tempts to hear him, not being in any way able to gain admittance to the cha- pel, so excessive was the throng. His coming seemed to be the commencement of a new era in the religious interests of Liverpool — at least amongst the dissen- ters. The prejudices of many were gradually subdued. The tone of public sentiment, with respect to that class of christians amongst whom he laboured, considerably raised. Many, by no means anxious to conceal iheir opposition to his principles, were compelled to pay a just. 318 though reluctant tribute to the fascinations of his eloquence ; and many whom the fame of that elocjuence brought beneath the sound of his voice were savingly con- verted unto God ; and of these, some are at this moment honourable members of the church of which he was the pastor. So far from being elated by his po}DU- larity, and rendered vain by the uncom- mon attention he excited and received from all ranks — every Sabbath, while he grew in public estimation, he seemed to sink in his own esteem, in humble ac- knowledgments of his own unworthiness, and in a yet deeper sense of his awful obligations. The next is an extract of a letter to his' father. No. 34. Liverpool, Februart/ 26, 1811. " I assure you I have every reason to believe, that this is the s|)here in. which infmite wisdom intends me to rriove. My congregation is vast every time I disj3eiise the word of lile. A ge- neral spirit of hearing seems excited in this large town — the prospect is in every respect encouraging, and I am induced to hope, that great good will be done. I feel the awful responsibility that attaches to my employment ; and when I recollect the multitude of souls committed to my care, I tremble, and exclaim ' W/io is suf- Jiclentjor these things V I often think how different is my situation now, to what it was when I lived at my fathei's house. I am called to an active and laborious scene. Once it was enough for me just to execute your wishes, and then in the quiet enjoyment of our own family circle to experience satisfaction and comfort. Now God has blessed me by making me a blessing to others. May he preserve me faithful, and make me an honourable and holy Christian !" In another letter to his father, dated April the 9th, ] 8 1 J , he says — " The interest excited in this town is still lively and great. I trust much good 320 is done. Prejudices are removed, con- victions are impressed on the mind, and the cause of Satan appears to tremble under the influence of the doctrines of the Cross." This is indeed a portrait worthy the attention of the candidate for the chris- tian ministry — the student and the minister. It is charming to behold such excellence, so universally applauded, veil- ed from its own observation by such deep humility. Some have indulged in specu- lations on the probable influence of Spen- cer's popularityupon his character, had he been spared. It is possible that its in- fluence might have been injurious ; he was a maiii though he was a christian. But it is ungenerous and unjust to His memory to cherish any gloomy suspicions on the subject, when, long as he did live, he sustained the christian character with unsullied purity, and descended to the grave the same holy, humble, and devoted youth, as when emerging from the obscurity of his birth, the world first witnessed his unfolding powers. 321 To the extracts already made, illus- trative of his humility, I shall add ano- ther— which as it is without date, may be well introduced here. No. 35. TO A MINISTER. *' I have at length taken up my pen to return you my sincere acknow- ledgments for the lively interest you take in my welfare and happiness, and espe- cially for the excellent advice you have given me, as to the faithfulness of my preaching, and the circumspection ne- cessary in my conduct. Oh ! never may I be left to indifference in the statement of those glorious truths, which may well demand the glowing fervour of our souls, since their importance is declared to us by the blood of the Lamb ! May the same Saviour be honoured by my feeble ministrations, whom I know you clt light to extol. You have been long engaged 322 in endeavouring to give him a high place in the affections — and a throne in the hearts ol the people. This, however, is a glorious cause, in which I have but lately embarked ; yet may the same Holy Spirit, who has enabled the heralds of salvation in every age to testify of Jesus, make my tongue ever to tell his excel- lence, warm my heart to feel his love, and influence my conduct to show forth his praise ! 1 think I hear you add, Amen!" The following is also without date : — • No. 36. TO lui-oerpool. " My dear Friend, *' I earnestly wish for you the support and the care of our constant and unchangeable friend, the Lord Jesus Christ : every day seeflis to convince me of the necessity and the happiness of a 323 -close walk with God: let us be always trusting in God, and praying to him, and there is no doubt but he will preserve and bless us. I was much pleased with an instance of resignation to the divine will I lately met with. A pious and va- luable member of our congregation lost his property, to a considerable amount, by an alarming fire. I was with him soon after it happened, and it would have done you good to have heard him say, with so much calm and sacred acquiescence as he discovered, " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." I could not but wish that in all times of trial, I and my friends might have the same God to strengthen and fortify the mind as he had. Indeed you were mistaken, my worthy friend^ when you judged my letter to you an expression of joy at separation from my friends. No, no. There is not a heart in the world that feels more truly and sincerely on such occasions than my own ; but 1 wish ever to remember the great 3'2i object of my existence, and of my call to the ministry — not sellish ends, but the glory of my God ; and when he com- mands, whatever fJesh and blood might suggest, or carnal wishes desire, I must immediately obey. It is this thought, and the persuasion that I am employed in the vineyard ol the Lord, Just accoid- ing to his will^ that give me conjposure and peace of mind ; and I can witness that prayer unloads and eases the mind as much at Liverpool as any where else. Here I hope I have felt such salutary convictions of the awful responsibility of my work, as I never knew before, and as I hope I shall never forget ; and happy am 1 to find, that here there are many of the Lord's jewels, his choicest favourites, many who call on the name of the Lord Jesus, both theirs and ours, cut of a pure heart and faith unfeigned. In our prayer meeting, I have enjoyed a heaven begun below, and that kind of devotion which can well repay me for the sacrifices I have made. I suppose you have heard of the prospects of usefulness which o])en them- 325 selves before me : may I have grace to improve every hour of my time to the service of my God, and to maintain that holiness and integrity of conduct which will recommend the glorious gospel I proclaim. According to my arrangements, 1 expect to be in town in May. Remem- ber me aflfectionately to our friends. I olten think of the pleasant opportunities we have enjoyed together, and often wish you resided here. Whenever you see Mr. H , of W , give my respects to him. I highly esteem him, because he discovers much of the image and spi- rit of Christ; and these are excellencies which must be loved by us, if we are Christians, wherever we find them. May the God of peace be with you, and ever keep you near himself. Pray for me, that I may have all needful grace and as- sistance. Write as soon as possible, and ever view me " Your affectionate friend, " THOMAS SPENCER." But scarcely had Spencer entered on 326 the full discharge of his public duties at Liverpool, when severe affliction in the endeared circle of his connexions at Brighton called him to that place. A letter written about this period, displays the agonized state of bis feelings — but abounds with expressions of holy acquies- cence in the divine dispensations. He left Liverpool on the 18th of March, ac- companied by the valued friend, under whose roof he still resided, and whose guest he was during his first visit. Ar- rived in London, the following hasty note bespeaks the anguish of his mind. Lud gate-street, Tuesday Night. " My dear Friend, *' This moment I am within a few doors of you, but cannot reach you. Mr. H is with me : we have just got in from Liverpool, and start for B. to- morrow, at seven o'clock in the morning. I shall write to you from Brighton. Pray for me ; I am in unutterable distress. Farewell ! " T. SPENCER.'^ 327 The Sabbath after his arrival in Bj'lgl.t jn, he did not engage in any pub- lic service. Much of tiie day doubtless was spent in administering comfort to the afflicted. The fears which he had sometimes been induced to harbour, were not, however, realized ; health slowly returned. His friend was under the ne- cessity of hastening to Liverpool, after the lapse of a few days — but Mr. Spencer remained at Brighton. His affectionate heart dictated the following letter, to welcome his friend on his arrival home. No. 37. TO MR. H — Brighton, Thiirsdai/ Morning. " My dear and valued Friend, " I am pleasing myself with the idea, that before this reachesLiver- pool, you will have shared the hearty and afiectionate welcome of a beloved and happy family: this is a blessing 323 which you know how to improve and enjoy aright, and for which I am per- suaded you will express the sincerest gratitude to the God of our mercies. May the same kind and watchful Provi- dence, which has 1 trust led you to your home in peace and safety, also preserve and defend me, that I may be again re- stored to the Church and congregation at Newington, and be enabled to pursue a course of active and useful labour in the service of the Master whom I hope I really love. " I frequently think that by this visit to Brighton on so mournful an occasion, I shall be better fitted to sympathize with the- afflicted in general, and be taught how to commend them to God. Before this I had not been at all familiar with scenes of sorrow and distress. In the two sick rooms you visited last Mon- day evening, 1 have learned lessons which I shall never forget, and the bene- fit of which mav probably be communi- cated to the Church of Christ, as wcU as to myself. 329 " Our Redeemer himself, in order to be rendered a merciful and compassionate high priest, was ^ kmpled like as we are ;' endured the various ills and sorrows that flesh is heir to ; and hence (oh! blessed sympathy and kind relief) he is able to succour them that are tempted. " Next Sabbath morning I intend to preach at the Countess's chapel, and in the evening at Mr. Styles's : pray for me, that I may be supported and blest. It is still my design to reach Liverpool on Friday night : tell our friends, that they may expect to see me in the pulpit on the following Sabbath. May i be there richly laden with the good things ot the kingdom; — may I be animated by a mind fraught with rich and hea\ enlv fa- vours- I am sure that if my (iod re- stores those who are so dear to n\e to per- fect health and strength, myheuit, hard as it is, will not be insensible to the ktl- ing of gratitude. No ; — it will lea;> .s doth a hart; it will pant with ihc sen- sations of unutterable joy. I have re- ceived a very kind letter Irom our wor- 330 thy friend, Mr. N. H ; do tell him it afforded me real pleasure, and give him my hearty thanks lor his solicitude for my happiness. 1 hope you are going on well with the new Chapel business ; if pos- sible, let us make Satan tremble ; against the kingdom of darkness let us use the most active and unwearied exertions, and God shall bless us in our deed. I wish I could have attended the meet- ing of the Bible Society ; my absence however was unavoidable. Give my af- fectionate regards to my dear friend Mrs. H and to your dear children. I hope I shall soon see you all happy and well. Your unremitting kindness to me )ias produced impressions upon my mind which will never be obliterated. I sliall be happy again to mix with your family circle, and to occupy my own pulpit. To the hearers at Newington 1 intend to shew my regard and best wishes, by con- stantly labouring in their service. " I am more than ever yours, *' THOMAS SPENCER.' 331 The uncommon attention excited in Liverpool by Mr. Spencer's ministry, soon suggested the necessity of providing more accommodation than Newington chapel could afford, for the numbers who were anxious to enjoy the benefit of his stated labours. At first the idea of enlarging the old place of worship presented itself; but some difficulties arising, this was re- linquished, and early in March it was re- solved, that a chapel capable of accom- modating two thousand persons should be erected — a committee of management was appointed — and an eligible spot of ground soon selected for the purpose. A most judicious plan for the building was proposed and adopted — the dimensions of which were thirty-two yards long out- side, and twenty-one yards and a half broad outside. A liberal subscription was soon obtained, and the affair was in a state of such forwardness on his return from Brighton, that on the 15th of April, Mr. Spencer laid the first stone of the chapel, in the presence of an immense assembly — computed to consist of about 332 six thousand persons. On that truly interesting occasion, he delivered an ap- propriate address, and solemnly dedi- cated the place to God by prayer.* About th's time Mr. Spencer removed from the hospitable abode of his early friend, with whom he had resided on his first coming to Liverpool, in order to lodge with Mr. Thurstan Lassell, in the Park Road ; a pleasant situation, about half a mile from the town. It was the lot of Spencer to be beloved in every circle wl^ich he entered — and none who were honoured to behold his excellence, and enjoy his friendship, ever resigned him, without feelings of the deepest re- gret. I cannot deny myself the pleasure of extracting a sentence or two from the willing testimony which that friend has borne to the sterling worth of his ami- able guest. I am the more anxious to do this, as it will unveil his character in private life, and shew us, what he was as the member of a family. * For the oration delivered at the foundation of the chapel — and also for an account of the services performed at its opening in May, 1812 — see Appendix, No, V. 333 " We had the great advantage of Mr. Spencer's pious conversaiion and fer- vent prayers in the family for near four months, for he did not leave us till the latter end of April ; it was indeed a plea- sant, and I trust, a profitable season, which we often review with great delight. With what pleasing emotions have we often surrounded our domestic altar, and witnessed the fervour of his addresses to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. In this delightful employ, he never seemed to engage with half a heart, his whole soul was alive to the service of his God : he was serious in a serious cause, nor did any circumstances that arose ever seem to unfit him for the dis- charge of religious duties. Morning and evening he generally engaged in praver at family worship ; the variety he pro- duced ou these occasions has often aston- ished us ; it was impossible to trace any thing like repetition, every prayer seem- ed quite new, and gave hesh proof of the powers of his mind, and the ar- dour of his soul. 334 " Mr. Spencer naturally possessed an amiable disposition, and was innocently cheerful; no one could say that gloom or melancholy was connected with his reli- gion. In his manners he was simple and unaffected ; any thing like ostentation or parade he disliked exceedingly; he would always, if" possible, avoid mixing with large parties. The company of serious, pious, plain Christians was his delight. He was kind, generous, and tender-heart- ed ; the wants of the poor and necessi- tous he was ready and willing to relieve; ' To do good and communicate he forgot not, knowing that with such sacrifices God is well pleased." But whilst all around him was pros- perous and happy — whilst his ministry was successful beyond his most sanguine expectations — and hundreds were eager to administer to his comfort — his heart was the victim of anxiety and grief. The continued and alarming indisposi- tion of his friends at Brighton, inspired his delicate and susceptible mind with the most gloomy and agonizing fears. 335 It was well. His heavenly Father saw he needed some thorn in the flesh, under the circumstances of his unexampled po- pularity, to prevent his being exalted above measure — and to preserve his soul in a frame of holy solemnity, and hum- ble reliance on himself. Lest the sun of his prosperity should dazzle him too much, these Iriendly clouds were per- mitted to intervene. Their salutary in- fluence may be traced in the following letter: — No. 38. TO MR. JOHN HADDON. Liverpool, April 16, 1812. " My dear Friend, " The melancholy state of depression in which I have been held so long, must form my excust for neglecting the sacred duties of friendship, in not writing before this to you. Oh I how soon can Jehovah blast our hopes of hap- piness from creature comlbrts, to con- 336 vince us of the uncertainty of all earthly good ! We must " walk by faith," and live in the exercise of a lively hope, that \Te shall obtain a better and more per- manent rest. I scarcely dare, for my own part, anticipate any other kind of hap- piness on earth, but what may arise from communion with the Saviour, and the delightful work in which I am engaged, which, I must say, amidst all my trials affords me increasing happiness and plea- sure. Thanks be to God, the work of the Lord is prospering in my hand ; and though I may not have much pleasure in this world myself, 1 hope I shall be the means, in the hands of the Holy Spirit, of putting jnto the possession of my fel- low creatures, real and substantial feli- city; Ihis^ the gospel I am enabled to preach is sent to confer. The next week I expect to go to my lodgings. I shall reside in a retired rural and delightful sjiot, with a family, (three only in num- ber) who belong to the congregation in which the Lord has graciously called mc to labour; it is about lialf a mile from 337 the town, away from all bustle and noise, commanding a most delightful and en- chanting prospect of both land and water. My study affords a most exten- sive view of fields and hills, the river, and the adjacent county (Cheshire.) I am persuaded it is every thing I could wish for as a plan for my residence. In that pleasant study* I expect to spend much time, and enjoy some degree of pleasure ; and my dear friend will be- lieve me when I assure him, that amidst the afflictions which our righteous Father judges the best schools for me, it would tend to alleviate my sorrows and cheer my ♦ To me it is a melancholy reflection, that I should so soon become the occupier of a spot in which he had fondly pictured to himself so many years of pleasure. In his own study^on his own table — in his own chair — I am now drawing uj) these memoirs of his life; — around rau are the fruits of his short, but laborious exertions — and immediately before my eyes the path by which he de- scended to his grave ! From every object within my view, I am admonished, * work whilst it is day, far t/it night eometh, when no man can icor/c' I would that every loit- erer in the vineyard of Christ w^re attended by meihcntfis such a» these. ' • Z 338 Spirits, could he be in my new study, and as he did in my old one, occasionidly spend an hour or two with me in social chat. " Yesterday I laid the foundation stone of my new chapel, gave an address upon the spot, and dedicated the place to God in solemn prayer. 1 he auditory consisted oi" not less than five thousand people, who were all fixed in their atten- tion. May I, on that ground, oiten find a solace for my cares, in the public wor- ship of God ! May he bless the under- taking ! May his eyes and his heart be there perpetually ! " Farewell — I must break off by assur- ing you, that I am sincerely yours, " THOMAS SPENCER." The week following that in which he laid the foundation stone of the new chapel, Mr. Spencer made an excursion into the country, and preached on the Tuesday evening at Danven, and on the Thursday evening at a meeting of minis- ters at Blackburn. 339 During this journey, he suEfered much from the complaint to wltich he was sub- ject— but akhough labouring under the pressure of severe indisposition, in the pulpit he rose superior to the influence of languor and pain — and his exertions on that journey are still spoken of by those who witnessed them, and they were many, with delight. . On his return to Liverpool, Mr. Spen- cer received a melancholy summons to Chester, to attend the funeral of his early and amiable friend, the Rev. Ebenezer White, and to deliver the oration at his grave. His obligations and attachment to that excellent man have already been recorded. When arrived at the scene of death, his delicate mind seemed over- whelmed in an agony of grief. He stood weeping in unutterable distress over the cold remains of iiis departed friend. His bosom formed for friendship,, and even then the seat of no ordinary sorrow, was ill prepared to sustain the pressure of a stroke, by which he was suddenly bereft of one who had discharged for him the 340 relations of the father, the tutor, and the friend ! Mr. Walter White, who was the witness of his grief, has thus described it : — " I shall not easily for- get this dear young man's behaviour on the evening preeeding my brother's funeral at Chester. We were standing together by the side of the coffin, viewing the corpse — he wept exces- sively, and clasping his hands with great emotion exclaimed, ' Oh ! that I may but finish my course like him !' and turn- ing to me, he said with his usual energy, ' Oh ! what a fine thought it is, that the bodies of the saints are purchased by Christ as well as their souls.' And then passing his friendly hand gently over my brother's face, he said, with great' em- phasis, ' This body is the purchase of Christ : it cannot be lost — it must revive again — all these limbs must resume their activity. Oh ! with what fine sentiments and ideas does the Christian religion fur- nish us to what any of the heathen sys- tems did ! ' Though excessively agitated in his 341 whole frame, he yet sustained himself to deliver at the grave a Funeral Oration, characterized by tender and solemn elo- quence— the eloquence of feeling and of piety. His letters to his friends for some time after this event, contain occasional al- lusions to the death of Mr. White — and in a way which proves how much he loved him — how deeply he deplored his loss. In one he says — " I have lately been visiting a scene of death at Chester: my worthy friend Mr. White is now no more in this world; but I doubt not, that h^ shines illus- triously in another state of existence. When 1 was eleven years of age he came to Hertford, and used to spend a great deal of time with me : ah ! little did I then think I should have to deliver a fu- neral address at his interment, and so far away too from the place with which we were then familiar. Peace to his ashes, and eternal joy to his departed spirit ! and ere loncj; mav I meet him in that 342 blessed state, where disappointments will no longer be his lot or mine." On the Sabbath evening following, Mr. Spencer preached a funeral sermon for his friend, in his own pulpit at Li- verpool, from Deuteronomy, chap, xxxiv. ver. 5, ' 5o Moses ^ the servant of the Lordy died there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord.' The sermon was solemn and impressive. Thus we re- cord the mortality of others, and drop into eternity ourselves. On that Sabbath evening three months, his own funeral sermon was preached in the same pulpit. The following letter was written the day before the funeral of Mr. White ; — No. 39. TO MR. HADDON. May IS///, 1811. '• My dear Friend, "I am ashamed when I think of the length of time which has passed 343 since I last wrote lo you; but indeed since then I have scarcely written to any One, so much have 1 been occupied. What a beautiful and admirable narra- tive is the Dairyman's Daughter ; if you can, get me two hundred of them, and send me the very first opportunity : they are just the kind of publication I want for several of my hearers. Procure me too some of the Negro Servant ; and of all the interesting modern tracts, which your own discretion may suggest. The Rev. Ebenezer White, of Chester, has en- tered into the joy of his Lord. He was formerly settled at Hertford. I knew him, and highly esteemed him. I am going to his funeral. Oh ! how uncertain is human life I how necessary that habi- tual frame of piety which the Holy Spi- rit can impart to his believing favourites! May we both enjoy the sanctity of reli- gion, love it for its purllij, and be enabled to discern its holy excellencies ; then we shall show that our regeneration is real, and our hope of heaven well supported. God is showing me more and more of the 344 unGcrtainly of all things here, and the necessity of living the blessed life of faith upon the Son of God, who, I sometimes think I can say, " loved me, and gave himself for me." I study a good deal, and find increasing pleasure in it. In vi- siting, as yet I have done but very little. The families I am most intimate with, are the serious, the pious followers of Christ ; for I find that these alone can help me to comfort under my own trials, or in any way do me real good. But I know I must not be selfish. I must labour to do good in any way I can possibly think of. " I am much pleased with my lodg- ings ; the situation is so retired and beau- tiful, th^t it is every thing I can wish. I doubt not but you continue to pray for me, and I need your prayers. I feel the awful responsibility of my work, and my own unfitness for it. I4ong to ' pre- sent every man perfect in Christ Jesus' Remember me aflbctionately to all our friends. *' I am sincerely your's, - THOMAS Silencer;' 345 Mr. Spencer seemed now to become more and more interested in his impor- tant work ; the scenes of every day ap- peared to present it to his mind in some new and interesting Hght. The powers of his soul were absorbed in its concerns. He could think and speak of nothing else. In the pulpit, or in preparations for it — in serious conversation with his friends — or in the chambers of the dis- eased and dying, he was at home. He lived but for the discharge of his high obligations ; and in the prosecution of his arduous work he was both useful and happy. With astonishing rapidity his character and talents ripened. He seem- ed to grow daily in favour both with God and man. All that saw him, admired him, there was something so engaging in his manner — all that heard him, re- spected and revered him, so serious and important were the trutlis which he de- livered— all that knew him, loved him, for his was every amiable quality that could excite and retain the best affections of the human heart. 346 Valuable as our public institutiohs for the education of students for the Christian ministry really are, they can afford but an inadequate conception of the compli- cated duties of the pastoral office. The work of the pulpit is perhaps, after all, not the most difficult or trying part of the pastor's employ — and the reason why so many fail when called into active ser- vice in the church of God, is probably this, that they never calculated upon one-half of the engagements which then press upon their regard. They had form- ed a most incorrect estimate of the nu- merous claims Avhich the office of the ministry involves, upon their time — their talents — their patience — and their faith. They had iniaghied, that in the compo- sition and delivery of sermons was the chief of their labour — and that when this duty was discharged, by far the hea- viest burden was removed. The visita- tion of the sick, with all the peculiar de- licacy, prudence, afftction, and faithful- ness which it requires — the consolation of the distressed, with all the caution 347 and skill which the varieties of their grief demand — the reproof and admo- nition of the irregular, with all the min- gled tenderness, constancy and fidelity, "which, in such difficult cases, must be exercised — the care of the young, with that adaptation of temper and manner to their capacities which, in the work of catechizing, familiar conversation or pub- lic instruction, is absolutely necessary — the advising, comforting and relieving the distressed, the embarrassed, and the indigent, who all press to him for coun- sel, solace and relief; — these, and un- numbered other duties connected with the pastoral office, are perhaps but sel- dom contemplated with sufficient serious- ness amid the exercises of a College. And even in the public engagements of ministry, the circumstances of ihepastor differ materially from those of the student. The pulpit compositions of the student are general; those of the pastor must be particular. The student has no indi- vidual case to suit ; the congregation to whom he preaches are strangers to him; the pastor has as manv cases as there 348 are people committed to his charge. The student can select his topics, and adapt his preaching to the tone of his mind — or if pecuHar rekictance should be felt, may enjoy the repose he wishes, and not preach at all ; but the pastor must appear at the stated hours of wor- ship, whatever be the frame and temper of his soul. Often he is called to the dis- cussion of subjects but ill adapted to his feelings •, and it becomes his duty to ad- minister consolation to others which his bleeding bosom needs, but cannot take. He must sometimes cover with a smiling countenance an aching heart ; and his lips must exhort to tranquility and confidence in God, W'hilst over his own spirit broods the cloud of anxiety and sorrow ! Happy shall I be if the perusal of these imper- fect memoirs tend to excite in the breast of any a spirit of christian sympathy and prayer lor the ministers of the gos- pel; or if these statements of the labours and anxieties of their office, shall induce those to pause and count the mighty cost, who may be lbouo;htlessly pressing for- ward to the arduous work. Let such re- 349 member the worth of souls — the guilt of becoming accessary to their ruin — and the solemn account all must render at the bar or God, who have taken upon them- selves the responsibility of seeking, by every possible method, to promote their eternal interests. These considerations seemed ever present to the view of Spencer. The feelings of an affectionate and faithful pastor's heart breathe in every sentence of the following letter. No. 40. TO MR. HADDON. Lkerpcolj May Z\, 1811. " My dear Friend, " You really must excuse my apparent neglect in not writing you before ; but if you knew the number and pressing nature of my avocations, you would not wonder. I now feel, and deeply too, the dreadful responsibility of 3o0 my employment. I have sick beds con- stantly to attend — a numerous congrega- tion committed to my charge — a charac- ter to sustain, which ought ever to appear free, even from the very appearance of evil — and all this with the most depressed state of feelings, and but little experience of the arduous duties the course of the Christian ministry embraces. Often do I exclaim, ' who is sufficient for these things ?' Oh ! that I may find that my sufficiency is of God. I am led at times to derive encouragement from the good which I trust the blessed spirit has accom- plished by my feeble labours ; but then I think again of my youth, my inexpe- rience, nxy exposure to the fiery darts of the wicked one, and the possibility of my eventually becoming ' a cast-away.' " Oh ! there are many feelings of this painful class in my mind, which few can share, which I cannot dare frequently to conmiunicate. " All this, and mi^ch more, do I daily feel. I wish you were with me. I could say a thousand things I cannot write, and 851 you might console me with the comforts wherewith you yourself are comforted of God I Do pray for me, for 1 need it more than ever now. Oiten do I 'dis- pense to others that consolation I cannot take myself. , " Thank you a thousand times for Cecil. Oh! they are admirable: what a character was he. Oh ! that the Head of the Church would but make me like him. The tracts are just what I wanted ; may a divine blessing attend the distri- bution of them. Farewell I " I am your's affectionately, " THOMAS SPENCER." In another letter he writes : " Cecil's works are a high treat in- deed : yoii cannot think how I enjoy the perusal of them. There are such valuable hints for ministers — such ines- timable directions, that I hope I shall evince the benefit of reading them, to the last hour of the day in which I am appointed to woFJff^' , .352 The church and congregation at Li- verpool now became anxious for Mr. Spencer's ordination, and Thursday the 27th of June was appointed for that solemn service. In the following letter he announced it to his early friend and patron, Mr. Wilson, whose presence on tliat occasion he earnestly desired. No. 41. TO THOMAS WILSON, ESQ. Liverpool, June 4, 1811. " My dear Sir, ' " I am happy to inform you, that Thursday June the 27th is the. day appointed for my ordination. Will you allow me to expect the pleasure of your presence and society on that solemnity ? If you were here, you would be pleased with my prospect of usefulness, and you would be able to- suggest some hints to our friends about the new chapel. Little things are apt to be neglected, and their 353 neglect, though apparently triflhig, would spoil the whole concern. We may well congratulate each other on the triumph the dissenters have obtained over an in- tolerant and oppressive spirit. They have imagined a vain thing: the Lord reigneth, let the people tremble. You know the great depression of spirits un- der which I have Jbr some time labour- ed ; may the Lord appear a present help in this time ol trouble. The walls of Zion are to be built, it appears, in trou- blous times, for such they are to me ; yet I would submissively commit my cause to Cod ; he mav ordain that the benefit of his church, and the good ol others, shall be promoted by the ills I endure. You know poor White, of Chester, has re- ceived the end of his faith — the salva- tion of his soul; I delivered the oration over his grave. Mr. Fletcher, of Black- burn, preached his funeral sermon. We are all dying creatures, hastening to the world of immortality. I think that late- \y the world has appeared to me in its true light — ' // passetli away.' May we A a 354 by every dispensation of Providence be rendered more meet for the inheritance of the saints in light: in due time may we be cloathed upon witli our house, which is from heaven. Present mv kind respects to Mrs. and Miss Wilson. I hope you will try to visit Liverpool by the time mentioned. Wishing much to see you, I remain, dear Sir, " Affectionately your's, " THOMAS SPENCER." The day of ordination at length ar- rived. The chapel in which Mr. Spencer preached being but small, that service, which, amongst Dissenters of the congre- gational order, is remarkably solemn, was performed at the chapel in Byrom-&treet, Liverpool, which was handsomely granted to the people at Newington chapel for that special purpose. It was indeed an interestinjT dav^ The services were com- menced by the Rev. Mr. Evans, of Stock- port, who read suitable portions of scrip- ture, and implored the divine blessing upon the sacred engagements of the day. 355 The Rev. Joseph Fletcher, M. A. of Blackburn, then delivered an admira- ble introductory discourse, and received from Mr. Spencer his confession of faith, together with answers to the questions usually, on such occasions, proposed to the minister to be ordained ;* Mr. Spen- cer then kneeling down, surrounded by his fathers and brethren in the ministry, the Rev. John Cockin, of Halifax, offered up, with deep solemnity, the ordination prayer, accompanied by the imposition of hands. To this act of ordination suc- ceeded a most impressive and affectionate charge from the Rev. William Hordle, of Harwich, Mr. Spencers former tutor and friend. The passage on which this excellent address was founded was Col- lossians, chap. iv. verse 17. ' Take heed to ike ministry -which thou hast received in the Lord, that thou fulfil it.' The Rev. Mr. Roby, of Manchester, preached to the people of Mr. Spencer's charge, upon the duties which devolved on them in the * For Mr. Spencer's confessiou of faith, &c. see Ap- pendix, No. VI. 3.36 relalion that day publicly recognized from Galations, chap. iv. ver. 18, ' // is good to be zealouslj/ affected ahvaijs in a good thiiifj^J The service was throughout most affecting and impressive ; it was charac- terized by a peculiar solemnity, both in the feelings of the ministers and the peo- ple. The tender Irame and delicate mind of Spencer was nearly overwhelmed by the awlul considerations which then pressed upon him. Had the melancholy event which so rapidly succeeded this interesting service been at that time cer- tainly announced, a seriousness more suitable to the occasion could hardly have been inspired ; and indeed in Mr. Hordle's-charge there were passages which in the sad sequel of this history appear most singularly appropriate — bordering even on the prophetic ! One in particular deserves to be recorded : — " You, my dear young brother, must die, and stand at the bar of God. Your ordination service may be only a prelude to your funeral service, for what is man ? INlan is but of yesterday, and his days are 3&7 as a shadow. How often have we seen the sun go down while it is yet day I and while the chureli has hecn pleasing ilseli with the prospect of enjoying the pious fervent lahours of an endeared minister for years, has an unexpected stroke sepa- rated them for ever I Mourning survivors wondering have said, ' Veiiljj lliou art a God that hidest l/ij/self, 0 God of Israel, the Saviour/ " Too often such remarks as these are passed hy unnoticed by the thoughtless — are merely considered as expletives to supply the want of other matter — or splendid furniture to decorate and give effect to the address. The anticipation, though founded in reason, warranted by scripture, and authorized by experience, is yet unaccompanied by any just assu- rance of the event it realizes; and its connexion with any special decree of Govl is concealed bom mortals. But there arc seasons when the li[)s of holy men seeni lo utter something more than those vague admonitions of death, which, from their frequent recurrence, or the uricertainty 350 of their immediate accomplishment, lose their power to impress. And to those who admit the doctrine of divine in- fluence upon the minds of men, and more especially upon such as are ap- pointed to state and enforce the solemn doctrines of revelation to mankind, it can be no source of astonishment that God should sometimes direct the thoughts and expressions of his ministers into a current adapted to certain ends he has to answer, or particular events he in- tends shall shortly come to pass. With respect to the passage above cited, and its corresponding event, persons will form their own opinion. 1 cannot, how- ever, but regard it as adding somewhat to the force and propriety of observa- tions such as these, since here was an- other instance, in which the event anti- cipated by the speaker as possible^ though at the time, perhaps, regarded by the hearers as highly improbable^ was but too surely realized ! Mr. Spencer was now fully invest- ed with that sacred office, which from 359 his Infancy he had desired ; and he set himself diho-entlv to the discharge of its momentous duties. That he felt its importance, was evident to all. His habitual conduct and conversation proved it. To his most intimate friends he freely expressed his anxieties respect- ing it, and earnestly did he implore an interest in the prayers of his people and Ills brethren in the ministry, hi the as- surance that he laboured amongst a pray- ing people, he felt confidence: and no consideration is more adapted to relieve the mind of a faithful minister than this — while It pours unseen a thousand bless- ings on his head, it secures to his la- bours an affectionate attention, and an earnest desire rightly to appreciate and improve them. That which persons make the subject of earnest prayer, ihey will usually value ; and it Is hardly possible but that good must be unifbrmlv the re- suit, when both minister and people come from their closets, which have wit- nessed their fervent mtercessions for each other, to the house of God. The apostle S60 knew how to estimate the prayers even of the meanest christians who enjoyed liis labours. ' Brethren, praij for iis.'^' — It is true that a people will lor the most part take the cast ol their reh- gious character from that of their minis- ter: if he be much alive to God, and zealous in the discharge of" his ministry, he will communicate the sacred flame to all around him, and cause his people to reflect on every side the light his preach- ing and his example shed. But, on the other hand, are there no instances in which the reverse of this has been the case ; the minister has been gradually disheartened and dispirited by a cold, suj)ine, and worldly-minded people, who have continually thwarted him in his generous designs — counteracted his bene- volent cd'orts — and quenched, by indif- ference and neglect, the ardour of his * Sco an adiiiiniMc seriiion upon this subject l>y tli»^ Rev. Williuui Jay, of Ba^li, picacJied at tlio settlement of the Uev. Ueuiy Forstcr Burtler, A.M. at Hackney. Every pious minister, who knows its worth, must wi^h to see this excellent discourse in the hands of his people. 361 zeal. Instead of" assisting him in his glo- rious work, they have hung like weights about his garments ; and instead of acting as pioneers to prepare the paths of chris- tian benevolence for his willing feet to tread, they have clogged up the avenues with obstacles, and lined the way with insuperable difliculties. The spirit of the man has been broken by perpetual disappointment — vexation has graduallv enervated his mind — and by slow and imperceptible degrees he has sunk into torpor and indifference — and the languor of the pastor has at length presented an unhappy counterpart to the supineness of the people. And even where neither the cause nor the consequences obtain to so alarming and fatal degree, still it is to be deplored that any approach to them should be suffeied to exist. Here the stated attendants on a gospel ministry may often find a reason for that want of pleasure and improvement which some- times they dej)lorc, though most unjustly, at the preacher's cost. If prayer, special and fervent, for a blessing on their pas- 3r,2 tor's Ia[x)urs, has been neglected, the mystery is at once developed. For they have no right whatever to expect a bles- sing without prayer ; and as they have no right to expect it without prayer, neither are they in a suitable frame to receive it : and thus it often happens, that where the prayerless soul departs empty away, the humble and earnest pe- titioner obtains a rich and suitable supply from the same table, and of the same food. It is light bread to the one, but it is life-giving and substantial provision to the other. ' Ask and ije shall reuive.' On the first Sabbath in July Mr. Spencer dispensed, for the first time, the solemn ordinance of the Ix^rd's supper. It was a time of love — a season of re- freshing from the presence of the Lord. The sweet impression of that happy day still remains, and its memorv is vet dear to many. On the following Monday, at the social prayer meeting in the evening, in the bosom of his people, he again so- lemnlv dedicated himself to God, and renewed his vows to consecrate all his powers to their service in the work of the ministry'. Indeed, all he wrote, or said, or did. indicated the holv fer\'Our of his soul. Tenderlv alive to the sacred delicac\' of his character, he was anxious to sustain it well, that the cause of Jesus might not suffer by any spots it might contract. Conscientiously awake to every call of duty which his most responsible station might involve, he was ready to obey them all — that the ministry might nm be blamed I — The following letter h from his correspondence ab^jut this time, and may be numbered with the last he ever wrote. The expressions which i have copied, are mingled with others sacred to the privacy of friendship. They promise pleasures never realized — unfold prospects suddenly destroyed — and record arrangements he was noi per- mitted to fulfd i 364 No. 42. TO MR. HADDON, Liverpool, Julj/ S, ISII. " My dear Friend, " The ordination has, ihr the last fortnight, occupied ahiiost the Avhole of my attention, and the impres- sion, the solemn, the holy impression ol which I trust I shall never forget. Yes- terday, for the first time in my life, I ad- ministered the ordinance of the Lord's supper, and found it to be indeed ' a time of' refreshing from the presence oj the Lord.' My duties are more ' and more important and pressing. Conversa- tions upon religious experience with can- didates for admission into our church, the baptism of children, and the calls of the sick and dying must necessarily engage much of my attention. But 1 can sin- cerely bless God, that amidst all the de- pression of mind I have suffered, mv 365 work has been my delight. The duties of the ministry have often refreshed, in- stead of oppressing me. Tlie pleasure of the Lord has prospered in my hands. 1 love the service of the Head of the church better than ever I did: when I am watering others, I find that Jehovah the Spirit waters my own soul too I Oh ! is not this an encouraging token for good ? " In great haste, *' I am ever your affectionate friend, ^ '■' THOxMAS SPENCER.' \w the mean time, Mr. Spencer was not confined to his own pulpit. He gave his brethren in the ministry tokens of his affectionate regard, by officiating for them in their respective places: and he also made several excursions into the country. Mr. Spencer did not encourage the idea, that as he had become by vo- luntary consecration the minister of a particular church, the church in general had now lost every claim upon his kind attention. Nor were the people amongst 366 whom he laboured of a disposition so selfish and narrow, as to wish to confine his exertions exclusively to the spot they occupied. That the first and constant regards of a pastor are due to the people of his charge, none can dispute ; but with the work of the pastor, to a certain extent, may with the greatest propriety be added that of an Evangelist. There are surrounding districts that will often cry to him for help, which he is bound to render— there are destitute so- cieties to whom he must minister conso- lation and instruction, in token of his brotherly love — and there are inter- changes of friendship, which promote union, ^ which relieve the mind, and which will ever be found beneficial to the churches by whom they are encouraged. Intercourse with society informs the judg- ment— corrects the views, and expands the mind. Long labour in one appointed sphere, however important and delight- ful the duties it involves, and especially where all the powers of the mind are ever on the stretch, must produce at 367 length weariness, sameness, monotony. A visit to another scene — intercourse with 6ther connexions — refreshes and revives the wasted spirits and the weary frame. And the church, however they may value their pastor's ministry and regret his absence, will not eventually be losers by the temporary privation they may suffer. But we must, however reluctant, pass on to the closing scenes of Mr. Spencer's life. As his death was sudden, I have none of those sayings or sentiments to record which occupy the last pages of most biographical sketches of departed saints ; and yet his friends remember, with peculiar pleasure, in what a holy frame of mind he appeared to be during the whole of the week previous to his removal. If I should be more minute than may be deemed absolutely necessary in what remains of these imperfect me- moirs of this lovely youth, I trust that I shall be forgiven. 1 write for friendship ; and to his friends it must afford peculiar gratilication lo follow him through all the 3G8 scenes he visited, and mark the sligiitest movements of his mind during the last week of his residence on this earth. On Sabbath day, July 28, being the day appointed for a collection for the new chapel, Mr. Spencer preached a most ex- cellent sermon in the morning from Ezra, chap. ix. ver. 8, * Jnd now for a Hide space grace has been shewed from the Lord our God to leave us a remnant to escape, and to give us a nail in his holj/ place, that our God mai/ lighten our eyes, and give us a little reviving in our bondas^e' In the even- ing his text was Acts, chap. xiii. ver. 26, ' To you is the word of this salvation sent' On that day he exerted himself greatly, and complained much of a pain at his heart, but did not seem at night parti- cularly fatigued. The following day he spent chiefly in conversation with his friends respecting the state of the church, and some candidates for communion who were to be visited and received during that week — he dined at the house of a friend — in the afternoon visited the sick room of one of his members — and in the 369 evening attended the prayer meeting at the chapel, when he recapitulated the out- line of a sermon which had been preached on the Wednesday evening preceding, by the Rev. Mr. Davies, of London. His me- mory was remarkably retentive, and he gave in that exercise a proof of its powers, which astonished all that heard him. That evening he slept in Liverpool, and early on Tuesday morning he went with a friend to Prescot and laid the foundation stone of a new chapel there, and deli- vered an address adapted to the occasion, in the presence of a large assembly. From the ground he retired to the house of a gentleman in Prescot, whose child he then baptized, and so proceeded imme- diately to St. Helen's, a, town about four miles distant, where he preached in the evening. On Wednesday afternoon he returned much fatigued ta Liverpool, but preached in the evening with great anima- tion, from a text selected for him, by one of the young persons of his church ; Rev. xi. 2, ' JVevertheless I have sonmvhat against thee^ because thou hast left thy first love.' Kb 370 The Rev. Mr. Wray, the missionary at Demerara, was then in Liverpool, and was at the chapel. A hiend who saw Mr. Spencer in the vestry after service, ob- served him to be much exhausted, and heard him say for the first time, " Oh ! I did not feel comfortable in seeing a brother minister in thecongregation this evening." Usually he did not fear the face of man. On Thursday, about noon, one of his dea- cons called upon him at his residence, and he was occupied the whole day with him in visiting those who were to be re- ceived into the church ; his conversations, with the respective candidates, were truly admirable and appropriate, and such as -will remain in the grateful me- mory of those who had the happine'ss to enjoy them. On Friday he was occupied until the afternoon in writing letters to his friends. I am able to present the reader with extracts from two ol them. Augusts, 181 1. *' I find growing pleasure in my ministerial employment; this evening I 371 have to admit eight new members to church communion ; indeed when 1 ac- cepted this situation, I never conceived that I should have half the engagements, or duties to attend to, which 1 now find must be accompHshed, if I would merit the character of an active, useful minis- ter of religion. I think my recent afflic- tions, and the solemn duties which now devolve upon me have in a considerable degree chastened my character, and im- parted, perhaps, a seriousness to my general deportment, which may prove highly advantageous to me in future life. How long this will last I cannot tell, but I think affliction adds a weight to a cha- racter nothing else does, and especially to young people and young ministers. I have lately been preaching in the villages round Liverpool. Oh ! let us aim to glo- rify God, and then trust all our concerns in his hands, that so at the last we mav be accepted of him." In another, to his father, he says : *' I was much hurt at the account of my mother's* illness ; I hope no distress- * His step-mother. 37-2 ing circumstances have arisen, and by this time, perhaps, I may indulge the idea that vou are better vourself. Oh ! how necessary that we should all seek a better country, since here there is so much change, affliction, and woe. May every trial be sanctified to us all, and Ave be meetened for the inheritance of the saints in light." Havincf concluded his earthly cor- respondence with his distant friends, for ever,* he left his residence and re- sumed his pastoral visits amongst his people, and the candidates who were to be that evening received. At the church meeting he was particularly lively ; \Vith holy joy he welcomed the new members into the communion of the * His correspondence with Iiis beloved and honoured parent has been recently renewed. Spencer's father sleeps the sleep of death ; his body rests in his bed, but his spirit walks in its uprightness. He was a venerable saint. Few have felt the pressure of trials such us his, and fe\Y liave displayed a spirit more uncomplaining and resigned. He walked with God. Rej>eatcdly before his departure he assured his family that he was going tu glory. And ou the 25th of December, Ayi2, his happy spirit was dis missed to the rnjoyiuent of its rest. 373 church, and as he gave to each the right liaiid of fellowship, he addressed a short but most affectionate and solemn exhorta- tion, admirably adapted to their respec- tive ages, stations, and feehngs/'' In- deed, all the duties of the pastor's ofiTice * At the church meetinc:, with great emphasis, he gave out the following hymn, from Kelly's collection : RECEIVING A MEMBER. " Come in thou blessed of the Lord, Enter in Jesus' precious name : We welcome thee with one accord, And trust the saviour does the same* Thy name, 'tis hop'd, already stands. Mark'd in the book of life above ; And now to thine we join our hands. In token of fraternal love. Those joys which earth cannot afford, We'll seek in fellowship to prove : Join'd in one spirit to our Lord, Together bound by mutual love. And while we pass this vale of tears. We'll make our joys and sorrows known ; We'll share each other's hopes and fear?. And count auother's care out own. Once more our welcome we repeat ; Receive assurance of our love; Oh ! may we all together meet Around the throne of G«.d abovt. ' 374 were conducted by him with a propriety and an ease, which years of" experience are frequently unable to supply. With the unaiFected simplicity ol youth, he tempered the dignity of age — he seemed to be at once at home in the duties of his new and important station — never em- barrassed or confused ; he appeared to have an intuitive perception of what belonged to his character and office, in every case as it arose ; and following the inward suggestion, he acquitted himself well, and discharged with undeviating consistency the high responsibilities he bore. After the meeting, Mr. Spencer spent the evening in serious conversation with a few friends ; leading with great fervour the devotions of the family, and closing a day of sacred duties, with uncommon calmness and placidity of mind. The following morning, Saturday, he spent in his study, in preparations for the pulpit. In the course of the day he wrote to a young lady, One of the num- ber received, the preceding evening, into 375 his church — at the close of the note he said, — " I suppose you anticipate to-morrow with f'eeUngs of solemnity, you will ap- pear in a new light to the church of Christ, and the spectators of our holy solemni- ties; we shall share to-morrow Zion's chief feast. May the blessing of the God of ordinances be upon us all. Wishing you the enjoyment of perfect health, and much connnunion with your best friend, " I remain, Sec. " THOMAS SPENCER." After dinner on the Saturday, the conversation turned upon a passage in Ezekiel — " I will cause you to pass under the rod, and I will bring you into the bond oj the covenant;'' from which Mr. Spencer took occasion to speak much at large upon the nature and stability of the co- venant of grace. In the evening he met the Rev. Messrs. Charrier, Lister, and Wray, the missionary, together with Mr. Laird, of Greenock, and others, at the 376 house of a friend. It was a pleasant in- terview, and in reflection has afforded to the persons who composed that social party the sincerest pleasure. To his most intimate friends, it is a source of much satisfaction, that his pastoral en- gagements that week were such as every day to bring him into their society — so that ihey had constant intercourse with their departed friend — and passing with him from house to house can look back and say, ' did not our heads burn willdn us while he talked to us by the -way^ and opened unto us the scriptures,' Like the companion of Elijah, they walked with him in close connexion from spot to spot, charmed and edified with the holy strain of his discourse, and the rising lustre of his character; but all uncon- scious, that whilst they were thus con- versing with him upon earth, the chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof were preparing to conduct him triumphantly to heaven. JBut the scene closes rapidly upon us. On the last Sabbath of his life, August 377 4th, he rose with unusual heaUh and spirits. The family with whom he re- sided always beheld him with peculiar interest on the morning of the Sabbath, such an air of angelic mildness and com- posure sat upon his countenance — and so deeply did he seem absorbed in the con- templation of the sacred duties of the day. That morning he preached from Jeremiah, chap. xxxi. ver. 3 — ' / have loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore with loving kindness have I drawn thee.' The way of his discussing the subject was simple and interesting : I have drawn thee — to the cross — to the throne — to the church — were the leading ideas in the discourse. It was particularly adapt- ed to the occasion, so many new mem- bers being that day added to the church. He afterwards administered the Lord's Supper in a most solemn and affecting manner. Such as witnessed the scene — and the number of spectators was about three hundred — bear an unanimous tes- timony to the deep solemnity by which it was characterized. His appeals to the 378 conscience were so close and overwhelm- ing— his invitations to the faint and weary were so pressin^i; and tender — his countenance — his voice — his whole manr ner were so expressive of holy fervour, that every eye was fixed — every heart seemed moved. How long the impres- sion will remain I cannot tell ; but the emotions enkindled by the transactions of that day are yet lively in the hearts of many — and numbers love to converse upon it, as one of those rare and highly favoured seasons, in which the distance between earth and heaven seems annihilated — and so transporting is the joy, that whe- ther in the body or out of the body, the happy Christian can scarcely tell : To a friend, who afterwards hinted that he appeared to be very happy in prayer at the Lord's Supper, he replied — " O yes ; I thought I could have prayed, and pray- ed, and mounted up to heaven !" At the close of that memorable service — one, the ardour of whose feelings age had check- ed, observed, that " Mr. Spencer seemed that morning twenty years older in ex- 379 perience than he really was." At din- ner he mentioned to the family, that he had received that morning a letter from a friend in London, who had been for- merly reluctant to his settlement in Li- verpool, as though it were not the sphere designed by providence for him. He then expressed the full conviction of his own mind, that he was precisely where he ought to be — under such an impres- sion, he observed, that he was perfectly satisfied and happy ; and added, " if it had not been the will of God, I should never have settled here." hi the evening, in the midst of a throng, such as is rarely witnessed, and from which hundreds departed unable to gain access, he preached from Luke, chap. X. ver. 42, ' One thing is needful^ and Maty hath chosen that good part which shall not be taken away from her.' His chief object in this sermon was to shew, that communion with the Saviour is the one thing needful. Throughout the whole discourse, it seemed as if all the 380 powers of his mind, all the ardour of his soul were infused into his compo- sition, and his delivery. In the ap- plication, he was uncommonly urgent with the young — earnestly exhorting them to an immediate decision on the side of Christ — representing to them the folly and the danger of deferring the im- portant concerns of salvation and eter- nity to an uncertain futurity — and as- suring them, that very soon he should meet them at the bar of God, and that there he should be a swift witness against them. By those who are best able to decide, his last sermon was perhaps the most adapted for usefulness of any he had preached — and this observation, which was made immediately after its delivery, has been since most amply con- firmed, in instances perpetually present- ing themselves, in which that sermon proved instrumental in effecting the hap- piest impressions, many of which have issued in a saving change. After the labours of the day he went .081 to the house of a friend to supper ; he did not appear to be unusually fatigued. With great fervour he led the devotions of the family. He read a portion of scripture, and gave out the 165th hymn of the 2d book. He Avas remarkably co- pious and earnest in prayer — commend- ing especially to God — the family — ^the church — the members who had recently joined — the missionary, (who was pre- sent) and every object to which his holy and benevolent mind recurred. At sup- per the conversation was pure and spi- ritual— such as the book of remembrance in heaven preserves — such as will not easily be forgotten upon earth. The sub- ject was sudden death. The countenance of Spencer, always animated, seemed lighted up with holy joy as he discoursed upon the glory of departed saints — he seemed to realize the scenes he attempted to describe, whilst he expressed his own conceptions of the transport and surprize in which the disembodied spirit will be lost, when first admitted to the imme- diate presence of God. He spoke much 382 upon the blessedness of putting off tlic garments of mortality in a moment, and being caught up unexpectedly and in- stantaneously to heaven ! He seemed to lose the memory of the day's fatigue in the interesting theme, and frequently ob- served, that he had not for a long time felt himself so free from weariness. A little after eleven, he parted with his friends for ever. Never did they disco- ver more of the warmth of his friend- ship, or the ardour of his piety, than in this last, happy interview. His counte- nance seemed eradiated with smiles of ineffable benignity — his whole deport- ment indicated a mind abstracted from the world, except so far as bound to it by the benevolent desire of doing good, and wholly devoted to communion and iellowship with God. So mature indeed did his character appear — so ripe did he seem for glory, that some of his friends could not but entertain a presentiment of his early removal. Though not then ele- vated to a higher sj)here, he still ap- peared mysteriously weai^icd from earth. 3i33 His loins were girt, and his lamp burning with unusual brightness, as thougli he expected the coming of his Lord. In its anticipations of future glory, his liappy spirit seemed to try its pinions, preparatory to the glorious flight it waS about to take. On Monday morning, August the 5th, the last day that dawned lor him^ he rose rather later than usual ; his mind was too active for his body : the exhaust- ed frame required rest. After break- fast, he received a visit from a young lady, one of the members lately admit- ted into the church. He entered the room with a cheerful smile; and the fa- mily having retired after some general conversation, he said, " Well, M , you are now a member of a christian church ; }'esterday you solemnly profes- sed your faith in Christ, Avhile the atten- tion of manv of our fellow creatures was fixed on you ; God also beheld your pro- fession— all heaven and hell witnessed the solemnity. ' On her expressing some fears lest she should be unable to act ton- 384 sistently with the profession she had made, he replied, " Live near to Christ — be much in communion with your own heart — be veryh'equent in addresses at a throne of grace, and there is no fear of you." Then referring to the long and agonizing distress which he had suffered through the alarming indisposition of his dearest connexions, and which seemed now happily removing, he said, " This severe affliction has not been sent, but for reasons the wisest and the bes^ ; from it I have learned many lessons, and have enjoyed much of the presence of God under it. O may my heart be filled with gratitude to him who is the author of all our mercies." He frequently bathed ; he found it beneficial to his health.' He purposed doing so that day, and had ex- pressed his intention in the morning. He had just repeated the first verse of Cow- per's admirable hymn, — " God moves in a mysterious way,. His wonders to perform ; He plants his footsteps in the sea. And rides upon the storm," 385 when one of the family came Into the room, and said, that if he intended bath- ing, it was time that he should go, as it would very soon be high water. He as- sented ; but whilst a towel was being procured for him, he turned to his young friend, and said, " I can't tell how it is, but I don't feel so much inclined to go, to-day, as usual." She asked if it was thought good for his health — he answered *' Yes, it will brace my nerves after the exertion of yesterday." And, indeed, he had an immediate object in view, for he had folded his paper, and prepared his pen, in order to compose a sermon to be preached in the course of the ensuing week, on behalf of the Religious Tract Society, in London ; and he was anxious that, by bathing, his mind might be invigorated for study, as he had fre- quently observed it to have that pleasing influence. Mr. Spencer and his friend left the house together, when turning to- wards the water, he said, " I must go this way." They parted. His friend sought again the bosom of her family-— c c 386 he went the way whence he never re turned ! The following pages of this history r^niust be filled with weeping, and lamen- tation, and woe. They must detail as sad / a catastrophe as ever humanity or reli- gion mourned. With cheerfulness Mr. Spencer took the path which leads across the fields towards the Herculaneum pot- teries, a little above which it was his de- sign to bathe. The eye of his friend, beneath Avhose roof he dwelt, followed him till distance hid him from his sight. Arrived at the spot which he had se- lected, not so much from a knowledge of ::the ground, as from the circumstance of ,"its retirement, he asked a gentleman, who had been bathing, and who then was dressing, " if that was a good place to V bathe at?" — he answered that it was, but that it was rather stony near the side, ;but better when further in. Mr. Spencer replied, " I rather think that it is a good place myself, and I don't like to bathe near the pottery, there are so many peo- ple." Mr. S. then asked again, " Is the 387 tide nigh up ?" to which he was an- swered, " About half past eleven." " Oh ! dear," said Mr. Spencer, " it is near twelve." — As this conversation passed, Mr. Spencer was undressing, and, at intervals, humming a tune. When undressed, he walked towards the water, and spoke to a workman belonging to the pottery, of the name of Potter, who also was bathing, and who directed him which way to come into the water. While walk- ing in, Mr. Spencer observed, that it was very cold — to which Potter replied, *' You will not find it so cold when in." Potter then plunged into the water about breast high, and when he next saw Mr. Spencer, he was swimming within his depth, but soon afterwards the tide swept him roiuid an abrupt projecting rock, where the water was from six to seven feet. Potter himself, who is an expert swim- mer, soon found the current driving him round the same rock ; but he imme- diately, with difficulty, swam to the shore, when he looked about for Mr. Spencer, and, not seeing him, was much 588 alarmed. At length, after the lapse of a minute or two, he saw the top of his head floating above the surface of the water. Potter could not tell whether he was amusing himself or drowning. He however cried out to him ; but re- ceiving no answer, plunged in again, and swam to the rock, in oider to render him assistance — but found it impossible — Mr. Spencer having sunk in seven feet water, and the currents being remarkably strong. Potter, with considerable trouble, and not till some time had elapsed, got up the side of the rock, and communicated the intelligence to Mr. Smith, of the potteries, who immediately ordered out two boats, which were directly manned and brought to the spot, when every ex- ertion was made to find the body. I have frequently examined the place; indeed, I take a mournful pleasure in visiting the scene ; and I have sought the opinion of medical gentlemen respecting the immediate cause of Mr. Spencer's death. The spot is most un- favourable for safe and pleasant bathing. 389 Whoever sees it at low water, is asto- nished that any person, acquainted with the nature of the shore, should venture there. There is a ridge of sharp and slippery rock, running in a curved direc- tion, for many yards, into the water, and terminating abruptly ; on either side of this most rugged ridge the full is instan- taneous, and from one to two feet. It is highly probable, then, that Mr. S. swim- ming, as was d-escribed, along by the shore, might bring himself up immediately on the edge of this treacherous rock, which being slippery, deceived him, and by suddenly precipitating him into deeper water, caused a spasmodick fear — a com- bination of instantaneous terror and spasm, — which directly suspended the functions of life, and he sunk, without further agitation or conflict, in the arms of death. " So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed. And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky ; SoLycidas sunk low, but mounted high. 3^0 Through the clear might of him that walk'd the waves; Where, other groves and other streams along. With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves. And hears the unexpressive nuptial song. In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entextain him all the saints above. In solemn troops and sweet societies, That sing, and, singing in their glory, move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes." In the mean while, the gentleman ' whom Mr. Spencer first addressed, re- turned, and, discovering the sad event, aj^prized them that it was Mr. Spencer, the minister, who was lost. Potter re- newed his exeitions to find the body, assisted by the people in the boats, in which they at length succeeded, after it had -been under water about fifty minutes. By this time the melancholy tidiDgs had spread abroad ; and happily some gentlemen of the faculty being in the neighbourhood, and hearing of the event, hastened immediately to the spot, so that, ere the finding of the body, every thing was in readiness for instantly commencing the resuscitating process. When drawn from the water, the body 191 exhibited no symptoms of violence or struggle in the act of dying — the counte- nance was placid and serene — its features were perfectly undisturbed, and so lovely was its expression in death, that one of the medical attendants observed, — a painter could not desire a finer object ! On the arrival of the body on the beach, the water was easily expelled, and being then wrapped up in flannel, it was- immediately conveyed to the house of Mr. Smith, where, by the kind exertions of the family, every necessary arrange- ment had been made for its reception. The apparatus having arrived from Liverpool, and three medical gentlemen being present to receive the body, the usual methods adopted in cases of sus- pended animation were instantly pursued. They were soon joined by three other gentlemen of the faculty, who rendered every possible assistance; every expe- dient was, in tlie course of the after- noon, resorted to — but alas in vain ! and at five o'clock, in the opinion of all 3^2 present, there remained not the faintest hope of restoring animation — the spark of hfe was totally extinguished. Thus, in one sad moment, was lost to society and to the church of Christ, one of the loveliest of men — one of the most eloquent of ministers : upon whose lips, only the preceding day, hundreds had hung with delight, and the long continued and extended exertion of whose powers, in a larger sanctuary, the foundation of which he had but recently laid, thousands anticipated with eager desire ! To tell how many hearts have bled, beneath this awful visitation, would require a fortitude which I do not possess — and constitute a volume,' not surpassed, in the anguish which it would describe, by any similar catastrophe in the records of human woe. The tidings spread through the popu- lous town of Liverpool, with a ra- pidity, such as, in cases of public calami- ty, is usually inspired. They circulated through all ranks, and excited one com- mon feeling of regret in every bosom. 393 They reached the exchange, and produced an extraordinary impression there ; those who knew him, mourned the loss of one they loved — and those who knew him not, felt the agitation of that sudden shock, which the premature removal of such men occasions — they participated in the general sympathy — and deplored the loss of Spencer, as an event demanding ge- neral regret ! Numbers hastened to the spot. Some incredulous, to obtain the sad assurance of the truth — and others to enjoy the mournful satisfaction of be- holding that countenance in death, on which they had often gazed with trans- port, when kindled into radiance by the ardour of the soul that lately animated it. All was confusion and distress. Such a day has been seldom seen in Liverpool: a day of such dreadful gloom — such uni- versal grief. From the countenance of every one, to whom the tidings came, one might have imagined he had lost a friend ; — whilst many, to whom by inti- mate acquaintance he had become pecu- 394 liarly endeared — petrified at first with mingled horror and surprise, when re- collection and feeling returned, yielded, for a while, to the influence of the deepest sorrow. The estimation in which Mr. Spencer was held in Liverpool was most decidedly marked after his decease. The public prints severally bore testimony to his worth, and pronounced a warm, but just eulogium on his extraordinary merits : the introduction of some extracts will not be unsuitable here. " Mr. Spencer was about twenty years of age ; in his person and countenance eminently prepossessing ; and of manners most amiable, conciliating, and engaging. As a preacher, his talents were held in. a degree of estimation, and possessed an extent of influence, which have seldom been equalled in the annals of pulpit eloquence. His discourses were rather persuasive and hortatory, than argumen- tative or disquisitive : they were addres- sed more to the imagination and affec- tions, than to the juage 257. 419 died the characters of the people of God — he marked with care the variations of their experiencc^the akernation of their feeh'ngs — and the vicissitudes of their enjoyment, hideed, his knowledge in this respect was most amazing, especially in one so young, fie seemed to know, and sweetly to divulge, what every Chris- tian felt and mourned— and he had a balm of consolation lor every sorrow he awakened — Gvcry wound he j)robed. — - As a student he was Conscientious. He wa^ so, in maintain- ing a habit of study, after the restraints of the college were withdrawn. Too many imagine, that what is improperly called, finishing their studies — that is, concluding their academic course, is in fact the legitimate close of all mental la- bour. Upon the stores then acquired, they are to feed, through the long years of an extended ministry, the church of God with wisdom and; knowledge. Alas ! for the people over whom sucli a pastor presides. The stq|'es of that mind must be but scanty at the best, and soon expended ; 420 what then but mental and spiritual famine must ensue. Ill does it bode for a congregation, when their minister is a lover of pleasure — a lover of society — a lover of mirth — more than a lover of study. People should remember this, and should act accordingly. They love to have things brought from the sacred trea- sury before them, new as well as old — but the new cannot be obtained without re- search, nor the old presented, in an at- tractive form, without thought. To all this, time, and that no scanty portion, must be devoted. And the hours of study must be taken either from the day, or from the night — if from the night, it impairs the health — if from the day, it must abridge them of their minister's society. A congregation, then, cannot with justice expect to see their pastor al- ways in their social circles, and yet de- mand from him on the Sabbath, what much and intense application only can enable him to produce. A minister worthy of his people's affec- tion cannot be too much esteemed, nor 421 his society too highly valued — but even this authorised attachment may be car- ried to an injurious length — a people may desire too much — God may gra- tify their wish — he may send them a bustj body in the form, and with the pre- tensions of a minister — and it may be said of them, ' he gave them their request^ but sent leanness into their soul,' For an unoccupied study, must cause, eventually, an empty mind. Mr. Spencer was conscientious in the direction which he gave to his studies. Aware that he had but little time for prepara- tory labour, and a mighty work before him, we have already seen, that at Hox- ton, whilst he performed with cheerful- ness and credit the duties of his class, in the various departments of literature and science, yet he consecrated the first and most constant exercises of his mind to such studies as were immediately con- nected with preaching, and the pastoral office.* And when actually embarked in his most arduous profession, the little ♦ See page 152. 4'1'2 time he could procure for study he found too precious for the pursuit of any object whose claims, in connexion with the mi- nistry, might hokl but a secondary rank. Hence he pursued not so much the study of general hterature, ' as that of Theo- logy. Aware that the sources of this sa- cred science, are the holy scriptures, and that to understand them correctly, re- quires an accurate knowledge of their original languages, he cultivated with great care, the study of the Hebrew and the Greek. To the former of these tongues he was peculiarly attached — his early labours in it have been already ' stated,* and I believe that his proficiency bore a just proportion to his exertions. On Theology he read very extensively, and for the most part the productions of the puritan divines. His library w^s small — it was but in its infancy; but it was well chosen. His study, which remained precisely in the state in which he left it on the morning of his death, was an object of considerable curiosity to * Sec pnge 35. 423 llic inlKililtaiiJs and visitors of Liverpool: many judicious and venerable ministers came to sec it, and all expressed their admiration oF the taste which he dis- played in the selection of" his books. There was scarcely a volume that did not bear most obviously on the work of the ministry. The cast of a man's mind may be gathered from an inspection of his library, if the volumes composing it have been of his own selection. Who- ever should form an estimate of Spencer's character from his books, must pronounce him a sound and well-informed divine. As a student he was successful. If a man may be deemed successful who ac- complishes what he proposes to himself, he certainly was so. He never desired to be a profound mathematician — an acute philosopher — ^or an accomplished classic . — but a useful preacher — a good divine. As a preacher, few could compare with him — as a divine, he surpassed most of his contemporaries, of the same age and standing. But his attuinments in classi- 424 cal literature were far from being scanty ; that he had read the best Greek and Roman authors, with considerable ad- vantage, was obvious from the purity and elegance of his style. And in the perusal of those English writers, most justly celebrated for the correctness of their reasoning, and the chasteness of their composition — he was well trained, whilst under the tuition of his excellent and revered friend at Harwich. Upon most subjects he was well informed, and could converse with ease. He disliked controversy, at any rate in public, how- ever he might be disposed to try his strength in private. His chief excel- lence did not lie in the power of con- ducting a deep, an intricate, and long continued process of reasoning to a tri- umphant close. He rather excelled in clearly unfolding the more prominent features of the gospel — in stating with correctness the great truths of Christi- anity, and supporting them by arguments purely scriptural — for such discussions he 425 was amply furnished. His knowledge of the bible was most extensive, and his quotations from it were, in general, re- markably apt and striking. But it was in prayer, chiefly, that his familiarity with the bible was observed. Not a sentiment escaped him, for which he had not suit- able language borrowed from the scrip- tures : and this rendered his prayers pe- culiarly rich, simple, and appropriate. Of elegant accomplishments he pos- sessed but little. I believe he never touched the pencil. He was fond of mu- sic, but he used no instrument, and the* perpetually humming tunes to favourite hymns, he was not a good singer. He was much devoted to the love of poetry, especially that of Milton, Young, Gow- per, and Kirke White. He was exceed- ingly attached to Kelly's hymns, and frequently repeated from them, with great i'ervour and delight. When a boy he courted the muse himself, but not with much success. Though not dis- ciplined in the schools of fashionable life, his manners were easy, and his ac- 420 tioii graceful; and these, added to a lovely coLiiitcnance, and an elegant form, rendered him interesting, both in his public engagements, and in his private intercourse. As A CuRISTIAN, He was fervent — holy — and humble. — Fervent ; his piety was the ardour of an unquenchable flame. With him religion was no matter of mere profession and convenience ; nor did it lose its impres- sion by the frequent recurrence of its subjects and its duties — he seemed to live under its abiding influence — it was wrought into the constitution of his na- ti^ire — its principles were the springs — its precepts the rule — its objects the end of all his actions. To this he ever had respect — what opposed it he heartily ab- horred— what clashed with it he cheer- fully resigned — what injured it he con- scientiously avoided. His love to God was ardent. In this I think he much re- sembled Mr. Pearce, of Birmingham ; and, indeed, often, when contemplating 427 the life of Spencer, my thoughts have involuntarily recurred to certain traits of character preserved in the memoirs of that glorified saint.* His love to God shed a glorious lustre on his whole cha- racter and conduct; every thing that came within the sphere of his influence or operation was irradiated by it. But chiefly would I confine myself now to the influence of this noble principle upon himself. It inspired him with a love of piety : as a Christian he was eminent for Holiness. He contemplated the cha- racter of GocL, and was attracted to it by its purity. " I shall not," says his friend, " easily forget the delight which sparkled in his eye when conversing u])on the di- vine attribute — holiness. ' How sweet,* said he, ' is that word holj/ ! — Iwlij Father— /io/^ Saviour — hoJ^ Spirit — hol^ scriptures. Surely if there is one word dearer to nie than another, it is the word * See Memoirs of the Rev. Samuel Poarrc, A. IVI, ^viili extracts from some of liis most inteicstinq; letters, l>y Airlrew Fuller. 428 holy.' '* During his residence at Hoxtoii, the same friend observed to a student in the institution, whose attention he wished to direct to the character of Spencer, " Perhaps you perceive youthful levity in him?" "No," he replied, "I have remarked him particularly, but it was for his spirituality,'' His ardent love of holiness enkindled and cherished in his bosom a correspond- ing hatred to sin ; and so strong was this principle of love to God, that the dread of" offending his purity sometimes amounted almost to terror, and enveloped his mind in most distressing gloom. A paper com- posed at one of these melancholy seasons of depression has been recently dis- covered ; it is entitled, " Miserable ills under which I daily groan." Bodily. An incessant bilious complaint. General languor, nervous feeling, and head-ache. 4-2 9 The fatigues of my great and repeated exertions in preaching. Mental. The illness of The awful weight of responsibility at- taching to the ministerial work. The extreme distance between mvsclf and my old, choice, and invaluable friends. The impossibility I discover of visiting all the people I wish. The little time I can appropriate to study. The dreadful state of coldness and for- mality in religion, which I know the eternal God sees in me, and which, I fear, he hates me for. The dread I often feel, lest, after all, I should dwell lor ever in Hell Fire ! Oh ! God, who is sufficient for these things ? Oh ! cast me not away from thy presence — take not thy Holy Spirit from me. Oh I God be merciful to me a guilty and a wretched sinner. Be it so — for Christ's sake. Amen. Mondaj/ Evening, Mai/ 27, 1811. 4:30 But this was not the usual tone of his mind. Few there are so highly favoured but that, sometimes, they are called to walk in darkness. The same apostle who declares at one period, 1 know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able 10 keep what I have committed unto hint until that daj/ ; at another tries, 0 wretched man thcd I am, &c.; and again, Lest, after having preached unto others, I mijselj should be a castaway. This document is a com- mentary on a passage in one of Spencer's letters : — " Be assured that I as well as yourself have walked in darkness, and complained that there was no light. Fluctuations in experience are, I am sure, my lot, &c. '* He was Humble. For abundant evidence of the tiuth of this assertion, I need onlv appeal to his correspondence, his con- versation, and his ccjnduct ; they each demonstrate that he Walked humbly ivitJt his God. Indeed so prominent a fea- ture in his character was humility, that his ministry derived from this.prolihc sou^'ce a considerable portion of its ex- ♦ Page 237. .431 ccllence. " For," as a friend -ol^sGrved, *' his deep linmlliLy and sell' debasement leading him wholly to distrust himself, his affections ascended cantinually to the Saviour, and brought down- that abun- dant supply of spirituality which ani- mated both his sermons aiid his life." A minister one day unguardedly said to him, " ^h'. Spencer, i have been read- ing of your fame." " My fame, Sir." " Yes ; I have been reading in onqof the public prints, that the Rey. , Thomas Spencer has been preaching several elo- quent and impressive sermons at Brigh- ton; and if you will call at my house, I will shew you the. newspaper. ' Spen- cer declined going ; and his remarks afterwards were worthy of himself. " I am strongly pressed to visit Mr. ," said he; '• I cannot ; his circum- stances are so much above mi^e, that it >vould be dangerous foi; me. If I get a habit of visiting the rich, I shall neglect the poor, and my expectation of usciul- ness lies among tJiem.' His humility led him early to solicit, 432 and highly to value, i\\Q fideU'ij of friend- ship. As he had a deep and intimate acquaintance with his own heart, he knew and deplored its corruptions , and turned with contempt from those profess- ed and dangerous friendships, Avhich only tend to feed the flame he was anx- ious to stifle and subdue. No friend of his was ever more faithful to him than Mr. B ; and few persons were more highly esteemed by him. Speaking of that gentleman, he said, " I owe him particular respect, and I wish to shew it." There was one instance in which his late attendance at a place of worship where he w^as to preach was unhand- somely attributed to pride. " He takes liberties," said they, " because he is po- pular. ' Let not his memory suffer by such ah imputation. It is in my power to roll away from the character of our departed friend this cloud. It was his attention to the duties of the closet, and not his pride, which caused his late attendance that day. It has been already observed, that he always went from his 433 closet to the pulpit. On that day he allowed himself the proper time for re- tirement, intending to take a coach from the city, where he dined, to Walworth, where he was to preach. But a sudden fall of snow engaged every conveyance, and he was obhged to walk : the distance was considerable, and the consequence was, he was too late. When an error in the conduct of a minister is committed, reasons are easily assigned, and un- happily those the most uncharitable come the leadiest to hand ; and few have sufficient generosity or justice to enquire whether that which they have chosen is correct or not.* The following extract of a letter, dated July 3, 1810, shall close this part * It may be said tliat this incident is too trifling to be recorded. I do not think so. Nothing is unimportant which illustrates character; and it is in these Hltlc things, for the most part, that the character may be ascertained. Besides, the memory of the dead is sacred ; and I should not discharge the duties which I have taken upon myself in tiie compilation of this volume, to the satisfaction of my own uiind, were I to suftcr any spot or cloud to re- main upon the lovely character of Spencer which I am able to remove. F f 434 of our review of Spencer's character, ft was addressed to one who feared that his popularity might have an unhappy in- fluence upon his mind : " A thousand thanks for the solici- tude you express for my safety in the midst of the snares and dangers which appear to you to surround me ; never may I be so left as to lose the dignity of the Christian, much more of the Minis- terial character, by being pleased with so empty a nothing as popular applause; I cannot but recollect that this is a dis- tinction not unfrequently bestowed upon the most unworthy of men, and it is so little calculated to afford any thing like happiness or peace of mind, that I hope I shall always be taught to esteem it a mere pufF of noisy breath ; that so being elevated above it, I may seek that reward alone, which a sense of the smile of cod will ever bestow. Oh I my friend, may those pleasures be mine which arise from the testimony of my conscience, that I am seeking to please that Divine Being, ' whose frown can disappoint the proud' 435 est hopes, whose approbation prosper €ven mine.' " As A Minister. We shall contemplate Mr. Spencer as a Preacher of the Gospel, k Pastor of a Church. Tho' for the most part these two offices are combined, yet those who un- derstand their nature, and the duties Ihey involve, must be conscious of the distinction which this division implies. Many a man is an admirable preacher, who is but ill qualihed for the retired and constant duties of the pastoral office ; and many a man is exemplary as ^pastor, who has little except his piety, which indeed is much, to recommend him as a preacher. As Spencer united in his own person the two offices, so did he emi- nently possess the qualifications of both. As a Preacher his discourses were pureli^ evangelical: this was the cast of all his sermons. He neVer preached to dis- play himself,— but always to exalt the Saviour: this was his constant aim, and to accomplish it, he dwelt much upon 436 the beauties of his character — the charms of his person — the fuhiess of his atone- ment— the perfection of his righteousness. He perpetually dwelt upon his willing- ness and ability to save ; and in order to demonstrate the necessity and the value of his great salvation, he seldom failed to resort to the fallen, polluted, guilty, helpless state of man. He consulted not the inclinations, the passions or the pre- judices of his hearers, but preached simply, faithfully, and affectionately, the most humiliating, as well as the most animating doctrines of the gospel. What- ever text he struck, living waters seemed immediately to flow. Whatever was the subject, or the occasion^his holy and ardent mind, ever panting for the salva- tion of immortal souls, connected with it truths 'and considerations, the most solemn and important. His applications were forcible and impressive. There he wrestled with the people, with a fervour, resembling that with which, in prayer, he wrestled with his God. He seemed to exhaust every argument which might 437 be brought to bear upon his great object, and to these he often added appeals and entreaties, the most tender and aiTccting. Thtn he seemed to lose sight of every consideration, but his own resposibility, and his people's good — and as though the concfrejiation before him were the only people remaining to be saved, and as though every time of preaching was the only opportunity afforded him of using the means lor their salvation, he besought them, as an ambassador for Christ, to be reconciled to God. The general cast of his preaching may be gathered from his texts, which are freely scattered up and down in the preceding pages. By his confession of faith it will be seen, that his sentiments were most decidedly wdiat have obtained, in the christian world, the epithet, Calvanistic — exactly m conformity with the shorter catechism of the assembly of divines. To these doctrines he was most warmly attached, and as they were the subjects of his firm belief, so were they the constant topics of his discourse, both 435 ill public and in private. Valuing these doctrines so highly, and cherishing so deep a sense oi" their importance, 'we cannot be surprised that he should feel and express regret, when he saw them, in the sermons of ministers, neglected and cast into the shade. Perhaps, in his mode of expression, on such occasions, he "was sometimes incautious.* Admitting that it was so, we cannot but admire the principle, ^^'herc doctrines assume, in * Christians, and especially Christian ministers, should be sparing in the use of those broad and unqmiljtied as- sertions respecting their bretliren in the ministry, which are so easily made, yet so ditiicult to prove, and so inju- rious in their influence. It is easy to say, he docs not preach the gospel of a Minister — who loves it, and propagates it with as much ardour as the censurer biBiself. He may not preach the gospel witli the same phrases — in precisely the same style of language. Per- haps the censurer loves to dwell entirely on the promis^a of the gospel — on the sovci'eignfi/ -Mid freedom of divine grace — on salvation as the unmerited gift of God by faith and not by w orks : — all this, the man he censures believes and preaches too ; but tlien with the promises of the gospel, he blends the ihreatniiigs, — and with the as- surance that salvation is of grace and by faith — the im- portance of obedience, and a hofi/ life as the evidence of faviug faith. 430 the vicwof the individual, an importance, similar to that which we are accustomed to attacii to tiiose grand principles which formed the hasis of Mr. Spencer's minis- try, we cannot he surprised if he ex- presses warmly his regret, when he he- holds them undervalued or abandoned. His discourses were judicious — he particularly exceiled in the adaptation of his subjects, and the selection of his texts, to particular circumstances and occasions. His sermons were never flippant, nor bombastic — but always solid and simple -.—full of sound divinity, conveyed in language, which, by its copiousness, — its elegance, — its fluency, — astonished every auditor. His skill in meeting the several cases of his hearers has been al- ready noticed. Every age and every rank received their portion from his public instructions : the aged were asto- nished at his deep experience ; the young were charmed with his affectionate man- ner ; and few, very few, were the in- stances in wdiich the hearers did not depart, each affirming, that there was 440 something in the sermon that exactly suited them/'' As a preacher, Mr. Spencer was remarkahle for Animation; indeed this was so strongly characteristic of him, J,hat almost every other feature might have been resolved into this. .Mr. Styles, than whom no * A passage in a sermon recently published by the Rev. Robert Hall, admirably describes this quality of Mr. Spencer's preaching. " Without descending t j such a mi- nute specification of circumstances, as shall make our ad- dresses personal, they ought unquestionably to be charac- teristic ;tiiatthe coni;cience of the audience may feel the hand of the preacher searching it, and every individual know where to class himself. The preacher who aims at doing good will endeavour, above all things, to insulate his hearers, to place each of them apart, and render it -impossible for him to escape by losing himself in the crowd. At the day of judgment, the attention excited by the surrounding scene, the strange aspect of nature, the dissolution of the elements, and the last trump, will have no other effect than to cause the reflections of the sinner to return with a more overwhelming tide on nis own character, his sentence, his unchanging destiny; and, amid tiie innumerable millions who surround him,- he will mourn apart. It is thus the christian minister should endeavour to prepare the tribunal of conscience, and turn thi; eyes of every one of his hearers on himself." Discourse dtUvacd to the Rev. James Rcbcrtscn at /tis or- dination, hy Robert llall, A. 3L 441 man is better able to form and express an opinion of his worth, most correctly ob- serves, " if I were to sum up Mr. Spen- cer's character in one word, comprehend- ing in it onlvwhat is excellent and enno- bling to human nature, 1 should say it was ANIMATION. His intellect was feeling, and his feeling was intellect. His thoughts breathed, and his words glowed. He said nothing tamely, he did nothing with half a heart." With him, the animation of the pulpit was enkindled by the de- votion of the closet. His communion with God was deep and habitual, and this rendered him most feelingly alive to the great truths which he delivered — whilst the ardent desire which he che- rished for the salvation of sinners sup- plied, with constant fuel, the flame of his zeal. In the pulpit, he appeared to be abstracted from every consideration, but those immediately connected with his subject, and his otHce. It was this holy fervour, perhaps, which constituted the great charm of his ministry. The sim- plest observations from his lips were 442 invested, by his manner of expressing them, with an importance which de- manded attention. The interest which he felt himself in the momentous topics he discussed, he communicated to his hearers ; and it was impossible not in some degree to feel, when every one saw how eagerly intent he was upon pro- motinii their eternal welfare. " I remember," says a friend, " that one evening when we reached Hoxton, in good time for him, but too Lite for me, as he was to preach, the chapel was thronged, and I stood in the passage through which he passed to the pulpit. His delicate frame was too weak to sus- tain the animation of his mighty spirit. His half-closed mouth, fixed eye, flushed cheek, and panting breast, pained me to the heart -as he passed me, and loudly spoke my awful responsibility, possessed of such a friend, and such a ministry. He afterwards told me that he generally was agitated in his way to the pulpit, but that when he reached it he seemed to leel himself at home. 1 once asked a 443 medical friend, who heard him at Hox- ton with me, how he heard?' ' Veiy uncomfortably.' MVhy?' 'Because I saw that his preaching is at a physical cxpence to himself, beyond what you have any idea of Every part of the service, except his repetition of the Lord's prayer, was at an expense which his frame is incapable of supporting.' " As a preacher, he was Solemn. He never degraded the aw- ful dignity of his station, and his office, by buffoonery ;xud jests, — he was popular — but he never courted popularity, by the practice of any thing that was time-servings crafty or mean. As an eminent judge once observed, " he did not despise popularity, but he loved — not the popularity which he must foUov,- — but the popularity that followed him." Who, but must behold withmingled sorrow and contempt, the low and disgusting arts, to which some men, who style themselves preachers of the gospel, will condescend, in order to gain the temporary admiration of the vulgar. There are some indeed, whose minds arc 4U unhappily so constituted, that they find it imposiihie to forego their humour, even in the pulpit. In such characters, while "we deplore the failing, we esteem the men, and revere their exellencies. But where there is no talent to command respect — no superior worth to induce the exercise of forbearance and love, but mere tricks are resorted to, for the sake of obtaining a name, every feeling is absorbed in that of mingled pity and disgust, Mr. Spencer's preaching had a holy tendencij. — He loved the gospel, and gave to its leading truths the prominency in his discourses, but on them, as on a hrm foundation, he built a superstructure of the purest morality. Whilst he directed his hearers to a higher source for ac- ceptance with Cod, than obedience to the commands of the law, he never failed to enforce its precepts upon the practice of Christians, as the rule of their life. Upon the absolute necessity of holiness, both of heart and conduct, he constantly dwelt, and from every topic which he discussed, he deduced those practical lessons, which it naturally supplied. 445 But, although as a preacher he obtain- ed almost unexampled popularity, he Avas yet remarkably Modest, and unassuming. No man would better take a hint, or receive re- proof with greater humility and even thankfulness, but no man was more re- luctant to give either, though he might have presumed much upon the importance which attended his station, and have dealt out his censures with a liberal hand. " Do you think," observed a friend to him, " the expression, ' our realm, which you use in prayer, c|uite right ?" " Is it not?" " It may be so — but I never knew any individual except George III. and Thomas Spencer, use it, the one in his proclamations — the other in his prayers." Constantly as he used the phrase before — it never was known to escape him after- wards. " Mr. S." said a gentleman, belonging to a certain congregation, to whom he was about to preach, " the people come in very late, in general. I wish you would reprove them lor it^this morning. ' — " Oh, 446 no, sir,' he replied, " it would ill become a visitor and a youth like me, it ought to be a stated or an aged minister." He shrunk from the public notice to which he was exposed, and usually walk- ed the street in great haste, and with downcast eyes, anxious to escape the gaze of men. In the pulpit Mr. Spencer was an in- teresting figure. His countenance had the fine bloom of youth. His voice was full toned and musical. His action was graceful and appropriate. He sometimes leaned over the pulpit, as if conversing with the people, with the greatest earnest- ness, and anxious to be so plain and ex- phcit as that none should misunderstand. At others he stood with manly dignity, displaying with spontaneous ease, all the characteristics of genuine eloquence. That as a preacher he was faultless, no one will be disposed to assert; but his faults were those of youth, which time and ex- perience would have certainly corrected. He was sometimes too rapid — his zeal, like an impetuous torrent, bore him along, 447 and would brook no check, — by which his voice was often strained, and the usual placidity and dignity oT his style somewhat interrupted. I conclude this sketch of his character as a preacher, by a note inserted at the close of" Mr. Hall's discourse, above referred to : — " The sensation excited by the sudden removal of that extraordinary young man, [Mr. Spencer,] accompanied with such affecting circumstances, has not sub- sided, nor al)ated, as we are informed, much of its force. The event which has drawn so gieat a degree of attention, has been well improved in several excellent discourses on the occasion. The unequall* ed admiration he excited while living, and the deep and universal concern ex- pressed at his death, demonstrate him to have been no ordinary character ; but one of those rare specimens of human na- ture, which the great author of it pro- duces at distant intervals, and exhibits for a moment, while he is hastening to mah them up amo/tgsl his jewels. The high hopes entertained of this admirable youth, 443 and the shock approaching to consterna- tion, occasioned by his death, will pro- bably remind the classical reader of the inimitable hnes of" Virgil on Marcellus : O nate, ingentem luctuin ne qucere tuorum. Ostendent terris huuc tantum fata, neque ultra Esse siiicnt. The writer of this deeply regrets his never having had an opportunity of wit- nessing his extraordinary powers ; but from all he has heard from the best judges, he can entertain no doubt, that his talents in the pulpit were unrivalled, and that, had his life been spared, he would, in all probability have carried the art of preach- ing, if it may be so styled, to a greater perfection than it ever attained, at least, in this kingdom. His eloquence appears to have been of the purest stamp, effec- tive, not ostentatious, consisting less in the striking preponderance of any one quality, requisite to form a public speak- er, than in an exquisite combination of them all ; whence resulted an extraordi- nary power of impression, which was greatly aided by a natural and piajestic 449 elocution. To these eminent endow- ments, he added, from the unanimous testimony of" those who knew him best, a humility and modesty, which, while they eoneeaied a great part of his excellencies from, himself, rendered them the more engaging and attractive. When we re- flect on these circumstances, we need the less wonder at the passionate concern ex- cited by his death. For it may truly be said of him, as of St. Stephen, that devout men made gnat lamentation over him. May the impression produced by the event ne- ver be effaced ; and, above all, may it have the effect of engaging such as are embarked in the Christian ministry, to work while it is called to- day!' In directing my readers to a contem- plation of Mr. Spencer's character as A Pastor, I am influenced more, by a desire to render this general view of our departed friend complete and to do ample justice to his memoiy, than by the prospect of any very consi- derable practical result. There are s(^ 05 450 many examples of pastoral diligence, fur- nished by the recorded lives of men ve- nerable for their age, and valuable for their experience, that I cannot anti- cipate much from the pattern of a youth, just entered on his labours. But such as he was I am bound to represent him. In his visits to the sick he was constant and tender. His enlargement in prayer, at the bed- side of the diseased and dying, was truly astonishing. The depth of bis experience and ability in speaking to the cases of the afflicted, appeared mysterious. But k was soon explained by a holy provi- dence.^— For whilst his friends saw him young and healthy, just entering into the w^orld, he who seeth not as man seeth, beheld in him the Christian of fifteen years standing, just taking wing for glo- ry. This consideration may tend' to check invidious comparisons, — for it is certainly unjust to compare one, in whom God has cut short his work, in righteous- ness, with those who, though older in years, are younger in grace, and have 451 perhaps a long and honourable course be- fore them. His intercourse iviih his people was cheer- ful, spiritual and instructive. He was no gossip. It vvas wished, by Some, that he had been more frequent in his visits. But it is difficuh so to equalize the attention, in a large body of people, as to satisfy the demands' of all, and by apparent neglect give oifence to none. Where he did visit, he always left a happy impression of his piety, his wis- dott,' and his amiable disposition. He ^t)liorred the idle tales of the day,^ — he tras no friend to scandal. He endea- voured always to direct the conversation into a useful and pleasing channel. He #as cheerful, without levity, and seriouS without affectation. There was nothing formal or studied in his manners. In him, every thing was natural, and through all the departments of his character, there ■#as a harmony of feature — a unity of f^yinciple, which every one observed and ^ttiired. InaMthe duties of the pastoral office^ he 452 was well informed, affectionate, and conr- slant. He knew what belonged to his office — and never failed to practice what he knew. He made lull proof of his minis- try. He was a scribe well instructed in the mysteries of the kingdom. A work- man that needed not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth — giving a portion to each, in due season — sparing the irregularities or prejudices of none — but seeking with ardent affection the good of all — he commended him- self to every man's conscience in the sight of God. Early he girded on the armour — and soon became a leader in the armies of the prince of peace. He has fought a good fight, he has finished his course — and now he enjoys the crown* Reflections. I am unwilling further to detain the attention of the reader to a volume, which, but for its interesting subject, would have wearied his patience long ago,and which has imperceptibly swollen 453 to a bulk, far greater than that which the "writer, originally, intended it to obtain, by any additional reflections, especially as the preceding pages abound with obser- vations of a practical nature, as the nar- rative suggested them — and as almost every topic of improvement which might now be introduced has been fully an- ticipated and forcibly expressed by the interesting publications which appeared upon the death of Spencer. And yet, were I to dismiss the volume, without any effort at a final improvement of the subject, I might be charged with neglect- ing the great object of biography — idiliti/; and the book might be considered as de- ficient in the most important point. In Spencer we see, — First, That obscurity/ of bitih or stalioii presents no insurnioiinlable barrier to the pro- gress oj real excellence. The history of past and present times furnishes unnumbered illustrations of this remark. Many who have lived to en- lighten and to bless the world — who have obtained rank, and fortune, and 454 renown, were born in obscurity, and pussed their earliest year^ in the obhvion of humble life. }^et such as feel at pre- sent the pressure of circumstances, yet pant for scenes of honourable exertion, and extensive usefulness, ponder the life of Spencer and be encouraged. If God dejsigns to use them for the ppblic: good, he will, by an unexpected tri^in of eyents, in his providence call therp forth ; if not, let thein neither rush un- bidden from their sphere, nor occupy their station in s^llpn discontent; if a wider field be not allowed them, let them cultivate with cheeriulness thie little s^pot to whi<^h they are canhq^d- The most retired harnlet affords abundar^t opportunities of doing gpod ; and many a man to whorn it is denied to en- lighten crowded cities and populous towns, may be a star of the f^rst mag- nitude in the village where he dwells. Secondly, ^Ve see in Spe*?cer llie CQfn,- rfianding influence of genuine and fei'V€r{t pitty. This was the secret spring of aU bis energy— t(ie fuej of his aniniatio^-rr 455 tlie source of his popularity. That his mind was well furnished with solid truths — that his manner was engaging — that Ids form was graceful — that his coun- tenance was lovely — that his language was elegant — that his voice was hne — is admitted ; but it was his ardent piety which gave to each of these a charm, and awoke in the breasts of his auditors a feeling of reverence and solemnity, which the simple exhibition of them could never have produced. The graces of genuine eloquence, and the stores of a cultivated mind, are precious ; but with- out piety, they are as ' sounding brass and tinkling cijmkils :' they may delight the car, but never will impress the heart ; and it is not, usually, the labours of the most polished and enlightened of his ministers, that Jehovah designs espe- cially to bles^ ; but rather the unwearied exertions of those, whom the love of Christ and of immortal souls has ren- dered zealous in the sacred cause. Thirdly, JVe see in the labours of Speti- ar, an admirable eMami^c of diligence^ and 456 in the success thai crowned them, a strong en- couragement to exertion. So short was the period of his stated ministry, that we can only measure it by months : it had not reached to years. But few, perhaps, whose term of labour was so short as his, were ever honoured with more success; whilst many who have seen the number of his months often repeated in years of anxious labour, have not been favoured with so much. If a// prove faithful unto death, whom he enlisted, whilst on earth, beneath the ban- ners of the cross, he will head a goodly company, when the hosts of the redeemed shall be assembled at the judgment day. Who that knew and loved him, but must anticipate the joy with which he then shall say, ' here am /, Father, and the children whom thou hast given me.' Let the example of his exertions and success stimulate, quicken, and encou- rage ours. We work for the same mas- ter, and are engaged in the same cause. Arid, to the student or the youthful preacher who may honour these pages 457 with his regard, I will add, your term may be as short — if it be not as successful^ let it be as diligent. The diligence is ours, — the success is God's : he will not de- mand at our hands what is not our's to secure — he will give his rewards of grace to the faithful servant, whether his suc- cess be proportioned to his exertions or not ; and we are ' a sweet savour unto him in them th at are saved^ and in them that perish.' Fourthly, From the early and sudden removal of Spencer^ let churches learn to prize the labours of holy and devoted men, while they enjoy them. Alas ! too many only learn the value of their privileges by their removal. They neglected or lightly esteemed, whilst living, the mi nister, upon whose memory they heap eulogies and honours when departed; and I believe, that some have even bedewed the ashes of their pastors with affected tears, who accelerated and embittered theirpassageto thegrave, by unkindness- and neglect ! Not so the people whom the death of Spencer suddenly bereaved. The tears with which they embalmed his 458 inemory, were suitable tp the respect they bor€ his person — the love they che- rished for his friendship — and the sense they entertained of his transcendant worth.* O that every minister living were as much beloved ! — dying were a* unaffectedly deplored } Fifthly, In Spencer we see the excellence of real religion — how it sweetens labour-^-^ sooths in affliction — supports in trial — and animates the soul in scenes of disap- * By some liberal exppsitors of God's providence, the death of Spencer has been pronounced a judgment on the (leople, for wliat tUey have termed, " their idolatrous at- tachment " to hhn. Alas ! the uiolizhig of its piinisters is, surely, not the crying sin of the church at llie present day ! But was there any thing in the conduct of the people over whom Spencer presided, so contrary to the n?ind of God as to excite thus strongly his displeasure, iu loving a man who was beloved wherever he was known — and revering an oflice which Christ himself has invested vith so much dignity 1 Let such bold infringers of the prerogative of God, who presume to assign reasons foy his couducl, when he has not dcigued to give any, rea4 — " Know them that labour amongst you, and over you in tlu Lord, and admoninh you ; and esteem them very highly in love for their tvork's sake, and be at peace among yourselves." Let t.heru take t\}e solemn acjlmo- nition this passage gives ; and perhaps their own ministers ml\ have no occasion to regret that t^iey have oue so. 4^9 polntment, apd hours of c^r-e. To few ar« allotted severer labours — to fpw, so young, ari2 ineiisured h^^yier trials than those which he fudured. But few, \ipon the whole, have possessed a greater share of Jiappiupss : there were intervals of sorrow, and clouds would sometiqies obscure the brightness of hjs sun ; but for the mos^^ part his hope was lively, and his pros- pects fair. He enjpyed religion upo^ ^artli — \\c anticipated the cojasuniipatioii of its bliss in heaven : ^pd flq>Y he ha^ entered into the joy of his Lord. Wa lifp yv'd^ piety, and his end was ppace. Sixthly, In the suMm wnovql (^ Spencer^ }ve nm:k lli,^ uiy^t^rioi^s conduct of Jukovah's providence. At first sight the evpnt weight stagger the strongest faith, for he was snatched avvay at a p^^riod wheq his life seemed Q.f ih? utmost moment tp the p^pl^ pver whom he presided, and. the circle iii^ which hr he tol-.t us before tliat " the Lord liad given him the tongue of the learned; that he should know how to speak a word in season, to him that is weary." " He began," sayj the evangelist," at Moses and allthe pro- phets, and expounded t«> them in allthe scriptures, (he things concerning himself" — blessed interpreter — divine teacher. We have no reason to suppose thpear to them sweeter than the honey or the honeycomb ; — his doctrine drops like the rain, and distils like the dew, and sensible that none teacheth like him, they admire and love him before all others. Oh ! how excellent a thiuj; it is thus to love the Saviour. — Let it be our happiness to sit at his feet ; and with meekness receive the in>:;rafted word of truth, which is able to save the soul, so shall its admirable author rise daily more and more in our esteem. Finally, it was the glow (4) of holy animation of soul. Divine li^iht broke in upon their minds, and dispersed their remaining unbelief — they were elevated above the world to the contemplation of their adorable redeemer. He touched their tinost feelings — he filled their souls with the sublime joys of his salvation — he inspired theui with pure devotion, and fixedness of heart — and while he led them to the consideration of him who endured such contra- diction of sinners against himself, he prevented them from being weary and fainting in their minds. And oh ! chris- tians, what sweet moments — rich in blessing — hjve you enjoyed, when in converse with Inimanuej. "Whether in the body, or out of the body," you have hardly been able to tell; — drops of heaven have been bestowed upon you here be- low— the light of the divine couutenance has caused you to take your harp from the willows, and make every string speak to the praise of love divine. Did not your hearts burn within you ? Were you not like Peter on the mount, ■who, in an extacy of joy said, " Lord it is good to be hereT You anticipated the joys of the blessed, you drank of the })rook by the way, and seemed ready to depart and to be with Christ, to drink wine new with him, in tlie kingdom of liis father. This holy deHght in God is real, and not en- thusiastic— it is bestowed only on the new born heirs of grace, and it is given them as a pledge of joys to come — their hearts burn within them while he talks witli them by the way. In reflecting on this subject we are struck with the idea that We often have to blame ourselves for not sufficiently estimating our mercies during the time of their continuance. These disciples, notwitlistanding the pleasure they fcad found in his society, did not, till just as he left XVI thorn, discover him to bo their Lord — to the present day Joseph often knows his brethren, whilst they know him not. And then afterwards they say — did not our hearts burn within us? True, they did. But why did not we value the blessing while we enjoyed it.' Why did we not say, as the words of wisdom dropped from his mouth, it is the Lord ? Again, a review of past favours greatly supports the mind under present bereavements. When we seem forsaken — when our affections towards Christ appear but cold, oh ! what a privilege it is to be enabled to revert to a period when our hearts did burn within us, while he talked w ith us by the way. This thought cheers the drooping spirits, and raises the fainting head ; it excites our hope too, that he will be wilh us again, and hold converse with us, even till the hour of death- yea, it makes us argue, that if the Lor dhad intended to des- troy us, he would not have made our hearts burn within us by his divine communications. It is the duty and interest of us all earnestly to pray for the society and conversation of Christ. The blessing itself is so desirable, for it is to have the honour of dwelling and walking with Christ — and the sensations which he, by his discourse, excites in the mind, are so pleasing, and delightful, that we ought ear- nestly to beseech him to tarry with us — if he is an instruc- tor and companion, hov/ short will the distance to heaven appear, and how light and momentary the trials of the way — Lastly, If those who travel with the Saviour, are thus bless- ed, how miserable are they who are altogether alienated from him. Sinners, you never yet enjoyed the society of Christ, nor do you wish it. You are loading him with re- proaches, and will have none of his counsel, and he will »«- ver say of you " they shall walk with me in white, for they are worthy ;" the fever of lust, and the torment of envy shall be your curse, while you live in the pains of hell, your por- tion after death, when you will burn in " the fire that never can be quenched, and the smoke of your torments shall ascend up for ever and ever." Oh ! may we, instead of this awful doom, be honoured and glorified with his con- stant presence in a better world — so shall the chosen of Nazareth be praiised and adored by us for ever and ever. XVll No. IV. FAREWELL SERMON AT HOXTON. Acts, XX. ch. 24 ver. 'But vone of these tltins^s movrnir, ntithcr count I my life dear unto myself, so that I mif';kt Jinish my course vHh joy, and the minisfry ivhich J have received cf the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of God.' This is not the language of stoical apathy; the man who uttered these words, my hearers, was a man possessed of the keenest sensibility — a man of real, honest, and exquisite feeling ; — in his heart cold indit^erence, and unfeeling stub- bornness, had no place ; nor do the words express philoso- phical heroism ; — a foolish bravado ; for our apo:>tle de- rives his support from sources far different from these: he was animated by principles ; he was delighted with pros- pects which the natural man never possesses ; the power of which principles, and the view of which prospects, pioduce an effect which is mighty beyond all conception. Tiie pas- sage I have read you, introduces to our view Paul the preacher at the time of his departure from his friends, when his mind was led to expect, and prepared to meet, bands and atHictions in every place ; and the words of the text do most strikingly shew us the way in which the principles of the gospel discover themselves, and prove their power to strengthen and support. Viewing this ])assage as nut un- suitable to the present opportiuiity, I shall exhibit it to your view, as shewing us that the principles of the gospel of Christ display their power and virtue L In rendering us insensible to the power of atfliction — *' none of these things move me." II. In raising us superior to the love of life — " neither count I my life dear unto me, so that I may tiuish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus." Let us behold here the glorious gospel of the blessed God. How the religion of Christ displays its po- tent influence — its mighty elHcacy I. In rendering us insensible to the power of affliction— Its supports enabled the holy zealous apostle to say of pain- ful separation — of the labours of the ministry, — and of the large measure of persecution which in that age of the XVllI church every where attended the preachers of the gospej, *' none of these things move me." Pnul had, however, without doubt, the feelings of humanity ; and, as I have al- ready intimated, these things would aftect his soul as a man, and occasionally overwhelm his spirits ; but when he felt the happy influence of the gospel in all its power, he tri- umphed over these, ditficulties ; he heroically conquered himself; subdued his own feelings, and appeared a ready, a joyful martyr for Christ. — Thus did Paul, yet did not he, but the grace of God which was in him. These trials, then, these ditficulties, which to many would be iusurmountable, did not " move" him; that is, the anticipation of them, the endurance of them, did not so move him as to damp hisfl?*- dour — as to discourage his soul, or as to make him wish to exchange with the world. Observe, they did not so move him As to damp his ardour. These trials and apparent obstacles to the success of his work, and to his own hap- piness in it, did not make him less anxiously desirous of do- ing good in the world,^ did not at all diminish the fervent wishes of his soul to be the means of conducting many sons unto glory. Notwithstanding these ditficulties, he was still *'stedfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as lie knew that his labour was not in vain in the Lord." And as he had this ministry, as he had leceived mercy, so he fainted not ; hence he could say to others — no man should be moved by these atfiictions, for yourselves know that we were appointed thereunto. He remembered the long cloud of witnesses, who through much tribulation had entered the kingdom, and he determined to imitate- their example ; he did more, he considered Jesus, ■who endured such contradiction of sinners against himself; and this prevented him from being weary, or from fainting in his mind : he looked unto Jesus, the author and finisher of his faitli, and by that means obtained encouragement to proceed, and grace sufficient for him. Oh ! never let the servants of the most high God relax in their endeavours to do good, or grow cold in their desires after the immortal welfare of mankind because some difficulties await them : of these ditficulties they ought to say " none of these things move me." Nor did these trials so atfeet the apos- tle As to discourage his soul ; that is, to make him shrink at the thought of enduring them — to make him afraid to meet them — no — for, supported by the consolations of the XIX gospel, he conld welcome reproaches, pain and death; yra, rejoice and be exceeding glad that he was counted worthy to suffer for the sake of the Lord Jesus. ' What mean ye,' says he elsewhere, ' what mean ye to weep and to brt'ak mine heart, for I am ready not to be bound only, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jcjus.' Divine grace so supported him, that though he was troubled on every side, he was not distressed ; though perplexed, he was not in despair; though persecuted, he was not forsaken ; though cast down, he was not destroyed. I suffer, says he, these things, nevertheless I am not ashamed, 'for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that ho is able to keep that which I have committedunto him, until tliat day.' Thus he could endure, and tiie Saviour enabled him to suffer as well as to preach for him, and none of these things moved him. Finally, they did not so move him as to make him wish to exchange with the world. Because he thus reckoned, tliat the sufferings of this present life are not worthy to be compared with the ghiry that should be revealed in us. He saw that ' our light athiction, which is but for a moment, worketh out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weigiit of glory.' He looked not at the things which are seen, which are temporal, but at the things which are not seen, which are eternal. There was a pleasure even con- nected with the "sufferings which far excelled the joy of worldlings; hence he says 'lam filled with'COMifort ; I am exceeding joyful in all our tribulation.' For the Lord stood by him and strengthened him ; yea, the Lord deli- vered him from every evil work, and preserved him to his licavenly kingdom. The apostle, taught by the Spirit of God, loved even the difficulties of his master's service far better than the ease and the pleasures of the world. Oh ! that like him, Ave may wisely count the reproach of Christ greater riches than all the treasures of this world — prefer even the worst, the most painful circumstances in the cause of the Saviour, to the most fascinating pleasures of the world — to the enjoymentswliich the men wlio know not God, reckon most valuable and most dear; thus shall we shew that we are willing to be any thing that the Saviour chooses, so that he may beglorilied: thus shall we shew that we speak the feeliugs of our hearts, when we say of the difficulties of our work ' none of these things move me,' Thus was the apostle enabled to enjoy strong consolations in the midst of trials. Thus did Imma- nuel's grace quicken him to diligence and fortify his mind I i XX against the numerous ills that flesh is heir to. Oh ! that th? spirit of glory and of God would rest on us also; that all our duties may be so discharged, and all our trials so en- dured, as th.it the power of the gospel may be evinced, and the supporting grace of the great head of the church abun- dantly magnilied. And what can so teach us to endure trials as the religion of Christ ? What supports have iniidels, mere moralists, and speculative philosojihcrs, like those which may be derived from the fulness of our Lord Jesus Christ ? Theirs are refuges of lies, ours a never fail- ing foundation. 'Their rock is not as our rock, even our enemies themselves being judges.' The gospel of Christ presents the only sovereign balmforhuman woe ;it supplies us with real, and with siire support ; it emboldens us to say, in the face of ditticulties, dangers, and death, 'None of these things move me.' 'The gospel, however, does not merely dis])lay its power in rendering us insensible to the power of atHiction, but (II) In raising us superior to the love of life. For, adds the apostle, ' neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I may finish my course with joy.' ' Skin for skin, yea all that a man hath, will he give for his life.' The preservation of life is the first law of nature. That man is unworthy the character of a rational being, who in- tentionally shortens, or daringly terminates his own life. And yet here a man comes forward and says, ' neither count I my life dear unto myself' — and he is taught to form this estimation of life too, by the gospel of Jesus! How is this ? The apostle did not choose strangling rather than life ; but the case may be stated thus. The gospel taught liim the right use of life, and made him earnestly to desire to fulfil it : the gospel taught him as a minister, that life was only valuable to him so far as he accomplished its purposes — the joyful completion of his christian race, the honourable close of his ministerial exertions. Further than this, life was not dear to him, or highly prized by him, for he was willing to be 'absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.' His earnest expectation and his hope was, that in nothing he should be ashamed, but * that w ith all boldness, as always, so now Christ should be mag>- nitied in his body, whether it were by life or by death/ * Yea,' says he,* and if I be offered upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I joy and rejoice with you all.' Oh ! what a noble principle is this that renders a man willing to suffer and to die for Christ, 'for herein perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us ; and we ought XXI also to lay down onr lives for the brethren.' And now it is said of (he apostle, and all who like him triumphed over Satan, Mhey were faithful unto death.' They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, for they loved not their lives unto death. l>ut 1 digress from the subject. Observe, then, that the gospel raised the mind of Paul superior to the love of life, as it shewed him that it was only useful for two purposes : (1) That he might joyfully complete his christian race. So he says, ' that I may tinish luy course with joy.' The course to which he alludes is the christian race, which he had some time before undertaken in divine stieusith. God had called him so to run, that he might obtain, and hence he ' laid aside every M'eighl, and the sin which so easily brset him, and ran with patience the race set before him, looking unto Jesus.' He set out with a full determination never to grow weary, or to decline his eager pursuit after glory, ho- nour and iuimortality. Hitherto he had pursued it with alacrity ; be did not count himself to have apprehended ; but this one thing he did, forgetting those things which were behind, and reaching forth unto those things which were before, he pressed toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. Personal religion had flourished in his soul, and he had not left 4^lie path raarkcd out for him, by the great forerunner, to be led aside either to the right hand or to the hft, and now he wished to finish it with, joy, and tiiat man finishes his course with joy when lie expresses gratitude for any ardour he has discovered in it, and when he has a full view of the crown of glory, and prospect of eternal rest. To finish our course with joy, we must express our gratitude for the assistance grace has offered us in it. [When a christian can say, through the good hand of my God upon me, the care oi' his love, and the animation of his grace, ' I have finished my course.'] Oh ! what pleasure it must attord a Ix-bevir who com- pletes his race on earth, to look back upon the path he has trod, and to remember even the trials he endured, and to bless God that he was enabled to persevere to tlie end. The christian rate cannot be joyJully couipleted without a bright prospect of eternal glory and a splendid crown. The man finished this race wiih joy \\ho could say, * henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righ- teousness, which the Lord, the righ!e')us judge, will give nie in that day.' Let otliers run to obtain a corruptible crown, we do it for an incorruptible. And oh! that when XXll we fitiish our course it may be with this firm persuasion, that we bliall emer into the joy ot o\ir Lord, where toil and fatigue will he kiKiwn no nioif . For this |)urj)o&e life is of Use, as it conHncts us to the end of the chiistian race. But the apot-tle views hiniseU" uol only as a chiistian, but as a minister of the new testament, and therefore he views life as desirable. (2) That he might honourably close his ministerial exer- tions. That I may finish, says he, my course w ith joy, and the minislry winch I have received of the Lord Jesus. Here you behold the author of i he gifts and the graces of ministers ' the Lord Jcus.' The Lord had said of Paul, * he is a chosen vessel unto me to bear my name unto the Gentiles. And he had received his ministry of the Lord Jesus. The subjects of his ministry came from hini, for he taught him to pn^ach l.uman depravity— the atonement of Ch)ist, and the influence of rhe Spirit, and to be witness unto all, for Jesus, oi' what he had seen and heard. His call to the ministry was from the Lord Jesus. He told him to pubiiiM the gospel, i.nd immedialelv he conferred not with flesh and blood. He was an apostle not of man, nor by man, but i>y Jesus Christ and God the father. His qua- lifications for the ministry came from the Lord Jesus — he gave him a freedom of sjieech — he made him apt to teach — he furnished him with w'sdom, and knowledge — he made him a minister thai needed not be ashamed, rightly dixiiiiug the word of truth. His success in the ministry was from the Lord Jesus— he made him fruitful, and he made him useful — he opened the hearts of iiis h< arers— he attended his messai!:e with the power of his spirit — he gave testimony to the word of his grace. Thus he assisted him in his ^vork — owned him as an honoured servant, nor sufitred him to labour in viiin, or spend his strength for nought. Now, he wf.-hes to close this ministry with joy. He does not want to leave it — to quit it for worldly ease; but to go on in it to the end of his life. He does not wish to grow weary in well doing ; but to persevere to the last ; and thus finishing I'-is work, he would do it with joy, as he would review instances of usefulness, and behold the grace of the Lord of the harvest, in raising up more labourers to enter into his vineyard. A minister closes his woik with joy, when he reviews instances of usefuln<'ss, when he knows that there are many whom he may view as his joy and crown of rejoicing — that he shall have to say of a goodly number, here am I, father, and the children whick XXlll thou hast given me. Thus our Lord rejoiced at the close of his labours, savin::, * I have given them thy word — I liave Hnislicd the work which thou gavest me to do.' So also does the good minister tinish his course with joy, when he beholds other labourers crowned with success in the vineyard — when he dies w itli the full confidence that Zion's glory increases, and that the work of the Lord is pro- moted. He rejoices that others shall enter into his la- bours, and that by their exertions, the Saviour will be ho- noured when he is cold in dust. Thus he rejoices, that instead of the fathers, he raises up the children, and that the Saviour's nauie shall be known to all generations. Happv man; like Simeon, thou shalt depart in peace — like him, thou shilt have the Saviour enclosed in thine arms, and eternal glory full in thy view. Let those of us who are aged in the ministry imitate the apostles exam|)Ie. Students be diligent — honour Christ, and the holy spirit — aim sincerely to do good — be not afraid of ditHcul- ties — let us go on, cVc. &c. In so doing, we shall both save ourselves and those that hear us, Amen. No. V. ADDRESS AT LAYING THE FOUNDATION-STONE OF THE NEW CHAPEL. ' And this stone, which I have set for a piUur, shall be God's House.' So said the Patriarch Jacob on a memo- rable occasion, and so may we say, assembled as we are to lay the foundation-stone of an editice to God. We have found out a place for the Lord — an habitation for the miglity God of Jacob: beholding this spot of ground ou this interesting morning, a thousand delightful sensations pervade our souls, and we are ready to anticipate tlie pre- sence of the Great Eternal in this place, for ' is not this tlie hill which God hath chosen to dwell in it for ever?' Let us please ours» Ives with believing, tliat here holy in- cense shall ascend to God — that from this place the voice of prayer and praise shall rioc tuneful to the court of XXIV heaven—that here pious men sliall enjoy the sublime hapi« piness of devotion — that here the ungodly and the sinner shall be induced to begin their lives anew. How often may many have to say, on the very ground vc tread, ' How dreadful is this place! this is none other than the house of God, and the gate of heaven.' The master of worship- ping assemblies, Jehovah, by whose call congregations as- semble, and by whose blessing their souls are benefifed, may here afi'ord his watchful care, his animating smiles: we have every reason to believe he Avill do it, entreated by the earnest and fervent supplications of the men he loves ; himself inclined to bless the gates of Zion, his eyes and his heart shall be here perpetually; with pleasure will he behold the favoured spot ; and in the liberality of his heart afford to his assembled saints an earnest, a foretaste, a lively representation of what those happy spirits know and feel who are ever with the Lord. We flatter ourselves, that the erection of an edifice like this is the effect of benevolent feeling to mankind, and an ardent love to the Great Lord of all. We unite in endea- vouring to maintain the honour of the Saviour's name, and to support the glory of his cross. We feel, and deeply too, the necessity of possessing somewhat more than this earth can afford: we regard men as immortals, and we know that there are blessings, without the enjoyment of which, those souls will experience continued disappoint- ment here, and will languish for ever in another woild. These necessary and holy blessings, the Eternal has chosen to communicate by the instrumentality of a preached gos- pel. We know that Jehovah, in making up ihe number of his elect, works by means ; therefore it is that we endea- vour to bring that gospel, the report of which is indeed a joyful sound, to the ears of mankind, praying that the blessed Sj)irit^ would send it to their hearts. The erection of this place is adirwt attack against— against whom? say my hearers, alarmed at the idea of hostility - agains't the Church of England? No! God forhid; the very reverse of all this. We cheerfully take the present opportunity of informing this numerous auditory, that the doctrines which will be proclaimed on this ground will exactly correspond, will be just the same, with those contained in the doctrinal articles of the Church of England, which are the bulwarks of its faith, and may be read in most of the liooks of Common Prayer, is it, then, you ask again, an attack against any other congregation, or body of professing XXV Christians? My sonl revolts and spurns at the idea; for in the cause of Iniuianuei we wisli cordially and coustaully to unite witii all those who believe in the Lord Jesus, both theirs and ours. But in one word, this is an attack di- rected against the kingdom of Satan, and the prince of Darkness. Its object is the translation of our fellow crea- tures from his hateful power and dominion, and their tran- sition into the family of the blessed household of their Redeemer. With the sword of the spirit we wish to com- bat the old serpent the devil. In this large and populous town he has maintained his seat, he has reigned lind tri- umphed: we long to see him fall, like lightning from hea- ven; and hence we preach that glorious gospel, which opposes his works, which rescues from his power, which gives us to expect a final triumph over him and his followers. Here we expect that the preaching of the cross will be heard — that self-righteousness will in no shape meet with ople of my charge. In the presence of God, then, his holy angels, those his servants in the ministry, and this assembled congregation, I resign myself, my body and soul, my ministry, my all, to the care and protection of the great head of the church. * The Lord God of ray fathers be with me, as he was with them : let him not leave me, nor forsake me.' And I most earnestly and humbly request the prayers of my own congregation, of my brethren and fathers in the ministry, and of all who witness these solemnities, that God would enable me to fulfil the duties of my sphere, that he would ever preserve me from backsliding in religion, that he would fix my wayward heart, and preserve it alive to God; that the ibinistry be not blamed. XXXIU I do solemnly determine, as lar as in me lies, to live to his glory; to set a watch over my temper, speech and de- portment, that they may not disgrace the gospel of Christ. I purpose, relying on the all-suthcicnt grace of the master whom I serve, that I will be instant in season and out of season; that I will reprove, rebuke, exhort with all long suf- fering; that I will labour as for God, and as ia the imme- diate prospect of eternity. May he assist me to instruct the ignorant— to cheer and direct the sick and the dying — to influence the young to rise and follow Christ — and to do real and extensive good in this large and populous town; and when I have done the labours allotted for me below, after having spent a holy and an useful life — oh ! may I but bear the Lord say, * well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of thy Lord.' Amen. FINIS. Printed by G. F. Harris's Widow and Brothers, Liverpool. I ^ /