LIBRARY 
 
 BX 5200 . J3 1832 v. 3 
 jay, William, 1769-1853. 
 Standard works of the Rev. 
 William Jay comprising 
 
 The Jolm Krebs Donation. 
 
 | 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2015 
 
 https://archive.org/details/standardworksofr03jayw 
 
STANDARD WORKS 
 
 of thf; 
 
 REV. WILLIAM 3 AY; 
 
 OF ARGYLE CHAPEL BATH 
 
 COMPRISING ALL HIS WORKS KNOWN IN THIS COUNTRY ; 
 
 AND, ALSO, SEVERAL WHICH HAVE NOT, HERETOFORE, BEEN PRE- 
 SENTED TO THE AMERICAN PUBLIC. 
 
 FROM A COPY FURNISHED BY THE AUTHOR TO THE PUBLISHERS. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOLUME III. 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 SERMONS:— LIFE OF WINTER:— MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK,— A 
 CHARGE TO THE WIFE OF A MINISTER :— AND THE 
 WIFE'S ADVOCATE, &c. &c. &c. 
 
 BALTIMORE: 
 PLASKITT & CO., AND ARMSTRONG & PLASKITT. 
 1832. 
 
SERMONS. 
 
Page 
 
 SERMON L 
 
 N Mistakes concerning t lie Number of the Righteous 5 
 SERMON IT. 
 
 Vriie Nature of genuine Religion 10 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 Hope. 
 
 Page 
 
 .. 82 
 
 SERMON XV. 
 
 e Parable of the Two Sons 87 
 
 SERMON III. 
 Vows called to Remembrance 16 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 The Triumphs of Patience 
 
 22 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 *VThe Sufferings of our Saviour necessary.. 27 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 VThe Young admonished 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 The Condemnation of Self-will 
 
 40 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 The Gospel demands and deserves Attention 46 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 f*On Progress in Religion , 
 
 52 
 
 ^ SERMON X. 
 The Secure alarmed 58 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 The Privileges of the Righteous — 
 
 66 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 The Condition of Christians in the World 71 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 """Concupiscence punished 78 
 
 SERMON XVI. 
 
 Christian Diligence. 
 
 92 
 
 SERMON XVII. 
 
 The Abuse of Divine Forbearance 97 
 
 SERMON XVIII. 
 Assurance 101 
 
 SERMON XIX. 
 Domestic Happiness 105 
 
 ^ SERMON XX. 
 Happiness in Death no 
 
 SERMON XXI. 
 Service done for God rewarded 115 
 
 SERMON XXII. 
 The Disappointments of Life 119 
 
 SERMON XXIII. 
 Neutrality in Religion exposed 124 
 
 SERMON XXIV. 
 The Family of our Lord 129 
 
 SERMON XXV. 
 The Saviour honoured in his People 135 
 
 SERMON XXVI. 
 The Value of Life 142 
 
 3 
 
SERMONS. 
 
 TO THE CHURCH AND CONGREGATION ASSEMBLING IN ARGYLE CHAPEL, BATH, 
 THE FOLLOWING SERMONS ARE RESPECTFULLY AND 
 AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED, 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 MISTAKES CONCERNING THE NUM- 
 BER OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Wot ye not -what the Scripture saith of Elias ? 
 ho-w he maketh intercession to God against 
 Israel; saying, Lord, they have billed thy 
 prophets, and digged down thine altars ; and 
 I am left alone, and they seek my life. But 
 •what saith the answer of God unto him ? I 
 have reserved to myself seven thousand men, 
 ■who have not bo-wed the knee to the image 
 of Baal. — Romans xi. 2 — i. 
 
 "Who can understand his errors'!" How 
 numerous, how various, how opposite to each 
 other, are the mistakes of mankind ! The 
 lives and the language of many seem to imply 
 a full persuasion, that there is very little evil 
 in sin — that the difficulties of religion are by 
 no means great — that it is an easy thing to 
 be a Christian — that if there be a hell, few 
 are wicked enough to be turned into it — and 
 that the generality of our fellow-creatures 
 are in a fair way for heaven. This persua- 
 sion is as false as it is fatal. " Enter ye in 
 at the strait gate : for wide is the gate, and 
 broad is the way, which leadeth to destruc- 
 tion, and many there be which go in thereat : 
 because strait is the gate, and narrow is the 
 way, that leadeth unto life, and few there be 
 that find it." 
 
 It is possible, however, to fall into another 
 extreme, and to draw an unwarrantable con- 
 clusion respecting the decline of religion, 
 and the fewness of its adherents. And even 
 wise men, and good men, are liable to this. 
 " Wot ye not what the Scripture saith of 
 Elias? how he maketh intercession to God 
 against Israel ; saying, Lord, they have killed 
 thy prophets, and digged down thine altars ; 
 and I am left alone, and they seek my life. 
 But what saith the answer of God unto him 1 
 I have reserved to myself seven thousand 
 men, who have not bowed the knee to the 
 image of Baal." 
 
 We are going, then, to examine the opinion 
 that reduces the number of the righteous. 
 We shall lay open the various sources from 
 1* 
 
 which it proceeds; and by discovering the 
 cause, we shall prescribe the cure. 
 
 Sometimes we draw the conclusion from 
 
 THE PECULIAR STATE OF OUR OWN MINDS. 
 
 By the indisposition of the body, or the de- 
 pression of the animal spirits, our minds are 
 soon affected ; and we become sad, gloomy, 
 peevish, and suspicious. In this situation 
 our minds are unhinged, and easily receive a 
 falling motion — we are more alive to the in- 
 fluence of fear than hope — the darker the in- 
 telligence, the more credible — one direction 
 is given to every occurrence — and the inva- 
 riable inference is, "all these things are 
 against me." And such seems to have been 
 the condition of Elijah. His language be- 
 trays severity, petulancy, and despair. 
 
 Sometimes we are led to this reflection, 
 
 BY OBSERVING MULTIPLIED INSTANCES OF 
 
 false profession. These are to be seen in 
 every period of the Church. Our own age 
 abounds with them. Some of these unhappy 
 characters excite our surprise, as well as our 
 sorrow. They promised fair — they did many 
 " wonderful things" — for awhile they bore 
 cheerfully "the reproach of the cross" — 
 they passed us on the road, and reproved the 
 sluggishness of our steps. By-and-by we 
 met them on their return, laughing at that 
 which once made them tremble, and loathing 
 that which was once esteemed by them like 
 life from the dead. Our entreaties were 
 despised — as far as the eye could reach we 
 watched them with tears and alarm — sat 
 down " discouraged because of the way," and 
 "said in our haste, all men are liars." — 
 " Take ye heed every one of his neighbour, 
 and trust ye not in any brother : for every 
 brother will utterly supplant, and every 
 neighbour will walk with slanders." But it 
 was in our haste we said this — it was a rash 
 conclusion. What! because there is coun- 
 terfeit coin, is there no genuine gold 1 Were 
 all the disciples false, because one of them 
 was a devil 1 " They went out from us, but 
 they were not of us ; for if they had been of 
 us, they would no doubt have continued with 
 us: but they went out, that it might be 
 made manifest they were not all of us." But, 
 
6 
 
 SERMON L 
 
 alas! the falling star strikes every eye, while 
 few observe the fixed and regular orbs. The 
 apostacy of one pretender often excites more 
 attention than the lives of many solid and stea- 
 dy Christians. They who would never men- 
 tion the excellencies of professors, will be for- 
 ward enough to publish their disgrace. It 
 gratifies the malignity of those who only wait 
 for our halting, and occasions a triumph in the 
 enemy's camp — " Aha ! so would we have it." 
 
 The inference is still more frequently 
 derived from the righteous themselves. 
 There are five things which will be found to 
 have their influence in producing it — the ob- 
 scurity OF THEIR STATIONS THE DIFFIDENCE 
 
 OF THEIR DISPOSITIONS THE MANNER OF 
 
 THEIR CONVERSION THE DIVERSITY OF THEIR 
 
 opinions — and the imperfections of their 
 
 CHARACTER. 
 
 L The obscurity of the stations in 
 which many of the righteous are placed, hides 
 them from observation. When the rich and 
 the honourable become pious, they are not long 
 concealed. A thousand eyes are drawn to- 
 wards the elevation. The eminence of their 
 condition causes their virtues to shine like the 
 reflection of the sun from the tops of high 
 mountains, seen by many, and from afar. — 
 They are like a city set on a hill, which can- 
 not be hid. But much more religion than is 
 necessary to canonize them, would be even 
 unobserved among the shades of poverty, and 
 in the operations of common life. Here 
 persons have little opportunity or ability to 
 display their character : they are often sancti- 
 fied and removed, unknown to any but a few 
 neighbours involved in the same indigence. 
 Their excellencies are of the common, sober, 
 unsplendid kind ; or if they possess those vir- 
 tues which distinguish and strike, they are 
 rendered incapable of exercising them by their 
 circumstances. Courage demands danger. 
 Where there is no dignity, there can be no 
 condescension. Where there are no distinc- 
 tions to elate, humility cannot shine ; and 
 where there is nothing to give, benevolence 
 cannot appear. God indeed " looketh to the 
 heart, and where there is first a willing mind, 
 it is accepted according to what a man hath, 
 and not according to what he hath not." In 
 forming his estimate of the services of his peo- 
 ple, he considers not only what they do, but 
 what they wish to do. He sees many a be- 
 nefactor where there is nothing given ; many 
 a martyr where there is nothing suffered. — 
 But we can only know them by " their fruits :" 
 and their good works, as far as they are ob- 
 servable, are few ; their principles, however 
 well established, are checked and limited both 
 in their effect and discovery. — Such are God's 
 hidden ones; hidden by the obscurity of their 
 stations, and the restraint of their circum- 
 stances. They are candles, but candles put 
 under bushels. 
 The pjor are too generally overlooked.where- 
 
 as by Christians they should be principally re- 
 garded. The dispensation of the Gospel is 
 peculiarly their privilege ; the most extensive 
 provinces of religion are occupied by them ; 
 and were we to open a more familiar inter- 
 course with them, it would often rectify our 
 mistakes. All exertions to render the great 
 religious, have hitherto proved ineffectual; 
 and the Bible holds forth a language, sufficient 
 to fill all those who aim at their conversion 
 with despair. Few comparatively are called 
 from the higher orders of society. He who 
 was poor himself, whose kingdom is not of 
 this world, and of whom it w r as asked, " have 
 any of the rulers believed on him?" generally 
 selects his followers from the lower ranks of 
 life — and there we are to seek them — " I am 
 left alone !" — But perhaps, complaining pro- 
 phet, you have been only at court — walking 
 through palaces or mansions — examining the 
 high places of the earth. "What dost thou 
 here, Elijah \" — Who led thee here in search 
 of religion ! — " Not many wise men after the 
 flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are 
 called." — "How can ye believe who receive 
 honour one of another, and seek not the hon- 
 our that cometh from God only?" — "How 
 hardly shall they that have riches enter into 
 the kingdom of heaven ! It is easier for a ca- 
 mel to go through the eye of a needle, than 
 for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of 
 God." The voice of heaven calls you away 
 from the "gold ring, and the goodly clothing" — 
 "Hearken, my beloved brethren: hath not 
 God chosen the poor of this world, rich in 
 faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath 
 promised to them that love him?" — Follow 
 Him. He will lead you in another direction. 
 Go through yonder village; mingle with the 
 poor and needy. Their necessities have com- 
 pelled them to seek relief and solace in reli- 
 gion ; and they have found them there. Enter 
 that cottage : — " The voice of rejoicing and of 
 salvation is in the tabernacle of the righteous." 
 " Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, 
 than a stalled ox with hatred and strife." "A 
 little that a righteous man hath, is better than 
 the riches of many wicked." — Enter yonder 
 sanctuary — the common people hear him glad- 
 ly. The congregation withdraws. Observe 
 those who approach and assemble around the 
 table of the Lord. — Ah ! well says God, in the 
 language of prophecy, " I will leave in the 
 midst of thee an afflicted and poor people, and 
 they shall trust in the name of the Lord." 
 
 II. A timid disposition conceals many. 
 A bold mind will soon obtrude a man into 
 notice : he will signalize himself by his for- 
 wardness on every occasion ; he will be the 
 first to speak, the first to act. Eager to' en- 
 gage in every public duty, and always talk- 
 ing on religious themes, many will remark 
 him as a lively soul, and be ready to say, 
 " Come, behold his zeal for the Lord of 
 Hosts." 
 
SERMON L 
 
 7 
 
 We will not deny that this disposition may 
 sometimes be connected with sincerity ; but 
 instances of an opposite nature are much more 
 common) and a mind dealing in professions, 
 and fond of publicity, is generally and deserv- 
 edly to be suspected. Itnas been justly ob- 
 served, that when of old the angels descend- 
 ed to earth, they assumed the form and like- 
 ness of men ; but when Satan appeared, he 
 transformed himself into an angel of light. — 
 The pretender exceeds the real character : 
 the actor surpasses nature, and goes beyond 
 life. Where a man regards show only, he 
 can afford to be more expensive and magnifi- 
 cent in appearances than those who are con- 
 cerned for the reality. Empty vessels sound 
 louder than the full. Religion runs along like 
 a river, noiseless in proportion as it is deep. 
 
 True piety affects no unnecessary exposure : 
 its voice is not heard in the street; it does 
 not sound a trumpet before it ; the left hand 
 knows not what the right hand doeth. It ra- 
 ther eludes public observation, and retires 
 from the applause of the multitude. It does 
 not act to be seen of men, or to " make a fair 
 shew in the flesh." The Christian is more 
 concerned to be good, than to appear so. His 
 religion is commonly attended with difRdence 
 and self-suspicion — he hides his feelings, and 
 makes many anxious inquiries before he can 
 venture to say, " Come unto me, all ye that 
 fear God, and I will tell you what he hath 
 done for my soul." Baxter, speaking of Lord 
 Chief-Justice Hale, tells us, that he had once 
 entertained fears lest he had been too little 
 for the experimental part of religion, such as 
 prayer, and meditation, and spiritual conflict; 
 because he had seldom mentioned such sub- 
 jects in relation to his own feelings. But he 
 found afterwards that this reluctance arose 
 from his averseness to hypocrisy, of which in 
 his day he had seen so many instances. 
 
 It is our duty to make a profession of reli- 
 gion, and unite ourselves with some body of 
 Christians, to walk in the faith and order of 
 the Gospel. But we should do wrong to con- 
 demn all those who decline it. Many are held 
 back for a considerable time by painful appre- 
 hensions. Jealous over their own hearts, and 
 concerned lest they should be found deceivers 
 at last, they dare not come forward, and ven- 
 ture on so serious an act, as by a public sur- 
 render to join themselves to the Church of the 
 living God ; and it is to be lamented, that in 
 many cases this timidity is increased by the se- 
 vere, unscriptural methods of admitting people 
 to the table of the Lord. In the great day, 
 when the secrets of all hearts are made mani- 
 fest, we shall see many a secret, silent, unob- 
 served follower exalted to the right hand; 
 while many a noisy professor of religion will 
 be thrust down to hell, for want of that truth 
 and sincerity which are essentially necessary 
 to the Christian character and to all accepta- 
 ble worship. 
 
 To tills we may add another apprehension. 
 We see it exemplified in Nicodeinus — who 
 " came to Jesus by night, for fear of the Jews." 
 Had many seen him at the commencement of 
 his religious course, they would have con- 
 demned him ; nevertheless he gave at last the 
 clearest proof of his attachment by coming for- 
 ward, when his own disciples forsook him, and 
 acknowledging a suffering Redeemer. Many 
 may be in similar circumstances : repressed 
 and concealed for a time by the influence 
 of their situations and connexions. We do 
 not praise them for this. — It is their duty un- 
 questionably " to go forth to him without the 
 camp bearing his reproach." We only state 
 a fact which has a bearing on our subject. 
 
 III. The manner in which some of the peo- 
 ple of God are called by divine grace, ren- 
 ders them observable. I hope 1 need not 
 prove, that in order to the existence of genu- 
 ine religion in the soul, there is absolutely ne- 
 cessary a change which will embody the vari- 
 ous representations given of it in the Scrip- 
 tures — " Except ye be converted, and become 
 as little children, ye shall in no case enter in- 
 to the kingdom of heaven" — " Ye must be 
 born again." — " If any man be in Christ, he is 
 a new creature ; old things are passed away, 
 and behold all things are become new." — In 
 such awful and decisive terms do the sacred 
 penmen speak of the renovation of our nature 
 as essential to our happiness and our hope. — 
 And this change in all the subjects of divine 
 grace is equally real — but it is not equally 
 perceptible either to themselves or others. — 
 When a man is suddenly stopped in his mad 
 career, and turned from a notorious and profli- 
 gate course of life — when the drunkard be- 
 comes sober, the swearer learns to fear an 
 oath, and the sabbath-breaker goes with the 
 multitude to keep holy day — all must take 
 knowledge of him. The effect is striking ; 
 the world wonders ; and the Church exclaims, 
 " Who hath begotton me these ! these, where 
 had they been !" — But the work is not always 
 so distinguishable. When the subject of it 
 is moral ; blessed with a pious education ; 
 trained up under the means of grace; the 
 change is much less visible. He avoids the 
 same vices as before ; performs the same du- 
 ties as before ; only from other principles and 
 motives, with other views and dispositions — 
 but these fall not under our observation. 
 
 Many are prone to look for a conversion, 
 always uniform, not only in its effects but in its 
 operation ; and also too much bordering on the 
 miraculous. The soul must be exceedingly ter- 
 rified with fear — then overwhelmed with an- 
 guish — then plunged into despair — then sud- 
 denly filled with hope, and peace, and joy ; and 
 the person must be able to determine the day on 
 which, the sermon under which, or the pro- 
 vidence by which the change was wrought. 
 But this is by no means necessarily, or gene- 
 rally, the case. There is a variety in the 
 
SERMON I. 
 
 temperaments and habits of men ; and in the 
 methods employed to bring them to repent- 
 ance. And we should remember that there are 
 "differences of administration, but the same 
 Lord"' — that often he prefers to the earth- 
 quake, the wind, and the tire, the small still 
 voice — that he can draw by the cords of love 
 and the bands of a man — that he can work as 
 effectually by slow, as by instantaneous exer- 
 tion — and that he can change the soul in a 
 manner so gradual and mild, as to be scarcely 
 discernible to any but the glorious Author. — 
 And here, my brethren, we are furnished with 
 evidence from analogy. In nature, some of 
 God's works insensibly issue in others ; and it 
 is impossible for us to draw the line of distinc- 
 tion between them. " The path of the just is 
 as a shining light, which shineth more and 
 more unto the perfect day." But who can 
 ascertain which ray begins, or which ends the 
 dawn ! — If you are unable to trace the pro- 
 cess of the divine life, judge by the result. — 
 When you perceive the effects of conversion, 
 never question the cause. And if perplexed 
 by a number of circumstantial inquiries, be 
 satisfied if you are able to say, " One thing 
 I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see." 
 
 IV. The difference of opinion which 
 prevails among Christians has frequently oc- 
 casioned a diminution of their number. In- 
 deed the readiest way in the world to thin 
 heaven, and replenish the regions of hell, is to 
 call in the spirit of bigotry. This will imme- 
 diately arraign, and condemn, and execute 
 all that do not bow down, and worship the 
 image of our idolatry. Possessing exclusive 
 prerogative, it rejects every other claim — 
 " Stand by, I am ' sounder' than thou." " The 
 temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, 
 the temple of the Lord are we !" How many 
 of the dead has this intolerance sentenced to 
 eternal misery, who will shine for ever as the 
 stars in the kingdom of our Father ! How 
 many living characters does it reprobate as 
 enemies to the cross of Christ, who are plac- 
 ing in it all their glory ! No wonder if, under 
 the influence of this censorious zeal, we form 
 lessening views of the number of the saved. 
 " I only am left." — Yes ; they are few indeed, 
 if none belong to them that do not belong to 
 your party — that do not see with your eyes — 
 that do not believe election with you, or uni- 
 versal redemption with you — that do not 
 worship under a steeple with you, or in a 
 meeting with you — that are not dipped with 
 you, or sprinkled with you. — But hereafter 
 we shall find that the righteous were not so 
 circumscribed, when we shall see " many 
 coming from the east, and from the west, 
 from the north, and from the south, to sit 
 down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the 
 kingdom of heaven." 
 
 Do I plead for an excessive candour? — 
 The candour which regards all sentiments 
 alike, and considers no errors as destructive, 
 
 is no virtue. It is the offspring of ignorance, 
 of insensibility, and of cold indiflerence. The 
 blind do not perceive the difference of colours. 
 The dead never dispute. Ice, as it congeals, 
 aggregates all bodies within its reach, how- 
 ever heterogeneouslheir quality. Every vir- 
 tue has certain bounds, and when it exceeds 
 them it becomes a vice ; for the last step of 
 a virtue, and the first step of a vice, are con- 
 tiguous. 
 
 — But surely it is no wildness of candour, 
 that leads us to give the liberty we take ; 
 that suffers a man to think for himself, un- 
 awed ; and that concludes he may be a fol- 
 lower of God, though " he follow not with us." 
 Why should we hesitate to consider a man 
 a Christian, when we see him abhorring 
 and forsaking sin ; hungering and thirsting 
 after righteousness ; diligent in approaching 
 unto God; walking " in newness of life," and 
 discovering a spirituality of temper, a dispo- 
 sition for devotion, a deadness to the world, a 
 benevolence, a liberality, such as we seldom 
 find in those high-toned doctrinalists who re- 
 gard themselves as the only advocates for free 
 grace ! — And by the way, it is not a system 
 of notions, however good, or a judgment in di- 
 vine things however clear, that will consti- 
 tute a Christian. — It is a transformation by the 
 renewing of the mind. It is a " putting off 
 the old man with his deeds, and putting on the 
 new man, which after God is created in righ- 
 teousness and true holiness." It is " walking 
 even as he walked." " If any man have not 
 the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his." 
 
 And to pass to the opposite side : we should 
 also remember, that men do not always live 
 according to the natural tendency and conse- 
 quences of their creed. Some hold sentiments 
 very injurious to holiness who are not wicked 
 men : their hearts are better than their opin- 
 ions ; their principles give their consciences a 
 liberty to sin which they refuse to take ; and 
 their practice is adorned with good works, 
 which their system by no means requires. No 
 one can imagine that I mention this with a 
 view to countenance or palliate the adoption 
 of such sentiments. They blaspheme every 
 line in the Bible ; and are always injurious in 
 a degree : but where they happen to fall in 
 with a love of sin, the effect is dreadful. 
 Where such a poisonous infusion is imbibed, 
 and not counteracted by a singular potency of 
 constitution, the consequence is certain death. 
 
 V. Many are excluded from the number 
 ofthe righteous by practical imperfections. 
 There is a blemish in every duty ; a deficien- 
 cy in every grace ; a mixture in every cha- 
 racter : and if none are to be considered as 
 the people of God, who are not free from in- 
 firmity, you will easily be induced to take up 
 the language — " I am left alone." — For who 
 can say, " I have made my heart clean, I am 
 pure from my sin :" " I have attained, I am 
 already perfect 1" The best of men are but 
 
SERMON I. 
 
 9 
 
 men at the best.—" I am left alone f — Nay, 
 Elijah, in this sense even you are not left. 
 Even you are " a man of like passions as we 
 are." With all your miraculous endowments 
 and religious attainments, you discovered the 
 same natural feelings, the same moral defects. 
 You feared Jezebel — fled dismayed from your 
 work — impatiently demanded to die — and 
 drew a very erroneous and unworthy conclu- 
 sion respecting the true worshippers of God. 
 Yea, there never was one left: for to which 
 of the saints will you turn 1 To Abraham ? — 
 he denies his wife in Egypt and in Gerar. 
 To Moses 1 — he spake " unadvisedly with his 
 lips." To Job 1 — he curses the day of his birth. 
 To Peter 1 — he abjures his Lord. — I know I 
 tread on dangerous ground. The Antinomi- 
 an drunkard may call in Noah as his example ; 
 and the unclean, who turn the grace of God 
 into lasciviousness, may plead the adultery of 
 David. They may hope where they should 
 fear ; take for encouragement what was only 
 given for caution ; and resemble those in their 
 fall, whose repentance they will never imi- 
 tate. — And " thinkestthou, O man, who doest 
 such things, to escape the judgment of God !" 
 — Instead of raising thee up like these restor- 
 ed penitents asa monument of mercy to future 
 generations, he will harden thee into a pillar 
 of salt. 
 
 God forbid we should plead for sin ; but let 
 us not shun to declare a truth for fear of a 
 possible abuse of it. Severe in judging our- 
 selves, let us endeavour to judge favourably 
 of others, and place before our minds every 
 consideration tending to aid that charity 
 which " thinketh no evil, believing all things, 
 hoping all things, enduring all things." — 
 That we are to learn of One, who will not 
 break a bruised reed, or quench the smoking 
 flax, till he bring forth judgment unto victory. 
 — That there is a day of small things, which 
 we are not to despise. — That grace corrects, 
 but does not eradicate nature ; subdues, but 
 does not extinguish the passions ; forms us 
 Christians, but leaves us men. — That there 
 are inequalities among the righteous ; that the 
 good ground yielded in varied proportions, 
 some a hundred fold, some sixty, some thirty. 
 — That a prevailing holy disposition may fail 
 in a particular instance, and that a single ac- 
 tion is not to be pleaded against a long-continu- 
 ed practice. — That persons who would abandon 
 an unlawful pursuit, the moment they are 
 convinced of its impropriety, may continue in 
 it for a time, for want of knowledge or reflec- 
 tion. — That as we entertain a confidence in 
 our own salvation, though conscious of num- 
 berless imperfections, we should not require 
 perfection in others. — That our failures, 
 though not as gross, may be as guilty as those 
 of our brethren — and, that we may sometimes 
 entertain a hope which we are afraid to pub- 
 lish ; and believe that some are in the way to 
 
 heaven, whose safe arrival tnere, we trust, 
 will never be known in this world. 
 
 My brethren, in our application of this sub- 
 ject, let us first remark the use the Apostle 
 makes of it. " Even so then, at this present 
 time also, there is a remnant according to the 
 election of grace." — God never leaves him- 
 self without witness. He has always instru- 
 ments to carry on his cause, and a people to 
 shew forth his praise. These are the pillars 
 of a state to keep it from falling— the salt of 
 the earth to preserve it from corruption — the 
 light of the world to secure it from darkness: 
 and as Esaias said before, " Except the Lord 
 of Sabaoth had left us a seed, we had been 
 as Sodom, and been made like unto Gomor- 
 rah." — Relinquish diminishing ideas of the Di- 
 vine goodness; "his mercies are over all his 
 works." — Look back toCalvary, and see Jesus 
 bearing the sins of many ; see him rising 
 from the dead to receive " the heathen for his 
 inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the 
 earth for his possession." " The pleasure of 
 the Lord shall prosper in his hand." " He 
 shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall 
 be satisfied." — Look forward, and behold " a 
 great multitude which no man can number, 
 of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and 
 tongues." — Behold even now "the Captain 
 of your salvation" " bringing many sons unto 
 glory," — and no longer imagine that there is 
 any danger of your being " left alone." Re- 
 joice, ye friends and followers of the lamb ; 
 you belong to no small family — you do not ap- 
 proach the throne of grace alone — you are not 
 alone in your hopes and in your pleasures — 
 you are not alone in your struggles, groans, 
 and tears. — Far more than you have appre- 
 hended are on " The Lord's side," attached 
 to the same Saviour, travelling the same road, 
 heirs of the same "grace of life." 
 
 Secondly. Are you of the number 1 It is 
 of little importance for you to know that many 
 will enter in, if you are excluded. " There 
 shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth, when 
 ye shall see Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, 
 and all the prophets, in the kingdom of God, 
 and you yourselves thrust out." As you all 
 hope to escape this dreadful doom, it behoves 
 you to examine whether your confidence be 
 well founded, and whether, living as you live, 
 the Scripture justifies your hope of heaven 
 when you die. — Who then, you ask, will be 
 saved? Those who live in the world, and are 
 not like it. Those who "have no fellowship 
 with the unfruitful works of darkness, but ra- 
 ther reprove them." Those who are "a pe- 
 culiar people, zealous of good works." It is 
 the character here given them : " I have re- 
 served to myself seven thousand men, who 
 have not bowed the knee to the image of 
 baal." And this was the reigning sin. The 
 court, the city, the country, all followed Baal ; 
 his worship was universal. My brethren, the 
 
II) 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 best evidence you can give of your integrity, 
 is freedom from the prevailing, fashionable 
 vices and follies of the times and places in 
 which you live. A dead fish can swim with 
 the stream, but a live one only can swim 
 against it. 
 
 The influence of one man over another is 
 truly wonderful. The individual is upright; 
 his connexions give him all his wrong bias. 
 Alone, he forms good resolutions; when he 
 enters the world they are broken. 1 1 is not igno- 
 rance, but a cowardly shame that keeps many 
 in a state of indecision, " halting between two 
 opinions." They know what is right, and 
 would gladly partake of the believer's safety ; 
 but they have not fortitude enough to encoun- 
 ter the reproach, which, in one form or ano- 
 ther, always attends an adherence to the cause 
 of Christ. Others, who had made some pleas- 
 ing progress, have been easily deprived by a 
 name, a laugh, a sneer, of all their religion. — 
 Not to "bow the knee to Baal," when all 
 adore him — to step forth with our family be- 
 hind us, and say to our neighbours and our re- 
 lations, " Choose you this day whom ye will 
 serve, but as for me and my house we will 
 serve the Lord" — to withstand in a pious 
 cause the influence of example — to keep our 
 way when we see an adverse multitude ap- 
 proaching us — to pass through the midst, un- 
 shrinking while we feel the scourge of the 
 tongue — this is no easy thing. This is prin- 
 ciple in triumph. And this Christian heroism 
 is not only commendable, but necessary. Do 
 not say therefore, if we do this, we shall be 
 singular. If you are Christians, you must be 
 singular : it is the grand design, the unavoid- 
 able consequence of the Gospel. Read the 
 character of its followers : " Ye are not of the 
 world, even as I am not of the world." — Exa- 
 mine its commands : " Be not conformed to 
 this world, but be ye transformed by the re- 
 newing of your mind." — Weigh the condition 
 of its dignities and privileges: "Come out 
 from among them, and be ye separate, and 
 touch not the unclean thing ; and I will re- 
 ceive you, and be a Father unto you, and ye 
 shall be my sons and daughters, saith the 
 Lord Almighty." — My dear hearers, the lan- 
 guage is too plain to be misunderstood ; the 
 meaning is too awful to be trifled with. De- 
 cide ; and decide immediately. " Withdraw 
 yourselves from these men" before a common 
 perdition involves you all. If with them you 
 will sin, with them you must suffer. They 
 who followed the multitude rather than Noah, 
 were drowned in the Flood. They who fol- 
 lowed the multitude rather than Lot, were 
 destroyed in the cities of the plain. They 
 who followed the multitude rather than Joshua 
 and Caleb, perished in the wilderness ! And as 
 it was then, so it is now — " As for such as 
 turn aside to their crooked ways, the Lord 
 will lead them forth with the workers of ini- 
 quity." 
 
 Thirdly. Let those who havo been " re- 
 served," consider the Author and the End of 
 their distinction. 
 
 — Remember by whom you have been se- 
 cured. God is the Author — hence he says, 
 " I have reserved." " For who makcth thee 
 to differ from another 1 and what hast thou 
 that thou didst not receive 1 !" Had you been 
 left to yourselves, and " given up to your own 
 counsel," you would have been carried along 
 by the same depraved tendency, " according 
 to the course of this world." But his grace, 
 equally free and powerful, interposed in your 
 favour ; it gave to ordinances their efficacy, 
 and to the dispensations of Providence their 
 sanctifying influence, in turning the mind and 
 restraining the life from sin : and, boasting 
 excluded, you are indulging yourselves in 
 language used by all the redeemed before you 
 — " Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but 
 unto thy Name be glory, for thy mercy and 
 for thy truth's sake." " By the grace of God 
 I am what I am : not I, but the grace of God 
 which was with me." 
 
 — Remember also for whom you have been 
 secured. God is the end — hence he says, "I 
 have reserved unto myself. — They are to be 
 representatives on earth, to wear my image, 
 to maintain my cause, to be employed in my 
 service. This people have I formed for my- 
 self, they shall shew forth my praise, — They 
 shall be called trees of righteousness, the plant- 
 ing of the Lord, that he may be glorified. The 
 Lord hath set apart him that is godly for 
 himself." — Christians — it is a high, an awful 
 destiny. It sheds a sacredness over the whole 
 character, which you should always feel. It 
 hallows you. It consecrates your persons, 
 and your possessions. All you have, all you 
 are, is his — all is for him. This end deter- 
 mines, and simplifies your work. To this 
 you are to make every thing subordinate, and 
 subservient. " Whether, therefore, ye eat or 
 drink, or whatever ye do, do all to the glory 
 of God. For none of us liveth to himself, 
 and no man dieth to himself '. for whether 
 we live, we live unto the lord, or whe- 
 ther we die, we die unto the lord : whe- 
 ther therefore we live or die, we are 
 the Lord's." 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 THE NATURE OF GENUINE RELI- 
 GION. 
 
 J will give them one heart, and I will put a neio 
 spirit within you ; and I will take the stony 
 heart out of their flesh, and will give them an 
 heart of jlesh : that they may walk in my 
 statutes, and keep mine ordinances, and do 
 them : and they shall be my people, and I 
 will be their God. — Ezekiel xi. 19, 20. 
 
 " The works of the Lord are great, sought 
 out of all them that have pleasure therein." 
 
SERMON II. 
 
 11 
 
 It is pleasing 1 to observe Hiin as the God of 
 nature, " renewing the face of the earth ;" 
 "crowning the year with his goodness;" 
 " opening his hand, and satisfying the desire 
 of every living thing." It is edifying to trace 
 Him as the God of Providence, " fixing the 
 bounds of our habitation ;" assigning every 
 man his station ; qualifying individuals for the 
 sphere in which they move ; and sometimes 
 " raising up the poor out of the dust, and lift- 
 ing the needy out of the dunghill, that He 
 may set him with princes, even with the 
 princes of his people." — But it is much more 
 pleasing and edifying to contemplate Him as 
 the God of all grace. Here " He excelleth 
 in glory." Here " He spares not his own 
 Son, but delivers him up for us all." Here 
 " He saves us by the washing of regenera- 
 tion, and the renewing of the Holy Ghost, 
 which he sheds on us abundantly through Je- 
 sus Christ our Saviour." Here we behold 
 Him, from the ruins of the Fall, making the 
 sinner "an eternal excellency, the joy of ma- 
 ny generations." 
 
 All this " purpose and grace" He has giv- 
 en us in a way of promise. And of all the 
 promises with which the Scripture abounds, 
 no one is more important than the words 
 which we have read — " I will give them one 
 heart, and I will put a new spirit within you ; 
 and I will take the stony heart out of their 
 flesh, and will give them an heart of flesh : 
 that they may walk in my statutes, and keep 
 mine ordinances, and do them : and they shall 
 be my people, and I will be their God." 
 
 Behold a full representation of a subject 
 which deserves all your regard ! See genu- 
 ine religion developed in four essential arti- 
 cles. — I. Its Author. II. The disposition 
 it produces. III. The obedience it demands. 
 IV. The blessedness it ensures. 
 
 I. Observe, my brethren, how expressly 
 God appropriates this work to himself. " I 
 will give them one heart, and I will put a 
 new spirit within you" — and so of all the rest. 
 Real religion is of a divine original : it never 
 would have had an existence in the world 
 without the revelation of God; and it will 
 never have an existence in the soul without 
 the operation of God. — There is indeed some 
 difficulty attending the discussion of this sub- 
 ject. The more spiritual any work of God is, 
 the more remote will it necessarily be found 
 from human comprehension. Our Saviour 
 compares this influence to the agency of the 
 wind ; which, of all the phenomena of nature, 
 is the least apprehensible in its essence, and 
 the most sensible in its effects. " The wind 
 bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the 
 sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it 
 cometh, and whither it goeth : so is every one 
 that is born of fhe Spirit." The doctrine has 
 also been much abused. It has often been so 
 managed, as to make the sinner, while in his 
 natural state, to appear unfortunate rather 
 
 than criminal ; and to render the use of means 
 and exertions needless. — The sacred writers 
 do not inform us "where precisely diligence 
 and dependence unite, or how they blend 
 through the whole course of the Christian 
 life; but they assure us of the reality and the 
 constancy of their union : they inform us that 
 there is no inconsistency between the com- 
 mand and the promise ; that it is our duty, as 
 well as privilege, to "be filled with the Spi- 
 rit ;" and that we are to " work out our own 
 salvation with fear and trembling ; for it is 
 God that worketh in us to will and to do of 
 his own good pleasure." 
 
 This being premised, we proceed to esta- 
 blish the doctrine we have advanced. And 
 the proof is by no means difficult. It is as 
 simple and obvious, as it is convincing. For if 
 "all things are of God," is religion to be ex- 
 cluded! and to form the only exception? 
 Does " the river of the water of life" spring 
 from a source on this side " the throne of God 
 and of the Lamb?" If in Him we live, and 
 move, " and have our" natural "being;" do 
 we derive from an inferior principle our spi- 
 ritual life? — a life sublimely called "the 
 life of God ?" If the discoveries which furnish 
 us with the accommodations and conven- 
 iences of human life — if the skill of the hus- 
 bandman, and the wisdom of the mechanic — 
 be in Scripture ascribed to His influence; 
 who gives us the genius to live divinely, and 
 to have "our conversation in heaven?" 
 
 The expressions, " to be born again ;" to be 
 made " a new creature ;" to be " raised from 
 the dead," applied to the subjects of divine 
 grace, are allowed to be metaphorical ; but 
 they are designed to convey a truth ; and to 
 teach us, not only the greatness of the change, 
 but also the Author of it. If religion were a 
 human production, it would wear the resem- 
 blance of man ; it would not be the reverse 
 of all he now is. After what the Scripture 
 has said respecting the total depravity of hu- 
 man nature, and which, by experience and ob- 
 servation, we observe every day to be true in 
 fact ; nothing can be more wonderful than to 
 find any of the children of men possessing 
 true holiness. The question then is, how it 
 came there ? It could not spring from them- 
 selves ; for " who can bring a clean thing out 
 of an unclean?" No effect can exceed its 
 cause ; and an inadequate cause is no cause. 
 Whence then does it proceed ? — " To the law 
 and to the testimony." The Scripture as- 
 sures us it is the work of God ; and leads us 
 to trace back the grand whole, and the sepa- 
 rate parts ; the perfection, the progress, the 
 commencement — of religion in the soul, to a 
 divine agency. — " Who are born, not of 
 blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the 
 will of man, but of God." "He that hath 
 wrought us for the self-same thing is God, 
 who hath also given unto us the earnest of 
 the Spirit." " By grace are ye saved, through 
 
12 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 faith ; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift 
 of God : not of works, lest any man should 
 boast: for we are his workmanship, created 
 in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God 
 hath before ordained that we should walk in 
 them." 
 
 Nor is this a curious, or a useless specula- 
 tion. The importance of it equals the evi- 
 dence. To know things in their causes, has 
 been deemed the highest kind of knowledge : 
 to know salvation in its source, is indispensa- 
 ble. First, it is necessary, to guide and to 
 encourage the concern of awakened sinners, 
 who are asking, " Men and brethren, what 
 shall we do J" Such persons will not cheer- 
 fully and courageously enter on a course of 
 godliness, without an assurance of effectual 
 aid. Seeing so many difficulties and dangers 
 before them, and feeling their corruption and 
 weakness, after a few unsuccessful struggles, 
 they will sink down in hopeless despair; un- 
 less, under a sense of their own inability, we 
 can exhibit that grace which is sufficient for 
 them, and meet them with the promise; 
 " Ask, and it shall be given you ; seek, and 
 ye shall tind ; knock, and it shall be opened 
 unto you. For if ye, being evil, know how 
 to give good gifts unto your children, how 
 much more shall your heavenly Father give 
 his holy Spirit to them that ask him !" This 
 decides : this animates. " The grace of the 
 promise is adequate to the duty of the com- 
 mand. Does the work to which I am called, 
 look fitter for an angel, than for a man] I 
 have more than an angel's resources; my suf- 
 ficiency is of God. Without Him I can do 
 nothing; but through his strengthening of me 
 I can do all things." — Secondly, the same 
 discovery is necessary, to call forth the ac- 
 knowledgments, and to regulate the praises, 
 of those who are sanctified by divine grace. 
 The original cause determines the final end. 
 If their recovery commence from themselves, 
 it may terminate in themselves ; and being 
 the authors of the cure, they may lawfully 
 appropriate the glory arising from it. But the 
 Gospel assures us, that God has completely 
 excluded boasting : that He has arranged the 
 whole economy of our salvation, with the ex- 
 press view " that no flesh should glory in his 
 presence." And an experience of divine 
 truth delivers a man from that ignorance and 
 pride, which once led him to think of being 
 his own saviour : he feels, that " by the grace 
 of God, he is what he is :" and thus he is re- 
 duced again to the proper condition of a crea- 
 ture — lives a life of dependence and of praise 
 — and acknowledges his obligations to " Him, 
 of whom, and through whom, and to whom 
 are all things." We have seen the origin 
 of religion. Behold, 
 
 II. The disposition which it produces. — 
 It is characterized three ways. " I will give 
 them one heart, and I will put a new spi- 
 rit within you; and I will take the stony 
 
 heart out of their flesh, and will give them an 
 heart of flesh." 
 
 First, He promises to give them one heart : 
 and this shews the sameness of religion, as to 
 the leading views, sentiments, and pursuits 
 of its possessors. Of the converts at Jerusa- 
 lem, it is said " The multitude of them that 
 believed were of one heart and of one soul." 
 Feeling the same wants, and attracted to the 
 same Source of relief, they assembled and 
 blended together : they had many hearts be- 
 fore: they "followed divers lusts and plea- 
 sures;" they "turned every man to his own 
 way." From these various wanderings, they 
 are called to enter, and to travel the same 
 way — Grace produced a unity ; and a unity it 
 always will produce. But a unity of what 1 — 
 Of opinions? Of forms nnd ceremonies'! Of 
 dress and phraseology ? No: but of something 
 infinitely superior — a oneness of reliance — of 
 inclination — of tastn — of hopes and fears — of 
 joys and sorrows. Though divided and distin- 
 guished from each other by a thousand pecu- 
 liarities, they all hate sin ; they all " hunger 
 and thirst after righteousness ;" they " all fol- 
 low hard after God ;" they all feel the spi- 
 ritual life to be a warfare ; they all " confess 
 themselves to be strangers and pilgrims upon 
 earth." — Thus with circumstantial diversity 
 we have essential identity ; the substance as 
 unalterable, as the modes are various; the 
 dress changing with times and places ; the 
 figure, the members, the soul, always the 
 same. " By one Spirit, we are all baptized 
 into one body ; whether we be Jews or Gen- 
 tiles, whether we be bond or free ; and have 
 been all made to drink into one Spirit." — He 
 engages also to produce, 
 
 Secondly, a new spirit. " And I will put 
 a new spirit within you." Not only a spirit 
 different from that which still animates others, 
 but distinguished from that which once influ- 
 enced them. For it was not born with them : 
 they were once strangers to it — but designed 
 for a new world, new work, new pleasures, it 
 was necessary for them to have a new spirit. 
 Elevation will only serve to embarrass and en- 
 cumber a man, unless he be suited to it. A 
 king may advance a slave to a station of emi- 
 nence : but, with a change of condition, he 
 cannot give him a change of disposition ; with 
 his new office, he cannot bestow a new spirit. 
 But, in this manner, the Lord qualifies his 
 people for their situation and engagements: 
 and thus they are at home in them ; there is 
 a suitableness productive of ease and enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 This is the peculiar glory of the Gospel. 
 Observe all false religions. They take man 
 as he is ; they accommodate themselves to his 
 errors and his passions ; they leave him essen- 
 tially the same. They follow the man ; they 
 are formed after his likeness. Whereas here 
 the man is changed ; he is modeled after the 
 image of his religion. The Gospel, instead of 
 
SERMON II. 
 
 13 
 
 flattering, tells him that nothing is to be done 
 while he remains as he now is — that, in his 
 present state, he is incapable of performing 
 its duties and of relishing its joys — that he 
 must be transformed, or he "cannot enter in- 
 to the kingdom of God." And what it indis- 
 pensably requires, it provides for, and secures : 
 hence all is order and harmony. For, every 
 thing in the sublime dispensation of the Gos- 
 pel, and the constitution of the Christian 
 Church, is new. We have " a new cove- 
 nant." We have a " new Jerusalem, which 
 is the mother of us all." " We approach 
 God by a new and living way." We sing 
 "a new song." We are called by "a new 
 name." According to his promise, we look for 
 " new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwell- 
 eth righteousness." " He that sitteth upon 
 the throne saith, Behold, I create all things 
 new." Do you wonder, therefore, my bre- 
 thren, that we are required to " put off the 
 old man with his deeds; and to put on the 
 new man:" to " walk in newness of life:" 
 to serve him in ." newness of spirit, and not 
 in the oldness of the letter !" — that we are 
 assured that " neither circumcision availeth 
 any thing, nor uncircumcision, but a new 
 creature !" — that " if any man be in Christ, 
 he is a new creature" — that "old things are 
 passed away, and, behold, all things are be- 
 come new !" 
 
 Thirdly, He gives "them an heart of 
 flesh." It was a heart of "stone" before. 
 Take a stone — feel it — how cold ! Strike it — 
 it resists the blow. Lay upon it a burden — 
 it feels no pressure. Apply to it a seal — it 
 receives no impression. Such were your 
 hearts once ; thus cold, impenetrable, sense- 
 less, unyielding, and unsusceptible. What a 
 mercy is it to have this curse removed, and 
 to have " hearts of flesh !" — to be able to feel ; 
 to feel spiritually ; to be alive to " the powers 
 of the world to come !" to be no longer insen- 
 sible to divine and heavenly things, when 
 they come in contact with us ! 
 
 And remember, Christians, this holy sensi- 
 bility is evidenced not only by your pleasing 
 emotions, but also by your distressing ones. 
 Your tears of sorrow indicate spiritual sensa- 
 tion, as well as your tears of joy. Is not pain 
 a proof of feeling? 
 
 — Yes ; the Christian's heart is a " heart 
 of flesh." 
 
 — Bring it to the word of God — it feels. 
 " My heart," says David, " standeth in awe 
 of thy word." " He trembles at His word," 
 says Isaiah. He opens it with reverence ; he 
 bows to its authority ; he often compares him- 
 self with its demands; he reads the character 
 and doom of apostates, and turns pale; he 
 dreads its threatenings ; he longs for an inte- 
 rest in its promises! O how many feelings 
 will one chapter set in motion ! 
 
 Bring it to sin — it feels. A tender conscience, 
 like the eye, is offended with a mote. A 
 2 
 
 dead corpse is unaffected with the deepest 
 wound ; but the point of a needle makes the 
 living body to writhe. While others do not 
 groan, though charged with heinous crimes, 
 the Christian complains even of infirmities, 
 of wandering thoughts, of earthly affections. 
 A look from his offended Lord will make him 
 " go out and weep bitterly." 
 
 Bring it to the dispensations of Providence 
 — it feels. " My flesh trembleth for fear of 
 thee, and I am afraid of thy righteous judg- 
 ments." Or does he prosper ! He is no stran- 
 ger to a fear lest " his table should become 
 a snare, and a trap, and a stumbling-block, 
 and a recompense unto him." 
 
 Bring it to the divine glory — it feels. 
 " Rivers of waters run down mine eyes, be- 
 cause men keep not thy law." 
 
 Bring it to the concerns of others — it feels. 
 " He weeps with them that weep. He con- 
 siders them that are in adversity, as bound 
 with them." " Who is weak, and he is not 
 weak] who is offended, and he burns not V — 
 For a tender heart is always accompanied 
 with a tender hand, and a tender tongue. 
 Such is the disposition which is formed in all 
 the subjects of divine grace : and why is it 
 produced 1 To enable us to observe the whole 
 revealed will of God, in a course of cheerful 
 and active obedience. This, 
 
 III. Brings us to observe the practice which 
 religion demands — " That they may walk in 
 my statutes, and keep mine ordinances, 
 and do them." It is strange, that a system of 
 religion should be ever advanced, which, if it 
 comprehends obedience and good works at 
 all, places them in a very inferior situation ; 
 seems always afraid to bring them forward ; 
 dares not hold them forth as the end and per- 
 fection of the whole, to which every thing 
 else leads, and in which every thing else is 
 to terminate — nor insist on their being so es- 
 sentially necessary, that without them all our 
 pretensions to godliness are vain. Yet in this 
 decisive manner does He speak of them, 
 "who came to bear witness to the truth." 
 "Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, 
 Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven ; 
 but he that doeth the will of my Father who 
 is in heaven." " If ye know these things, 
 happy are ye if ye do them." " He that hath 
 my commandments, and keepeth them, he 
 it is that loveth me." 
 
 But is it not equally absurd to expect this 
 practice where there is nothing to secure it? 
 or to suppose that a man's life will be in per- 
 petual contradiction to all his bias and incli- 
 nations'! " Do men gather grapes of thorns, 
 or figs of thistles'! Even so, every good tree 
 bringeth forth good fruit ; but a corrupt tree 
 bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot 
 bring forth evil fruit; neither can a corrupt 
 tree bring forth good fruit." — In order, there- 
 fore, to do justice to this part of our subject, I 
 would state two remarks, which we hope you 
 
14 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 will always remember and unite. First, 
 principle must precede practice. Secondly, 
 practice must follow principle. 
 
 First. Observe the order in which these 
 things are arranged — "I will give them one 
 heart, and I will put a new spirit within you ; 
 and I will take the stony heart out of their 
 flesh, and will give them an heart of flesh : 
 that they may walk in my statutes, and keep 
 mine ordinances, and do them." Thus prin- 
 ciple precedes practice, and prepares for it. 
 And here we admire the plan of the Gospel. 
 To make the fruit good, it makes the tree so : 
 to cleanse the stream, it purifies the fountain. 
 It renews the nature, and the life becomes 
 holy of course. What is the religion of too 
 many 1 — they are like machines, impelled by 
 force : they are influenced only by external 
 considerations. Their hearts are not engag- 
 ed. Hence, in every religious exercise they 
 perform a task. They would love God much 
 better, if he would excuse them altogether 
 from the hateful obligation. They put off 
 these duties as long as possible ; resort to them 
 with reluctance ; adjust the measure with a 
 niggardly grudge ; and are glad of any excuse 
 for neglect. While labouring at the drudgery, 
 they entertain hard thoughts of the crrfel 
 Taskmaster, who can impose such severities 
 upon them, and sigh inwardly, " When will 
 the Sabbath be over 1" when shall we unbend 
 from these spiritual restraints, and feel our- 
 selves at liberty in the world? — Can this be 
 religion ? Is there any thing in this, suitable 
 to the nature of God, who is " a Spirit !" or 
 to the demands of God, who cries, " My son, 
 give me thine heart ;" " serve the Lord with 
 gladness, and come before his presence with 
 singing ?" — Behold a man hungry — he needs 
 no argument to induce him to eat. See that 
 mother — she needs no motive to determine 
 her to cherish her darling babe — nature im- 
 pels. The obedience of the Christian is, in 
 consequence of regeneration, natural; and 
 hence it is pleasant and invariable : " he runs 
 and is not weary, he walks and is not faint." 
 
 Secondly. It is equally true that practice 
 must follow principle. The one is the ne- 
 cessary consequence of the other. This in- 
 fluence will operate : if it be fire, it will burn ; 
 if it be leaven, it will pervade and assimilate ; 
 if it be in us " a well of water," it will 
 " spring up into everlasting life." — The one 
 is the proper evidence of the other. The 
 cause is ascertained by the effect It is not 
 necessary to lay open the body of a tree, to de- 
 termine, by the grain, to what class it belongs : 
 there is an easier and a surer mode of judg- 
 ing : " the tree is known by its fruits." Some, 
 while leading very indifferent lives, tell us 
 their hearts are good : but goodness in the 
 heart will appear in the life; a good con- 
 science will always be accompanied with a 
 good conversation. Faith justifies the soul ; 
 but works justify faith. " Shew me thy faith 
 
 without thy works, and I will shew thee my 
 faith by my works." The one is the chief 
 recommendation of the other. It is by prac- 
 tice only you can shew the value of principle. 
 Your views and feelings are beyond the reach 
 of others ; your experience is invisible : but it 
 is otherwise with your actions; these come 
 under their observation; and they can form 
 an estimate of your religion by the excel- 
 lency of its influence. And when your lives 
 correspond with your profession; when you 
 are "followers of God as dear children;" 
 when you are humble in prosperity ; cheerful 
 in adversity; ready to forgive; willing to 
 bear one another's burdens ; attentive to the 
 duties of your stations ; and unblameable in 
 every relation — you are perpetually magnify- 
 ing your religion : you " adorn the doctrine of 
 God your Saviour ;" you " put to silence the 
 ignorance of foolish men ;" you sometimes 
 allure them, according to the instructive ad- 
 monition of our Saviour, " Let your light so 
 shine before men, that they may see your 
 
 GOOD WORKS, AND GLORIFY YOUR FATHER 
 
 which is in heaven." — And with what is 
 all this connected 1 " They shall be my peo- 
 ple, and I will be their God." This shews us, 
 
 IV. The blessed privilege of the righ- 
 teous. For here we are to contemplate their 
 honour and their happiness. — Every thing de- 
 pends upon this relation. " Blessed are the 
 people that are in such a case ; yea, happy is 
 that people whose God is the Lord." 
 
 When " God gave promise to Abraham, be- 
 cause he could swear by no greater, He sware 
 by himself :" when He would bless his peo- 
 ple, because He could give them no greater, 
 He gave Himself They are all a nation of 
 Levites ; for " the Lord is their inheritance :" 
 and it is " a goodly" one ; it " gives grace 
 and glory, and no good thing does" it " with- 
 hold from them that walk uprightly." " It is 
 profitable unto all things ; having promise of 
 the life that now is, and of that which is to 
 come." 
 
 — Consider the meaning of the language. 
 It is more than if He said, I will be thy friend, 
 thy helper, thy benefactor ; for these are re- 
 lations derived from creatures, and therefore 
 notions of limited significancy. — But when He 
 says, " I will be thy God, he takes an image 
 from Himself, and engages to do us good ac- 
 cording to the all-sufficiency of an infinite 
 nature ; to bestow upon us blessings which 
 are peculiar to Deity — to do for us what Deity 
 alone can do, and to do it divinely — to par- 
 don, and to pardon like a God — to sanctify, 
 and to sanctify like a God — to comfort, and 
 to comfort like a God — to glorify, and to glo- 
 rify like a God ; — God appearing all along, in 
 the manner, as well as in the mercy. 
 
 Consider also the nature of the claim. He 
 is really yours. In nothing else have you 
 such a propriety. Your time is not your own ; 
 your riches are not your own ; your children 
 
SERMON II. 
 
 15 
 
 are not your own ; your bodies, and your spi- 
 rits, are not your own — but God is yours by 
 absolute promise, and donation ; and you may 
 join with the Church of old, and say, " God, 
 " even our own God, shall bless us." And 
 He is wholly yours — all He is, all He pos- 
 sesses — the perfections of his nature, the dis- 
 pensations of his providence, the blessings of 
 his salvation, the treasures of his word — all 
 are become your own : and what Benhadad 
 said to the king of Israel, and what the father 
 of the prodigal said to the elder brother, God 
 says to each of you — " I am thine, and all that 
 I have :" " Son, thou art ever with me, and 
 all that I have is thine." And He is yours 
 for ever; the union is indissoluble ; his dura- 
 tion is the tenure of your bliss ; as long as He 
 lives he will be your God. 
 
 Once more : Consider the final issue of the 
 connexion. The relation is intended to dis- 
 play the immensity of his benevolence, and 
 of his munificence, towards his people. It 
 does much for them here ; and when they re- 
 flect upon their original meanness and con- 
 tinued unworthiness, and consider what they 
 have received, they are filled with wonder, 
 and exclaim, " What manner of love is this !" 
 " what shall I render to the Lord for all his 
 benefits towards me !" — But they " shall see 
 greater things than these." They have now 
 only "the first-fruits of the Spirit;" "the 
 earnest of their inheritance." Their alliance 
 with God is often concealed from others, and 
 from themselves; and the advantages it pro- 
 duces are circumscribed by the world in which 
 we live, and the body of this death. It has 
 not room in which to operate, or time in 
 which to expand. We are therefore led to 
 look forward ; and what the apostle says with 
 regard to the patriarchs, will apply to all his 
 people — " wherefore God is not ashamed to be 
 called their God, for he hath prepared for 
 them a city." What an intimation of his in- 
 finite goodness is here ! He would be asham- 
 ed of the relation into which He has entered, 
 if he conferred no more upon his followers 
 than the benefits they derive from him on 
 earth. — Behold then an eternity succeeding 
 time : a new system prepared to receive them : 
 a happiness in reserve, of which they can now 
 form no adequate conception ! — When He 
 has exchanged their dungeon for a palace ; 
 when he has " wiped away all tears from 
 their eyes ;" when He has eased every pain, 
 fulfilled every desire, realized every hope; 
 when he has changed " this vile body," and 
 fiishioned it like the " glorious body" of the 
 Saviour ; when He has entirely expelled sin 
 from their nature, and presented them, " fault- 
 less, before the presence of his glory, with ex- 
 ceeding joy" — then the character will be ful- 
 ly displayed, and the relation completely jus- 
 tified ; and all hell and heaven will acknow- 
 ledge that " He has been their God." 
 — I divide this assembly into three classes. 
 
 And, first, I address those who are careless of 
 this blessed relation. — Such were many of 
 the Jews of old. " Israel," says God, " would 
 have none of me." And you are of the same 
 number. You say, by your actions, if not by 
 your words, " depart from us, for we desire 
 not the knowledge of thy ways." You are ask- 
 ing, " who will shew us any good J" but you 
 do not, and you know you do not, pray, " Lord, 
 lift thou up the light of thy countenance 
 upon me." — But is it a vain thing to seek 
 God, or to serve Him? Allowing other things 
 to be valuable, are they to be compared with 
 God, who is the portion of his people I But 
 they are not valuable; they cannot give satis- 
 faction; they leave a void unfilled ; they can- 
 not ease the anguish of a troubled conscience, 
 sustain the soul in trouble, or subdue the fear 
 of death : they fail in those seasons and cir- 
 cumstances in which you must need their aid. 
 And, for these, will you hazard the loss of the 
 supreme good ? Will you " follow lying va- 
 nities, and forsake your own mercies'!" — 
 " Have the workers ofiniquity no knowledge 1" 
 Now you know not the magnitude of your 
 loss : you are not aware of the full meaning 
 of the word "depart" — go from the God of 
 life, go from the Source of all consolation, go 
 from all mercy and grace, for ever. Now, 
 you are not abandoned to reflection : you are 
 busied, and entertained ; and though not sa- 
 tisfied, you are diverted. — But, 
 
 " O ye jay dreamers of gay dreams, 
 
 How will you weather an eternal night, 
 Where such expedients fail?" 
 
 A loss is to be measured by the worth of the 
 thing we lose — and you lose God ! Other 
 losses may be corrective, but this is destruc- 
 tive; other losses may befal friends, but this 
 only befals enemies ; other losses may be re- 
 trieved, this is irreparable. — Is He willing to 
 become mine? He is; He condescends to ex- 
 postulate, to invite, to press : " Wherefore do 
 ye spend money for that which is not bread, 
 and your labour for that which satisfieth not 1 
 Hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that 
 which is good, and let your soul delight itself 
 in fatness. Incline your ear, and come unto 
 me ; hear, and your soul shall live ; and I 
 will make an everlasting covenant with you, 
 even the sure mercies of David." — "Seek ye 
 the Lord while he may be found ; call upon 
 him while he is near." 
 
 Secondly, I would address those who are of 
 a doubtful mind. For while some claim the 
 relation, to whom it does not belong, some, 
 to whom it belongs, are afraid to claim 
 it. Now this is to be lamented ; for if God 
 be yours, and you know it not, you sustain a 
 vast loss of consolation. Besides ; it is possi- 
 ble for you to obtain "a good hope through 
 grace :" the promise implies a possibility of 
 decision. " They shall call upon my Name, 
 and I will hear them : I will say, It is my 
 people ; and they shall say the Lord is mt 
 
1(3 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 God." And why cannot yon say this ? Have 
 you dissolved connexion with the world, and 
 taken " hold of the skirt of him that is a Jew, 
 saying-, I will go with you, for I have heard 
 that God is with you V Can you easily make 
 the language of his praying- followers your 
 own ! and is this the essence of every desire 
 you feel — " Remember me, O Lord, with the 
 favour thou bearest to thy people. O visit me 
 with thy salvation ; that I may see the g-ood 
 of thy chosen, that I may rejoice in the good- 
 ness of thy nation, that I may glory with thine 
 inheritance ?" When your minds rove through 
 the universe, finding no substitute for Him, do 
 you come back and ask, " Where is God my 
 Maker, who giveth songs in the night !" Af- 
 ter comparing communion with Him to every 
 other conceivable good, can you say, " Whom 
 have I in heaven but Thee, and there is none 
 upon earth that I desire besides Thee ?" — 
 When the ambassadors ofa certain nation came 
 to the Romans, offering to be their allies, and 
 were refused ; they said, if we cannot be your 
 allies, we will be your subjects; we will not 
 be your enemies. Can you say, Lord, I will 
 be thine; I will not be mine own: if I am 
 not received as a friend, I will be employed as 
 a servant : I never can be thy foe 1 — And you 
 are wishing to be able to " say, He is my 
 God." Why you have said it. Having thus 
 chosen Him, be assured He has chosen you. 
 Having- thus given yourselves to Him, be as- 
 sured he has given himself to you. If you 
 are his, He is yours. — 
 
 Thirdly, are there none in the Divine pre- 
 sence who are enabled to say, as the language 
 both of devotion and of confidence, " My Lord, 
 and my God ?" — Follow the example of the 
 Church ; publish the fame of his goodness, 
 and animate others to join you in praising Him. 
 " Behold, God is my salvation ; I will trust 
 and not be afraid : for the Lord Jehovah is my 
 strength and my song ; he also is become my 
 salvation." Plead your interest in Him, in 
 all your dangers, troubles, and necessities. 
 Envy none their wordly distinctions. Re- 
 member your pre-eminence : " you are the 
 sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty." 
 Do not complain because they may possess 
 things, of which you are deprived. You have 
 a God ; they are destitute : you can sustain a 
 loss uninjured; they would be undone. If 
 your taper be extinguished, you have a sun : 
 but when "the candle of the wicked is put 
 out," they are involved in darkness — " dark- 
 ness that may be felt." Honour your God by 
 living upon his fulness, and endeavouring by 
 faith to realize in Him, every thing you seek 
 for, in vain, in yourselves, or in creatures. 
 Observe the address of Moses to the Israel- 
 ites — " What nation is there so great, who 
 hath God so nigh unto them, as the Lord our 
 God is in all things that we call upon him 
 for ?" They were an inconsiderable body, con- 
 fined in a wilderness : the commerce, arts and 
 
 sciences, were ail with their enemies. They 
 had the same raiment they wore out of Egypt 
 forty years before ; and had no provisions be- 
 forehand for a single day. But their pecu- 
 liar greatness arose from their nearness to 
 God: in having Him, they had all. He pos- 
 sessed, and could immediately produce the 
 supplies their necessities required : they had 
 only to ask and have. — When David was 
 plundered, and stripped of all he had in Zik- 
 lag; it is said, he " encouraged himself in the 
 Lord his God" — He was left. Thus, a Chris- 
 tian who has nothing, possesses all things. — 
 Creatures may abandon him ; but his God 
 will never leave nor forsake him. Friends 
 may die ; but the Lord liveth. His " heart 
 and his flesh may fail ; but God is the strength 
 of his heart, and his portion for ever." " The 
 heavens may pass away with a great noise, 
 and the elements melt with fervent heat; the 
 earth and the works that are therein may be 
 burned up" — he stands upon the ashes of a 
 universe, and exclaims, I have lost nothing ! 
 Yea, he has gained " new heavens and a new 
 earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness !" 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 VOWS CALLED TO REMEMBRANCE. 
 
 And God said unto Jacob, Arise, go up to Beth- 
 el, and d-well there ; and make there an al- 
 tar unto God, that appeared unto thee when 
 thou jleddest from the face of Esau, thy bro- 
 ther. Then Jacob said unto his household, 
 and to all that -were -with him, Put away the 
 strange gods that are among you, and be 
 clean, and change your garments : and let 
 us arise, and go up to Bethel; and I -will 
 make there an altar unto God, who answered 
 me in the day of my distress, and -was with 
 me in the -way -which I went. — Genesis xxxv. 
 1—3. 
 
 The pieces of history preserved in the book 
 of Genesis are peculiarly valuable and worthy 
 of our regard. They possess the claim of truth, 
 of impartiality, of remote antiquity, of indivi- 
 dual and minute description. They are family 
 scenes, which always charm. We feel our- 
 selves in private life. We pursue single 
 characters through all the vicissitudes of their 
 pilgrimage, and observe the various workings 
 of their minds; their imperfections and their 
 excellences ; the flesh lusting against the Spi- 
 rit, and the Spirit gaining a victory over the 
 flesh. They are also recommended, as hold- 
 ing forth the dispensations of Divine Provi- 
 dence and Grace combined. It is painful to 
 see a man raised up to be a Divine instrument 
 only: girded and guided by a hand which he 
 knows not ; accomplishing designs which he 
 never desired or approved; and then laid 
 aside or dashed to pieces, as a vessel in which 
 
SERMON III. 
 
 17 
 
 there is no pleasure: and such are often the 
 philosophers, the politicians, and the heroes 
 of this world. But how delightful and edify- 
 ing' is it to contemplate men, who were not 
 only instruments, but favourites; who did 
 " the will of God from the heart," and " had 
 the testimony that they pleased Him ;" who 
 were the depositaries of the Divine counsel, 
 and increased the treasures of Revelation ; " of 
 whom, as concerning the flesh, Christ came ;" 
 and with whom we hope to reside for ever : 
 " for many shall come from the east and west, 
 and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, 
 and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven." The 
 command of God also leads us back to the pa- 
 triarchal age, sends us forth in search of these 
 renowned worthies, and enjoins us " not to be 
 slothful, but followers of them, who through 
 faith and patience inherit the promises." 
 
 These reflections, my brethren, are intend- 
 ed to raise this book in your esteem, and to 
 engage your attention to the words which I 
 have detached from it for your present edifi- 
 cation. And God said unto Jacob, " Arise, go 
 up to Bethel, and dwell there ; and make there 
 an altar unto God, that appeared unto thee 
 when thou fleddest from the face of Esau, thy 
 brother. Then Jacob said unto his household, 
 and to all that were with him, Put away the 
 strange gods that are among you, and be clean, 
 and change your garments : and let us arise, 
 and go up to Bethel ; and I will make there 
 an altar unto God, who answered me in the 
 day of my distress, and was with me in the 
 way which I went." Let us review the 
 
 TRANSACTION TO WHICH THESE WORDS REFER 
 
 DRAW FORTH SOME OF THE INSTRUCTIONS 
 
 IMPLIED IN THEM AND DISTINGUISH THE 
 
 CHARACTERS IN THIS ASSEMBLY, WHO ARE CON- 
 CERNED IN THE COMMAND AND THE EXAMPLE 
 
 " Arise, and go up to Bethel." " Let us arise, 
 and go up to Bethel ; and I will there make 
 an altar unto God, who answered me in the 
 day of my distress, and was with me in the 
 way which I went." 
 
 Part I. The passage before us refers to a 
 very interesting part of the history of Jacob, 
 which it will be necessary for us to review. — 
 To escape the fury of his brother Esau, Jacob, 
 by the proposal of his mother, goes to Padan- 
 Aram, to the house of his uncle Laban. On 
 the first night of his journey he dreamed. He 
 saw a ladder reaching from earth to heaven ; 
 angels ascending and descending upon it, and 
 God above it, in a posture of attention, " stand- 
 ing" and viewing a poor pilgrim below. He 
 also spake. He assured him of the relation 
 in which he stood to his pious ancestors ; and 
 promised to give the land of Canaan to his 
 seed, to render his progeny illustrious and in- 
 numerable, and eventually in one of his de- 
 scendants to bless all the families of the earth. 
 To accommodate Himself still more to the exi- 
 gencies of his condition, He added, " Behold, 
 I am with thee; and will keep thee in all 
 C 2* " 
 
 places whither thou goest, and will bring 
 thee again into this land : for I will not leave 
 thee until I have done that which I have 
 spoken to thee of." Deeply impressed with 
 the scene and the language, Jacob arose ; and, 
 before he proceeded on his journey, " vowed 
 a vow, saying, If God will be with me, and 
 will keep me in the way that I go, and will 
 give 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 my God, and 
 this stone which I have set for a pillar shall 
 be God's house, and of all that thou shalt give 
 me I will surely give the tenth unto thee." 
 If he wished to lay God under an additional 
 bond, it marks his infirmity : God had spoken, 
 and Jacob should have been satisfied. But it 
 was wise and pious to bind himself. Some 
 have been inclined to censure Jacob, as too 
 conditional, and too selfish, on this occasion ; 
 supposing he engaged only to serve God, pro- 
 vided he should be indulged with the bless- 
 ings he implores. This would have been 
 censurable indeed, and utterly opposite to the 
 faith of the patriarchs, one of whom said, 
 "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in 
 Him ;" and another of whom, when command- 
 ed, "obeyed, and went out, not knowing whi- 
 ther he went." The meaning is, that God, 
 by these fresh instances of his favour, would 
 furnish him with fresh motives to serve and 
 glorify Him ; and he stipulates the manner in 
 which he would discharge the obligation he 
 should be laid under. 
 
 After the twenty years of hard service in 
 the house of his uncle, Jacob resolves to re- 
 turn. Three days after his departure, Laban 
 pursues him. He overtakes him in Gilead, is 
 pacified, and withdraws. Jacob moves on — 
 crosses the ford of Jabbok — descends on its 
 southern bank — reaches the ford of Succoth — 
 wrestles with the angel — passes over the river 
 Jordan westward, and comes to Shalem. This 
 was an eventful position. Here he bought a 
 piece of ground of Hamor ; here he raised an 
 altar ; and here befel him the affliction he 
 experienced in the seduction of his daughter, 
 and the murder of the Shechemites. Here he 
 lingers till seven or eight years have elapsed — 
 
 0 Bethel, how art thou forgotten ! O Jacob, 
 where is your vow to repair thither as soon as 
 you returned ! Your God has fulfilled his en- 
 gagement — He has been with you — defended 
 you — prospered you — and you are come back 
 in peace. Where is your altar 1 Where the 
 tenth of your possessions to maintain it 1 — We 
 may compare one character with another. 
 Behold David. What is he saying 1 " 1 will 
 go into thy house with burnt offerings ; I will 
 pay thee my vows,which my lips have uttered, 
 and my mouth hath spoken, when I was in 
 trouble." — Hannah occurs. I see her in the 
 bitterness of her soul, praying and weeping 
 
 I sore. " And she vowed a vow, and Baid, O 
 
 1 Lord of Hosts, if thou wilt indeed look on the 
 
IS 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 affliction of thine handmaid, and remember 
 me, and not forget thine handmaid, but wilt 
 give unto thine handmaid a man-child, then I 
 will give him unto the Lord all the days of 
 his life, and there shall no razor come upon 
 his head." — He is born ; and his very name 
 shall be a remembrancer. He is weaned ; 
 and she takes him with her, and brings him 
 into the house of God in Shiloh, and introduces 
 him to Eli. " And she said, O my lord, as 
 thy soul liveth, my lord, I am the woman that 
 stood by thee here praying unto the Lord. 
 For this child I prayed, and the Lord hath 
 given me my petition which I asked of him : 
 therefore also I have lent him to the Lord ; 
 as long as he liveth he shall be lent to the 
 Lord." O what were her feelings in this 
 journey ! What a contention between the mo- 
 ther and the saint ! What a trial was here ! — 
 an only child — a child long desired, and en- 
 deared by a thousand considerations — to give 
 him up — to resign him for ever — to see him 
 once a year only, to renew the pain of sepa- 
 ration ! What a superior delicacy, fervour, 
 permanency, is there in the devotion of this 
 female ! How does the patriarch vanish from 
 a comparison of this pious woman ! 
 
 — Here Jacob still lingers, and discovers no 
 disposition to perform his vow ; and it becomes 
 necessary for God himself to address him. 
 " And God said unto Jacob, Arise, go up to 
 Bethel, and dwell there ; and make thee an 
 altar unto God, that appeared unto thee when 
 thoufleddest from the face of Esau thy brother. 
 Then Jacob said unto his household, and to 
 all that were with him, Put away the strange 
 gods that are among you, and be clean, and 
 change your garments : and let us arise, and 
 go up to Bethel ; and I will make there an 
 altar unto God, who answered me in the day 
 of my distress, and was with me in the way 
 which I went." From these words — 
 
 Part II. We may derive some instructive 
 and useful observations. 
 
 First, we may remark how soon the influ- 
 ence of impressive scenes wears away, and 
 how prone we are to lose the sense of our 
 mercies, and all the religious feelings they 
 produce. — If a person had seen Jacob on the 
 morning after his vision, and when he was 
 leaving the place made sacred by his experi- 
 ence and engagement there ; and had said to 
 him, " God will accomplish thy desire : he 
 will guide thee and keep thee ; provide for 
 thee, and bring thee back, enriched and mul- 
 tiplied, to see thy native land — and thou, wilt 
 thou think nothing of all this ; wilt thou live 
 year after year unmindful of Bethel, and suf- 
 fer thy vow to lie unperformed V — the pro- 
 phecy would have been incredible ; he would 
 have exclaimed, " Can I ever thus trifle with 
 God, or become insensible to such a benefac- 
 tor " What ! is thy servant a dog, that he 
 should do this thing !" — How were the Isra- 
 elites affected when God appeared to them ! 
 
 " They sang his praise." They resolved to 
 distrust him no more. They said, " All that 
 the Lord commandeth us will we do." " But 
 they soon forgat his works, and the wonders 
 which He had shewn them." They mur- 
 mured again ; rebelled again ; all their mer- 
 cies were written in the sand, and the first 
 returning wave of trouble washed them out. 
 — Hence David lays an embargo upon his 
 thoughts : " Bless the Lord, O my soul, and 
 forget not all his benefits." It would be well, 
 if we could identify and secure our feelings 
 in certain periods and conditions of life, that 
 we might afterwards review them, compare 
 ourselves with them, perceive our declen- 
 sions and deficiencies; and bring forward 
 these former experiences — when we grow 
 cold, to warm us ; and when we grow slothful, 
 to quicken us. A faithful recollection is of pe- 
 culiar importance to the Christian : things can 
 impress the mind no longer than they are in 
 it; and lapses in the memory occasion fail- 
 ures in the life. But, alas ! like a sieve, 
 full while in the river, but, when raised up, 
 empty and dropping; and as water, which 
 has a natural tendency to be cold, but requires 
 a perpetual fire to keep it warm ; so treache- 
 rous are our memories in divine things ; so 
 constantly do we need means and helps ; so 
 necessary is it to have our " minds stirred up 
 by way of remembrance." 
 
 Secondly, God will remind his people of 
 forgotten duties. And he can never be at a 
 loss for means to admonish us. He addresses 
 us by his providence. The design of afflic- 
 tion is to bring our sin to remembrance. 
 Sometimes the cause of affliction is not so 
 obvious ; and we say, with Job, " Shew me 
 wherefore thou contendest with me." At 
 other times, there is a wonderful correspond- 
 ence between the crime and the calamity: 
 the one is not only the consequence, but the 
 discovery of the other, and leads back the 
 mind instantly to it. — When God brings us 
 into new difficulties, and we apply for relief, 
 our former deliverances and indulgences 
 are remembered ; and our ingratitude, in not 
 duly acknowledging and improving them, 
 stares us in the face, and destroys the liberty 
 and life of prayer. — Have you succoured a 
 fellow-creature, and is he thankful'! Can you 
 hear his praises for your petty favours, . and 
 not be reminded of your obligations to God 
 for benefits infinitely superior'! Or is he 
 unthankful and unworthy ! Here is a glass 
 held up as you pass along, in which you may 
 catch a glance of your own image : — " How 
 much more unthankful and unworthy have I 
 proved to my Almighty Friend, whose good- 
 ness and mercy have followed me all the days 
 of my life !" — He renews recollection by 
 means of his word. The Scripture is not only 
 " profitable for doctrine ; but reproof, correc- 
 tion, and instruction in righteousness." It 
 not only affords a word in season for him that 
 
SERMON III. 
 
 10 
 
 is weary, but for him that is careless and luke- 
 warm. By this the secrets of the heart are 
 made manifest. And happy are those who 
 are willing to apply this touchstone; to use 
 this balance of the sanctuary ; to take this 
 candle of the Lord, and examine the cham- 
 bers of imagery within ; and who, when they 
 have done all, will invite a severer scrutiny 
 — " Search me, O God, and know my heart ; 
 try me, and know my thoughts ; and see if 
 there be any wicked way in me, and lead me 
 in the way everlasting." — Ministers are God's 
 remembrancers. Their business is, not to 
 bring strange things to your ears, to enter- 
 tain you with novelties, or to encourage in you 
 a fondness for those speculations which bear 
 slightly on the heart and life : but they are to 
 recal your attention to things which, though 
 the most simple, are the most important, and 
 at the same time the most neglected ; to re- 
 mind you of things already known ; to im- 
 press you with things already believed ; to 
 place your practice opposite your faith, and 
 your lives by the side of your profession. " I 
 will therefore put you in remembrance of 
 these things, though ye once knew them" — 
 here is our example. " If thou put the bre- 
 thren in remembrance of these things, thou 
 shalt be a good minister of Jesus Christ' 
 this is our commendation. — God has also an 
 internal witness and monitor : it is conscience 
 and if in its natural state it has power to ac 
 cuse the transgressor, how much more influ- 
 ence will it possess when renewed and sanc- 
 tified ! 
 
 Thirdly, gracious characters are alive to 
 Divine intimations. — Herein we . perceive a 
 difference between them and others. They 
 are encompassed with infirmity ; they may 
 err; they may fall: but there is in them a 
 principle which secures their rising again ; 
 they are open to conviction, they welcome 
 reproof ; they melt, retract, reform, and are 
 watchful and prayerful to prevent similar 
 miscarriages in future. A man asleep only, 
 is very distinguishable from a person dead; 
 the difference will appear as soon as you en- 
 deavour to awake them : the one is unsuscep- 
 tible ; the other stirs, inquires, springs up. 
 A living bough may bend down to the earth 
 under a pressure ; but remove the load, and 
 it is upright again, and points heavenward. 
 Elihu finely describes the feelings of a pious 
 mind under Divine correction — " Surely it is 
 meet to be said unto God, I have borne chas- 
 tisement, I will not offend any more. That 
 which I know not, teach thou me : if I have 
 done iniquity, I will do no more." When our 
 Lord looked only upon Peter, "he went out 
 and wept bitterly." — Jacob does not argue the 
 matter with God ; does not vindicate himself; 
 does not extenuate his fault The Lord em- 
 ploys no severe language ; nor is it necessa- 
 ry : a soft word subdues him — " It is too plain 
 to be denied, and too bad to be excused. I 
 
 have sinned : what shall be done unto thee, 
 O thou Preserver of men ! I will acknow- 
 ledge my transgression. I will be sor- 
 ry for my sin. I will forsake it. Duty ne- 
 glected, alas! so long, shall be no longer ne- 
 glected. Thy voice I hear; thy command I 
 hasten to obey." Such was the meaning of 
 his words, and of his practice. For he does 
 not delay or hesitate : " Then Jacob said un- 
 to his household, and to all that were with 
 him, Put away the strange gods that are 
 among you, and be clean, and change your 
 garments ; and let us arise, and go up to 
 Bethel." — From hence we may observe also, 
 Fourthly, that holy preparations become 
 the service of God. — They are generally 
 deemed necessary for ministers: it is sup- 
 posed they ought to be previously alone — to 
 fix their attention ; to impress their minds ; 
 to implore the Divine assistance and blessing. 
 But have hearers no need of this ? Are they 
 to engage in the worship of God, entirely re- 
 gardless of the nature, the importance, and 
 the influence of divine institutions? To 
 omissions of this kind it is owing, that ordi- 
 nances in our day are become as unprofitable 
 as they are common. — If before you came to- 
 gether you retired, and endeavoured to obtain 
 an abstraction of mind — if, by reflection, you 
 procured a seriousness of frame, so friendly to 
 devotion — if, by examining yourselves, you 
 discovered what sinful prejudice, or passion, 
 was likely to render you partial hearers — if 
 you formed a resolution to lay yourselves 
 open to the influence of the word, and to rec- 
 tify whatever appeared to be wrong — if you 
 remembered that you are accountable even for 
 your attendance, and that the word you hear 
 will judge you in the last day — if you came 
 with eager desire and earnest expectation, 
 founded on the promise of God, that he is the 
 re warder of them that diligently seek him ; 
 and, above all, with prayer, knowing that " nei- 
 ther is he that planteth any thing, nor he that 
 watereth, but God who giveth the increase :" 
 — were you thus to enter on the service 
 of the sanctuary — I ask, would there not be a 
 natural tendency in all this to render the 
 means of grace impressive and efficacious? 
 and is not this the only authorized way in 
 which you can hope for the Divine blessing 1 
 Careless entering upon duty is rarely profit- 
 able. God may meetus unawares ; but where 
 has he promised to do it 1 " Draw nigh to 
 God, and he will draw nigh to you." " Keep 
 thy foot when thou goest to the house of God." 
 
 Offer not the sacrifice of fools." " Take 
 heed how ye hear." " Wherefore lay apart 
 all filthiness, and superfluity of naughtiness, 
 and receive with meekness the engrafted word, 
 which is able to save your souls." These are 
 the commands of God ; and they regulate our 
 hope, as well as our practice. And in this 
 manner our good old forefathers worshipped. 
 Then, public services were not so multiplied 
 
20 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 as to abridge, if not exclude, the duties of the 
 family and the closet. Then, hearing the 
 word was not rendered a customary, common, 
 and trifling entertainment. With them, di- 
 vine worship was an awful thing : they pre- 
 pared for one duty, by another ; and, like 
 wise performers, they tuned the instruments 
 before the concert began. 
 
 Fifthly, There may be wickedness in a re- 
 ligious family. — We find "strange gods" 
 even in Jacob's household. We may view 
 iniquity in such a situation two ways. First, 
 as a good man's affliction : — and a dreadful 
 affliction it will prove. It is bad to have sick- 
 ness in his house, but it is worse to have sin, 
 the plague and pestilence of the soul. How, 
 says he, can I bear to see the destruction of 
 my kindred ! — Secondly, as a good man's 
 fault. Could we see things as God does, and 
 be able to trace back effects to their causes, 
 we should soon perceive the source of the dis- 
 orders and wickedness which prevail in many 
 houses. — Masters of families ! have you ruled 
 well the charge which God has given you ] 
 Have you behaved toward your servants, as 
 remembering you have a Master in heaven ] 
 Have you shewn them a kind and a pious at- 
 tention ? Have you had your children in sub- 
 jection] Have you trained them up in the 
 nurture and admonition of the Lord] Have 
 you instructed them only in particular dog- 
 mas; or impregnated them with the spirit of 
 Christianity, and endeavoured to render its 
 duties lovely and practicable ? Have you not 
 provoked them to wrath till they are discou- 
 raged 1 Or has not your indulgence become 
 connivance ; so that you have resembled Eli, 
 whose "sons made themselves vile, and he 
 restrained them not?" — or David, " who had 
 never displeased Adonijah at any time, in 
 saying, Why hast thou done so]" Have you 
 maintained order ; or lived in a confusion fa- 
 vourable to every evil work ] Has daily devo- 
 tion been seriously performed] Have you 
 enforced all by your own walk and conversa- 
 tion ] Have you set no evil thing before your 
 eyes] While you have preached meekness 
 in words, have you not recommended passion 
 by example] While you have taught them 
 humility by precept, have you not enforced 
 pride by practice ] — And are you surprised to 
 find irregularities in your family ] Wonder, 
 if you please ; — but wonder at your own folly 
 in seeking by the way-side to " gather grapes 
 of thorns, or figs of thistles." Complain, if 
 you please; — but complain of yourselves. 
 Are you so unreasonable as to expect to 
 " reap where you have not sown, and to ga- 
 ther where you have not strewed ] 
 
 Again, we remark, That our religious con- 
 cern should not be confined to ourselves only: 
 we are to engage our families to accompany 
 us in the exercises of devotion. — Thus Jacob 
 would not go alone, but calls upon his house- 
 hold, and all that are with him : each must 
 
 prepare, and each must attend. And of Abra- 
 ham says God, " I know him, that he will 
 command his children and his household af- 
 ter him ; and he shall keep the way of the 
 Lord, to do justice and judgment ; that the 
 Lord may bring upon Abraham that which he 
 hath spoken of him." In the same disposition 
 was Joshua, who said, " As for me and my 
 house, we will serve the Lord." We may 
 add the centurion : He feared " God with all 
 his house." In your own families you possess 
 authority and influence : " a father has hon- 
 our, a master fear." Servants and children 
 naturally obey. This authority and influence 
 you are to employ for religious, as well as ci- 
 vil purposes; and to vary the exercise of them 
 according to the condition of those who are 
 in family connexion with you — using com- 
 mand with some, persuasion with others, 
 means with all. As the head of a family, you 
 are to mind the souls of those who are under 
 your care, as well their bodies. They are not 
 designed to live here only, or principally; 
 they are hastening into eternity. And you 
 are not to live here always : you will soon be 
 called " to give an account of your steward- 
 ship ;" and you will be judged, not only as an 
 individual, butas the owner of an household: 
 after the man has been tried, the master will 
 be summoned. O that you may " give up 
 your account with joy, and not with grief!" — 
 Even here you have the advantage of domes- 
 tic religion : " the voice of salvation and of 
 rejoicing is in the tabernacles of the righ- 
 teous:" such households only are safe and 
 happy. How pleasing is it to see all the 
 members of a family worshipping God toge- 
 ther daily in their own house ! How lovely to 
 observe them coming forth in the morning 
 of the Sabbath, all going to the house of God 
 in company ! Ministers are encouraged, while 
 they see in such households the nurseries of 
 their churches, and address with pleasure a 
 hopeful assembly, formed by the union of a 
 number of amiable, orderly, serious families. 
 But they are pained to see you disjoined, and 
 coming in alone ; the father without the son, 
 the mother without the daughter. Shall I inti- 
 mate here the propriety not only of your en- 
 gaging your families in religious duties, but 
 of taking them along with you. as far as cir- 
 cumstances will allow, to the same place of 
 worship] Thus you will be certain of their at- 
 tendance ; they will be under your eye ; they 
 will be preserved from that fastidiousness and 
 vagrancy of mind, so much cherished by loose 
 and various hearing. 
 
 Once more, we may observe, That deliver- 
 ance claims service — that prayer answered is 
 to become praise. — Jacob resolves to distin- 
 guish himself for God, who had appeared so 
 wonderfully for him ; and to make the place 
 of mercy, the place of duty — " There will I 
 make an altar unto God, who answered me in 
 the day of my distress, and was with me in 
 
SERMON III. 
 
 21 
 
 the way which I went." — I see him travelling 
 slowly on with his family — at length he ap- 
 proaches Bethel. — To revisit a place we have 
 not seen for twenty-eight years, is always af- 
 fecting. Many reflections will naturally arise 
 in a contemplative mind. — " Since I last 
 viewed this spot, what unexpected connec- 
 tions have I formed ! What changes have I 
 experienced ! I have been led by a way which 
 I knew not — Lover and friend hast Thou put 
 far from me, and my acquaintance into dark- 
 ness. — How much of life is gone, to return no 
 more ! it has passed away like a dream. How 
 little is there, in looking back, upon which 
 the mind can fix with satisfaction ! How often 
 have I been deceived in my hopes ! How va- 
 ried does the world now appear ! How much 
 more of its vanity do I see, and of its vexation 
 do I feel ! It is time to seek a better country. 
 So teach me to number my days, that I may 
 apply my heart unto wisdom." — Jacob is now 
 arrived — he looks around — he descries, par- 
 tially covered with moss, the stone which he 
 had set up for a pillar — he embraces it — and 
 calling to his family — " Twenty-eight years 
 ago this very stone was my pillow. Here, 
 destitute of accommodations, I was compelled 
 to sleep: here I passed — my staff all my 
 store ; — and hither He has returned me." 
 What mingled emotions does he feel ! — what 
 shame ! what joy ! what condemnation of 
 himself! what praise to the God of Bethel ! 
 
 Christians, you have no journey to take, no 
 material altar to raise, no animal sacrifice to 
 immolate. " Offer unto God thanksgiving ; 
 and pay thy vows unto the Most High. 
 — Whoso ofFereth me praise, glorifieth me; 
 and to him that ordereth his conversation 
 aright, will I shew the salvation of God." — 
 What say you, Christians 1 — Have you had 
 no " day of distress, in which He answered" 
 you ? Has there been no " way in which He 
 has been with" you, as your guide and your 
 protector? Has He not disappointed your 
 fears, and far exceeded your hopes ? — " But 
 Hezekiah rendered not according to the bene- 
 fits which had been done unto him." — " Were 
 there not ten cleansed? but where are the 
 nine 1" — " Go up," says God, " to Bethel, and 
 dwell there." — May you answer, with Jacob, 
 " Let us arise, and go up to Bethel ; and there 
 will I make an altar unto God, who answered 
 me in the day of my distress, and was with 
 me in the way which I went." To whom, 
 
 Part III. does this apply ? and who in this 
 assembly is concerned in the command and 
 the example ! 
 
 First, Have none of you been advanced in 
 worldly possessions 1 — Wealth is not always 
 hereditary : Providence sometimes " raiseth 
 up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth up the 
 needy out of the dunghill." Many know 
 what it is to be " abased," as well as what it 
 is to "abound." — Look back to a period, when 
 if you were not embarrassed, you had " none 
 
 inheritance ; no, not so much as to set your 
 foot on." — Remember your feelings when be- 
 ginning the world. You formed your plans, 
 and endeavoured to secure His assistance, 
 whose " blessing maketh rich, and addeth no 
 sorrow. Except the Lord build the house, 
 they labour in vain that build it. It is in 
 vain to rise up early, to sit up late, and to eat 
 the bread of sorrows. — O Lord, I beseech 
 thee, send now prosperity ! With such oppor- 
 tunities and capacities, I will promote thy 
 cause, and relieve thy poor. The streams 
 shall remind me of the Fountain. Praise 
 waiteth for thee, O God ; and unto thee shall 
 the vow be performed." And He has more 
 than realized your expectations. The staff 
 has long since disappeared, and we behold 
 your two bands : we see abundance, or shall 
 I say extravagance 1 — Where are your altars, 
 and your offerings? Where are your promis- 
 ed thankfulness and zeal ? What have you 
 rendered ? What have you done ? What are 
 you doing? He calls upon you to follow this 
 example ; and to say — " Let us arise, and go 
 up to Bethel ; and I will make there an altar 
 unto God, who answered me in the day of my 
 distress, and was with me in the way which 
 I went." 
 
 Secondly, Have none of you been led back 
 from "the valley of the shadow of death?" — 
 To think of dying, was awful and affecting. 
 To take a final leave of earth ; to drop 
 schemes unfinished ; to bid farewell to friends; 
 to see weeping relations ; to feel pain of body, 
 and remorse of conscience ; to contemplate an 
 opening eternity ; and to find the Judge 
 standing before the door — all made you say, 
 " O remember that my life is wind ; mine 
 eye shall no more see good. The eye of him 
 that hath seen me, shall see me no more : 
 Thine eyes are upon me, and I am not." 
 " Return, O Lord ; deliver my soul : O save 
 me, for thy mercies' sake : for in death there 
 is no remembrance of thee ; in the grave who 
 shall give thee thanks?" — You assumed an 
 air of penitence: you promised to render life, 
 if spared, sacred to religion. He heard your 
 prayer, saw your fears, removed the stroke 
 of his heavy hand, renewed your strength, 
 recoloured your cheeks, and placed you in 
 the circle of usefulness and friendship again. 
 But the scene, as it removed to a distance, 
 ceased to impress : your views of this world 
 as you stood on the confines of another, were 
 soon changed : your resolutions are now for- 
 gotten, or you blush to recal them : you are 
 ashamed to think that any should have wit- 
 nessed such instances of " weakness." To 
 remove every notion of your having been se- 
 rious in them, you plunge deeper in dissipa- 
 tion than before : when these vows occur, 
 you endeavour, by company or pleasure, to 
 banish them. You cried, " Let me die the 
 death of the righteous, and let my last end be 
 like his !" you asked for serious Christians, 
 
22 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 and pious ministers, and said, " Pray for us." 
 These you now shun : you know them not : 
 they would give an edge to memory, and a 
 sting to conscience. — And " is it thus you re- 
 quite the Lord, O foolish people and unwise?" 
 Look back to the hour of affliction, and of dan- 
 ger — remember thy fears, thy groans, thy 
 prayers, and thy professions. — Go, and ac- 
 knowledge the Lord that healed thee. Let 
 the physician who prescribed for thee, and 
 those friends who soothed thee on the bed of 
 languishing, have their share of praise : but 
 " the Lord killeth, and maketh alive ; He 
 bringeth down to the grave, and raiseth up." 
 Say, with David, " I was brought low, and 
 He helped me : what shall I render unto the 
 Lord for all his benefits towards me '! I will 
 take the cup of salvation, and call upon the 
 name of the Lord ; 1 will pay my vows unto 
 the Lord, now in the presence of all his peo- 
 ple." Say, with Hezekiah, " The living, the 
 living, he shall praise thee, as I do this day : 
 the father to the children shall make known 
 thy truth. The Lord was ready to save me : 
 therefore we will sing my song to the string- 
 ed instruments all the days of our life in the 
 house of the Lord." Imitate Jacob — " Let 
 us arise, and go up to Bethel ; and I will 
 build there an altar unto God, who answered 
 me in the day of my distress, and was with 
 me in the way which I went." 
 
 Thirdly, Are there no backsliders here"! — 
 When you had fallen by your iniquity, did 
 not anguish and horror take hold upon you ? 
 Reflecting upon your sin, aggravated by know- 
 ledge, and by obligations the most tender and 
 most awful, were you not ready to conclude 
 your case was hopeless 1 And when at length 
 you were encouraged to approach, and to ad- 
 dress the God you had provoked, was not this 
 your language ? " Lord, take away all ini- 
 quity ; receive us graciously ; so will we ren- 
 der the calves of our lips. Ashur shall not 
 save us : we will not ride upon horses ; nei- 
 ther will we say any more to the work of our 
 hands, ye are our gods: for in thee the fa- 
 therless findeth mercy." Cast me not 
 away from thy presence, and take not thy 
 Holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me the 
 joy of thy salvation, and uphold me with thy 
 free Spirit: then will I teach transgressors 
 thy ways, and sinners shall be converted un- 
 to thee. — Open thou my lips, and my mouth 
 shall shew forth thy praise." Fulfil your en- 
 gagements ; follow the Patriarch — " Let us 
 arise, and go up to Bethel; and I will build 
 there an altar unto God, who answered me 
 in the day of my distress, and was with me 
 in the way which I went." 
 
 Fourthly, What were your feelings, O 
 Christians, when, convinced of sin, you were 
 first led to seek salvation through our Lord 
 Jesus Christ t — Ah ! return, ye affecting mo- 
 ments, and remind us of an experience which 
 has long been fled. O what strivings against 
 
 sin! O what indifference to the world! O 
 what engagements to serve God ! — You were 
 willing to follow wherever He should lead ; 
 you gloried in the reproach of his cross ; 
 " having food and raiment," you were " there- 
 with content." One thing was needful, one 
 concern engrossed you — " Say unto my soul, 
 I am thy salvation." — You succeeded ; and 
 you have a good hope through grace. But to 
 what is all this blessed experience reduced 1 
 — To this dulness in hearing ; to this dead- 
 ness in prayer ; to this murmuring and com- 
 plaining under trials ; to this fear of man 
 which bringeth a snare ; to this eagerness for 
 the things of the world : — " Go, and cry in the 
 ears of Jerusalem, saying, Thus saith the 
 Lord, I remember thee, the kindness o thy 
 youth, the love of thine espousals, when thou 
 wentest after me in the wilderness, in a land 
 that was not sown : Israel was holiness to the 
 Lord, and the first-fruits of his increase." 
 " Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee, 
 because thou hast left thy first love : remember 
 therefore from whence thou art fallen, and 
 repent, and do thy first works." — "Arise, 
 and go up to Bethel, and dwell there ; and 
 build an altar unto God, who answered you 
 in the day of your distress, and was with you 
 in the way which you went." 
 
 Christians, ye who are always strangers 
 and pilgrims upon earth, look forward to a 
 heavenly country. — When you have reached 
 home ; when you have escaped all the dan- 
 gers to which you are now exposed ; when 
 you are possessed of all the goodness promis- 
 ed you in the word of truth — then no forget- 
 fulness — then no need of memorials. All 
 your mercies will arise in view. You will 
 perceive innumerable instances of the Divine 
 goodness, which you are now unable to dis- 
 cover, and will be seen with their enhancing 
 qualities and circumstances. You will bless 
 Him for all the dispensations of his Provi- 
 dence : for the dark, which now perplex ; for 
 the painful, which now distress ; for the alarm- 
 ing, which now terrify. — " God of all grace, 
 and Father of mercy, thou hast answered me 
 in every day of distress. Thou hast been 
 with me in every way I have travelled. Thou 
 hast suffered me to want no good thing. And 
 here I raise an altar, such as I could not rear in 
 yonder world, where I was encompassed with 
 infirmities. Now I shall serve thee day and 
 night in thy temple, without imperfection, 
 and without end. — Blessed are they that 
 dwell in thy house ; they will be still prais- 
 ing thee." Amen. 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 THE TRIUMPHS OF PATIENCE. 
 
 Here is the patience of the Saints. 
 
 Revelation xiv. 12. 
 
 Did you ever observe, my brethren, the ex- 
 clamation of David—" Mark the perfect man, 
 
SERMON IV. 
 
 23 
 
 and behold the upright, for the end of that 
 man is peace? A religious character is an 
 object truly wonderful and interesting : there 
 is something in him worthy of peculiar notice 
 and regard. David indeed fixes the mind on 
 one article only, and calls upon us to consider 
 his " end." But his way is as remarkable as 
 his end ; his life is as deserving of attention 
 as his death ; and it is pleasing and useful to 
 observe him in every relation, to pursue him 
 through every condition, and to admire those 
 excellences which unfold themselves, and ope- 
 rate as proofs of his origin, and as pledges of 
 the " glory, and honour, and immortality," to 
 which he tends. 
 
 Hence we endeavour to excite you to con- 
 template successively his various features. 
 Sometimes we have placed him before you as 
 convinced of sin. At other times, as exercis- 
 ing faith on our Lord Jesus Christ. You have 
 seen him " rejoicing in the hope of his call- 
 ing." — This morning he appears among his 
 " brethren and companions in tribulation," 
 distinguished by the possession and triumphs 
 of patience — "Here is the patience of the 
 saints." — We shall, L Delineate the cha- 
 racter of saints. — II. Explain the connex- 
 ion THERE IS BETWEEN SAINTS AND PATIENCE. 
 
 iii. and specify some cases in which 
 
 their patience is to be rendered illustri- 
 ous, so as to produce the exclamation, 
 "Here is the patience of the saints." 
 
 Part I. God has always a people for his 
 name ; he owns them to be saints ; and they 
 are often found where we should little expect 
 to find them. Thus we read of saints at Co- 
 rinth, of saints at Ephesus, of saints at Rome, 
 and of saints even " in Ca;sar's household." 
 
 The title is applied to persons, because 
 they are holy ones. And such are all real 
 Christians, though encompassed with infirmi- 
 ties; as a child full of weakness is human, 
 having the nature though not the stature of a 
 man. They are called holy for two reasons. 
 
 The first is taken from their dedication to 
 god. Thus the temple was holy ; the vessels 
 of the sanctuary were holy; the first-fruits 
 were holy : the sacrifices were holy. Hence 
 Christians are called, the temple of God — ves- 
 sels of honour — the first-fruits of every crea- 
 ture — " a sacrifice holy and acceptable." " The 
 Lord hath set apart him that is godly for him- 
 self." He is sacred to the Divine service and 
 honour: and if he takes his talents and uses 
 them for any other purpose, he is guilty of sa- 
 crilege. 
 
 The second is derived from their personal 
 renovation. — The instruments under the law 
 were only holy by appropriation. No change 
 passed upon them — no change was necessary. 
 It is otherwise with us: for since God finds 
 us in a state wholly unsuited to his service, 
 we must be " made meet for the" great " Mas- 
 ter's use." Hence regeneration is necessary, 
 by which we are " renewed in the spirit of 
 
 our minds, and made partakers of the Divine 
 nature." God may call an angel into his pre- 
 sence and immediately employ him, without a 
 change: he will love the command, and be 
 equal to the work. But does he determine to 
 employ in his service an unregenerate sinner ? 
 — He is unqualified ; he has neither ability, 
 nor inclination; he is destitute of the spiritu- 
 ality which the work of God requires. Hence 
 the promise, " A new heart also will I give 
 you, and a new spirit will I put within you ; 
 and I will take away the stony heart out of 
 your flesh, and I will give you an heart of 
 flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, 
 and cause you to walk in my statutes ; and ye 
 shall keep my judgments, and do them." And 
 with this agrees the declaration of the Apos- 
 tle: " We are his workmanship, created in 
 Christ Jesus unto good works, which God has 
 before ordained that we should walk in them." 
 — View him then as he comes from the hands 
 of his New-creator. There is nothing by which 
 he is so much distinguished, as an unconquer- 
 able concern for holiness. What does he love ? 
 — "I delight in the law of God, after the in- 
 ner man." What is his grief? — " O wretch- 
 ed man that I am ! who shall deliver me from 
 the body of this death !" What is his prayer 7 
 — " Create in me a clean heart, O God, and re- 
 new a right spirit within me." What is his 
 hope? — That he "shall be like Him, and see 
 him as he is. And having this hope in him, 
 he purifieth himself even as He is pure." — 
 Holiness is the Gospel embodied. The saint 
 exhibits it alive. The Gospel is holy ; its 
 Author holy; its maxims and its commands, 
 holy ; its promises, ordinances, designs, holy ; 
 and there is nothing by which it is so much 
 distinguished and glorified, as by the holiness 
 which pervades it My brethren, contemplate 
 the subject in this light more frequently, and do 
 not include every thing, rather than holiness, 
 in your notion of the Gospel. Do not imagine, 
 with some, that it was designed to furnish a 
 substitute for holiness ; and that it will excuse 
 your being holy, provided you are orthodox. 
 It bringeth salvation, and is intended to teach 
 you, "that, denying all ungodliness and world- 
 ly lusts, you should live soberly, righteously, 
 and godly, in this present world." And re- 
 member this important truth — That Christians 
 are called by the Gospel to be saints; that 
 you are Christians only in proportion as you 
 are saints; and that you are no further saints 
 than you are " holy in all manner of conver- 
 sation and godliness." — We proceed to re- 
 flect, 
 
 Part II. On the connexion there is be- 
 tween SAINTS AND PATIENCE. 
 
 And first, Saints only have patience. — 
 " The Lord seeth not as man seeth ; for man 
 looketh on the outward appearance, but the 
 Lord looketh on the heart." In his estima- 
 tion, principle and motive are essential to the 
 goodness of action. A thing may be materi- 
 
24 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 ally good, when it is not morally so. A man 
 may give " all his goods to feed the poor, and 
 not have charity :" while a poor widow is 
 held up as an example of benevolence, though 
 she casts into the treasury but two mites. If 
 a law were enacted against luxury and extra- 
 vagance, a covetous man would be very obe- 
 dient: but let his avarice, and not the law, 
 have the honour of his obedience. — Apply this 
 to the case before us. A man may endure, 
 and not be patient ; there may be no religious 
 principle or motive to influence him : it may 
 be a careless indolence ; a stupid insensibili- 
 ty ; a kind of mechanical or constitutional for- 
 titude ; a daring stoutness of spirit resulting 
 from fatalism, philosophy, or pride. Christian 
 patience is another thing : it is derived from 
 a Divine agency; it is nourished by heavenly 
 truth ; it is guided by Scriptural rules. Such 
 is the patience of which we are speaking : and 
 as this is only to be found in the subjects of 
 true holiness, so we may observe, 
 
 Secondly, That every saint possesses pa- 
 tience. — They do not indeed possess it in 
 equal degrees ; " for one star differeth from an- 
 other star in glory," but all are stars. All are 
 endued with this virtue. It is one of the fruits 
 of the Spirit ; it is an essential part of the Di- 
 vine image restored in man. The work of 
 God in the soul is not like a piece of statuary, 
 where one part is finished while the rest re- 
 mains in the block ; but it is a creation ; and, 
 imperceptible as the beginning may be, there 
 are found all the parts which, increased and 
 developed, produce and display the maturity ; 
 all is advanced together, and all is perfect as 
 far as the operation proceeds. — A Christian 
 may be defective in his organs of vision ; but 
 who would draw him without eyes 1 — Who 
 would describe a saint without patience? I 
 wish this to be remembered the more, because 
 there are so many evangelical professors in 
 * our day awfully deficient in this instance : 
 their religion has very little to do with their 
 dispositions. They think it necessary for the 
 judgment to be informed, and the practice to 
 be moral ; but from one of these to the other 
 religion is to pass without touching the tem- 
 per which lies between. If they are convert- 
 ed, it seems to be from that which is human 
 to that which is diabolical — they are accusers 
 of the brethren, proud, self-willed, fierce, re- 
 vengeful. Every trifle makes them explode. 
 Saints in the house of God, they are demons 
 at home. How the religion of the meek and 
 lowly Jesus can live with them, it is impossi- 
 ble to determine — nothing else can. 
 
 Thirdly, It highly becomes saints to cul- 
 tivate patience. " The ornament of a meek 
 and quiet spirit is in the sight of God of great 
 price." It ennobles the possessor. Some 
 have obtained honour by doing mischief. It 
 has been said by a modern prelate, " One 
 murder makes a villain, a thousand a hero." 
 — The Christian conqueror draws his glory, 
 
 not from the sufferings of others, but from his 
 own ; and nothing renders his character more 
 impressive and useful. It recommends his 
 religion. It carries along with it a peculiar 
 conviction. When a Christian has met with 
 an affliction, that has secluded him from the 
 duties of his calling, deprived him of oppor- 
 tunities of exertion, and confined him to the 
 house of grief ; little has he supposed, that he 
 was approaching the most useful period of his 
 life. But this has often been the case : and 
 he has rendered more service to religion by suf- 
 fering, than ever he did by doing. O what a 
 theatre of usefulness is even a " bed of lan- 
 guishing!" "We are a spectacle to angels," 
 as well as " to the world and to men." The 
 sufferer lies open to their view; and the sight 
 of him — sustained — enduring — glorying in 
 tribulation ; draws forth fresh acclamations of 
 praise to that God, whose grace can produce 
 effects so wonderful. — " Here is the patience 
 of the saints." But all his fellow creatures 
 are not excluded ; there is generally a circle 
 of relations, friends, neighbours, who are wit- 
 nesses of the scene. I appeal to their feel- 
 ings. When you have seen a Christian suf- 
 fering, in character, with all the composure 
 and majesty of submission — when you have 
 heard him softly saying, " Though I mourn, I 
 do not murmur; why should a living man 
 complain !" — " It is the Lord, let him do what 
 seemeth him good;" "His ways are judg- 
 ment ;" " He hath done all things well ;" " I 
 see a little of his perfection, and I believe far 
 more" — has not a voice addressed you — 
 
 " Now see the man immortal ; him I mean 
 Who lives as such ; whose heart, full bent on heaven, 
 Leans all that way; his bias to the stars. 
 The world's dark shades in contrast set shall raise 
 His lustre more ; though bright, without a foil. 
 Observe his awful portrait, and admire: 
 Nor stop at wonder— imitate and live." 
 
 Have you not turned aside, and exclaimed, 
 What an efficacy, what an excellency in the 
 religion of Jesus ! — "Here is the patience of 
 the saints !" This brings us, 
 
 Part III. To specify some cases in which 
 the patience of the saints is to be rendered 
 illustrious and striking. We shall mention 
 three. The first concerns provocation — the 
 second, affliction — the third, delay. Here 
 patience is necessary ; and here we behold its 
 triumphs. 
 
 First, it is to be displayed in bearing pro- 
 vocation. " It must needs be that offences 
 will come." Our opinions, reputations, con- 
 nexions, offices, businesses, render us widely 
 vulnerable. The characters of men are various ; 
 their pursuits and their interests perpetually 
 clash. Some try us by their ignorance, some 
 by their folly, some by their perverseness, some 
 by their malice. There are to be found per- 
 sons made up of every thing disagreeable and 
 mischievous ; born only to vex ; a burden to 
 themselves, and a torment to all around them. 
 — Here is an opportunity for the triumph of 
 
SERMON IV. 
 
 85 
 
 patience ; here is a field in which a man may 
 exhibit his character, and appear a fretful, 
 waspish reptile, or a placid, pardoning god. — 
 We are very susceptive of irritation : anger 
 is eloquent; revenge is sweet: but to stand 
 calm and collected — to suspend the blow, 
 which passion was urgent to strike — to drive 
 the reasons of clemency as far as they will 
 go — to bring forward fairly in view the cir- 
 cumstances of mitigation — to distinguish be- 
 tween surprise and deliberation, infirmity 
 and crime — or, if an infliction be deemed ne- 
 cessary, to leave God to be both the judge and 
 the executioner — this is an excellency in 
 which a Christian should labour to excel. 
 
 His peace requires it. People love to sting 
 the passionate. They who are easily provok- 
 ed, commit their repose to the keeping of their 
 enemies; they lie down at their feet and in- 
 vite them to strike. The man of temper places 
 himself beyond vexatious interruption and in- 
 sult. " He that hath no rule over his own 
 spirit, is like a city that is broken down and 
 without walls," into which enter, over the 
 ruins, toads, serpents, vagrants, thieves, ene- 
 mies — while the man, who in patience pos- 
 sesses his soul, has the command of himself, 
 places a defence all around him, and forbids 
 the entrance of such unwelcome company to 
 offend or discompose. 
 
 His wisdom requires it. " He that is slow 
 to anger is of great understanding; but he 
 that is hasty of spirit exalteth folly. Anger 
 resteth in the bosom of fools." Wisdom 
 gives us large, various, comprehensive views 
 of things ; the very exercise operates as a di- 
 version, affords the mind time to cool, and fur- 
 nishes numberless circumstances tending to 
 soften severity. We read of the meekness of 
 wisdom. There is a candour which springs 
 from knowledge. 
 
 His dignity requires it. " It is the glory 
 of a man to pass by a transgression." " Be not 
 overcome of evil, but overcome evil with 
 good." The man provoked to revenge is con- 
 quered, and loses the glory of the struggle ; 
 while he who forbears, comes off a victor, and 
 is crowned with no common laurels : for he 
 that is slow to anger is better than the migh- 
 ty ; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that 
 taketh a city." A flood assails a rock, and 
 rolls off, unable to make an impression ; while 
 straws and boughs are borne off in triumph, 
 carried down the stream, " driven with the 
 wind, and tossed." 
 
 It is also required by examples the most 
 worthy of our imitation. What provocations 
 had Joseph received from his brethren ! but 
 he scarcely mentions the crime, so eager is 
 he to announce the pardon : — " I am Joseph 
 your brother, whom ye sold into Egypt. Now 
 therefore be not grieved, nor angry with your- 
 selves that ye sold me hither; for God did 
 send me before you to preserve life." — Hear 
 David : — " They rewarded me evil for good, 
 D 3 
 
 to the spoiling of my soul. " But as for me, 
 when they were sick, my clothing was sack- 
 cloth: I humbled my soul with fasting, and 
 my prayer returned into my own bosom. I 
 behaved myself as though he had been my 
 friend or brother : I bowed down heavily, as 
 one that mourneth for his mother !" — View 
 Stephen, dying under a shower of stones. 
 He more than pardons ; he prays. He is 
 more concerned for his enemies, than for him- 
 self : in praying for himself, he stood ; in pray- 
 ing for his enemies, he kneeled : he kneeled 
 and said, " Lord, lay not this sin to their 
 charge." A greater than Joseph, a greater 
 than David, a greater than Stephen, is here — 
 He endured every kind of insult : but " when 
 he was reviled, he reviled not again ; when 
 he suffered, he threatened not: but commit- 
 ted himself to Him that judgeth righteously." 
 Go to the foot of the cross, and behold him 
 suffering for us, leaving us an example that 
 we should follow his steps. Every thing 
 conspired to render the provocation heinous : 
 the nature of the offence, the meanness and 
 obligations of the offenders, the righteousness 
 of his cause, the grandeur of his person — all 
 these seemed to call for vengeance. The 
 creatures were eager to punish. Peter drew 
 his sword. The sun resolved to shine on such 
 criminals no longer. The rocks asked leave 
 to crush them. The earth trembled under 
 the sinful load. The very dead could not re- 
 main in their graves. — He suffers them all to 
 testify their sympathy, but forbids their re- 
 venge : and lest the Judge of all should pour 
 forth his fury, he instantly cries, " Father, 
 forgive them, for they know not what they 
 do." " Here is the patience of" — a God. 
 
 Secondly, Patience is to be displayed in 
 suffering affliction. — " Man is born to 
 trouble, as the sparks 'fly upwards ;" and so far 
 are the saints from being exempted, that we 
 are informed " many are the afflictions of the 
 righteous." We shall not describe them : 
 we have only to inquire after the temper with 
 which they are to be borne. It is not neces- 
 sary to be insensible. There is no virtue in 
 bearing what we do not feel. Grace takes 
 away the heart of stone, and patience does 
 not bring it back. You may desire deliver- 
 ance : but these desires will not be rash, in- 
 sisting, unconditional ; but always closed with 
 — " Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou 
 wilt." You may employ means to obtain 
 freedom ; but these means will be lawful ones. 
 A suffering Christian may see several ways 
 of release, but he seeks only God's way. 
 " He who confined me shall bring me forth : 
 here will I stand to see the salvation of the 
 Lord, which he will shew me." He would 
 rather endure the greatest calamity, than 
 commit the least sin : and while the afflic- 
 tion remains, there is no rebellious carriage, 
 | no foaming expressions, no hard thoughts of 
 i God, no charging him foolishly. He calmly 
 
20 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 acquiesces in a condition, of the disadvantages 
 of which he is fully sensible : his patience 
 keeps him in the medium between presump- 
 tion and despair ; between despising " the 
 chastening of the Lord, and fainting when 
 rebuked of him ;" between feeling too little, 
 and too much. 
 
 — Here then is another field, in which pa- 
 tience may gather glory. Affliction comes to 
 exercise and illustrate our patience. " The 
 trial of your faith worketh patience." It does 
 so in consequence of the Divine blessing, and 
 by the natural operation of things : for use 
 makes perfect ; the yoke is rendered easy by 
 being worn ; and those parts of the body which 
 are most in action, are the most strong and 
 solid. And therefore, you are not to excuse 
 improper dispositions under affliction by say- 
 ing, " It was so trying, who could help it !" 
 This is to justify impatience by the very 
 means which God employs on purpose to make 
 you patient. Be assured the fault is not in the 
 condition, but in the temper. Labour there- 
 fore to display this grace in whatever state you 
 are, and however afflicted you may be. Im- 
 patience turns the rod into a scorpion. Till 
 you wipe your eyes from this effusion of tears, 
 you cannot see what God is doing ; and while 
 the noisy passions are so clamorous, his ad- 
 dress cannot be heard. — Suppose you were 
 lying on a bed of pain, or walking in the field 
 under some heavy affliction ; suppose you 
 were alone there, and heard a voice which you 
 knew to be the voice of God — " Do not ima- 
 gine your case is singular. There has been 
 sorrow like unto thy sorrow. Take the pro- 
 phets, who have spoken in the name of the 
 Lord, for an example of suffering affliction, 
 and of patience. You have heard of the pa- 
 tience of Job. He was stripped of all — yet he 
 said, the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken 
 away, blessed be the name of the Lord. — 
 What ! shall we receive good at the Lord's 
 hands, and shall we not receive evil ? Consi- 
 der the unparalleled sufferings of thy Saviour. 
 But he said, The cup which my Father giveth 
 me to drink, shall I not drink it? — Do not 
 imagine these trials are fruits of my displea- 
 sure : as many as I love, I rebuke and chas- 
 ten. I design thy welfare ; and I know how 
 to advance it. You have often been mistaken ; 
 and sometimes you have been led to depre- 
 cate events, which you now see to have been 
 your peculiar mercies. Trust me in this dis- 
 pensation: reasons forbid my explaining i 
 things fully at present : what I do, thou know- 
 est not now, but thou shalt know hereafter. < 
 In the mean time, be assured, I do not afflict 
 willingly, nor grieve the children of men. 
 These troubles are as necessary for thy soul, i 
 as medicine for the body, as the furnace for I 
 gold, as the knife for the vine. Be not afraid 1 
 of the affliction ; I have it completely under I 
 my management; when the end is answered i 
 I will remove it. I know how to deliver. I 
 
 ! Till then, fear not, for I am with thee ; b9 
 ! not dismayed, for I am thy God : I will 
 ■ strengthen thee ; yea, I will keep thee ; yea, 
 i I will uphold thee with the right hand of my 
 i righteousness."— O could I hear this; this 
 would hush each rebellious sigh, this would 
 check every murmuring thought. Is this 
 then supposition 1 Has not God said all this ] 
 Does He not say all this in his word. 
 
 Thirdly, Patience is to be exercised under 
 delays. — We as naturally pursue a desired 
 good, as we shun an apprehended evil : the 
 want of such a good is as grievous as the pres- 
 sure of such an evil ; and an ability to bear the 
 one, is as needful a qualification, as the forti- 
 tude by which we endure the other. It there- 
 fore as much belongs to patience to wait, as to 
 suffer. We read of " the patience of hope:" 
 for patience will be rendered necessary accord- 
 ing to the degree of hope. " Hope deferred 
 maketh the heart sick." It is the office of pa- 
 tience to prevent this fainting; and God is 
 perpetually calling for the exercise of it. — He 
 does not always immediately indulge you with 
 an answer to prayer. He hears indeed as soon 
 as you knock, but he does not instantly open 
 the door : and to stand there, resolved not to 
 go without a blessing, requires patience ; and 
 patience cries, " Wait on the Lord ; be of good 
 courage ; and he shall strengthen thine heart : 
 wait, I say, on the Lord." — He does not ap- 
 pear to deliver us according to the time of our 
 expectation; and in wo we number days 
 and hours. The language of desire is, " O 
 when wilt thou come unto me V and of impa- 
 tience, " Why should I wait for the Lord 
 any longer ?" — but patience whispers, " It is 
 good that a man should both hope, and quietly 
 wait for the salvation of the Lord." — To long 
 for pardon, and to feel only an increased sense 
 of guilt ; to implore relief and to be able only 
 to say, " Without are fightings, and within 
 are fears ;" to journey in a weary land, and 
 see the way stretching out immeasurably be- 
 fore us, lengthening as we go ; to pursue bless- 
 ings which seem to recede as we advance, or 
 to spring from our grasp as we are seizing 
 them — all this requires " patient continuance 
 in well-doing." — " We have also need of pa- 
 tience, that, after we have done the will of 
 God, we may receive the promises." See the 
 Christian waiting composedly year after year 
 in a vale of tears for an infinite happiness ! See 
 the heir of such an inheritance resigned to 
 abide so long in indigence ! — Surely it is try- 
 ing to be detained so many months at anchor . 
 off the fair haven, the end of his voyage in 
 view ; to have all the glory of the unseen 
 world laid open to the eye of faith ; the trials 
 of this life to urge, and the blessings of ano- 
 ther to draw ; to have earnests to ensure, and 
 foretastes to endear — surely, there is enough 
 to make him dissatisfied to tarry here. And 
 it seems proper for the Christian to be more 
 than willing to go. Should an Israelite fix on 
 
SERMON V. 
 
 27 
 
 this side the promised land ? Is fie not com- 
 manded to arise and depart hence ? Can he 
 love God, unless he wishes to he with Him ? 
 Does not the new nature tend towards its per- 
 fection? — What wonder, therefore, if we 
 should hear the believer sighing, " O that I 
 had wings like a dove ! for then would I flee 
 away, and be at rest. I would hasten my es- 
 cape from the stormy wind and tempest. Oh ! 
 when shall I come and appear before God? 
 When shall I leave the dregs of society, and 
 join the general assembly above ? When will 
 my dear connexions, gone before, receive me 
 into everlasting habitations ? O how I envy 
 them ! O the glories of yonder world ! I seem 
 indistinctly to see the shining prize. I seem 
 to hear a little of their melody — O how does 
 that perfume, blown across the river, revive 
 my spirits, and call me away !" But a voice 
 cries, " Be patient, brethren, unto the coming 
 of the Lord. Behold the husbandman : he 
 waiteth for the precious fruits of the earth, 
 and hath long patience for it, until he receive 
 
 the former and the latter rain." And the re- necessary, shall return for more ; but it will 
 
 — Labour strenuously, not only to acquire 
 this grace, but to excel in it. Seek higher 
 degrees of it. Exercise it not in one thing — 
 but in every thing, and in every thing — to 
 the end. " Let patience have its perfect 
 work; that ye may be perfect and entire, 
 lacking nothing." There is a God of pa- 
 tience, who giveth more grace. Approach 
 him with enlarged desire, that you may 
 abound in this grace also, "strengthened 
 with all might, according to his glorious 
 power, unto all patience and long-suffering 
 with joyfulness." 
 
 — And remember, you will not always be 
 called to the exercise of patience. Your 
 "warfare will soon be accomplished." "Yet 
 a little while, and He that shall come will 
 come, and will not tarry." A little more pa- 
 tience, and the wicked shall cease from 
 troubling, and the weary be at rest. A little 
 more patience, and farewell, provocation, af- 
 fliction, and anxious delays. Patience, hav- 
 ing conducted you safe, and being no longer 
 
 signed saint answers, " I pray not that He 
 should take me out of the world, but keep me 
 from the evil. I am willing to remain, while 
 He has a station for me to fill, a duty for me 
 to perform, a trial for me to bear. All the 
 days of my appointed time will I wait, until 
 my change come." — " Here is the patience of 
 the saints." 
 
 Let us learn then, my brethren, how ne- 
 cessary it is for us to possess this temper of 
 mind : it is of perpetual and universal use. 
 All of you need it, and will need it always. 
 You do not all need genius, learning, wealth 
 — but what will you do in a world like this 
 without patience? How can you be prepared 
 for a succession of encounters, unless you 
 "take to yourselves the whole armour of 
 God?" How can you pass through a wilder- 
 ness of thorns and briers, unless " your feet 
 be shod with the preparation of the Gospel of 
 peace?" Who can say, " My mountain stands 
 
 leave you in a state where all shall be peace, 
 all shall be quietness, all shall be assurance 
 for ever. O bless our God, ye people, and 
 
 MAKE THE VOICE OF HIS PRAISE TO BE 
 HEARD — FOR THOU, O GOD, HAST PROVED U9 ; 
 THOU HAST TRIED US, AS SILVER IS TRIED : WE 
 WENT THROUGH FIRE AND THROUGH WATER, 
 BUT THOU BROUGHTEST US OUT INTO A WEAL- 
 THY PLACE. 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 so strong, I shall never be moved V " If a 
 man live many years, and rejoice in them all, 
 yet let him remember the days of darkness, 
 for they shall be many : all that cometh is 
 vanity." How undesirable is a squeamish ap- 
 petite, that incessantly requires delicacies : a 
 puny body, that can bear no hardships ; a ten- 
 der frame, that must not be exposed to the 
 variations of the weather: but how much 
 worse is it to have a soft, enervated, pamper- 
 ed constitution of mind, that must be stroked 
 or rocked like a child ; that can with extreme 
 difficulty be pleased; that must have every 
 thing according to its fancy. In a state, 
 where so little is left to choice and conven- 
 ience, and where we are liable to trials and 
 changes every day, we should seek after a 
 general preparation for our passage, and 
 strengthen and invigorate the soul by — pa- 
 tience. 
 
 THE SUFFERINGS OF OUR SAVIOUR 
 NECESSARY. 
 
 for it became Him, for -whom are all things, 
 and by whom are all things, in bringing ma- 
 ny sons unto glory, to make the Captain of 
 their salvation perfect through sufferings. 
 
 Hebrews ii. 10. 
 
 "My thoughts are not your thoughts, 
 neither are your ways my ways, saith the 
 Lord. For as the heavens are higher than 
 the earth, so are my ways higher than your 
 ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." 
 These words, my brethren, contain a reflec- 
 tion always seasonable, always useful, always 
 necessary, when we would " regard the 
 work of the Lord, or consider the operation 
 of his hand." It may be exemplified in num- 
 berless instances, but in none so easily and 
 so fully as in the redemption of the world by 
 means of a Mediator, "obedient unto death, 
 even the death of the cross." — The sun never 
 beheld such a scene. History records no 
 such transaction. The scheme would never 
 have entered the mind of any finite intelli- 
 gence — " It is the Lord's doing, and it is mar- 
 vellous in our eyes." — " It is the wisdom of 
 
as 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 God in a mystery ;" and the more we are en- 
 lightened from above to examine its sublime 
 contents, the more of their perfection shall 
 wc discover, the more worthy of God will 
 they appear. "For it became Him, for 
 whom are all thing's, and by whom are all 
 things, in bringing many sons unto glory, to 
 make the Captain of their salvation perfect 
 through sufferings." 
 
 L Behold the character of the Su- 
 preme Being : — " For whom are all 
 
 THINOS, AND BY WHOM ARE ALL THINGS j" the 
 
 original Cause, the final End, of the whole 
 universe of being, material or spiritual ; " in 
 heaven, or on earth ; visible, or invisible ; 
 whether they be thrones or dominions, prin- 
 cipalities or powers : all things were created 
 by Him, and for Him." — Nothing is more 
 common for speakers and writers, when they 
 wisli to mention esteemed personages, than 
 to describe, rather than to name them. By 
 seizing in our representation something 
 which has endeared or distinguished them ; 
 by availing ourselves of some cpialities or ac- 
 tions, which have given them peculiar and 
 superior claims; we can bestow deserved 
 honour, and aid the impression we desire to 
 make on the minds of those we address. The 
 admirers of poetry understand me, when I 
 say — " The Author of the Task." My coun- 
 trymen feel, when I utter — " The Hero of the 
 Nile." The ingenuous youth yields, when I 
 beseech him by the tears of her " who bare 
 him." — We cannot describe God by what he 
 is in himself, but by what he is in his re- 
 lations, and in his works ; by what he does as 
 our Creator and Governor ; as one who owns 
 us, and may dispose of us as he pleases; — on 
 whom we entirely depend, and to whom we 
 are universally accountable. 
 
 But who can tell how far this " all things" 
 extends ! Who can imagine the dimensions 
 of his empire — the diversity of his subjects — 
 the infinite number of his productions, each of 
 which is an expression of his wisdom, power, 
 and goodness, and a source of revenue from 
 which his glory is derived ? 
 
 And why this magnificence of description! 
 — To fill the mind with reverence. To raise 
 our expectation. To remind us of the End 
 and Author of our salvation. To shew us the 
 principle from which he acts : that it is not 
 necessity, but kindness; that he cannot stand 
 in need of us, or our services, being " exalted 
 above all blessing and praise" — It is, by a dis- 
 play of his majesty, to draw forth our admira- 
 tion of his mercy. "The Lord is high above 
 all nations, and his glory above the heavens. 
 Who is like unto the Lord our God, who 
 dwelleth on high : who humbleth himself to 
 behold the things that are in heaven and in 
 the earth ! He raiseth up the poor out of the 
 dust, and lifteth the needy out of the dunghill, 
 that he may set him with princes, even with 
 the princes of his people." Contemplate then 
 
 a Being,' whose goodness equals his grandeur. 
 Behold him seeking his glory in our welfare. 
 See him, regardless of all our unworthiness, 
 and, before we had expressed any desire, de- 
 vising means to rescue us from our ignorance, 
 vice, infamy, and misery ; and forming a 
 scheme of pure compassion, designed to raise 
 us to a state of happiness, superior to the con- 
 dition in which man was originally placed. 
 For, 
 
 II. Observe the end which the God of all 
 Grace keeps in view — It is to " bring many 
 sons unto glory." — When of old He detach- 
 ed from the nations of the earth a people for 
 his name, he destined them to possess the land 
 of Canaan. This promised country into which 
 he engaged to bring them, excited the depart- 
 ure of the Israelites from Egypt, and encou- 
 raged them in all their wanderings in the 
 wilderness. It was a state in which they ex- 
 pected rest, peace, abundance — " A land flow- 
 ing with milk and honey; a land wherein 
 there was no scarceness; a land on which 
 the Lord's eye was from the beginning even 
 to the end of the year." But this was only a 
 shadow of good things to come ; an emblem 
 of that " better," that " heavenly country," 
 towards which " the seed of Abraham by 
 faith" are travelling — where " remains a rest 
 for the people of God" — where " they shall 
 enter into peace" — where they shall hunger 
 no more, neither thirst any more, neither shall 
 the sun light on them nor any heat;"forthe 
 Lamb, that is in the midst of the throne, shall 
 feed them, and shall lead them unto living 
 fountains of waters : and God shall wipe away 
 all tears from their eyes." 
 
 This future blessedness of the righteous is 
 very commonly in the Scriptures expressed by 
 " glory." It is a state of perfection, of mag- 
 nificence, of splendour, of honour. It will con- 
 tain every kind of excellency, and every kind of 
 excellency displayed. The place will be glori- 
 ous; the company will be glorious; our bodies 
 will be glorious; glorious will be our work, our 
 pleasures, our reward, our praise. We shall 
 have fellowship with the dignified Redeemer ; 
 " we shall be glorified together — when He 
 who is our life shall appear, we shall also ap- 
 pear with him in glory." 
 
 We are reminded of the character under 
 which we shall obtain this happiness : it is for 
 "sons" — not enemies, not strangers. Such 
 the people of God naturally are ; but by rege- 
 neration and adoption, he gives them the qua- 
 lity and the claims of children ; and on this re- 
 lation the inheritance depends — " If children, 
 then heirs ; heirs of God, and joint heirs with 
 Christ." 
 
 Nor will the possessors of it be few in num- 
 ber. The heavenly inheritance is not like 
 the earthly Canaan, confined to the Jews on- 
 ly : Gentiles also participate. The middle 
 wall of partition is broken down, and the 
 Gospel reveals a common salvation, and opens 
 
SERMON V. 
 
 2U 
 
 a passage to heaven from all the diversities 
 of human condition — " many sons" arc on 
 their way " to glory." Do not diminish their 
 number by uncharitable exclusions, or reduce 
 it by gloomy suspicions — " Wot ye not what 
 the Scripture saith of Elias, how he maketli 
 intercession to God against Israel, saying, 
 Lord, they have killed thy prophets, and dig- 
 ged down thine altars ; and I am left alone, 
 and they seek my life ! But what saith the 
 answer of God unto him ! I have reserved to 
 myself seven thousand men who have not 
 bowed the knee to the image of Baal." He 
 has always his hidden ones: many more 
 than you are aware of, know his name, and 
 love his salvation : and though his followers 
 may appear a small flock, if viewed in com- 
 parison with the ungodly who surround them 
 — when they shall " come from the east, and 
 from the west," and shall be gathered toge- 
 ther from " all nations, and kindred, and peo- 
 ple, and tongues;" they will be found "a 
 great multitude, which no man can number." 
 — Such is the purpose of grace which he is 
 accomplishing; and, 
 
 III. Observe the means by which he exe- 
 cutes his design — He constitutes Jesus Christ 
 
 " THE CAPTAIN OF THEIR SALVATION." God 
 
 does nothing immediately with man. He 
 carries on all his transactions with us through 
 a Mediator. The restoration of his people, 
 including their redemption, conversion, per- 
 severance, and future glory, is committed to 
 Him; and with Him we have immediately 
 to do in all the concerns of faith, holiness, and 
 consolation. 
 
 When God would bring the Israelites into 
 the land of promise, he placed them under 
 the guidance of Joshua: when he would 
 bring innumerable myriads of perishing sin- 
 ners to glory, he puts them under the conduct 
 of the Lord Jesus Christ Hence they are 
 so often said to be given to him by the Fa- 
 ther. — They are given to him, not that he 
 may receive benefit from them, but that they 
 may receive benefit from him. As so many 
 captives, they are given him to ransom as 
 their Redeemer ; as so many sheep, for him 
 to feed as their Shepherd ; as so many scho- 
 lars, for him to educate as their Teacher ; as 
 so many soldiers, for him to lead along to vic- 
 tory and triumph, as " the Captain of their 
 salvation." 
 
 For the term by which He is here held 
 forth, carries with it an implication that there 
 are difficulties to be encountered in the way 
 to glory, and obstacles to be overcome — 
 that the Christian life is a warfare — and that 
 as soon as we turn our " faces Zion-ward," 
 we must expect to fight. With this accord 
 the language of the Scripture, and the expe- 
 rience of every good man. And, my dear 
 hearers, if you think otherwise, you are de- 
 ceived. You may go asleep to hell, but you 
 cannot go asleep to heaven. It is exertion, 
 3* 
 
 opposition, contention, every step of the way. 
 Did they who have gone before you find reli- 
 gion an easy thing ! What was their lan- 
 guage ? " Lord, how are they increased that 
 trouble me ! Many there be that rise up 
 against me : many there be which say of my 
 soul, There isno help for him in God." " We 
 wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against 
 principalities, against powers, against the 
 rulers of the darkness of this world, against 
 spiritual wickedness in high places." — 
 There are some here this morning, who are 
 compelled to use the same language. Yes, 
 " without are fightings, and within are fears." 
 Your enemies are numerous and power- 
 ful ; and, compared with them, you feel your- 
 selves to be nothing. But you are not with- 
 out encouragement. Your " Redeemer is 
 mighty" — Jesus is " the Captain of your sal- 
 vation." " He teaches" your " hands to war," 
 and your " fingers to fight." He arrays 
 you in " the whole armour of God." He is- 
 sues orders, and regulates all your motions. 
 He goes before, and animates you by his own 
 example. He replenishes your strength; 
 treads down your enemies before you ; makes 
 you more than conquerors ; and gives you a 
 crown of life. Whence, " O worm Jacob," 
 are you so courageous 1 How can you " thresh 
 the mountains'!" The way is distressing; 
 the country through which you travel is for- 
 midable — How will you be able to reach the 
 land, that is to be given you, very far off? — 
 "Jesus Christ is everything I need : he is 
 given for a leader, and a commander to the 
 people. I place myself under his care. He 
 will go where I go ; and engage the foes I 
 engage. He will leave me in no situation : 
 his skill is infinite, his power is almighty. 
 He has led thousands, not one failing. On 
 him I lean : because he lives, I shall live al- 
 If I have not struck a blow, I may strike 
 
 with confidence ; or if I have fallen through 
 a blow received, I can say, Rejoice not against 
 me, O mine enemy : though I fall, I shall 
 arise; though I sit in darkness, the Lord will 
 be a light unto me." 
 
 "A Friend and Helper sodivine 
 
 Does my weak courage raise, 
 He makes the glorious victory mine, 
 
 And bis shall be the praise." 
 
 The Jews always expected that the Mes- 
 siah would be "the Captain of their salva- 
 tion :" they looked for him in no other cha- 
 racter. But, mistaking the nature of this 
 salvation, they grossly erred with regard to 
 the nature of his work. They conceived of 
 him as a temporal prince, who would rush 
 forth with his " sword upon his thigh, con- 
 quering and to conquer ;" subduing the na- 
 tions of the earth, and giving " his people the 
 heritage of the Heathen." To their carnal 
 minds, the manner of his victory was a para- 
 dox. They could not conceive how he could 
 overcome by dying, or by a cross reach the 
 
80 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 throne : " We have heard out of the law that 
 Christ abideth for ever : and how sayest thou, 
 then, the Son of man must be lifted up V — 
 But in this way he was " to be crowned with 
 glory and honour." His sufferings were not 
 opposed to his exaltation ; they led to it ; and 
 the Apostle, 
 
 IV. Reminds us of the manner in which 
 he obtains his distinction, and is prepared for 
 the discharge of his office — he "is made 
 perfect through sufferings." — The suffer- 
 ings of the Saviour are described in the Gos- 
 pels with simplicity and grandeur combined. 
 Nothing can add to the solemnity and force 
 of the exhibition ; and if we are not affected 
 with the relation, it shews that our hearts are 
 harder than the rocks, which could not retain 
 their insensibility wlien " the Lord of life and 
 glory" expired. The subject has often come 
 under your review. — Sometimes we have call- 
 ed upon you to consider his sufferings as pe- 
 culiar and unparalleled ; and you have heard 
 a plaintive Saviour saying, " Is it nothing to 
 you, all ye that pass by J Behold, and see if 
 there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow, 
 which is done unto me, wherewith the Lord 
 hath afflicted me in the day of his fierce an- 
 ger." — We have sometimes considered his 
 sufferings as foreknown, and led you to ima- 
 gine what were his feelings while reading 
 the prophecies, or foretelling, himself, the 
 circumstances of his passion. From your eye 
 futurity is kindly concealed. Could some of 
 you be immediately informed of the troubles 
 through which perhaps one year only will re- 
 quire you to wade, you would be overwhelmed 
 in the prospect. But He saw the end from the 
 beginning, and advanced, with Judas, and the 
 high-priest, and the nails, and the cross, full 
 in view. — You have seen that his sufferings 
 were not the sufferings of an hour or a day ; 
 they were perpetual : from Bethlehem to Cal- 
 vary, "he was a man of sorrows, and ac- 
 quainted with grief." — You have seen him 
 suffering in his condition, in his character, in 
 his body, in his soul. — You are now led to ano- 
 ther view of the same interesting subject — 
 the accomplishment which our Saviour deriv- 
 ed from them: he was " made perfect through 
 sufferings." It may be exemplified in two 
 respects: first, by way of discovery ; secondly, 
 by way of qualification. 
 
 In perusing history, what characters prin- 
 cipally engage, and improve usl Those who 
 have struggled through trying and awful 
 scenes. Read the Scriptures : fix your eyes 
 on Job, and Joseph — on David, and Daniel, 
 and Paul. Were they not all " made perfect 
 through sufferings'!" The picture would have 
 no beauty or effect without shades. It is on 
 the rainy cloud the heavenly bow spreads its 
 variegated tints. The character of the hero 
 is formed, and his laurels are gathered, only 
 in the hostile field, among " the confused noise 
 of warriors, and garments rolled in blood." j 
 
 Never was the glory of a prince, however 
 illustrious, rendered complete, without some 
 sudden reverse of fortune, which tried him ; 
 some heavy calamity, under which he had 
 an opportunity to discover his internal re- 
 sources. That nobility is the truest, which a 
 man derives, not from his pedigree, but from 
 himself : that excellency is the greatest, 
 whicli is personal : that glory is the most es- 
 timable, which is fixed in our intellectual and 
 moral attributes — not that whicli a man locks 
 up with his cash, or puts by with his ribbon : 
 all these are extrinsical : they are no parts of 
 the man ; they are appendages ; and additions 
 suppose deficiencies — he is the most perfect 
 who needs them not. Suppose our Saviour 
 had passed through the world smoothly, at- 
 tended with all the littleness of riches, and 
 the insignificance of pomp ; how limited 
 would have been his example ! bow insipid 
 the narrative of his life ! how uninteresting 
 his character ! — If there had been any thing 
 of the beautiful, there would have been no- 
 thing of the sublime. How does he appear 
 " Christ, the wisdom of God, and the power of 
 God ?" As " crucified." Where did he spoil 
 " principalities and powers, making a show of 
 them openly, and triumphing over them?" 
 On the " Cross." To what period does he 
 refer, when he says, " Now is the judgment 
 of this world; now shall the prince of this 
 world be cast out 7" The hour of his death. 
 This he viewed as the season in which he was 
 to be magnified and adored — "The hour is 
 come, that the Son of man should be glorifi- 
 ed." This was the consummation of his un- 
 exampled career of excellence : " I must do 
 wonders to-day and to-morrow, and the third 
 day I must be perfected." Here is the finish ; 
 and the wonders and miracles which attended 
 his sufferings, were not to be compared with 
 the principles and graces which he displayed 
 in enduring them. Of what in his history did 
 Moses and Elias speak, when they appeared 
 in the transfiguration 1 " They spake of 
 the decease which he was to accomplish at 
 Jerusalem." In what does every Christian 
 rejoice ? " God forbid that I should glory, save 
 in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." What 
 is the theme of every minister ? " I determin- 
 ed to know nothing, save Jesus Christ, and 
 him crucified." What is the language of the 
 glorified above 1 " Worthy is the Lamb that 
 was slain." Thus the sufferings of the Sa- 
 viour were the means of displaying the glo- 
 ries of his character, and of procuring for him 
 unbounded and everlasting honours. 
 
 We are also to consider him relatively : 
 for he interposed on our behalf; and having 
 engaged for a particular purpose, whatever 
 qualified him for the execution of it, tended 
 to make him perfect Hence a body was pre- 
 pared him. Hence the miseries he endured. 
 " Forasmuch then as the children are partak- 
 ers of flesh and blood, he also himself like- 
 
SERMON V. 
 
 31 
 
 wise took part of the same : that through 
 death he might destroy him that had the power 
 of death, that is, the Devil; and deliver them 
 who, through fear of death, were all their life- 
 time subject to bondage. For verily he took 
 not on him the nature of angels ; but he took 
 on him the seed of Abraham. Wherefore 
 in all things it behoved him to be made like 
 unto his brethren; that he might be a merci- 
 ful and faithful high-priest in things pertain- 
 ing to God, to make reconciliation for the sins 
 of the people." We shall see more of this, 
 
 V. By examining the reasonableness and 
 expediency of such a dispensation — " It be- 
 came Hisi." — In proportion to the greatness 
 of a character, will be his conviction of the 
 importance of order; and the more necessary 
 will it be for him to observe it; because of the 
 number of his relations, the diversity of his 
 connexions, and the influence of his example. 
 Order is essential to virtue and to happiness 
 in creatures; and God himself is the pattern 
 of it. There is nothing in him like tyranny : 
 he is influenced by reason. Though independ- 
 ent, he is governed by rules ; though sove- 
 reign, he submits to laws ; and only does 
 what " becomes him." 
 
 But we are never more liable to presump- 
 tion and mistake, than when we take upon us 
 to decide what the Supreme Being ought to 
 do; or when, having laid down a particular 
 system, we suppose he must conform to it, or 
 forfeit his character in the eyes of the uni- 
 verse. Such daring language we have some- 
 times heard — but,0 ye j udges of the Almighty, 
 " who hath known the mind of the Lord, or, 
 being his counsellor, hath taught him ] To 
 whom will ye liken me, or shall I be equal, 
 saith the Holy One ? — His way is in the sea, 
 and his path in the great waters, and his foot- 
 steps are not known." 
 
 There is a period approaching, in which 
 our capacity for examination will be enlarg- 
 ed, the prejudices which bias our minds will 
 be done away, and the plan of Divine Provi- 
 dence and Grace will be accomplished and 
 explained : — then the reasons of his proceed- 
 ings will be as satisfactory to us, as they will 
 prove honourable to him ; then all that is now 
 dark will be enlightened, all that is now 
 disorderly will be arranged, all that is now 
 detached and scattered will be united in one 
 beautiful whole ; and we shall see that no- 
 thing was defective, nothing superfluous, no- 
 thing insignificant : that every thing was ne- 
 cessary—nothing could be added to it — nothing 
 could be taken from it. But it may be asked, Is 
 there no satisfaction to be obtained before this 
 illustrious period arrives 1 There is. For if 
 we can ascertain that God has pursued any 
 particular mode of action, we may immedi- 
 ately infer the rectitude of it from the ac- 
 knowledged perfection of the Divine charac- 
 ter ; and there is no medium between this, 
 and " charging him foolishly." He does not 
 
 use means uncertainly, or to try their suc- 
 cess : at one view he sees unerringly his end, 
 and his way to it. But again. If He has 
 told us himself that such a step became him, 
 we are bound to believe him, however strange 
 and exceptionable it may appear to us. And 
 if, in addition to this, He has condescended to 
 shed some light upon the subject, we are 
 thankfully to avail ourselves of it. 
 
 My brethren, we may apply all this to the 
 subject before us. We know He did "make 
 the Captain of our salvation perfect through 
 sufferings," and " his ways are judgment." 
 He has expressly assured us, in his word, 
 that it became him to do so ; and as he is not 
 mistaken, so he cannot deceive. He has al- 
 so discovered enough of his motives to satisfy 
 every humble inquirer, and to draw forth our 
 admiration : " O the depth of the riches, both 
 of the wisdom and knowledge of God !" — But 
 all this is too general. Let us specify a few 
 particular reasons which he has enabled us to 
 assign, from which the expediency of the suf- 
 ferings of our Saviour will appear. 
 
 The first is derived from the necessity of 
 experience in our Guide. For how desirable 
 was it that he who was appointed to lead us 
 to glory, should himself be personally ac- 
 quainted with the dangers, difficulties, and 
 trials, to which his followers are exposed in 
 their way thither ! Nothing would so power- 
 fully engage the confidence which we are to 
 place in him. Experience in every case en- 
 courages application and dependence. But 
 see the afflicted. It is not to the gay and 
 prosperous, but to those who have been in 
 misery themselves, that they approach with 
 pleasure, and with a conviction that they shall 
 not be heard in vain, when they cry, " Pity 
 me, pity me, O ye my friends; for the hand 
 of God hath touched me." Sympathy is pro- 
 duced and cherished by experience. If you 
 have endured the sorrow under w hich you be- 
 hold a fellow-creature labouring, you can en- 
 ter into his views, feel his sensations, and 
 weep with him. Who are the most kind and 
 humane ! Those who have been much in the 
 school of affliction. There the social and ten- 
 der affections are nurtured. "Be kind to 
 strangers," says God to Israel : why ] " for 
 ye know the heart of a stranger, for ye were 
 strangers in a strange land." The high-priest 
 under the law was " taken from among men, 
 that he might have compassion on .the igno- 
 rant, and on them that are out of the way, 
 for that he himself also is compassed with in- 
 firmity." All this is grandly applicable to 
 our Lord and Saviour ; "for in that he himself 
 hath suffered, being tempted, he is able to 
 succour them that are tempted." Though 
 his state is changed, his nature is the same ; 
 "for we have not an High Priest which can- 
 not be touched with the feeling of our in- 
 firmities, but was in all points tempted like as 
 we are, yet without sin." This opens a 
 
33 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 source of exquisite consolation; and we feel 
 the pleasing motive — " Let us therefore come 
 boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may 
 obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time 
 of need." He " knows your sorrows." Are 
 you poor ? He knows your indigence ; not 
 like some of your wealthy neighbours, who 
 may accidentally hear of it by report, while 
 they are indulging only in luxury — He was 
 poor : " foxes have holes, and the birds of the 
 air have nests, but the Son of man had not 
 where to lay his head." Do you suffer re- 
 proach ; and are things laid to your charge 
 which you know not ? He sees you, who was 
 once deemed " a glutton, and a wine-bibber, 
 a friend of publicans and sinners, a Samaritan, 
 one who had a devil, a stirrer up of the peo- 
 ple." Do you feel evil suggestions? The 
 enemy approached him : 
 
 "He knows what sore temptations mean, 
 For he has felt the same." 
 
 Are you looking forward to the hour of death ? 
 Your fellow Christians, and your ministers, 
 endeavour to sustain and to soothe you : but 
 all this comes from persons who have no ex- 
 perience — they know not what it is to die — 
 but One will be near, " to comfort you upon 
 your bed of languishing," who has passed 
 through the trying scene ; who knows the 
 feelings of human nature in the separa- 
 tion of soul and body: in leaving beloved 
 friends and relations — 
 
 A second reason is to be derived from his 
 example. It was necessary for him to shew 
 us the influence of holiness in a state of suf- 
 fering. Afflictions are unavoidable ; they 
 occupy a large proportion of life, and of god- 
 liness ; many parts of religion relate entirely 
 to suffering, and every part receives a lustre 
 from it. The Christian is more formed from 
 his trials, than from his enjoyments. But we 
 are like bullocks unaccustomed to the yoke ; 
 we are unskilled in the science of passive 
 obedience ; even after the experience of years 
 of sorrow, we know little of the holy mystery 
 " of suffering affliction and of patience." We 
 need instruction : — " How am I to carry the 
 cross ? How can I render it one of my chief 
 blessings? What dispositions am I to exer- 
 cise towards God, who is the Author of this 
 trouble ? or towards men, who are the in- 
 struments of it? How must I regulate my 
 thoughts, words, and carriage ? Am I forbid- 
 den to feel, as well as to murmur ? Must I in- 
 dulge no desire, use no means of relief ?" Go, 
 anxious inquirer, and contemplate him who 
 "suffered for us, leaving us an example that 
 we should follow his steps." See him en- 
 during every indignity — but " when he was 
 reviled, he reviled not again ; when he suf- 
 fered, he threatened not, but committed him- 
 self to Him that judgeth righteously." Hear 
 his prayer for his murderers — " Father, for- 
 give them, for they know not what they do." 
 Mark his language in the garden — " Father, 
 
 if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: 
 nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt." 
 In all this he does not so much dazzle as 
 guide. Here are none of those high-flown 
 rhapsodical expressions, which proud philoso- 
 phy has often placed in the mouths of its 
 heroes: he affects no insensibility of pain; no 
 indifference to suffering. We see humanity 
 with all its natural feelings — only these feel- 
 ings held under the empire of reason and of 
 grace. — " Let the same mind be in you 
 which was also in Christ Jesus." 
 
 A third reason is to be found in the de- 
 monstration which his sufferings gave us of 
 the Divine benevolence. Awakened souls 
 find it no easy thing to believe in God. 
 Conscious of the wrong their sins have done 
 him, and judging of the Supreme Being by 
 themselves, it is hard to persuade th.eir guilty 
 minds that God is ready " to be pacified to- 
 wards them for all their abominations ;" and 
 that, after such provocations, he is willing to 
 " receive them graciously, and love them 
 freely." Now I cannot love God, till He ap- 
 pears lovely. I shall never approach him, 
 till I hope in him. Hidden among the trees 
 of the garden, whither my fears have driven 
 me, it is only the voice of mercy that can call 
 me forth. It is confidence alone that can 
 bring me back to God: this is the simple 
 principle of our restoration ; till this be gain- 
 ed, nothing can be effected. To place him- 
 self before us in this encouraging view ; to 
 shew us in himself an accessible refuge, as 
 soon as ever we feel our danger and our mi- 
 sery ; to keep us from turning again to folly 
 by the desperate conclusion, "there is no 
 hope ;" to scatter all our misgiving fears, and 
 to allure us into his presence — he was pleas- 
 ed to sacrifice his own Son. The inference 
 is easily drawn : — " He that spared not his 
 own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how 
 shall He not with him also freely give us all 
 things ? We behold indeed the love of God 
 in his incarnation, but much more in his suf- 
 ferings : these suppose the former, and add 
 to it. If he will take one so dear to him, 
 one so worthy, one who always did the things 
 which pleased him, and bring him through 
 such a depth of suffering rather than we 
 should perish, we are convinced that he will 
 not refuse pardon and grace to returning sin- 
 ners. And to this, the sacred writers call 
 our attention, when they would magnify the 
 goodness of God : " Herein is love ; not that 
 we loved God, but that he loved us, and gave 
 his Son to be a propitiation for our sins. God 
 hath commended his love towards us, in that 
 while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. 
 Much more then, being now justified by his 
 blood, we shall be saved from wrath through 
 him. For if when we were enemies we 
 were reconciled unto God by the death of his 
 Son ; much more, being reconciled, we shall 
 be saved by his life." 
 
SERMON VI. 
 
 38 
 
 Behold a fourth reason. As Divine Good- 
 ness acts in harmony with every other per- 
 fection of his nature, the sufferings of our Sa- 
 viour were designed to display the glory of 
 God, as the moral ruler of the universe. There 
 is no governing without laws ; laws are no- 
 thing without sanctions. If the penalty at- 
 tached to the law of God be founded in equity 
 — and were it otherwise, how could he have 
 annexed it] — does not the same principle 
 which led him to propose it, constrain him to 
 maintain it 1 Suppose a governor, when he 
 establishes a new system of legislation, were 
 to issue a proclamation, that whoever trans- 
 gressed it should be pardoned upon his repent- 
 ance and reformation — would not this disarm 
 the law of all its terrors, and rather encourage 
 than repress the violation of it? Is the Gos- 
 pel such an enemy to the law ! " Do we by 
 faith make void the law 1 ? Yea, we establish 
 the law." We do not however on this subject 
 go all the lengths into which some advance. 
 We would not " limit the Holy One of Isra- 
 el." It does not become us to affirm that he 
 could not have pardoned sin without an atone- 
 ment. Let us remember, the Supreme Ma- 
 jesty is accountable to none ; let us not try to 
 fix the bounds of absolute prerogative. Our 
 Saviour in the garden does indeed intimate 
 that the cup could not pass from him: but he 
 resolves this impossibility into the will of God. 
 It is sufficient for us to know that in this way 
 God chose to glorify his perfections, and that 
 to us no other way appears, in which we 
 could have had an equal display of the Divine 
 attributes. Justice could have seized the 
 transgressor, or mercy could have spared him ; 
 but, in the case before us, both justice and 
 mercy are blended in their exercise : we see 
 the one in requiring this mediation, the other 
 in providing it. The law is secured, and the 
 offender too. Sin is condemned, and the sin- 
 ner pardoned; and God neither beholds the 
 iniquity, nor the misery of man. — These we 
 conceive to be a few of the reasons why " it 
 became him, for whom are all things, and by 
 whom are all things, in bringing many sons 
 unto glory, to make the Captain of their sal- 
 vation perfect through sufferings." 
 
 We close the subject with two reflections. 
 First, Let not Christians think it " strange" 
 if they should be called to suffer. — Let them 
 learn, " how to be abased, as well as how to 
 abound:" let them determine to pass " through 
 evil report, as well as good report;" and be 
 willing to deny themselves, and take up their 
 cross, and follow him. The Gospel does not 
 deceive us : it informs us only of one way, by 
 which we can reach the crown. In this we 
 see all our brethren walking, and our elder 
 Brother going before them. But we are look- 
 ing for a smoother passage. We would be 
 children, and not chastised; gold, and not 
 tried ; soldiers, and not " endure hardness ;" 
 Christians, and not like Christ. Are the 
 
 members to have no sympathy with the suf- 
 fering Head ! Are you not chosen to " be con- 
 formed to his image ?." Observe his likeness : 
 see his sorrowful features ; how " his visage 
 is marred more than any man's, and his form 
 than the sons of men." — Can you resemble 
 him, and not suffer? Is it not an honour to 
 have fellowship with him in his sufferings ? 
 Would you wish for the friendship of that 
 world, whose malice he continually bore! 
 Would you only have ease, where he only 
 had trouble? or nothing but honour, where 
 he had nothing but disgrace ? Would you 
 reign with him, and not suffer with him ? Can 
 the common soldier complain, when he sees 
 the commander enduring the same privations 
 with himself? " The disciple is not above his 
 master, nor the servant above his lord : it is 
 enough for the disciple, that he be as his 
 master, and the servant as his lord." But, 
 ah ! what are your sufferings compared with 
 his? Are you oppressed ? — Look before you, 
 and see him carrying a cross infinitely hea- 
 vier ; carrying it for you ; carrying it without 
 a groan ! " Consider him that endured such 
 contradiction of sinners against himself, lest 
 ye be wearied and faint in your minds." 
 
 Secondly, if the sufferings of Christ were 
 so variously useful and necessary, and of such 
 high importance in the view of God — can mi- 
 nisters dwell too much upon them in their 
 preaching ? Can Christians estimate them too 
 highly, or make too much of them in their 
 meditations, and in the exercises of their faith 
 and of their devotion ? And if an ordinance 
 be established in the Church as a memorial of 
 his sufferings, should they not thankfully em- 
 brace every opportunity of attending it? 
 
 Such, Christians, is the institution of the 
 Lord's Supper, of which you are going to par- 
 take. — Approach, and in lively memorials be- 
 hold " Jesus Christ evidently set forth, cru- 
 cified among you." " For as oft as ye eat this 
 bread, and drink this cup, ye do shew forth the 
 Lord's death till he shall come." Draw near, 
 and looking on him who was pierced by you, 
 and for you, mourn and rejoice. Draw near, 
 and exercise faith, aided even by the medium 
 of sense ; and of the best Object take the best 
 view it is in your power to enjoy — till " you 
 shall see him as he is," and joining a nobler 
 assembly, shall sing the song which you are 
 loving and learning now — " Unto Him that 
 loved us, and washed us from our sins in his 
 own blood, and hath made us kings and priests 
 unto God and his Father, be glory and domi- 
 nion for ever and ever. Amen." 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 THE YOUNG ADMONISHED. 
 Ifearthe Lord from my youth.— I Kings xviii. 12. 
 
 These are the words of Obadiah. From 
 his situation and office, he appears to have 
 
■HI 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 been a person of some distinction, for " lie 
 was the governor of Ahab's house." But what 
 we admire in him, is — The piety that marked 
 his character. " He feared the Lord greatly ;" 
 and gave evidence of it in a season of extreme 
 danger: "For he took an hundred prophets, 
 and hid them by fifty in a cave, and fed them 
 witli bread and water." And as his religion 
 was superior in its degree, so it was early in 
 its commencement. For says he, in his ad- 
 dress to Elijah, " I fear the Lord from my 
 Younr." And herein, my young friends, we 
 propose him this evening as your example. — 
 In your imitation of him, many are concerned, 
 though none are so deeply interested as your- 
 selves. 
 
 — The preacher who addresses you is con- 
 cerned, lie longs " after you all in the bow- 
 els of Jesus Christ." Indeed, if ministers 
 desire to be useful, they cannot be indiffer- 
 ent to you. You would prove best help- 
 ers; you would rouse the careless; you 
 would reproach those of riper years ; you 
 would decide the wavering minds of those 
 who are of the same age with yourselves. 
 It is in your power to build up our churches, 
 and to change the moral face of our neigh- 
 bourhood. " The wilderness and the solitary 
 place shall be made glad" for you, " and the 
 desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose." 
 
 — Behold standing near your preacher, your 
 friends, your relations, your parents, hearing 
 for you with trembling, and prayers, and tears. 
 Thy father is saying, " My son, if thou be 
 wise, my heart shall rejoice, even mine." The 
 woman who bare thee is saying, " What, my 
 son, and what the son of my womb, and what 
 the son of my vows !" 
 
 — Behold too your fellow citizens, your 
 countrymen. I imagine all those assembled 
 here this evening, with whom you are to have 
 any future connexions, by friendship, by alli- 
 ance, by business ; whose kindred you are to 
 espouse, whose offices you are to fill — these I 
 ask — Is it a matter of indifference, whether 
 the rising generation be infidel and immoral, 
 or influenced by conscience, and governed by 
 the fear of God ! Where is the person, who has 
 any regard for the welfare of the nation, for so- 
 cial order, for relative life, for personal happi- 
 ness, who would not immediately exclaim, 
 " Rid me and deliver me from the hand of 
 strange children ; whose mouth speaketh va- 
 nity, and their right hand is a right hand of 
 falsehood: that our sons may be as plants 
 grown up in their youth ; and that our daugh- 
 ters may be as corner-stones, polished after 
 the similitude of a palace." 
 
 — Behold the blessed God looking down from 
 heaven, advancing his claims, and urging the 
 language of command, and of promise : " Re- 
 member thy Creator in the days of thy youth 
 They that seek me early, shall find me." 
 
 — These are parties concerned in the suc- 
 cess of this endeavour. But, my young friends, 
 
 there are characters here more deeply inte- 
 rested than all these — They are yourselves. 
 To be pious in early years, is to be " wise for 
 yourselves :" it is your privilege, shall I say, 
 more than your duty ? — Yes, the gain will be 
 principally your own. How shall I convince 
 you of this .' How shall I make you feel the 
 importance of it 1 Let me take three views of 
 the subject. — We shall consider youth, as 
 
 THE MOST FAVOURABLE SEASON IN WHICH TO 
 COMMENCE A RELIGIOUS COURSE — SHEW THE 
 BENEFICIAL INFLUENCE OF EARLY PIETY OVER 
 
 YOUR FUTURE LIFE AND EXAMINE, IN THIS 
 
 AWFUL CONCERN, THE CONSEQUENCES OF PRO- 
 CRASTINATION. 
 
 Part I. If, unhappily, the wickedness of 
 any of our more aged hearers should have 
 rendered infidelity necessary, and they should 
 have abandoned a system hostile only to sin; 
 " we are persuaded," my young friends, " bet- 
 ter things of you." We presume that you are 
 all ready to acknowledge the importance of 
 religion, and that if any of you were asked 
 whether you had resolved never to pursue it, 
 but to live and die in the neglect of it, you 
 would be shocked at the question. Since then 
 you believe godliness to be the one thing need- 
 ful, and determine on a religious course, I 
 would propose youth as the most favourable 
 season in which to commence it. 
 
 It is, first, a period which presents the few- 
 est obstacles. — It is far from my design to hold 
 forth real religion as an easy thing at any pe- 
 riod of life. I believe the doctrine of human 
 depravity; I know the images the sacred 
 writers employ, to describe the arduous na- 
 ture of the spiritual life ; I hear our Saviour 
 saying, "Strive to enter in at the strait gate ; 
 for many will seek to enter in and shall not be 
 able." But if there be difficulties, these diffi- 
 culties will increase with our years; and the 
 season of youth will be found to contain the 
 fewest obstacles, whether we consider your 
 external circumstances, your natural powers, 
 or your moral habits. Now, you are most 
 free from those troubles which will embitter, 
 from those cares which will perplex, from 
 those schemes which will engross, from those 
 engagements which will hinder you, in more 
 advanced and connected life. Now the body 
 possesses health and strength ; the memory 
 is receptive and tenacious; thi fancy glows; 
 the mind is lively and vigorous. Now the 
 understanding is more docile ; it is not crowd- 
 ed with notions; it has not, by continued at- 
 tention to one class of objects, received a di- 
 rection from which it is unable to turn, to con- 
 template any thing else, without violence: 
 the brain is not impervious ; all the avenues 
 to the inner man are not blocked up. To 
 cure a dead man, and to teach an old one, says 
 a heathen philosopher, are tasks equally hope- 
 less. — Now, the soul is capable of deeper and 
 more abiding impressions; the affections are 
 more easily touched and moved; we are 
 
SERMON VI. 
 
 35 
 
 more accessible to the influence of joy and sor- 
 row, hope and fear : we engage in an enter- 
 prise with more expectation, and ardour, and 
 zeal. Evil dispositions also grow with time 
 and are confirmed by exercise. "Can the 
 Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his 
 spots ! then may ye also do good, that are ac- 
 customed to do evil." A man wishes to era- 
 dicate — but is his task likely to become easi- 
 er by suffering the shrub to grow year after 
 year till it becomes a tree, and is so deep root- 
 ed as to defy even a storm'! A disorder has 
 seized the body — but common sense says, 
 Take it in titne ; send immediately for aid : 
 by continuance, it becomes inveterate, and 
 baffles the skill and the force of medicine. An 
 enemy has declared war — but is he a friend 
 who advises you, instead of advancing for- 
 ward, and seizing the most advantageous posi- 
 tions, to remain inactive, till the adversary, 
 striding on, gains pass after pass, and fortifies 
 for himself what he has taken from you — till 
 he spreads over your territory, and subsists 
 at your expense, or with impoverished re- 
 sources compels you to risk every thing on 
 the issue of one desperate encounter ! Who 
 is the person intended by all these representa- 
 tions of folly 1 You, O young man, who by 
 your delays are increasing an hundred fold all 
 the obstacles of a religious life. 
 
 Secondly, The days of youth are of all 
 others the most honourable period in which to 
 begin a course of godliness. — Under the legal 
 ceconomy, the first were to be chosen for 
 God — the FiitsT-born of man ; the FiRST-born 
 of beasts; the FiRST-fruits of the field. It was 
 an honour becoming the God they worshipped, 
 to serve him first. This duty, my young 
 friends, you, and you alone can spiritualize 
 and fulfil, by giving Him, who deserves all 
 your lives, the first-born of your days, and the 
 first-fruits of your reason, and the prime of 
 your affections. And never will you have 
 such an opportunity to prove the goodness 
 of your motives, as you now possess — "Now," 
 says God, " I know that thou fearest me." — 
 But see an old man : what does he offer! His 
 riches 1 — but he can use them no more. His 
 pleasures ! — but he can enjoy them no longer. 
 His honour ! — but it is withered on his brow. 
 His authority? — but it has dropped from his fee- 
 ble hand. — He leaves his sins ; but it is be- 
 causethey will no longer bear him company. 
 He flies from the world ; but it is because he 
 is driven out. He enters the temple ; but it 
 is as a sanctuary : it is only to take hold of the 
 horns of the altar: it is a refuge, not a place 
 of devotion, he seeks : — and need we wonder 
 if he should hear a voice from the most excel- 
 lent glory — " Ye have brought that which was 
 torn, and the lame, and the sick: thus ye 
 brought an offering : Should I accept this of 
 jronr hands 1 saith the Lord of hosts. Butcurs- 
 ed be the deceiver, who hath in his flock a 
 male, and voweth, and sacrificeth unto the 
 
 Lord a corrupt thing: for I am a great King, 
 saith the Lord of hosts, and my name is dread- 
 ful among the heathen." — But you who con- 
 secrate to him your youth — you, do not pro- 
 fanely tell him to suspend his claims till the 
 rest are served ; and till you have satisfied 
 the world and the flesh, his degrading rivals. 
 You do not send him forth to gather among 
 stubble the gleanings of life, after the enemy 
 has secured the harvest. You are not like 
 those, who, if they reach Immanuel's land, are 
 forced thither by shipwreck. You sailed thi- 
 ther by intention : when you weighed anchor, 
 you thought of it; it was "the desired ha- 
 ven." You do not shun the world after a long 
 experience of its vanity and vexation ; but you 
 have the honour of believing the testimony of 
 God concerning it, and of deciding without a 
 trial. You do not yield to God when every 
 other solicitor is gone : but you adore him 
 while you are admired by others; and, guard- 
 ing your passions and senses,you press through 
 a thousand allurements, saying, " Whom have 
 I in heaven but Thee, and there is none upon 
 earth that I desire beside Thee." Religion is 
 always an ornament : it does not. refuse age ; 
 but it looks exquisitely attractive and suitable 
 when worn by youth. In the old, it is alone ;, 
 it is a whole : it decorates wrinkles and ruins. 
 In the young, it is a connexion and a finish : 
 it unites with bloom, it adds to every accom- 
 plishment, gives a lustre to every excellency, 
 and a charm to every grace. And as our early 
 years furnish a season, in which to commence 
 a religious life, attended with the fewest dif- 
 ficulties, and productive of the highest hon- 
 our ; so it is, 
 
 Thirdly, the most profitable; and at no 
 other period can we begin so advantageous- 
 ly. — It requires no laboured reasoning to 
 prove this. Only admit that there are in- 
 numerable benefits inseparable from reli- 
 gion; that "her ways are ways of pleasant- 
 ness, and all her paths are peace" — that 
 "godliness is profitable unto all things, hav- 
 ing promise of the life that now is, and of 
 that which is to come" — and the sooner it is 
 embraced, the longer will the privilege be 
 enjoyed. Every hour of neglect, is an hour 
 of loss. Can you be happy too soon ! Is it 
 desirable to "feed" another day "upon 
 ashes," while " angels' food" is placed with- 
 in your view, and within your reach? If 
 there be innumerable evils inseparable from 
 sin ; if " the way of transgressors be hard f 
 if there be " no peace to the wicked ;" if" the 
 gall of bitterness" be connected with "the 
 bonds of iniquity ;" if " the wages of sin be 
 death ;" and " these are the true sayings of 
 God" — then the earlier the deliverance, the 
 greater the privilege. Those who approached 
 our Saviour in the days of his flesh, desired 
 an immediate relief from their oppressing 
 maladies. Burtimeus did not say, " herd, 
 that I may receive my sight" — but not yet. 
 
86 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 The leper did not say, " Lord, if thou wilt, 
 thou canst make me clean :" and I hope at 
 some future season I shall be healed ; but I 
 cannot resign my disease at present. In 
 another case, a poor wanderer, who has miss- 
 ed his way in a journey of importance, would 
 deem it an advantage to be set right speedily. 
 But you wish first to go far astray : though 
 you must re-tread every step, exhausting 
 your strength and your time by your return, 
 and be in danger of seeing the day end, be- 
 fore you have reached the road in which 
 your journey is to begin. — Such losses and in- 
 juries are occasioned by delay; and where 
 the soul is saved, and sin is pardoned, in how 
 many instances are late converts ' made to 
 possess the iniquities of their youth !" — This 
 brings us, 
 
 Part II. To consider the beneficial in- 
 fluence of early piety over the remainder of 
 your days. Youth is the spring of life : and 
 by this will be determined the glory of sum- 
 mer, the abundance of autumn, the provision 
 of winter. It is the morning of life, and if 
 the Sun of Righteousness do not dispel the 
 moral mists and fogs before noon, the whole 
 day generally remains overspread and 
 gloomy. It is the seed-time ; and " what a 
 man soweth, that shall he also reap." Every 
 thing of importance is affected by religion in 
 this period of life. 
 
 Piety in youth will have a good influence 
 over your bodies. — It will preserve them 
 from disease and deformity. Sin variously 
 tends to the injury of health; and often by 
 intemperance the constitution is so impaired, 
 that late religion is unable to restore what 
 early religion would have prevented. The 
 unpleasantness which you see in many faces 
 is more the effect of evil tempers brooding 
 within, while the features are forming and 
 maturing, than of any natural defect. After 
 such disagreeable traits are established, re- 
 ligion comes too late to alter the physiognomy 
 of the countenance ; and thus it is obliged, 
 however lovely in itself, to wear through life 
 a face corroded with envy, malignant with 
 revenge, scowling with suspicion and dis- 
 trust, or haughty with scorn and contempt. 
 
 Early piety will have a good influence 
 over your secular concerns. Nothing is so 
 likely to raise a man in the world. It pro- 
 duces a fair character ; it procures confidence 
 and esteem; it promotes diligence, frugality, 
 and charity ; it attracts the blessing of Hea- 
 ven, which " maketh rich, and addeth no sor- 
 row with it." For says God, "them that 
 honour me, I will honour." "Honour the 
 Lord with thy substance, and with the first- 
 fruits of all thy increase ; so shall thy bams 
 be filled with plenty, and thy presses shall 
 gush out with new wine." — " Seek ye first 
 the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, 
 and all these things shall be added unto 
 you." 
 
 Early piety will have a good influence to 
 secure you from all those dangers to which 
 you are exposed in a season of life the most 
 perilous. — Conceive of a youth entering a 
 world like this, destitute of the presiding, go- 
 verning care of religion — his passions high, 
 his prudence weak — impatient, rash, confident 
 — without experience — a thousand avenues 
 of seduction opening around him, and a syren 
 voice singing at the entrance of each — pleas- 
 ed . with appearances, and embracing them 
 for realities — joined by evil company — en- 
 snared by erroneous publications! — the ha- 
 zards, my young friends, exceed all the alarm 
 I can give. You may flatter yourselves that 
 your own good sense and moral feelings will 
 secure you ; but " he that trusteth in his own 
 heart is a fool." The power of temptation, 
 the force of example, the influence of circum- 
 stances, in new and untried situations, are in- 
 conceivable ; they baffle the clearest convic- 
 tion and the firmest resolution, and often ren- 
 der us an astonishment to ourselves. " Trust 
 in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not 
 to thine own understanding: in all thy ways 
 acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy 
 paths." Follow him, and " thou shalt walk 
 in thy way safely, and thy foot shall not 
 stumble." His grace, and his providence, will 
 be thy guard and thy conductor. And " wilt 
 thou not from this time cry unto" Him, " My 
 Father, thou art the guide of my youth !" 
 
 Early piety will have a beneficial influence 
 in forming your connexions, and establishing 
 your plans for life — You will ask counsel of 
 the Lord, and arrange all your schemes un- 
 der the superintendency of Scripture, which 
 contains the wisdom of God. Those changes 
 which a person is obliged to make, who be- 
 comes religious in manhood, are always very 
 embarrassing. With what difficulty do some 
 good men establish family worship after liv- 
 ing, in the view of children and servants, so 
 long in the neglect of it ! But this would have 
 been avoided, had they early followed the ex- 
 ample of Joshua — " As for me and my house, 
 we will serve the Lord." How hard is it to dis- 
 entangle ourselves from associates,with whom 
 we have been long familiar, and who have 
 proved a snare to our souls ! — but we should 
 never have linked ourselves with them, had 
 we early listened to the voice of truth — " My 
 son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not. 
 " He that walketh with wise men shall be 
 wise, and a companion of fools shall be destroy- 
 ed." Some evils are remediless. — Persons 
 have formed alliances which they cannot dis- 
 solve : but they did not walk by the rule, " Be 
 ye not unequally yoked together with un- 
 believers." They are now wedded to misery 
 all their days ; and repentance, instead of vi- 
 siting them like a faithful friend, to chide them 
 when they do wrong, and withdraw, is quar- 
 tered upon them for life. 
 
 We may view the influence of youthful 
 
SERMON VI. 
 
 87 
 
 piety as connected with your spiritual pro- 
 gress and pleasure. — In every science, pro- 
 fession, and business, early application is 
 deemed necessary to future excellency. He 
 is not likely to surpass others, who begun 
 long after them. As soon as the grand pur- 
 pose of a man is fixed, he has something al- 
 ways to regulate him, always to engage him ; 
 he secures much action, which would other- 
 wise be dispersed and useless; he avails him- 
 self of all accidental assistance, and turns 
 every stream into this swelling channel. An 
 early dedication also renders a religious life 
 more easy and pleasant. Use facilitates : a 
 repetition of action produces habits ; and ha- 
 bits formed, yield delight in those exercises 
 which formed them. What was irksome at 
 first becomes by custom agreeable, and we 
 even refuse a change. And this is peculiarly 
 the case here : for religion will bear exami- 
 nation ; it improves on intimacy ; fresh excel- 
 lences are perpetually discovered ; fresh suc- 
 cours are daily afforded ; and every new vic- 
 tory inspires new hope, and produces new 
 energy. 
 
 Your piety, my young friends, will be of 
 unspeakable advantage in the calamities of 
 life. These you cannot reasonably expect to 
 escape. " Man is born to trouble." What- 
 ever affords us pleasure, has power to give us 
 pain. Possessions are precarious. Friends 
 die. — When his gourds wither, what becomes 
 of the wretch who has no other shade 1 — But 
 "to the upright there ariseth light in the 
 darkness." Though Divine grace does not 
 ensure exemption from calamity, it turns the 
 curse into a blessing : it enters the house of 
 mourning, and soothes the troubled mind : it 
 prepares us for all, sustains us in all, sancti- 
 fies us by all, delivers us from all. 
 
 Early piety will bless old age. — When the 
 " evil days come, and the years draw near, in 
 which you will say, we have no pleasure" — 
 when " the clouds return after the rain" — 
 when " those that look out of the windows are 
 darkened" — when " the grasshopper is a bur- 
 den, and desire fails," and you are approach- 
 ing your " long home" — you will not be des- 
 titute of consolation. Your " hoary hairs are 
 a crown of glory," for " they are found in the 
 way of righteousness." You enjoy the esteem 
 and assistance of those who have witnessed 
 your worth, and have been blessed by your 
 example. God views you as an " old disciple," 
 and " remembers the kindness of your youth." 
 With humble confidence you may address 
 Him — " O God ! thou hast taught me from 
 my youth ; and hitherto have I declared thy 
 wondrous works: now also, when I am old 
 and grey-headed, O God, forsake me not." 
 And what saith the answer of God 1 " Even 
 to your old age I am he, and even to hoary 
 hairs will I carry you : I have made, and I 
 will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver 
 you." You can look back with pleasure on 
 
 4 
 
 some instances of usefulness : to some poor 
 traveller you have been a refreshing stream ; 
 some deluded wanderer you guided into "the 
 path of peace." You review with satisfaction 
 some peculiar places of devotion ; some 
 "times of refreshing from the presence ofthe 
 Lord ;" seme " holy days" in which, " with 
 the voice of joy and gladness," you accom- 
 panied " the multitude to his house." You 
 look forward, and see the God who has guided 
 you " with his counsel," ready to " receive 
 you to glory." — " My salvation is nearer than 
 when I believed : the night is far spent, the 
 day is at hand. I know that my Redeemer 
 liveth. I am now ready to be offered, and 
 the time of my departure is at hand : I have 
 fought a good fight, I have finished my course, 
 I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is 
 laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which 
 the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me 
 at that day ; and not to me only, but unto all 
 them also that love his appearing." — Such is 
 the beneficial influence of early piety. It af- 
 fects our bodies, our circumstances, our pre- 
 servation, our connexions, our progress and 
 pleasure in the ways of godliness, the troubles 
 of life, and the burdens of age. — But if all 
 these advantages do not allure you to an im- 
 mediate attention to religion, and you resolve 
 to suspend your concern till a future period, 
 it will be necessary, 
 
 Part III. To take a more awful view of 
 the subject, and to examine the consequences 
 of procrastination. — We can only make two 
 suppositions. The one is, that after all your 
 delay you will obtain repentance. The other, 
 and which is much more probable, is, that 
 you will not. 
 
 First, we shall conclude that you will ob- 
 tain repentance. — This is what you hope for ; 
 but allowing your hope to be well-founded, no- 
 thing can be more unreasonable than your de- 
 lay. For would you indulge yourselves in a 
 course of sin, because you hope to be able 
 hereafter to repent of it 7 Can any thing ex- 
 ceed this extravagance of folly ? Would any 
 man in his senses continue in a business, be- 
 cause he hoped that at last it vvould fill him 
 with painful regret and self-abhorrence ; be- 
 cause he hoped before his death to condemn 
 himself for engaging in it, as having acted a 
 part the most foolish, base, and injurious? — 
 Real repentance is always an awful thing : it 
 leads the subject of it to feel that his " iniqui- 
 ties are a burden too heavy for him to bear ;" 
 it causes him to " loath himself for all" his 
 " abominations ;" it fills him with " shame, 
 and confusion of face ;" it renders him 
 " speechless." This it does at all times. 
 But in a late repentance, in a repentance af- 
 ter so many criminal delays, there are four 
 peculiar circumstances of aggravation. The 
 first is drawn from your singular abuse of the 
 Divine goodness. For what encourages you 
 to refuse so long the obedience which God de- 
 
38 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 mands 1 — You hope he will at last shew mer- 
 cy : were it not for this confidence, you could 
 not venture to delay. What then, when you 
 go to God, will be the language of your negli- 
 gence ! " Lord, I have been evil, because 
 thou wast good ! It was not because I con- 
 sidered thee a hard master, that I did Yiot serve 
 thee, but because I believed thee to be a kind 
 one. Persuaded of thy compassion, and readi- 
 ness to pardon, I have peaceably sinned 
 against thee for sixty years. If thou hadst 
 not been so infinitely worthy of my affection 
 and devotion, I had long ago loved and obey- 
 ed thee." — A second arises from the multi- 
 tude of evil to be reviewed. It is distress- 
 ing enough to examine a week, or a month, 
 stained with the vilencssof sin. But, oh ! to 
 look back upon years ! multiplied years ! to 
 see sins rushing out of every relation, every 
 condition in which we have been found ! — So 
 many opportunities lost! so many talents 
 misemployed! so many privileges abused! a 
 life barren of goodness ! a whole life of guilt! 
 — A third is taken from injury done to others. 
 If God has forgiven him, how can he forgive 
 himself! By his errors, his vices, his example, 
 and his influence, he has led others into sins, 
 from which he cannot reclaim them : he sees 
 them advancing in the way of destruction, and 
 knows that he instructed and encouraged them 
 to enter it. Happy is the youth, who, by an 
 early conversion, is preserved from being a 
 " corrupter," and who is harmless, if not " use- 
 ful in his passage through life." — To charge 
 ourselves witli the loss of one soul, is sufficient, 
 not only to embitter repentance, but, if it 
 were possible, to produce even anguish in hea- 
 ven. — The fourth is to be found in the uncer- 
 tainty which necessarily attends such defer- 
 red repentance. For how can he be assured of 
 the truth of it ! How can he know that he has 
 not only abandoned sin, but is mortified to it 3 
 How can he know that he is not only reform- 
 ed, but renewed ! Principles are to be ascer- 
 tained by their operations and effects; but 
 what opportunity has he to exemplify them ? 
 How can he know that his concern is any 
 thing more than fear awakened, or tears ex- j 
 
 torted, by the approach of death and judgment ! 
 Men may change their work, and not their 
 master. We have seen men in circumstances 
 of sickness, giving all the evidence we could 
 desire of a genuine repentance, whose health 
 and whose wickedness returned together. 
 How will you decide whether your repent- 
 ance be superior to this? What reason will 
 you have for cruel suspicion ! How dreadful 
 to be in a state of perplexity, when, above all 
 things, you need a good hope through grace! 
 — To suspend salvation on a venture ! — Per- 
 haps, I am on the confines of heaven ; per- 
 haps, I am on the verge of hell ! — 
 
 Our reasoning has thus far proceeded on a 
 supposition that you will obtain repentance 
 hereafter, though you are resolved to live 
 
 neglectful ofGod now. But there is another 
 supposition — you may not obtain it ; and this, 
 we contend, is much more probable than the 
 former. — For who has told you that you shall 
 live to repent ! Have you made a covenant 
 with death ! Are you secure from the jeopar- 
 dy of diseases and accidents ! You expect 
 the Master in the evening — who assures you 
 that he will not come in the morning ! Stand 
 forth, ye young and ye healthy — did you ne- 
 ver hear of one dying at your age, and in your 
 circumstances ! A wise writer has told you 
 that " Sixteen is mortal as fourscore ;" and 
 an inspired one, " Man also knoweth not his 
 time. As the fishes that are taken in an evil 
 net, and as the birds that are caught in the 
 snare, so are the sons of men snared in an evil 
 time, when it falleth suddenly upon them." 
 
 Or who has assured you that you shall have 
 grace to repent ! For to grace only can you 
 look for the effect; and this grace must be 
 little less than miraculous. — View a man who 
 has reached the period of your procrastination. 
 His strength is labour and sorrow — the infir- 
 mities of the body weigh down the soul — the 
 senses are impaired — the faculties are benumb- 
 ed — he is incapable of attention — every trifle 
 disconcerts him — he is more than half dead 
 before he begins to think of living — he is pre- 
 paring to " run the race set before him" when 
 he is unable any longer to breathe. Con- 
 science calling so long in vain, is now silent. 
 Objects so long familiar to the mind, are be- 
 come unimpressive. He has passed by threat- 
 enings so often, that they cease to terrify him. 
 The present Bible has done nothing, and no 
 new one is to be expected. He has not been 
 led to repentance by " Moses and the pro- 
 phets, neither would he be persuaded though 
 one rose from the dead." — " It is easier for a 
 camel to go through the eye of a needle, than 
 for" an old sinner " to enter into the king- 
 dom of heaven :" — " with men it is impossi- 
 1 ble ; but with God all things are possible" — 
 \ On this hinge turns his hope — all is reduced 
 to this — the repentance of such a man must 
 depend upon grace. — Let us see then what 
 reason you have to conclude that God will 
 grant you this repentance. God waits to be . 
 gracious ; and of this grace we cannot speak 
 too highly : but such views of it as encourage 
 presumption and countenance sin are un- 
 questionably erroneous ones. He is gracious 
 — but his grace lives in communion with his 
 holiness and his wisdom. He is gracious — 
 but the very notion supposes the exercise of it 
 to be free, and that he may dispense it as he 
 pleases. Though nothing can deserve his 
 goodness, many things may provoke it : and 
 what reason have you to expect, that after 
 you can sin no longer, he will in an extraor- 
 dinary way extend the grace you have so long 
 despised, and save you from a ruin the con- 
 sequence of your own choice 1 And what view 
 have you of God, if you suppose that he can- 
 
SERMON VI. 
 
 39 
 
 not righteously deny it? When you have 
 rendered yourselves most unworthy of it as a 
 gift, do you exact it as a right ! Has he not 
 told you that his " Spirit -shall not always 
 strive with men !" Is hife mercy to have no 
 limits, or his patience no end ? If "sentence 
 against an evil work be not executed speedily," 
 is it never to be executed ! Were it common 
 for God to call sinners by his grace at such a 
 period, would it not have the most unfavour- 
 able effect, and encourage a hope which all 
 the Bible is levelled to destroy ! God designs 
 to be honoured by his people in this world. 
 He saves them — that they may serve him : he 
 converts them — not to die, but to live. And 
 therefore we find few, very few, becoming 
 religious in advanced years: and observation 
 abundantly proves that irreligious youth is al- 
 most constantly followed with wickedness in 
 manhood, and indifference in old age; and 
 that as men live, so they die. 
 
 Ah ! how often do I think, as I ascend 
 these stairs, and look round on this assembly, 
 how easy would it be to determine my hear- 
 ers to a religious course, if the old did not fa- 
 tally promise themselves weeks ; the middle- 
 aged, months ; and the young, years to come ! 
 It is not absolute denial that destroys so many 
 souls, but tampering delay. Of all the numbers 
 who continually drop into perdition, is there 
 one, who did not intend at some future peri- 
 od to " work out his salvation J" — But before 
 this other passion was fully indulged, and this 
 other scheme was accomplished, while he was 
 slumbering in negligence, or awaked by a 
 midnight cry, he sprang up to find his lamp ; 
 — the " Bridegroom came, and they that were 
 ready went in with him to the marriage, 
 and the door was shut." Eternal God ! " so 
 teach us to number our days, that we may ap- 
 ply our hearts unto wisdom." Interpose in 
 favour of the youth who are before Thee ; 
 and suffer not procrastination, that " thief of 
 time," that " child of the devil," to deceive 
 and to destroy the rising hopes of our fami- 
 lies, our churches, and our country. " Pour 
 down thy Spirit upon our seed, and thy bless- 
 ing upon our offspring." — " May one say, I 
 am the Lord's; and another call himself by 
 the name of Jacob; and another subscribe 
 with his own hand, and surname himself by 
 the name of Israel." 
 
 To realize this pleasing prospect, let mi- 
 nisters, let tutors, let all unite their endea- 
 vours. But, 0 ye parents, a peculiar obliga- 
 tion devolves upon you. Awaken all your 
 tenderness and anxiety, and give them a spi- 
 ritual direction. You wish your children to 
 be sober, submissive, dutiful — but piety is the 
 only sure foundation of morality. You 
 would not have your love for your children to 
 be suspected — but wretched are those children 
 who share only in a solicitude, which asks, 
 ' what shall they eat, or what shall they 
 
 drink, or wherewithal shall they be clothed !" 
 — What is the body to the soul ! What is time 
 to eternity ! What is it to dispose of them 
 advantageously in life, and leave them un- 
 prepared fur death, unprovided for a new, a 
 never-ending, period of existence ! Are you 
 the barbarous instruments of bringing these 
 hapless beings into life, only to sacrifice 
 them 1 — Such parents are more cruel than 
 Herod. He slew the children of others — 
 these slay their own. He only destroyed the 
 body — these destroy the soul. His victims 
 died innocent, and were doubtless saved — 
 these parents will not suffer their offspring to 
 die innocent: by their unkind care, they 
 guard them till the season of safety is elaps- 
 ed ; till they are become accountable, and 
 criminal ; and expose them, when they know 
 their death will be attended with their damn- 
 ation. Men and brethren, escape this dread- 
 ful censure — distinguish yourselves not only 
 from an openly wicked world, but from those 
 modern professors of religion, who are always 
 found in public, hearing sermons, but can leave 
 their families in disorder, and take no pains 
 in the pious education of their children. — Fear 
 God yourselves, and teach your offspring to 
 fear him. Recommend instruction by exam- 
 ple, and crown all with prayer — prayer for 
 them, and with them. Thus you will " train 
 them up in the nurture and admonition of the 
 Lord;" thus you will rejoice here "to see 
 them walking in the truth," and hereafter 
 will lead them to the Throne of Glory ; say- 
 ing, "Behold, here am I, and the children 
 thou hast given me." 
 
 But it is with you, my hearers in early life, 
 I wish to close this address. — I see some in 
 this assembly who are distinguished by the 
 fear of God in their youth : — some Isaacs, who 
 prefer an evening-walk in the field, to medi- 
 tate, to the crowded avenues of dissipation : — 
 some Josephs, whose image is " a fruitful 
 bough by a well :" — some Davids, who love 
 the harps of Zion, and have no ear for " the 
 song of the drunkard," or " the mirth offools :" 
 — some Timothies, who " from children have 
 known the Scripture, which is able to make 
 them wise unto salvation :" — and I hail you on 
 your early escape from " the paths of the de- 
 stroyer," on your early separation from a 
 world, which attracts only to shew its empti- 
 ness, and elevates only to depress ; on your 
 early union with the wise and good. Go forth, 
 and in all " the beauties of holiness" honour 
 God, and serve your generation according to 
 his will. Religiously occupy the stations 
 which you are to ennoble, and form the con- 
 nexions which you are to bless. "Adorn the 
 doctrine of God your Saviour in all things." 
 Earnestly pursue the glorious course which 
 you have begun ; be not weary in well-doing ; 
 grow in grace, as you advance in years; 
 " abound more and more in knowledge, and in 
 
40 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 all judgment ;" " approve things that are ex- 
 cellent ;" and " be sincere and without of- 
 fence till the day of Christ." 
 
 And what hinders any of you, my young 
 friends, from joining yourselves to the Lord 1 — 
 Weigh the reasonings which you have heard. 
 Suspend for a while the influence of your pas- 
 sions, and endeavour to feel the force of the 
 motives which have been adduced. Delibe- 
 rate, or rather decide ; for there is no time for 
 hesitation — " now is the accepted time, now is 
 the day of salvation." The language of the 
 Redeemer is, " To-day ;" and will you say, 
 with Pharaoh, " To-morrow '!" Every delay 
 will leave you more remote from the God you 
 have to seek — every delay will place more 
 barriers between you and heaven — every delay 
 will increase your crimes, your passions, your 
 aversions — every day will diminish the effi- 
 cacy of means, the period of Divine patience, 
 the time of your probation. While you hesi- 
 tate, you die ; while you promise yourselves 
 years, perhaps you have not days — perhaps the 
 shuttle has passed the loom that wove thy 
 winding-sheet — perhaps in yonder shop lies 
 rolled up, and ready to be severed off, the piece 
 of cloth destined to be thy shroud ; perhaps 
 " the feet of them that have buried thy" com- 
 panion, are at the door, " to carry thee out !" 
 
 When Felix trembled, instead of cherishing 
 his concern, he proposed a "more convenient 
 season," which — never came. It was the un- 
 happy state of Agrippa to be " almost, but not 
 altogether persuaded to be a Christian." — 
 And there are young people — how shall I de- 
 scribed them ? — they had betimes convictions 
 and impressions — their early days were the 
 time of their visitation — they asked for God 
 their Maker ; they often retired to pray ; 
 they loved the Sabbath ; they heard the Gos- 
 pel with sensibility — but, alas ! " their good- 
 ness was as a morning cloud and early 
 dew, which passeth away." — But " was it not 
 better with you then than now'!" — Ah! had 
 you still " hearkened to His commandments, 
 then had your peace been as a river, and your 
 righteousness like the waves of the sea." — 
 Will this discourse revive your former feel- 
 ings, and cause you to return 1 Or will it on- 
 ly hold you up as a warning, to guard others 
 against trifling with conscience, and falling 
 away after the same example ! 
 
 On some of you, I fear, the address has been 
 more than useless. — I could wish you had sav- 
 ed yourselves the mortification of hearing a 
 discourse, in which there was nothing agree- 
 able to your taste, and which you determined 
 from the beginning to disregard ; I could wish 
 you had withdrawn yourselves from an assem- 
 bly, which will one day furnish only witness- 
 es against you. — By an unsanctified use of the 
 means of grace, you aggravate your sin, you in- 
 crease your misery, and you render your con- 
 version more difficult. In endeavouring to be 
 vour friends, your ministers become your ene- 
 
 mies; in trying to save, they condemn: 
 though ordained to be " the savour of life un- 
 to life," your corruption renders them "the sa- 
 vour of death unto, death ;" and those affec- 
 tionate importunities and faithful warnings, 
 which if they had been regarded would have 
 secured your happiness, will surround your 
 minds when you come to die, and render your 
 recollection painful, and your prospect intole- 
 rable — For you will " mourn at the last, when 
 thy flesh and thy body are consumed, and say, 
 How have I hated instruction, and my heart 
 despised reproof ; and have not obeyed the 
 voice of my teachers, nor inclined mine ear 
 to them that instructed me ! I was almost in 
 all evil in the midst of the congregation and 
 assembly." 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 THE CONDEMNATION OF SELF- 
 WILL. 
 
 Should it be according to thy mind? 
 
 Job xxxiv. 33. 
 
 " O that I were made judge in the land ; 
 that every man which hath any suit or cause 
 might come unto me, and I would do him jus- 
 tice !" Such was the language of Absalom, 
 when labouring to promote and to justify a 
 measure, the design of which was to exclude 
 David from the throne, and to establish a usurp- 
 er. It is the common eloquence of faction, 
 which always knows how much easier it is to 
 censure than to reform ; which loves to talk 
 of the facility of government, and to hide the 
 difficulties ; which is sure to fix on evils that 
 are often unavoidable, and to disregard advan- 
 tages, in the procuring of which human pru- 
 dence has some share; and which is ever 
 making comparisons between long established 
 institutions, the sober value of which cannot 
 strike with the freshness of novelty, and the 
 charming scenes to be found in the paradise 
 of speculation. 
 
 Who is not ready to condemn Absalom 1 — 
 " Young man, while the king is employed in 
 the cares and perplexities of empire, it is an 
 easy thing for you to sit in the gate, and deal 
 forth your reflections and your promises. Are 
 you not a subject! Are you not a son] Are 
 you not, in experience, and every other qua- 
 lification, inferior to your father and your so- 
 vereign V 
 
 I go further — If a person were to rise up 
 in this assembly, and endeavour to draw away 
 disciples after him ; if, holding the same lan- 
 guage with regard to God which Absalom 
 used with regard to David, he should say, " O 
 that I were made governor in the world ! 
 Things should not be as they now are. The 
 ways of the Lord are not equal : the Almighty 
 perverts judgment" — I am persuaded you 
 I would be ready to drive him from the sane- 
 
SERMON VII. 
 
 11 
 
 tuary, and to stone him with stones, saying-, 
 M Thou child of the devil, thou enemy of all 
 righteousness, when wilt thou cease to per- 
 vert the right ways of God V — But what, my 
 hearers, if there should be found here, of such 
 a description, not one character only, but 
 many ! what if, in condemning this supposed 
 blasphemer, you have pronounced judgment 
 on yourselves ! — Why, the sentiment, in va- 
 rious degrees, prevails in all mankind. If 
 they do not avow it, they indulge it ; if they 
 do not express it in words, it is to be derived 
 by fair inference from their actions. For are 
 they not displeased with the Divine proceed- 
 ings J Do they not murmur at those events 
 which, under His administration, are perpe- 
 tually occurring ! Are they not always sug- 
 gesting arrangements which they deem pre- 
 ferable to those which the Governor of the 
 world has planned 1 
 
 This is the subject which is to engage 
 your attention at this hour : and it is a sub- 
 ject of superior importance, and will be found 
 to possess a commanding influence over your 
 duty and your happiness. Observe the words 
 which we have read as the foundation of this 
 exercise — "Should it be according to thy 
 mind'!" — The speaker is Elihu; a personage 
 which the sacred historian introduces in a 
 manner so extraordinary, that commentators 
 know not what to make of him. Some have 
 taken him for the Son of God ; others, for a 
 prophet ; all, for a wise and good man. The 
 meaning of the question is obvious — " Shall 
 the Supreme Being do nothing without thy 
 consent ] Should he ask counsel of thee ] 
 Ought he to regulate his dispensations ac- 
 cording to thy views and desires 1 — Should it 
 be according to thy mind V He does not spe- 
 cify any particular case; which makes the 
 inquiry the more striking and useful, and 
 justifies an application of it the most general 
 and comprehensive. Elihu, like the other 
 friends of Job, said some things harsh, and 
 improper; but when he asked, "Should it be 
 according to thy mind 1" Job should instantly 
 have answered, No. And were your preach- 
 er to address the same question individually 
 to this assembly, you should all immediately 
 answer, No. To bring you to this temper, we 
 shall enlarge on the desire of having things 
 " according to our mind." I. As common. II. 
 
 As UNREASONABLE. III. As CRIMINAL. IV. 
 As DANGEROUS. V. As IMPRACTICABLE. 
 
 " Consider what I say, and the Lord give you 
 understanding in all things." 
 
 I. To have things " according to our mind" 
 is a very common wish. — Man is naturally 
 self-willed. The disposition appears very 
 early in our children. All sin is a contention 
 against the will of God. It began in para- 
 dise. Adam disobeyed the prohibition to 
 " touch of the tree of knowledge of good and 
 evil," and all his posterity have, unhappily, 
 followed his example. What God forbids, 
 F 4* 
 
 we desire and pursue; what he enjoins, we 
 dislike and oppose. Yea, " the carnal mind 
 is enmity against God : it is not subject to the 
 law of God, neither indeed can be." 
 
 Enter the world of grace. Behold the re- 
 velation which God has given us — One deems 
 it unnecessary — for a second, it is too simple 
 — for a third, it is too mysterious. See Jesus 
 Christ crucified — He is " to the Jews a stum- 
 bling block, and to the Greeks foolishness." 
 God has " set" his " King upon his holy hill 
 of Zion," and has sworn " that to him every 
 knee shall bow, and every tongue confess" — 
 the language of those who hear this determi- 
 nation is, " We will not have thisman to reign 
 over us." When we begin to think of re- 
 turning to God, it is not by the way which 
 " He has consecrated for us," but by a way 
 of our own devising. We labour, not de- 
 spairing of our own strength, while pro- 
 phets and apostles teach us to implore help, 
 and to place all our dependence on Him, 
 whose " grace" alone " is sufficient" for 
 us. We seek to be justified by our own 
 works, while the Gospel assures us we must 
 be justified by "the faith of Christ" — and 
 many a proud Naaman exclaims, " Are not 
 Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, bet- 
 ter than all the waters of Israel '! may I not 
 wash in them, and be clean 1 ." So he turns 
 and goes away in " a rage." 
 
 And the same is to be seen in the world of 
 Providence. Who is "content with such 
 things as" he has'! Who does not covet what 
 is denied him 1 Who does not envy the supe- 
 rior condition of his neighbour'! Who does 
 not long to be at his own disposal 1 If he draw 
 off his eyes from others, and look inwardly, 
 every man will find a " Pope in his own bo- 
 som" — he would have every thing according 
 to his own mind — he would have his own 
 mind the measure of all he does towards God, 
 and of all God does towards him. 
 
 Acknowledged — But is not this disposition 
 crushed in conversion, and are not the Lord's 
 " people made willing in the day of his pow- 
 er ]" — See Saul of Tarsus on his knees : " Be- 
 hold, he prayeth" — " Lord, what wilt thou 
 have me to dor' David wraps himself up in 
 the stillness of patience and submission : " 1 
 was dumb ; I opened not my mouth ; because 
 thou didst it." There stands old Eli : he has 
 received the most distressing intelligence, 
 and piously exclaims, " It is the Lord ; let 
 Him do what seemeth him good." A gra- 
 cious woman in deep affliction was once heard 
 to say, " I mourn, but I do not murmur." 
 We have read of one, who, when informed 
 that her two sons, her only children, were 
 drowned, said, in all the majesty of grief, and 
 with an heavenly composure, " I see God is re- 
 solved to have all my heart, and I am resolv- 
 ed He shall have it." — Ah ! here you behold 
 the saints in their choicest moments, and in 
 their best frames — for their sanctification is im- 
 
42 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 perfect in all its parts — too much of the self- 
 will remains even in them — they are most gra- 
 tified when they find the Divine proceedings 
 falling into the direction which they had pre- 
 scrihed — they are too much elated when 
 their schemes succeed, and too much depress- 
 ed when their hopes are frustrated. They 
 do indeed love the will of God; and we are 
 far from saying, that they would have nothing 
 done according to his mind ; but they are oft- 
 en solicitous to have too many things done 
 according to their own. 
 
 II. The desire is unreasonable. This 
 will easily appear — for we are wholly unquali- 
 fied to govern ; while God is every way ade- 
 quate to the work in which he is engaged. 
 Therefore nothing can be more absurd than 
 to labour to displease him, and substitue our- 
 selves as the creators of destiny, the regula- 
 tors of events. For, to throw open this thought 
 — his power is almighty ; his resources are 
 boundless : " his understanding is infinite." 
 He sees all things, in their origin, in their 
 connexions, in their dependences, in their re- 
 mote effects. He is " wonderful in counsel, 
 and excellent in working." This is the Be- 
 ing you wish to set aside — and who is to be 
 his successor in empire ? You, a worm of the 
 earth ; you, whose " foundation is in the dust ;" 
 you, who are "crushed before the moth;" 
 you, who are of " yesterday, and know no- 
 thing ;" you, who " know not what a day may 
 bring forth." 
 
 Placed in an obscure corner of the universe, 
 where only a small proportion of God's works 
 passes under his review ; fixed in a valley, 
 whose surrounding hills intercept his pros- 
 pects : a prisoner even there, looking only 
 through grates and bars ; his very dimgeon 
 enveloped in mists and fogs ; his eyes also dim 
 by reason of weakness — such is man ! — and this 
 " vain man would be wise ;" this is the can- 
 didate, who deems himself, by his proposal, 
 capable of governing, and wishes to arrange 
 things according to his mind. 
 
 My brethren, have you not often found 
 yourselves mistaken, where you thought your- 
 selves most sure ? Have you not frequently 
 erred in judging yourselves, and generally 
 erred in judging others? Do you not blame 
 those who condemn any of your proceedings 
 before they understand them, especially when 
 the objects on which they decide fall not 
 within the sphere of their knowledge or ob- 
 servation ? What would you think of a sub- 
 ject, who, scarcely competent to guide the pet- 
 ty concerns of his own household, would rush 
 forth to assume the direction of the affairs of 
 an enlarged empire, after censuring measures 
 which he does not comprehend, cannot com- 
 prehend ; whose labyrinths he cannot trace, 
 whose extensive bearings he cannot reach, 
 whose distant consequences he cannot calcu- 
 late'? — All this imagery is weak when appli- 
 ed to "the man who striveth with his 
 
 Maker," and "asks, what dost Thou ?" For 
 whatever differences subsist between man 
 and man, all are partakers of the same na- 
 ture, and all are liable to err — But " in God 
 there is no darkness at all." — " Is there un- 
 righteousness with God ? God forbid : how 
 then could God judge the world !" 
 
 If we know not the peculiarities of the dis- 
 ease, how can we judge properly of the reme- 
 dy which the physician prescribes? If we 
 know not the station which the son is destin- 
 ed to occupy, how can we judge of the wis- 
 dom of the father in the education he is giv- 
 ing him? And how can we decide on the 
 means which the Supreme Being employs, 
 while we are ignorant of the reasons which 
 move him, and the plan which he holds in 
 view ? — A providence occurs ; it strikes us ; 
 we endeavour to explain it — but are we cer- 
 tain that we have seized the true meaning? 
 Perhaps what we take as an end, may be 
 only the way ; what we take as the whole, 
 may be only a part ; what we deprecate may 
 be a blessing, and what we implore may be a 
 curse ; what appears confusion, may be the 
 tendencies of order ; and what looks like the 
 disaster of Providence, may be the preparation 
 of its triumph. "Canst thou, by searching, 
 find out God ? canst thou find out the Almigh- 
 ty unto perfection? Such knowledge is too 
 wonderful for us : it is high ; we cannot at- 
 tain unto it. — O the depths of the riches both 
 of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! how 
 unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways 
 are past finding out ! For who hath known 
 the mind of the Lord, or who hath been his 
 counsellor?" — Do not misunderstand the in- 
 ference we would draw from these premises 
 — There is nothing shameful in the limitation 
 of our powers, nor should we be miserable be- 
 cause we possess only a degree of intelligence : 
 but let us not forget our ignorance ; let us not 
 "darken counsel, by words without know- 
 ledge ;" let us not summon to our tribunal " the 
 only wise God," and condemn all that accords 
 not with our contracted notions. Before we be- 
 gin to reform, let us be satisfied an amendment 
 is necessary ; and before we censure, let us un- 
 derstand. 
 
 ni. The desire of having things " accord- 
 ing to our mind" is criminal — The sources 
 are bad. "Men do not gather grapes of 
 thorns, or figs of thistles." 
 
 It argues ingratitude. — It is infinite conde- 
 scension in God to be " mindful of us ;" to be 
 willing to manage our concerns ; and to al- 
 low us to cast all our care upon him, with an 
 assurance that " he ca'reth for us," and will 
 make " all things work together for our good." 
 For all this he surely deserves our thankful 
 acknowledgments — and we insult him with 
 murmuring complaints ? What can be more 
 vile, than for a poor dependent creature, who 
 holds his very being by the good pleasure of 
 his Maker, and possesses nothing underived 
 
SERMON VII. 
 
 48 
 
 from the bounty of his Benefactor, to overlook 
 so many expressions of his goodness, because 
 he complies not with every fond desire ! 
 What can be baser than our repining, when 
 the very same kindness which urges Provi- 
 dence to give, determines it also to refuse ! 
 
 It springs from discontent. — It shews that 
 we are displeased with his dealings; for if 
 wewerenot dissatisfied, why do we desire a 
 change? This was the sin of the Israelites in 
 wishing a king. It did not consist in desir- 
 ing a monarchy: they would have sinned 
 equally in demanding any other form of go- 
 vernment. But they were under the immedi- 
 ate empire of God : He had not pleased them ; 
 they would set him right ; they " charged him 
 foolishly ;" they would be like " the rest ofthe 
 nations," when it was his pleasure that they 
 should be a peculiar people — "The people 
 shall dwell alone, and shall not be reckoned 
 among the nations." 
 
 It betrays earthly-mindedness. — The soul 
 feels it when " cleaving to the dust" Ac- 
 cording to our attachments, will be, all 
 through life, our afflictions and our perplexi- 
 ties. When you find yourselves in prosper- 
 ous circumstances, surrounded with affluence 
 and friends, enjoying health and peace, the 
 providence of God is not only agreeable, but 
 intelligible. We never hear you exclaim, as 
 you "join house to house, and add field to 
 field," "Oh, how mysterious the dealings of 
 God are !" But when the scene is revers- 
 ed — then, not only hard thoughts of God 
 are entertained, but all is embarrassment; 
 " His way is in the sea, and his path in the 
 deep waters, and his footsteps are not known." 
 What ! does not God still continue to govern ? 
 Has he less wisdom in a cloudy day than in a 
 fine one? Does every dispensation of Provi- 
 dence become intricate as soon as it affects 
 you? Are you so innocent as to render it 
 doubtful whether you can be lawfully touch- 
 ed ? Are you such attentive scholars as to 
 render a stroke of the rod a mystery ? Is God, 
 in blessing his people, confined to one class 
 of means only? Do not "these light afflic- 
 tions, which are but for a moment, work out 
 for you a far more exceeding and eternal 
 weight of glory ?" — So much more attached 
 are we to our fleshly interests than to our 
 spiritual concerns ; so much more are we in- 
 fluenced by " things seen and temporal, than 
 by those things which are unseen and eter- 
 nal." 
 
 It is the produce of impatience. — This will 
 suffer no delay. It can bear no denial. It 
 struggles to be free from all controul, and 
 cries, " Let us break" his " bands asunder, and 
 cast away" these " cords from us." 
 
 It is the offspring of pride and indepen- 
 dence — the cursed disposition which expelled 
 angels from heaven, and Adam from paradise. 
 In a word, it is a presumptuous invasion ofthe 
 authority and prerogative of God. Your place 
 
 is the footstool, not the throne : you are to 
 follow, not to lead ; to obey, not to dictate. 
 Suppose a stranger, or a neighbour, should 
 come into your family, and begin to new-place 
 the ornaments and utensils of your rooms; to 
 order your children, to command your ser- 
 vants, to rule your house — on what principle 
 would you blame him ? This is not his office ; 
 this is not his province; he is an intruder. — 
 Maintain your distance here, and do not en- 
 croach on the Divine rights. You did not 
 create the universe ; it does not depend on 
 your care : the world is not yours, nor the 
 fulness thereof — no, nor even yourselves: 
 ye are not your own — but there is One to 
 whom the whole belongs ; " He is Lord of all." 
 God cannot have an equal, and he will not 
 have a rival. A prince may be pleased, if 
 his subjects endeavour to imitate him in his 
 mercy, his goodness, his truth, or in any of 
 those virtues which are common to persons in 
 all situations — hereby they honour him — but 
 if they imitate him in his regalia — in those at- 
 tributes and actions which are peculiar to him 
 as a king; if, like him, they aspire to wear a 
 crown, to enact laws, to declare peace and 
 war, to levy contributions, to new-model the 
 state ; they are guilty of high treason. 
 
 IV. The desire of having things " accord- 
 ing to our mind" is dangerous — If it were ac- 
 complished, all parties would suffer — God — 
 our fellow-creatures — and ourselves. 
 
 First, the honour of God would suffer. — 
 Nothing now occurs by chance ; every thing 
 falls under the regulation of Divine Provi- 
 dence ; and as affairs are now managed, they 
 all subserve the purpose of Heaven, they all 
 advance the glory of God ; even " the wrath 
 of man praises him, and the remainder of it 
 he restrains." Would this be the sure result, 
 if you had the direction of the whole ? Would 
 you make the honour of God invariably your 
 guide? Would you bend every claim and 
 every occurrence to this sublime end ? You 
 may imagine you would — and nothing is more 
 common than to hear people making costly 
 promises, the execution of which only requires 
 enlarged opportunities and capacities — But 
 " the heart is deceitful above all things." No 
 man has reason to conclude that he would 
 glorify God with greater powers, who does 
 not employ for him the abilities which he al- 
 ready possesses. We may see this exempli- 
 fied with regard to property. Many professors 
 of religion whose wealth has increased, do less 
 in proportion, and I fear in some cases less in 
 fact, for the cause of God, than while in more 
 limited circumstances, and when their pros- 
 pects were not flattering enough to render it 
 worth while for them to become covetous. 
 
 Secondly, The welfare of our fellow-crea- 
 tures would suffer. — The principle of selfish- 
 ness is common to depraved nature. For who 
 loves his neighbour as himself? Who, in form- 
 ing his plans, would consider the conven- 
 
44 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 iences and advantages of others, as well as 
 fiis own? The traveller would have the wea- 
 ther to accommodate his journey, regardless of 
 the parched fields of the husbandman. That 
 enemy would be disappointed and crushed. 
 That favourite would be indulged to ruin. Sel- 
 fish individuality would every where predo- 
 minate, and public utility would be sacrificed 
 on the altar of private interest. 
 
 To come nearer — Your own happiness 
 would, thirdly, suffer ; and you would prove 
 the greatest enemies to yourselves. — Yon. 
 would be too eager to choose well : you would 
 not have firmness to refuse a present gratifi- 
 cation for the sake of a future good. You 
 would be too carnal to choose well : na- 
 ture would speak before grace ; the pleas- 
 ing would be preferred to the profitable ; 
 imaginary wants would be more numerous 
 than real ones. The Israelites were cla- 
 morous for " flesh;" but it was not to re- 
 lieve their necessities : " they asked meat 
 for their lusts;" and "He gave them their 
 hearts' desire, but sent leanness into their 
 souls." As, in nature, the most beautiful 
 plants are not always the most wholesome or 
 innocent, so it is in human life : a thing is not 
 beneficial because it is gratifying, or good be- 
 cause our passions and appetites may pro- 
 nounce it so. " Lot lifted up his eyes, and 
 beheld all the plain of Jordan, that it was 
 well watered every where. Then Lot chose 
 him all the plain of Jordan." It was a sen- 
 sual choice; faith had no influence in this de- 
 termination : it was made, regardless of the 
 welfare of his soul, the salvation of his family, 
 and the honour of religion. And in what 
 embarrassments, dangers, and calamities, did 
 this preference involve him ! The next time 
 we hear of him, he is taken captive by the 
 five kings — then " his righteous soul is vexed 
 daily by the filthy conversation of the ungod- 
 ly" — then he is burned out, with the loss of 
 all his substance — some of his relations perish 
 in the overthrow — his wife, attached to the 
 place, looks back, and becomes a pillar of salt 
 — his two daughters, made shameless by the 
 manners of the inhabitants, render their fa- 
 ther incestuous — and his " grey hairs are 
 brought down with sorrow to the grave." 
 
 In a word, you would be too ignorant to 
 choose well. Did you ever observe the ques- 
 tion of the inspired preacher — " Who know- 
 eth what is good for man in this life; all the 
 days of this vain life, which he spendeth as a 
 shadow ?" The answer is, No one knows. — 
 Look around you, and you will see men eager 
 to change their conditions, but proving, by 
 their behaviour in the new stations they occu- 
 py, that they are no nearer satisfaction than 
 before. They rush forth, assured of finding a 
 paradise, but thorns and briers soon convince 
 them that they are entangled in a wilderness. 
 The man of business and the man of leisure 
 envy each other ; they exchange, and go on 
 
 complaining. The poor imagine that wealth 
 would free them from care : they obtain it ; 
 but " in the fulness of their sufficiency they 
 are in straits." The retired long for stations 
 of eminence; but beside the trouble and dan- 
 ger of climbing the steep ascent of honour, 
 they are compelled to leave their enjoyments 
 in the vale below ; often from the brow of the 
 hill surveying them ; often desiring them- 
 but they cannot get down again. 
 
 In order to determine what will promote 
 our happiness, it is necessary for us to know 
 the things themselves from among which we 
 are to make our choice : how far it is in their 
 power to yield pleasure ; whether their natu- 
 ral tendency may not be counteracted ; what 
 are their ordinary effects. Nor is it less 
 needful to understand ourselves. For a man 
 must be adapted to his condition, or he will 
 never be happy in it : that winch suits ano- 
 ther, may not suit me ; what may wear easy 
 on him, may bean incumbrance to me. Now 
 to know whether a condition would accord 
 with us, and be to our advantage, we must 
 know ourselves better than we do : our 
 strength and our weakness ; our natural pe- 
 culiarities and our acquired propensities; our 
 intellectual abilities and our moral qualifica- 
 tions. And here another difficulty occurs. 
 It is impossible for us to judge of ourselves in 
 untried connexions and situations: and the rea- 
 son is obvious. VVe go forward to these scenes 
 in imagination only, with our present senti- 
 ments and inclinations, not remembering that 
 our characters are formed and unfolded by 
 circumstances — that we change with events 
 — that the friction of new objects elicits new 
 feelings, quickens dormant guilt, and calls 
 forth improbable corruption. The water, is 
 clear till the muddy sediment is disturbed. 
 In private life, Hazael abhorred the thought 
 of inhumanity. When the man of God 
 viewed him with tears, and predicted the 
 cruelties of his future reign, he was filled 
 with horror, and exclaimed, "Is thy servant a 
 dog, that he should do this thing 1" But he 
 went forward — arrived at the foot of the 
 throne — exchanged the man for the tyrant — 
 and became the monster which he had exe- 
 crated. 
 
 We are not only liable to err on the side 
 of our hopes, but also of our fears. What in 
 distant prospect filled us with anxiety and 
 dread, as it approached more near, was found 
 the beginning of a train of friends and bless- 
 ings, all hastening along to do us good. Had 
 Joseph remained under the wing of his fond 
 father, he would have lived and died an in- 
 significant individual ; but from the pit and 
 the prison he steps into the second chariot of 
 Egypt, and becomes the saviour of surround- 
 ing countries. — Ah ! if things had been ar- 
 ranged according to your mind, what afflic- 
 tions would some of you have escaped, and 
 what benefits would you have lost ! For 
 
SERMON VII. 
 
 4. r , 
 
 though no chastening for the present soometh 
 to be joyous, but grievous, nevertheless after- 
 ward it " yieldeth the peaceable fruits of righ- 
 teousness to them that are exercised thereby." 
 And should we not principally value that 
 which is morally good for us ; that which 
 influences and secures our eternal welfare; 
 that by which the safety of the soul is least 
 endangered, and the sanctification of the soul 
 is most promoted 1 Upon this principle, I am 
 persuaded, many of you are ready to add 
 your testimony to the confessions of former 
 sufferers, and to say, " It is good for me that I 
 have been afflicted." " Disease," says one, 
 " commissioned from above, sought me out, 
 found me in a crowd, detached me from the 
 multitude, led me into a chamber of solitude, 
 stretched me upon a bed of languishing, and 
 drew up eternity close to my view — I never 
 prayed before." — Says another, " My life was 
 bound up in a beloved relation : I saw my 
 gourd smitten, and beginning to wither; I 
 trembled ; I watched the process of a danger 
 which doomed all my happiness to the grave 
 — in that moment of bereavement, the world, 
 which had enamoured, was deprived of all 
 its attractions ; I broke from the arms of sym- 
 pathising friends, saying, Where is God my 
 Maker, that giveth songs in the night ! I en- 
 tered my closet, and said, Now, Lord, what 
 wait I fori My hope is in thee." — "Into 
 what miseries," says a third, " should I have 
 fallen, if He had given me up in such an en- 
 terprize to my own counsel ! I should have 
 advanced till I had fallen from a dangerous 
 precipice, if He had not hedged up my way 
 with thorns: at first, I murmured at the 
 check ; but when I looked over, and saw the 
 abyss, I kneeled, and said, Lord, I am thine ; 
 save me, in every future peril." — Thus, by 
 experience, He has been convincing you, 
 that " the way of man is not in himself," and 
 that " it is not in man that walketh to direct 
 his steps ;" and having seen the hazards to 
 which you would be exposed in managing 
 for yourselves, you are now on your knees, 
 saying, " He shall choose our inheritance for 
 us. Surely I have behaved and quieted my- 
 self as a child that is weaned from his mo- 
 ther : my soul is even as a weaned child." 
 
 We have one more view to take of the 
 subject. The desire of having things "accord- 
 ding to our mind," is impracticable. 
 
 Observe only two things. First, the desires 
 of mankind, in ten thousand instances, are 
 opposite to each other — hence they cannot be 
 all accomplished. Secondly, the plan of Di- 
 vine government is already fixed — the ma- 
 chine is in motion — it is rolling by, and we 
 can neither arrest its progress, nor give it a 
 new direction. "He is in one mind, and 
 who can turn Him 1 and what his soul de- 
 sireth, even that He doeth ; for lie pcrformeth 
 the thing that is appointed for me : and many 
 such things are with him. Our God is in the 
 
 heavens ; he hath done whatsoever he pleas- 
 ed: declaring the end from the beginning, 
 and from ancient times the things that are 
 not yet done, saying, My counsel shall stand, 
 and I will do all my pleasure." How useless 
 therefore is your anxiety! "Which of you, 
 by taking thought, can add one cubit to his 
 stature 1" You may repine ; but you fret and 
 rage in vain. God will not yield up the 
 reins into your hands. " He teareth himself 
 in his anger : shall the earth be forsaken for 
 thee 1 and shall the rock be removed out of 
 his place !" " Should it be according to thy 
 mind ! He will recompense it, whether thou 
 refuse, or whether thou choose." — Having es- 
 tablished a general principle, it will be neces- 
 sary to make such an application as will pre- 
 clude the abuse of it, and render it useful to 
 promote resignation, to encourage our faith, 
 to animate our hope. 
 
 First, Let not the conscientious Christian 
 suppose himself guilty of the disposition we 
 censure, when he only indulges allowed de- 
 sire. You may ask of God any temporal 
 blessing conditionally, and with submission to 
 the pleasure of the Almighty. Are you in 
 trouble'? Afflictions are not immutable dis- 
 pensations; and your praying for their re- 
 moval will not be striving with Providence, if 
 you are willing to refer the case ultimately to 
 the determination of Infinite Wisdom and 
 Goodness, and to acquiesce in the decision. 
 Thus did our Saviour; "Father, if it be pos- 
 sible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless, 
 not as I will, but as thou wilt." To offer a 
 humble petition differs widely from making a 
 demand, or proposing a task. When our de- 
 sires are rash, unqualified, impetuous, enforc- 
 ing, they are not only offensive to God, but 
 they injure the soul, and they injure our cause. 
 If, to use the expression, when we insist upon 
 an object, we are gratified, the indulgence is 
 dreadful — it is a curse. Thus God punished 
 the sinful importunity of the Jews : "He gave 
 them a king in his anger, and took him away 
 in his wrath." But if he loves you, in such 
 a case he will be sure to deny you ; he will 
 teach you, by his refusal, that he has a right 
 to withhold, and that you have no claims upon 
 the Giver: he will bring you to supplicate what 
 before you seemed to demand. He sees that 
 while you are thus passionately eager, he can- 
 not with safety indulge you with the object , 
 you would make too much of it. He is a Got! 
 of judgment, and he waits a cooler and more 
 sober frame of mind ; when you can receive 
 it properly, and not be so lost in the gift, as to 
 disregard the Giver. The best way for a 
 Christian to gain any temporal good, is to seek 
 after a holy indifference. The moment it 
 ceases to be dangerous, He will be ready to 
 gratify you, for " He taketh pleasure in the 
 prosperity of his servants." 
 
 Secondly, The subject preaches submission. 
 It powerfully urges you to leave yourselves to 
 
46 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 
 the disposal of Divine Providence — to lie as 
 clay in the hands of the potter ; willing to re- 
 ceive any shape he chooses to give you, or to 
 take any impression he is pleased to impose — 
 to keep your eye towards the fiery cloudy 
 pillar, and to be ready to move as it moves, 
 turn as it turns, pause as it pauses. And is 
 not all this implied in your profession, reso- 
 lutions, and vows 1 Do you not remember a 
 time when you gave your God what you had 
 too long withheld from him — your heart J And 
 have you not often since renewed this engage- 
 ment! Are there no seasons in your experi- 
 ence, no spots in your walks, made sacred in 
 your recollection by fresh dedications of your- 
 selves to Him 1 — When the will is in unison 
 with the will of God, which is perfect recti- 
 tude, it is ennobled. To be like-minded with 
 God, is the highest honour we can ever pos- 
 sess : to surrender ourselves to his pleasure, 
 is the purest act of obedience we can ever per- 
 form. It is the essence of holiness, to do what 
 God loves, and to love what God does. And 
 as nothing can be more pious, so nothing can 
 be more wise than such a resignation. If your 
 will corresponds with the will of God, you may 
 be al ways sure of its accomplishment : " Com- 
 mit thy works unto the Lord, and thy thoughts 
 shall be established." This is the oniy way 
 to be happy in a miserable world : on this all 
 your satisfaction depends. He knows what 
 things you have need of, and what will be for 
 your advantage. Depend on Him. Follow 
 Him. Secure His favour : refer all to Him, 
 and leave all with Him. " It is vain for you 
 to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread 
 of sorrows ; for so he giveth his beloved sleep." 
 — " Be careful for nothing ; but in every thing, 
 by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, 
 let your requests be made known unto God — 
 and the peace of God, which passeth all un- 
 derstanding, shall keep your hearts and minds 
 through Christ Jesus." 
 
 Thirdly, Let the subject inspire you with 
 consolation. Make use of the question to re- 
 press all the uneasiness which you would 
 otherwise feel when you contemplate the di- 
 versity of human affairs. Remember it when 
 you think of the world, and your imagination 
 is busied in schemes of revolution and reform- 
 ation. Remember it when you think of the 
 state of the nation, and deplore many things 
 which appear deplorable, and desire many 
 things which appear desirable. Remember it 
 when you think of the condition of the Church; 
 when you ask, " Why such diversities of 
 opinion among its leaders ! Why such frequent 
 persecution of its members? Why are they 
 generally so poor and afflicted ? Why are 
 they all the day long plagued, and chastened 
 every morning; while their ungodly neigh- 
 bours abound in affluence and indulgence 1 
 Should the sinner live within, clothed in pur- 
 ple and fine linen, and faring sumptuously 
 every day ; while the saint lies at his gate, a 
 
 beggar full of sores ?" Remember it, when 
 you think of the circumstances of the family; 
 when, driven in from a troublesome world, 
 and hoping to find an asylum there, you are 
 forced as you enter to sigh, with David, " My 
 house is not so with God." Remember it 
 when you think of your respective cases as 
 individuals: ofperplexites and fears ; oflosses 
 and vexations; of pain of body ; of imperfec- 
 tions of mind ; of continuance in this world — 
 " Should it be according to thy mind 1 or ac- 
 cording to the purpose of Him who worketh 
 all things after the counsel of his own will; 
 and who is wonderful in counsel, and excel- 
 lent in working ?" 
 
 Finally, Let all this lead you forward, and 
 draw forth your expectation of another, and a 
 more glorious oeconomy. Beyond this vale of 
 tears lies a land flowing with milk and ho- 
 ney. You are now in a state of probation 
 and discipline ; but trials and corrections will 
 I not be always necessary. The denials and 
 restraints, to which the heir of glory submits 
 while he is a child, cease when he comes of 
 age. You now walk by faith, and not by 
 sight ; soon you will walk by sight, and not 
 by faith. What you know not now, you will 
 know hereafter. You will then find your- 
 selves infinitely more happy, by the Divine 
 disposal of all your concerns, than you could 
 have been, had you always enjoyed your own 
 wishes. When, from the top of the holy hill 
 of Zion, you shall look down upon the wind- 
 ing path of Providence, by which you ascend- 
 ed, you will praise Him for the means as well 
 as for the end, admire his wisdom as well 
 as his kindness, and say, "He hath done all 
 things well." 
 
 Some of your friends and relations are gone 
 before you. In his light they see light To 
 them the whole mystery is now explained. 
 Blessed spirits, how we envy you ! We see 
 Him through a glass darkly; and half the 
 time cannot spy at Him at all : you see Him 
 face to face ; you know even as you are 
 known. — Well, Christians, they are waiting 
 " to receive us into everlasting habitations ;" 
 we shall soon join them ; we shall soon unite 
 in their acknowledgments and adorations, 
 and this will be our eternal theme : " Mar- 
 vellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty! 
 Just and right are all thy ways, O thou King 
 of saints." 
 
 SER3ION VIII. 
 
 THE GOSPEL DEMANDS AND DE- 
 SERVES ATTENTION. 
 
 If any man have ears to hear, let him hear. 
 
 Mark iv. 23. 
 
 The sages of antiquity delivered much of 
 their knowledge in comprehensive sentences. 
 Each of the wise men of Greece was distin- 
 guished by some aphorism. All nations have 
 
SERMON VIII. 
 
 47 
 
 had their peculiar proverbs. The generality of 
 mankind are much more influenced by de- 
 tached and striking phrases, than by long ad- 
 dresses, or laboured reasonings, which require 
 more time and application than they are ei- 
 ther willing or able to afford. "The words of 
 the wise are as goads, and as nails fastened by 
 the master of assemblies." The good effects 
 of preaching are commonly produced by parti- 
 cular expressions, which leave something for 
 our own minds to develop or enlarge, which 
 please the imagination, which are easily re- 
 membered, and which frequently recur. This 
 method of instruction our Lord and Saviour 
 adopted. We often read of " his sayings ;" 
 and there is no sentence which he so frequent- 
 ly repeated, as the words which I have read. 
 — This alone should powerfully recommend 
 them to our regard. But they have higher 
 claims ; and we shall view them, I. As im- 
 plying THE AUTHORITY OF THE SPEAKER. II.' 
 
 As suggesting the importance of the sub- 
 ject. III. As appealing to impartial con- 
 sideration. IV. As demanding practical 
 improvement. — "He that hath ears to 
 hear, let him hear." 
 
 I. Here is implied the authority of the 
 Speaker. And who can advance claims on 
 our attention equally numerous and powerful 
 with his ? — " He entered into the synagogue, 
 and taught. And they were astonished at his 
 doctrine ; for he taught them as one that had 
 authority, and not as the Scribes." He pos- 
 sessed every thing from which a teacher could 
 derive influence. 
 
 He had all the authority which is derived 
 from knowledge. Religion was the subject 
 he came to teach. He knew the whole, and 
 the whole perfectly. With all the ease of 
 intelligence, he speaks of things which would 
 swallow us up — they were familiar to him: 
 He speaks of God without any embarrassment 
 — " He was in the bosom of the Father." He 
 speaks of heaven without any emotions of won- 
 der — it was his Father's house. He mentions 
 the treachery of Judas without any surprise 
 — "he knew from the beginning who would 
 betray him." Nothing in the behaviour of 
 his enemies, or of his friends ; nothing in the 
 denial of Peter, or dispersion of his disciples; 
 astonished him — " he knew what was in man." 
 He was fully acquainted with the capacities 
 and dispositions of his hearers. He knew how 
 much they were able to bear — when it was 
 necessary to produce evidence, or to leave ob- 
 scurity — how to touch by suitable motives all 
 the hidden springs of action ; and, by appro- 
 priate illustration, to remove prejudices, dis- 
 solve doubts, and satisfy desires concealed in 
 the minds of the owners, who, " finding the se- 
 crets of the heart made manifest," were filled 
 with admiration, and exclaimed, "Never 
 man spake like this man !" Both his subject 
 and his audience were completely under his 
 management. 
 
 He had all the authority which is derived 
 from unimpeachable rectitude. This gives a 
 speaker peculiar firmness and force. A con- 
 sciousness of vice, or even of imperfection, 
 has a tendency to make him partial or timid. 
 And where is the teacher who is sensible of 
 no failings ? who exemplifies universally those 
 high instructions that he delivers ? " In ma- 
 ny things we offend all." He alone could say, 
 " Which of you convinceth me of sin ?" No 
 evil debased any of his actions, or mixed with 
 any of his motives. His tempers were all 
 heavenly ; his example embodied and enliven- 
 ed every doctrine he preached. In him were 
 none of those omissions which call for the pro- 
 verb, "Physician, heal thyself." He spake 
 fearless of the reproach of his hearers, and 
 unchecked by the reflections of his own con- 
 science. 
 
 He had all the authority flowing from " mi- 
 racles, and wonders, and signs." Think of a 
 speaker, who could call forth the powers of 
 heaven and earth, and establish his doctrine 
 by their testimony — who could end his dis- 
 course, and say — " All this is true. Witness, 
 ye winds and waves" — and they " cease from 
 their raging." " Witness, ye blind" — and 
 they " receive their sight." " Witness, ye 
 dead" — and " Lazarus comes forth." — " Rab- 
 bi, we know that thou art a teacher sent from 
 God ; for no man can do these miracles which 
 thou doest, except God be with him." 
 
 Consider his uncontrollable dominion. — 
 There is no place where his voice does not 
 reign. He causes the most insensible creatures 
 to hear it. — In the original creation, " he spake, 
 and it was done ; he commanded, and it stood 
 fast He appointeth the moon for seasons; 
 and the sun knoweth his going down. The 
 day is his ; the night also is his : he has made 
 summer and winter :" and when he calls for 
 them, they never refuse to come. Even the 
 unruly sea acquiesces in his mandate— " Hith- 
 erto shalt thou come, and no further ; and 
 here shall thy proud waves be stayed." The 
 earth obeys the laws which he impressed up- 
 on it. " The voice of the Lord is powerful : 
 the voice of the Lord is full of majesty : the 
 voice of the Lord breaketh the cedars : the 
 voice of the Lord divideth the flames of fire : 
 the voice of the Lord shaketh the wilderness. 
 — Marvel not at this : for the hour is coming, 
 in the which all that are in their graves 
 shall hear his voice, and shall come forth." — 
 Obeyed by all creatures, he approaches you, 
 and expects submission. Would you be the 
 only rebels in the universe 1 Unlike all other 
 beings, would you swerve from your station 
 and renounce your allegiance ? Harder than 
 the rock, and more senseless than the dead, 
 would you refuse to hear his voice 1 
 
 Consider the dignity of his character. — 
 " Where the word of a king is, there is power ; 
 and who may say unto him, what doest thou ?" 
 The most magnificent titles are not too glori- 
 
4^ 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 
 ous to discriminate the Son of God. " He ] 
 hath on his vesture and on his thigh a Name ] 
 written — King of kings, and Lord of lords." i 
 Was Isaiah mistaken, when he said of the ; 
 " Child born, and the Son given," " The go- 
 vernment shall be upon his shoulder; and his 
 Name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, 
 the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the 
 Prince of Peace !" Did he himself exceed his 
 personal claims when he said, " I am Alpha 
 and Omega, the beginning and the ending ; 
 which is, and which was, and which is to come 
 —the Almighty 7" 
 
 And does He not stand in relations the most 
 intimate and affecting! He made you — 
 placed you so high in the scale of being — en- 
 dued your nature with reason and immortali- 
 ty. He sustains you — " In Him you live, and 
 move, and have your being." His are all 
 your possessions ; and if there be a day, or an 
 hour, in which he is regardless of you, you 
 shall be allowed, for that day or hour, to be 
 inattentive to Him. His demands are found- 
 ed, in the sun which shines upon you — in the 
 friends you enjoy — in the bread which nou- 
 rishes you — and, above all, in the salvation 
 you need. He addresses you from the gar- 
 den and the cross — and shall his voice be un- 
 heard 7 Shall such an authority be despised ] 
 Will you stand with Pharaoh, and impiously 
 ask, " Who is the Lord, that I should obey 
 his voice?" — Why: "He, in whose hands 
 thy breath is, and whose are all thy ways" — 
 He, " who remembered" thee in thy " low 
 estate" — He, " who gave his life a ransom" 
 for thee — He is thy master. And shall ser- 
 vants disobey the orders of a master] Thy 
 teacher — and shall disciples refuse the instruc- 
 tions of their teacher ] Thy benefactor — and 
 have loving-kindnesses and tender mercies no 
 claims 1 — Let us pass from the authority of 
 the Speaker, to consider what is equally in- 
 cluded in the address. 
 
 II. The IMPORTANCE OF THE SUBJECT 
 
 " He that hath ears to hear, let him hear." 
 Sometimes speakers promise their hearers 
 more than they can perform, and excite expec- 
 tations which they are unable to realize — Je- 
 sus Christ is not afraid to awaken attention ; 
 he knows that he can more than repay it ; he 
 knows we can never raise our minds to the 
 grandeur of the subject. — His instructions are 
 unspeakably interesting and important. 
 
 But, in order to this, they must be true. 
 And, my brethren, you cannot but acknow- 
 ledge, that the reality of these things is pos- 
 sible — sometimes it strikes you as probable, 
 and much more frequently than you are will- 
 ing to allow : hence your uneasiness ; hence 
 your eagerness to bring forward your opi- 
 nions, to make proselytes, and to embolden 
 your trembling faith by placing numbers 
 around it — We affirm that these things are 
 true. — And observe where we stand when 
 we affirm it — within view of evidences, 
 
 numberless and convincing. There we ap- 
 peal to a series of prophecies ; and here, to a 
 train of miracles. There, to the sublimity 
 and holiness of the doctrine; here, to the 
 competency and goodness of the writers. 
 There, to the success of the Gospel, desti- 
 tute of every worldly recommendation, and 
 in the face of the most powerful opposi- 
 tion ; here, to the blood of the best of men, 
 and the consent of the wisest of men : for we 
 stand not only near the fishermen of Galilee, 
 but a multitude of pre-eminent genius and 
 learning, when we say, " We have not fol- 
 lowed cunningly devised fables." With all 
 this evidence, would you dispute the truth of 
 these things] Would you assure us, as 
 some in our day have done, that there is not 
 the shadow of truth in them ? — What should 
 we think of the understandings of such per- 
 sons ] — did we not know that they must pre- 
 tend all this tojustify their indifference — that 
 when a man has fallen out with his con- 
 science, he must separate from it, for the sake 
 of his own peace — and that " this is the con- 
 demnation, that light is come into the world, 
 and men love darkness rather than light, be- 
 cause their deeds are evil." 
 
 How pleasing is truth ! How satisfactory 
 is it to find something to which the mind may 
 adhere with pleasure, after being the dupe of 
 ignorance and error, and, " like a wave of the 
 sea, driven with the wind and tossed." — But 
 though that which is important must always 
 be true, that which is true is not always im- 
 portant It is otherwise here — as the Gospel 
 is " a faithful saying," so it is " worthy of all 
 acceptation." Even "the angels desire to 
 look into these things." We no where read 
 of their being naturalists or astronomers ; yet 
 they pass by the moon and stars, and press 
 around the cross. And you, my brethren, 
 are much more concerned than angels : I 
 may take up the language of Moses to the 
 Israelites — " Set your hearts unto all the 
 words which I testify among you this day ; 
 for it is not a vain thing, because it is your 
 life." To you the Gospel is not a history of 
 wonders only ; the journey of a God from a 
 throne down to a cross, and from a cross back 
 to a throne : it is the interesting narrative of 
 your salvation. Take every other kind of 
 wisdom — how humbling its claims ! They 
 are confined to this world. " Knowledge — it 
 shall vanish away." The greater part of it is 
 valuable only for a few years. An acquaint- 
 ance with various languages, and a thousand 
 other things, will be useless in a future ceco- 
 nomy. The inquiry is, " Who has the words 
 of eternal life ]" " Who can lead us in the 
 way everlasting ]" What is a message 
 which concerns only your property, and the 
 health of your body 7 The soul is the stand- 
 ; ard of the man. Your supreme happiness 
 i must relate principally to the chief part of 
 , your nature, and the chief period of your du- 
 
SERMON VIII. 
 
 4'J 
 
 ration. Now the Gospel fixes its residence 
 in the soul ; and there illuminates all, sanc- 
 tifies all, harmonizes all, and strikes its bless- 
 ed influences through eternal ages. 
 
 Contemplate the Gospel in connexion with 
 youth and witli age ; observe its efficacy in 
 the various conditions of prosperity and ad- 
 versity ; view its agency in the numerous re- 
 lations of life — in rulers and in subjects, in 
 parents and in children. Place Christianity 
 in a family ; spread it through a nation ; dif- 
 fuse it over the world — let all be influenced 
 by its spirit, and governed by its dictates : 
 and I would ask, appealing to infidels them- 
 selves, Would not a scene be produced, the 
 most lovely, the most glorious, the most bene- 
 ficial ! Would not the language of prophecy 
 be immediately realized — "The wilderness 
 and the solitary place shall be made glad for 
 them ; and the desert shall rejoice, and blos- 
 som as the rose. It shall blossom abundantly, 
 and rejoice even with joy and singing : the 
 glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it, the 
 excellency of Carmel and Sharon : they shall 
 see the glory of the Lord, and the excel- 
 lency of our God V Thus, whether we con- 
 sider the Gospel with regard to man in his 
 individual or social existence ; as an inhabi- 
 tant of time or an heir of eternity ; it is a 
 universal benefactor ; and, as it demands, so 
 it deserves all his attention : — " If any man 
 have ears to hear, let him hear." 
 
 III. It is an appeal to impartial con- 
 sideration. And the demand supposes the 
 subject to be accessible — that there is no se- 
 crecy in the case — nothing to be concealed. 
 In heathenism, there were many mysteries, 
 from a knowledge of which, the common 
 people, the mass of mankind, were always 
 excluded. — Error needs disguise ; hence we 
 read of men who shall " privily bring in damn- 
 able heresies." Truth glories in exposure. 
 And the Gospel has this character of truth. 
 The founder of our religion declared, " In 
 secret have I said nothing." The Apostle of 
 the Gentiles could affirm, " this thing was not 
 done in a corner." These everlasting records 
 lie open for inspection ; they challenge exami- 
 nation. It is not necessary to conceal any 
 thing; the cause will derive advantage from 
 publicity; it is a system of truth and evi- 
 dence : and you are not only allowed, but 
 commanded to consider its claims, and to 
 examine its contents. 
 
 The duty our Saviour enjoins excludes 
 force, and supposes every thing to be free. 
 All dominion over conscience is forbidden 
 by it. Mahometanism was enforced by the 
 sword: soldiers were the apostles of the 
 Koran. Popery began and was maintained 
 by means of spritual usurpation. They knew 
 the danger of free inquiry, and shewed their 
 wisdom in not suffering it: they destroyed 
 the right of private judgment, took away the 
 Scriptures, and made ignorance the mother of 
 G 5 
 
 devotion. The blind must depend upon a 
 guide. And has not too much of this dispo- 
 sition been discovered in succeeding ages, 
 and by persons who have come much nearer 
 the truth 1 Have they not refused to others a 
 liberty which they had nobly taken them- 
 selves ] After scorning to be slaves, have they 
 never wished to be tyrants 1 And though 
 they would not call any man master, have 
 they not desired to be called master? But 
 " one is our Master, even Christ, and all we 
 are brethren." No one has dominion over 
 the faith of another. No coercive influence, 
 however exercised, has the least countenance 
 from the nature of the Gospel, or the manner 
 in which it was established. The Bereans 
 are commended for " searching the Scrip- 
 tures daily," and comparing the preaching of 
 Paul and Silas with the testimonies of the 
 law and the prophets. Hear the language of 
 a man who well knew there was no virtue in 
 the effects of compulsion — "Prove all things, 
 and hold fast that which is good :" " I speak 
 as unto wise men, judge ye what I say." The 
 Gospel persuades by informing ; and even re- 
 generation does not destroy the natural order 
 of operation in the faculties of the mind. 
 God enlightens in order to govern; we follow 
 him from choice : this choice is founded in 
 conviction ; and this conviction is produced 
 by evidence. 
 
 If you would comply with our Lord's de- 
 mand, remember, it is the Gospel you have 
 to consider, and nothing else. Separate from 
 it whatever is adventitious and human ; and 
 during this investigation, keep the subject be- 
 fore you, pure and unmixed. Be careful that 
 it is Christianity you are surveying — not any 
 corruptions and errors which have blended 
 with it; not any modifications and arrange- 
 ments which fallible men have made of it. 
 Ask for a Bible, and see that no spiritual le- 
 gerdemain slip on the tabie in the room of it, 
 — Popery or Protestanism, Arminianism or 
 Calvinism, or any other human creed or sys- 
 tem. These may be true, or they may be 
 false : they are not standards ; they are to be 
 all tried themselves. Ask for the things of 
 God, " not in the words which man's wisdom 
 teacheth, but in the words the Holy Ghost 
 teacheth." Pistinguish between Scripture, 
 and explanations of Scripture; see with your 
 own eyes ; explore the good land for your- 
 selvps, and before you enter, suffer none to 
 require from you a promise, that when you 
 return, you shall think precisely with them 
 concerning every thing you may discover 
 there. This Divine preacher calls you to 
 come and hear him. If another should step in to 
 prepossess you as you are going — if he should 
 say, " Remember, this will be his meaning, 
 though many of his words will seem to have 
 another sense. Some things will require 
 great qualifications. Sometimes there will 
 be a difference between his secret, and his re- 
 
BO 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 
 vealed will;" and soon: say, "I will hear him 
 for myself. He speaks to be understood. I 
 have understanding as well as you. What I 
 borrow is not mine own." 
 
 But nothing is more adverse to our Sa- 
 viour's demand than dissipation. Attention is 
 absolutely necessary ; and, in order to it, we 
 must call in our thoughts and fix them. The 
 more finite and contracted our powers are ; 
 the more loose and roving our minds; the 
 more averse we feel to reflection : the more 
 intellectual and spiritual the subject, the more 
 necessary, and the more difficult, application 
 becomes. But labour and diligence will be 
 amply rewarded in the pleasure of progress 
 and the glory of success. " If thou incline 
 thine ear unto wisdom, and apply thine heart 
 to understanding; if thou criest after know- 
 ledge, and liftest up thy voice for understand- 
 ing ; if thou seekesther as silver, and search- 
 est for her as for hid treasure : then shalt 
 thou understand the fear of the Lord, and find 
 the knowledge of God. For the Lord giveth 
 wisdom ; out of his mouth cometh knowledge 
 and understanding." 
 
 But it is of little use to apply a mind al- 
 ready biased. We are therefore to guard 
 against prejudice. This will always make 
 us partial : it will keep us from doing justice 
 to any sentiment we dislike ; while it will 
 lead us to seize with greediness whatever is 
 capable of giving evidence or importance to 
 the opinions we have espoused. 
 
 No prejudices are more simple than those 
 which are derived from — " Our fathers wor- 
 shipped in this mountain." But none are so 
 awful as those which spring from sinful lusts 
 and passions. These will affect practical 
 subjects; entangle the plainest duties; and 
 perplex every rule by which we are unwill- 
 ing to walk. In this case, a man, before he 
 weighs evidences, will examine consequences. 
 " Why, if I own this, I must renounce the 
 world. I must pluck out a right eye, and cut 
 off a right hand. I must take up my cross. I 
 must be serious, and be circumspect in my 
 conversation." Such inferences are argu- 
 ments ; and they easily prevail with unholy 
 minds, as we see in the case of family worship, 
 and the reception of the Lord's Supper. 
 
 Impatience disqualifies us for religious in- 
 vestigation. If we review life, we shall find 
 that many of our mistakes and errors have 
 been occasioned by a hasty judgment. How 
 changed have things appeared when the mind 
 has returned to them at another time, and 
 from a different quarter ! 
 
 We shall only add, that nothing is so un- 
 favourable to fair and successful inquiry, as 
 pride. We should come to the Gospel, not 
 full, but to be filled ; not to cavil, but to 
 learn : sensible of our ignorance, and praying 
 for Divine direction: and receiving "the 
 kingdom of God as a little child." « With 
 
 the lowly is wisdom." "The meek will He 
 guide in judgment, and the meek will he teach 
 his way." Gather up all these. Here is 
 the Gospel, unveiled and exposed. You need 
 not be afraid to approach it. No authority 
 can restrain you. Be sure, however, that it 
 is the Gospel only you investigate. Banish 
 dissipation, prejudice, impatience, and pride; 
 — and we are neither ashamed nor afraid to 
 say, search, examine the whole system. 
 
 Examine the character the sacred writers 
 have given us of God. Is he not a Father, the 
 Father of mercies, the God of all grace, the 
 God of love J Examine the representation they 
 have given of man — Does it not agree with 
 actual life and daily observation] Examine 
 the threatenings they have denounced, and the 
 warnings they have given — Do they not ac- 
 cord with the judgments which God has fre- 
 quently inflicted on individuals, families, and 
 countries, and which prove a moral govern- 
 ment in the world 1 Examine the promises — 
 Are they not such as the state, and the con- 
 science of man require 1 Where do they coun- 
 tenance sin] Examine the precepts — take 
 only the command, " Thou shalt love the Lord 
 thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbour 
 as thyself:" What think you of this command; 
 or, rather, what think you of those men who 
 wish to exclude this principle, and to destroy 
 a book, the grand aim of which is to produce 
 it 7 — But, alas ! many condemn a work which 
 they never read. Nothing is more absurd than 
 to suppose that infidels renounce the Gospel 
 by the force of conviction, after having fully 
 and impartially examined its contents. Be 
 assured, they never weighed the subject, 
 though they are always bold enough to pro- 
 nounce that it is "found wanting." — Few 
 ever give these things a due consideration. 
 
 — Here, however, another class of charac- 
 ters appears in view ; for while some refuse 
 to hear, others give these things a hearing 
 only. Now though our Lord and Saviour 
 intends nothing less than hearing, he requires 
 much more — 
 
 IV. He demands a practical improve- 
 ment of his word. " He that hath ears to 
 hear, let him hear." — " I have delivered many 
 things in your presence, and you have done 
 well in hearing them. But my preaching is 
 not to be viewed as an entertainment. My doc- 
 trine is not designed to amuse the mind, to 
 gratify curiosity, to furnish a number of life- 
 less speculations. Hearing is only instrument- 
 al to something else ; there is a duty of great- 
 er importance still remaining." 
 
 What is it, my brethren 1 What would our 
 Saviour say, in explanation of his command 1 
 What has he said in other parts of his word 1 
 — " Mix faith with it — Let not the sense leave 
 the mind as soon as the sound leaves the ear 
 — Remember it — Enliven it by meditation — 
 Reduce it into feelings and actions — Fear 
 
SERMON VIII. 
 
 51 
 
 these denunciations — Embrace these promises 
 — Obey these commands — Walk according to 
 this rule." 
 
 It is a lamentable reflection, that all the 
 concern many of our hearers have with ser- 
 mons, consists in hearing them. They do not 
 consider hearing as the means of becoming 
 religious — it is their religion. They conclude 
 that their duty is over when the discourse is 
 ended — whereas it is then only begun. In- 
 stead of carrying off portions of divine wisdom 
 to illuminate their lives, they leave behind 
 them all the instructions they have received. 
 They do not take the word of God along with 
 them, to guide them in their ordinary walk ; 
 to arm them against temptation; to furnish 
 them with the cautions of prudence ; to sti- 
 mulate them to universal conscientiousness. 
 Their tempers are unsubdued, unsoftened, un- 
 eanctified : their conversation produces none 
 of" the fruit of the Spirit; which is love, joy, 
 peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, 
 faith, meekness, temperance." But the word 
 of God is practical ; every truth is announced 
 to accomplish some purpose. If it reveals a 
 refuge, it is that you may enter in and be safe. 
 If it proclaims a remedy, it is that you may 
 use it : it is not your hearing of it, but your 
 applying it, that will save you from death. — 
 You say of a preacher, he ought to do, as well 
 as to preach — and we say of a hearer, he 
 ought to do, as well as to hear. You say, 
 and you say truly, that mere preaching will 
 not save us ; and we say, with equal truth, 
 mere hearing will not save you. Never 
 will you attend the dispensation of the word 
 aright, till you make the end which God has 
 in view, in speaking, your end in hearing — 
 And can you imagine that the design of the 
 blessed God, in favouring you with his "glo- 
 rious Gospel" from sabbath to sabbath, is an- 
 swered, if, while you regularly enter his 
 courts, you always return the same 1 — if, af- 
 ter all the sermons you have applauded for 
 twenty or forty years, you are found as malig- 
 nant, as covetous, as full of the world, as be- 
 fore? — or if your profiting appears only in 
 some dead notions, very well laid out in your 
 minds — in a capacity to weigh preachers in 
 the nicest scales of orthodoxy ; or in the use- 
 ful employment of splitting hairs, and tying 
 and untying knots ] What! does the "Gospel 
 of your salvation" intend nothing more, than 
 to make you visionaries ortriflers'! Is this, 
 teaching you, that, denying ungodliness and 
 worldly lusts, you should live soberly, righ- 
 teously, and godly in the present world ?" 
 
 To persons concerned for the honour of the 
 Gospel and the salvation of mankind, the 
 Christian world presents an affecting prospect. 
 Never was the word of God more plentifully 
 preached ; never did so many " receive the 
 grace of God in vain." Never was there 
 more seed sown ; never did so much fall " by 
 the way-side, on stony places, and among 
 
 thorns." How little docs even the good 
 ground yield ! Where is the preacher, the 
 close of whose sabbaths is not embittered by 
 the review of unprofitableness'! You invite 
 us to your tables ; you crowd us in your tem- 
 ples: but you compel us to retire from both, 
 complaining, " Who hath believed our report 7 
 and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed V 
 We condemn your practice : you thank us for 
 our good sermons, and proceed. Your appro- 
 bation does not hinder your sinning, nor your 
 sinning your approbation. — Where are the evi- 
 dences of our success 1 Are they to be heard 
 in the inquiry, " Sirs, what must I do to be 
 saved 1" Are they to be seen in your dead- 
 ness to the world, in your self-denial, in your 
 taking up the cross, in your heavenly-mind- 
 edness, in serving your generation according 
 to the will of God, in being examples to 
 others 7 — 
 
 How shall I impress you with the impor- 
 tance of this 7 or by what motives can I en- 
 force upon you this practical attention to the 
 Gospel you hear 7 
 
 Shall I urge the danger of delusion, and 
 say, with the apostle James, " Be ye doers of 
 the word, and not hearers only, deceiving 
 your ownselves7" Shall I remind you of "a 
 foolish builder," who reared " his house upon 
 the sand : and the rain descended, and the 
 floods came, and the winds blew, and beat up- 
 on that house ; and it fell ; and great was the 
 fall of it 7" Such, according to our Saviour, 
 will be the fatal disappointment of all those, 
 who entertain a hope of safety separate from 
 holiness ; who have been lulled to sleep by 
 an unsanctified attendance on ordinances ; 
 who hear " these sayings of his, and do them 
 not." 
 
 Shall I remind you of the precarious tenure 
 of your privileges, and say, with our Saviour, 
 " Yet a little while is the light with you ; 
 walk while ye have the light, lest darkness 
 come upon you ?" There are no calls of mer- 
 cy beyond the grave — and " what is your life 7 
 it is even a vapour that appeareth for a little 
 time, and then vanisheth away." — The Jews 
 had distinguished privileges — but " the king- 
 dom of God was taken from them, and given 
 to a nation bringing forth the fruits there- 
 of." Where now are the churches of Asia 7 
 — Your candlestick may be removed. You 
 may be rendered incapable of hearing. The 
 efficacy may be withholden from the means. 
 Surely if any thing can provoke the Supreme 
 Being to take away ordinances, or to make 
 them useless, it must be your awful abuse of 
 them. 
 
 Shall I mention the happiness of those who 
 receive the Gospel, " not in word only 7" — 
 " And it came to pass, as he spake these things, 
 a certain woman of the company lifted up her 
 voice, and said unto him, Blessed is the womb 
 that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast 
 . sucked. But he said, Yea, rather, blessed 
 
52 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 
 are they that hear the word of God, and keep 
 it."' " If ye know these things, happy are ye 
 if ye do them." " Whoso looketh into the 
 perfect law of liberty, and continueth there- 
 in, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer 
 of the work, this man shall be blessed in 
 
 his DEED." 
 
 Need I inform you, that these means, when 
 unimproved, will be found injurious — that the 
 word of God is one of those things, which, if 
 unprofitable, becomes pernicious — that if it 
 does not nourish as food, it will destroy like 
 poison — if it does not soften, it will harden — 
 if it does not justify, it will condemn 1 
 
 For, remember the awful account which 
 you will be required to give of all your hear- 
 ing, when called to appear before the bar of 
 God. Then, those sermons which you now 
 so easily forget, will be perfectly revived in 
 your recollection. The Bible from which you 
 have been so often addressed, will be called 
 forth, and you will be judged out of this book. 
 In this judgment will rise up against you, to 
 condemn you, the queen of the south: "for 
 she came from the uttermost parts to hear the 
 wisdom of Solomon ; and, behold, a greater 
 than Solomon is here!" In this judgment will 
 rise up against you, to condemn you, " the 
 men of Nineveh : for they repented at the 
 preaching of Jonah; and, behold, a greater 
 than Jonah is here !" In this judgment will 
 rise up against you, to condemn you, all your 
 fellow-worshippers, who, having the same na- 
 ture and passions with yourselves, and never 
 having heard truths more powerful than those 
 which you have heard, " turned at His reproof; 
 sought the Lord while he was to be found, 
 and called upon him while he was near." In 
 this judgment will rise up against you, to con- 
 demn you, those ministers who would gladly 
 have saved not only themselves, but you who 
 heard them : — While " the Saviour shall be 
 revealed from heaven with his mighty angels 
 in flaming fire, taking vengeance on them that 
 know not God, and that obey not the Gospel 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ." And can you say, 
 his language will be unreasonable — " Because 
 I have called, and ye refused ; I have stretch- 
 ed out my hand, and no man regarded ; but 
 ye have set at nought all my counsel, and 
 would none of my reproof : I also will laugh 
 at your calamity ; I will mock when your fear 
 Cometh ; when your fear cometh as desolation, 
 and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind ; 
 when distress and anguish cometh upon you ?" 
 If you have never heard to purpose before, be- 
 gin to-day. "To-day, if ye will hear His 
 voice, harden not your hearts." If you are 
 not lost to all sense of your own welfare ; if 
 you are not resolved to sacrifice eternal life ; 
 if you have not "made a covenant with 
 death, and with hell are not at an agreement ; 
 see that ye refuse not Him that speaketh." 
 It is the voice of friendship — it is the voice of 
 conscience — it is the voice of reason — it is the 
 
 voice of Scripture — it is " the voice of the 
 archangel and the trump of God" — " If any 
 
 MAN HAVE EARS TO HEAR, LET HIM HEAR." 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 
 ON PROGRESS IN RELIGION. 
 
 Tliere remaineth yet very much land to be pos- 
 sessed. — Joshua xiii. 1. 
 
 Such was the address of God to Joshua. 
 Nor was it in vain. It stirred " up his pure 
 mind by way of remembrance ;" and having 
 "assembled the whole congregation of the 
 children of Israel together at Shiloh," he said 
 unto them, "How long are ye slack to goto 
 possess the land which the Lord God of your 
 fathers hath given you V — They should nave 
 marched forward, advancing their arms to the 
 extremities of the promised possession. It 
 was all their own, by Divine grant ; and they 
 had only to seize it. When they entered, 
 they burned with zeal ; every day was dis- 
 tinguished by some fresh triumph ; they went 
 " from conquering to conquer." But their 
 fervoursoon cooled, their courage soon failed ; 
 and, satisfied with an imperfect acquisition, 
 they laid down their arms, and resumed them 
 only when they became necessary for defence. 
 
 And this, my brethren, reminds us of a two- 
 fold reproach, which attaches to Christians. 
 When our Saviour had received " all power 
 in heaven and in earth," for the purpose of 
 spiritual empire, he said to his disciples, " Go 
 ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel 
 to every creature." " Go ye, and teach all 
 nations ; baptizing them in the Name of the 
 Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 
 Ghost; and, lo ! I am with you always, even 
 to the end of the world." Thus clear, and 
 thus extensive, was their commission. They 
 were to subdue a rebellious globe " to the 
 obedience of faith." This alone was to cir- 
 cumscribe and to terminate their exertions. 
 They began well. The company of the pub- 
 lishers flew like angels, having the everlast- 
 ing Gospel to preach to the inhabitants of the 
 earth. From Jerusalem they proceeded in ail 
 directions, like the lines of a circle from the 
 centre. Commencing in Judea, they soon 
 spread over all Palestine, entered the conti- 
 guous countries in Asia,visited the Isles, reach- 
 ed Europe. And successively the banners of 
 the Cross were displayed, in province beyond 
 province, and in clime beyond clime. But 
 instead of continuing their glorious career, 
 after a while they looked back, and were sa- 
 tisfied with their progress : they preferred 
 ease to acquisition ; they began to divide the 
 spoil they had gained ; they often turned their 
 arms against each other — while the enemy, 
 pressing upon them, frequently obliged them 
 to contract their limits, and to change their 
 
SERMON IX. 
 
 63 
 
 position. From that time their cause has not 
 prospered ; and many a judgment has been in- 
 flicted, to awaken them to a sense of their sin, 
 and a conviction of their duty. Many a voice 
 has been heard in vain ; calling upon them to 
 arise and go forward ; reminding them that 
 it was all purchased and promised country ; 
 that "the heathen" was destined to be "their 
 inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the 
 earth" were to become " their possession." 
 May we hope that at length the voice of God 
 is beginning to be heard 3 and that his messen- 
 gers spreading abroad to the east and to the 
 west, and to the north and to the south, his 
 "glory shall be revealed, and all flesh shall 
 see it together ?" May the Lord hasten it 
 in his timfe ! 
 
 To draw nearer the design of this dis- 
 course : Christians, God has assigned you a 
 glorious portion. " The lines are fallen to" 
 you " in pleasant places ; yea," you " have a 
 goodly heritage." Opening before you the 
 discoveries of revelation, He said, Make all 
 this your own ; advance ; leave nothing un- 
 possessed — At first you were filled with spi- 
 ritual ardour. You laid "aside every 
 weight." You were seen on the full stretch 
 to reach " the end of your faith, even the sal- 
 vation of your souls." Had you then heard a 
 prediction of what has since taken place in 
 your dispositions and pursuits, it would have 
 appeared like " an idle tale." — But, alas ! 
 you have become these incredible characters. 
 Your love has waxen cold. You have sat 
 down long before you have obtained a com- 
 plete victory ; long before you have finished 
 your course ; long before you have realized 
 all the invaluable blessings of your inheri- 
 tance: and I am come to remind you, — L 
 That there remaineth vet very much 
 land to be possessed. ii. to call upon you 
 to arise, and make fresh and continued 
 progress. iii. to give you some advice 
 with regard to your. future exertions. 
 
 Part L Yes, Christians; there re- 
 maineth YET VERY MUCH LAND TO BE POS- 
 SESSED — Many cities and strong-holds, many 
 fine plains, and " springs of water ;" many 
 beautiful valleys, and very "fruitful hills:" 
 — or, to speak less in figure, much of your re- 
 ligion is unattained, unoccupied, unenjoyed ; 
 you are far from its boundaries. Very little of it 
 indeed do some of you possess ; you command 
 only a small inconsiderable corner, scarcely 
 affording you a subsistence. But I use no 
 distinctions : I address myself even to those 
 of you who have made the greatest progress in 
 the Divine life. And surely it is notdifficult to 
 make you sensible of your remaining defi- 
 ciencies. Draw near those illustrious cha- 
 racters, whose history is recorded in the 
 Scriptures of truth. — Compare yourselves 
 with those finished likenesses of Christians, 
 which an infallible pencil has given us in the 
 Gospel. Observe well the sublime intention 
 5* 
 
 of the gracious dispensation under which you 
 live, and which is nothing less than to make 
 you " partakers of the Divine nature;" to 
 enable you to live " the life of God ;" and to 
 render you " perfect, even as your Father 
 which is in heaven is perfect" 
 
 Tajie a survey of your religion — I would 
 examine you with regard to three articles, 
 which have a dependence on each other, and 
 in each of which you will be found " to come" 
 woefully " short." 
 
 First, Consider your knowledge. While 
 you are men in years, are you not " children 
 in understanding - ?" You have been liberal- 
 ly favoured with the means of information — 
 Do you possess all you should have known ; 
 and all you could have known ? After so 
 many years of hearing, what additions have 
 you made to your stores'? Are you filled 
 with holy prudence to ponder " the path of 
 your feet," to " look well to your goings," 
 and to discern snares where there is no ap- 
 pearance of danger? Do you " walk circum- 
 spectly; not as fools, but as wise'?" Have 
 you a sufficiency of holy wisdom to " rule 
 well your own houses," and to "train up 
 your children in the nurture and admonition 
 of the Lord V Are you able to " give to eve- 
 ry man that asketh you a reason of the hope 
 that is in you 1" Can you apply general prin- 
 ciples to particular cases 1 Can you reconcile 
 promises and providences when they seem 
 adverse to each other ? Does " the word of 
 Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom 1" 
 Have you clear, combining, and impressive 
 views of any truth of the Scripture ? And 
 are there not many subjects of revelation 
 with which you have no acquaintance? — 
 Alas ! with many professors of religion, more 
 than half the Bible is entirely useless. They 
 confine their attention only to a few doc- 
 trines ; and even these they regard not as 
 they are delivered in the undefined grandeur 
 of the sacred writers, but as they are reduced 
 and modelled to stand conveniently in a hu- 
 man creed, or a human system. What a dif- 
 ference is there between the ocean of revela- 
 tion and such a vessel-full of truth as any 
 formulary of doctrine contains ! But the lat- 
 ter has often been mistaken for the former ; 
 and, because it is easy to penetrate to the 
 bottom of the one, many imagine they have 
 fathomed the other. David gives us a fine 
 idea of revelation, when he tells us "it is ex- 
 ceeding broad." Of "all" other "perfection" 
 he could see " an end ;" but he viewed this as 
 incomprehensible and boundless. Here he 
 saw room for unceasing progress : here, he 
 knew, fresh beauties and glories would be 
 perpetually discovered, to reward the humble 
 and active inquirer. And why should we 
 stand in this extensive country, and suffer a 
 man, fallible like ourselves, and with no bet- 
 ter sources of information, to mark us off a 
 piece only of the sacred soil; to draw 
 
51 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 
 around us a circle, over which we are never 
 to step ! Hear, O son of Abraham, the voice 
 of thy God: "Go through the land in the 
 length and the breadth of it ; for to thee have 
 I given it" Hear the language of one of 
 his servants : " O ye Hebrews, ye are dull of 
 hearing : for when for the time ye ought to 
 be teachers, ye have need that one teach you < 
 again which be the first principles of the ora- ! 
 cles of God ; and are become such as have 
 need of milk, and not of strong drink. Foreve- 
 ry one that useth milk is unskilful in the 
 word of righteousness : for he is a babe. But 
 strong meat belongeth to them that are of full 
 age ; even those who, by reason of use, have 
 their senses exercised to discern both good 
 and evil. Therefore, leaving the principles of 
 the doctrine of Christ, let us go on unto per- 
 fection." He means perfection in knowledge. 
 He would not have us confine our attention 
 perpetually to a few particular parts ; or, to 
 use his own image, would not have us to be 
 always "laying again the foundation," in- 
 stead of going on with the superstructure. 
 But, alas ! when will the understandings of 
 our people suffer us to extend our views'? 
 When will they rouse up their minds, and 
 exert their faculties to take in something be- 
 yond a few common-place reflections which 
 they have heard times without number? 
 Why will they always constrain us to abide 
 near " the first principles of the oracles of 
 God ?" or, if we advance, why will they re- 
 fuse to accompany us one degree beyond 
 them ? 
 
 Secondly, Observe your holiness. For 
 the knowledge of persons may surpass their 
 experience ; and a growth in gifts is very dis- 
 tinguishable from a growth in grace. Re- 
 view, then, your sanctification ; and suffer me 
 to ask, Have you no remaining corruptions 
 to subdue ? Are your passions entirely under 
 the control of reason 1 Are your affections all 
 heavenly ! Are you " crucified to the world ?" 
 Have you no undue regard for it, or expecta- 
 tion from it ? Are you properly affected with 
 the evil of sin ? — do you abhor it, mourn over 
 it, watch against it ? Do you " deny your- 
 selves, and take up your cross, and follow Jesus 
 without the camp, gladly bearing his re- 
 proach?" Is your obedience universal, unvary- 
 ing, cheerful? Have you fully imbibed the 
 tempers of your religion 1 Are there no de- 
 ficiencies perceivable in every grace, in eve- 
 ry duty ? Are you " strong in faith ?" Do you 
 " abound in hope 1" Do you love God, and do 
 you love him supremely ! Do you love your 
 neighbour, and do you love him as yourself ! 
 Can you " love your enemies, and bless them 
 that curse you ?" Are you " clothed with hu- 
 mility V Is your worship always spiritual ? 
 Do you never "offer the sacrifice of fools?" 
 Do you not often pray with formality, and hear 
 in vain ? — I need not press these inquiries. 
 If you are Christians indeed, you are ready to 
 
 answer them with sighs and tears : — " Enter 
 not into judgment with thy servant : my soul 
 cleaveth to the dust: O wretched man that I 
 am : perfect that which concerneth me ; thy 
 mercy, O Lord, endureth for ever; forsake 
 not the work of thine own hands." 
 
 Thirdly, Think of your privileges. These 
 are innumerable and invaluable. — It is the 
 privilege of Christians to have " exceeding 
 great and precious promises." It is the pri- 
 vilege of Christians to be " careful for no- 
 thing." It is the privilege of Christians "to 
 enter into rest." It is the privilege of Chris- 
 tians to " have peace with God through our 
 Lord Jesus Christ." It is the privilege of 
 Christians to " walk all day in the light of 
 his countenance ; to rejoice in the Lord al- 
 ways ; to rejoice in him with joy unspeakable 
 and full of glory." It is the privilege of 
 Christians to " count it all joy when they fall 
 into divers temptations ; and to glory in tri- 
 bulation also." And all this has been exem- 
 plified. Men have " received the Gospel in 
 much affliction, with joy of the Holy Ghost : 
 they have taken pleasure in infirmities, in re- 
 proaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in 
 distresses, for Christ's sake:" they have 
 " taken joyfully the spoiling of their goods;" 
 they have approached the flames with rapture ; 
 they have loved and longed for " his appear- 
 ing" — But where are you ? Always in dark- 
 ness and alarms ; always among thorns and 
 briers ; always murmuring and complaining ; 
 having religion enough to make you misera- 
 ble, but not enough to make you happy. 
 Do you belong to the same community ? Have 
 you the same privileges with them 1 the same 
 heaven with them ? the same God with them 1 
 the same Comforter with them ? What 
 should we think of all the high praises of reli- 
 gion, if it had no more consolation and pleasure 
 to afford than you possess ? — Thus, whether 
 we examine your knowledge, or your holiness, 
 or your privileges, it will appear that much 
 lies still before you ; much to understand ; 
 much to perform ; much to enjoy — Week after 
 week, year after year, God comes to observe 
 your progress, and finds you, if not drawn 
 back, fixed in the place you occupied before. 
 
 Part II. And whence is this? Why will 
 you suffer all this remaining region to be un- 
 possessed ? How shall I awaken you from 
 your negligence, and convince you of the pro- 
 priety and necessity of making fresh and 
 
 CONTINUAL ADVANCES ? 
 
 First, I would place before you the com- 
 mands of God. You are forbidden to draw 
 back ; you are forbidden to be stationary. 
 Something more is necessary than languid, 
 partial, occasional, temporary progression, 
 You are required to be " steadfast, unmove- 
 able, always abounding in the work of the 
 Lord :" to " add to your faith, virtue; and to 
 virtue, knowledge ; and to knowledge, tem- 
 perance ; and to temperance, patience ; and 
 
SERMON IX. 
 
 55 
 
 to patience, godliness; and to godliness, bro- 
 therly kindness; and to brotherly kindness, 
 charity : to walk worthy of the Lord unto all 
 well-pleasing; being fruitful in every good 
 i work :" to " grow in grace, and in the know- 
 ledge of our Lord and Saviour." — Such is the 
 morality of the Gospel : and these are the com- 
 mands of God, which you have professed to 
 make the rule of your actions. 
 
 Secondly, I would surround you with all the 
 images employed by the sacred writers, when 
 they would describe the nature of a religious 
 life. For which of them does not imply pro- 
 gress, and remind us of the importance of un- 
 diminished ardour and unceasing exertion? Is 
 it " the shining light !" This " shines more 
 and more unto the perfect day." Is it the 
 growing grain ? Behold, " first the blade ; 
 then the ear ; after that, the full corn in the 
 ear." Is it the mustard seed ? What though 
 its beginning be small, " when it is grown, 
 it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh 
 a tree ; so that the birds of the air come and 
 lodge in the branches thereof." Is it leaven 1 
 It pervades " the meal, till the whole be lea- 
 vened." Is the Christian a scholar ; and is 
 he only to retain what he has already acquir- 
 ed ? Is he running a race ; and in the middle 
 of his course does he set down to rest, or step 
 aside to gather flowers ? Is he a warrior ; and 
 does he sleep, not only in the field, but even 
 in the action"! 
 
 Thirdly, I would call forth examples in 
 your presence : they teach you the same 
 truth. Who said, " I beseech thee, shew me 
 thy glory ? A man who had " seen God face 
 to face." Who prayed, " Teach me thy sta- 
 tutes : open thou mine eyes, that I may behold 
 wondrous things out of thy law V A man, 
 who had " more understanding than all his 
 teachers : a man, who understood more than 
 the ancients" — It is needless to multiply in- 
 stances. Perhaps no man ever carried reli- 
 gion to a higher degree — perhaps no individu- 
 al had ever so much reason to be satisfied 
 with his proficiency as the apostle Paul. But 
 hear his language to the Philippians : " Bre- 
 thren, I count not myself to have apprehend- 
 ed : but this one thing I do ; forgetting those 
 things which are behind" — And what things 
 had he to forget? The churches he had es- 
 tablished ; the sermons he had preached ; his 
 prayers and epistles ; journeys and perils ; un- 
 exampled labours ; the abundance of his re- 
 velations ; his entering the third heaven — all 
 this, says he, " is behind ; all this I deem un- 
 worthy of recollection, compared with the fu- 
 ture. I am reaching forth unto those things 
 which are before ; I press toward the mark, 
 for the prize of my high calling of God in 
 Christ Jesus." — And have we attained ; are 
 we "already perfect?" And shall we leave 
 off to make advances ? Shall we be satisfied 
 with our trifling acquisitions 1 
 
 Fourthly, 1 would hold up to view the ad- 
 vantages of progressive religion. 
 
 A Christian should be concerned for the 
 honour of God. He is under infinite obliga- 
 tions to "shew forth the praises of Him, who 
 hath called us out of darkness into his marvel- 
 lous light:" but "herein is" our "Father 
 glorified, that ye bear much fruit." 
 
 A Christian should be concerned for the 
 welfare of his fellow creatures. He should be 
 a blessing to his family ; to his country. He 
 should be as a " dew from the Lord," fertiliz- 
 ing the place in which he lives. He should 
 have a stock, not only sufficient to sustain 
 himself, but to relieve others. He should be 
 a stream, at which the thirsty may drink ; a 
 shadow, under which the weary may refresh 
 themselves. He should be the image of his 
 Lord and Saviour, going about doing good, 
 casting out unclean spirits, opening the eyes 
 of the blind, binding up the broken-hearted. 
 — But the more grace he possesses, the more 
 qualified will he be for usefulness ; the more 
 will he be disposed and enabled to do good. 
 
 A Christian should be concerned for his own 
 prosperity. And has he to learn wherein it 
 consists ? Need he be told, that adding grace 
 to grace, is adding "strength to strength," 
 dignity to dignity, beauty to beauty, joy to 
 joy ? It is with the Christian as it is with the 
 man in trade : the more he acquires, the more 
 he is enabled to gain : every increase is not 
 only a possession, but a capacity. " To him 
 that hath, shall be given, and he shall have 
 more abundantly; but from him that hath not, 
 shall be taken away even that which he seem- 
 eth to have." The more sin is mortified in 
 us, the less will the " prince of this world 
 find" to encourage his approach ; the less 
 susceptible shall we be of temptation in the 
 scenes of danger through which we pass. — 
 There is something very attractive and pleas- 
 ing in progress. It is agreeable to observe a 
 stately edifice rising up from the deep basis, 
 and becoming a beautiful mansion. It is en- 
 tertaining to see the rough outline of a picture 
 filled and finished. It is striking, in the gar- 
 den, to behold the tree renewing signs of life , 
 to mark the expanding foliage, the opening 
 bud, the lovely blossom, the swelling, colour- 
 ing, ripening fruit. And where is the father, 
 where is the mother, who has not sparkled 
 with delight, while contemplating the child 
 growing in stature ; acquiring by degrees the 
 use of its tender limbs ; beginning to totter, 
 and then to walk more firmly ; the pointing 
 finger succeeded by the prattling tongue ; cu- 
 riosity awakened ; reason dawning ; new 
 powers opening; the character forming? — 
 But nothing is to be compared with the pro- 
 gressof "this building ofGod ;" these "trees 
 of righteousness;" this "changing into His 
 image from glory to glory ;" this process of 
 " the new creature," from the hour of rege- 
 
56 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 
 neration " unto a perfect man, unto the mea- 
 sure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." 
 And, oh ! what is it when we are the subjects 
 too! 
 
 The nearer we live to heaven, the more of 
 its pure and peaceful influence we shall enjoy. 
 The way of life, narrow at the entrance, 
 widens as we proceed. It is the nature of 
 habits to render their acts easy and delightful. 
 There is little pleasure in religion if there be 
 no fervency : if there be no vigour in faith, 
 no zeal in devotion, no life in duty, religion 
 is without a soul ; it is the mere carcass of 
 inanimate virtue. What sensations of ecstasy, 
 what prospects of assurance, can such Chris- 
 tians expect ? In conversion, as in the altera- 
 tion of an old edifice, we first demolish: and 
 this only furnishes us with rubbish and ruins: 
 but afterwards we raise up an orderly beauti- 
 ful building, in which we are refreshed and 
 charmed. What happiness arises from diffi- 
 culties overcome, and from labour crowned 
 with success! What emotions can equal the 
 joy of one, who after the painful battle "di- 
 vides the spoil J" But what can resemble the 
 satisfaction of the Christian, who, on each 
 successful exertion, gathers fresh " glory, 
 honour, and immortality !" — The life of the 
 active Christian is the labour of the bee ; who 
 all day long is flying from the hive to the 
 flower, or from the flower to the hive — but 
 all his business is confined to fragrancy, and 
 productive of sweets. 
 
 There are many promises made to perse- 
 verance in the divine life ; and this is one : 
 " Then shall we know if we follow on to know 
 the Lord : his going forth is prepared as the 
 morning; and he shall come unto us as the 
 rain, as the latter and the former rain unto 
 the earth." This is the way to obtain Divine 
 refreshments and manifestations : and the Sa- 
 viour we pursue, upon every pleasing surprise 
 we express, will say, " Thou shalt see greater 
 things than these." Some of you are much 
 perplexed as to your spiritual condition : the 
 reason is obvious ; little things are scarcely 
 perceptible — let your religion be enlarged, 
 and it will become more conspicuous. And, 
 to close this part of our discourse, remember, 
 that it is an awful proof that you have no real 
 religion if your are satisfied with what you 
 have. A degree of experience, however 
 small, would stimulate ; the relish would pro- 
 voke the appetite ; and having " tasted that 
 the Lord is gracious," your language would 
 be, " evermore give us this bread." The 
 nearer a person in any profession or science 
 approaches to perfection, the more clearly 
 will he perceive, and the more painfully will 
 he feel his remaining imperfections. In no- 
 thing is this more undeniable, than in religious 
 proficiency. This being the case, I am pre- 
 suaded, Christians, you are prepared, 
 
 Part III. To receive some admonitions 
 
 WITH REGARD TO YOUR FUTURE EFFORTS. If 
 
 you would advance, 
 
 First, Shake off indolence. Nothing is 
 more injurious to our progress; and, alas ! no- 
 thing is more common. It has indeed been 
 said, that sloth is a vice the most universally 
 natural to all mankind. They discover it as to 
 bodily exercise; still more with regard to 
 mental application ; but it appears most of all 
 in religious pursuits. Upon this principle, 
 many are influenced in their choice of preach- 
 ers, and in their adoption of sentiments. This 
 makes them fonder of speculations, which bear 
 very softly upon the heart and life, than of 
 those truths which inculcate a holy practice. 
 They find it is easier to hear weekly a num- 
 ber of sermons, than to teach their children 
 the duties of the Gospel, and to maintain se- 
 rious devotion in their families, and in their 
 closets. Man loves indulgence : he needs a 
 stimulus, to make him arise from the bed of 
 sloth, to exert his faculties, and to employ the 
 means of which he is possessed. And one 
 would naturally conclude that in religion he 
 would find it — As he sits at ease, revelation 
 draws back the veil, and shews him the most 
 astonishing realities — an eternal world ; what- 
 ever can sting with motive; whatever can 
 alarm with fear; whatever can animate with 
 hope. What a Being to please, on whom it 
 depends to save or to destroy ! What a state 
 of misery is there to escape ! What an infinite 
 happiness to secure ! — Survey the prize. In 
 seeking honour, men sacrifice their peace, sub- 
 mit to mortifications, climb ascents the most 
 slippery and hazardous. To gain wealth, they 
 rise up early, sit up late, eat the bread of care- 
 fulness. And what beggarly, unsatisfying ad- 
 vantages are all earthly tilings ! The rich man, 
 " in the midst of his sufficiency, may be in 
 straits." The conqueror may be wrung with 
 sorrow even on the day of his triumph. Now 
 " they run for a corruptible crown, but we for 
 an incorruptible." Shall they be zealous in 
 trifles, and we remain cold and motionless in 
 matters of endless importance 1 Or do you im- 
 agine diligence is unnecessary? But does n6t 
 every thing valuable require labour 1 Do we 
 ever highly esteem that which costs us no- 
 thing ? Indolence never ploughs or sows, and 
 therefore never reaps. It never plants or 
 prunes, and therefore never gathers the clus- 
 ters of the grapes : nothing great was ever 
 performed by it ; nothing great was ever pos- 
 sessed by it. "The soul of the diligent" on- 
 ly " shall be made fat." " Win and wear it," 
 says Bishop Latimer, "is inscribed on the 
 crown of glory which fadeth not away." Be 
 assured, "your strength is not to sit still. 
 Be not slothful, but followers of them who 
 through faith and patience inherit the pro- 
 mises." 
 
 Secondly, Beware of diversion. — Dis- 
 charge yourself as much as possible from su- 
 
SERMON IX. 
 
 57 
 
 perfluoua cares. Distinguish between dili- 
 gence in lawful business, and "entangling 
 yourselves in the affairs of this life." This 
 sometimes arises from a multiplicity of con- 
 cerns, and more frequently from the want of 
 order and skill in the management of them. 
 Thus you are robbed of the temper, and the 
 attention, and the opportunities, which devo- 
 tion requires. The good old men who have 
 gone before us, lived as long again as you do 
 in the same number of years. They redeem- 
 ed their time ; they rose early ; they moved 
 by rule; they planned every thing; they 
 would have leisure for religion ; and if time 
 fell short, the body and the world suffered the 
 loss ; they never robbed the soul, and trifled 
 with eternity. To avoid diversion,you would 
 do well to remember that religion is the grand 
 business of life ; that to this you must render 
 ever thing else subordinate and subservi- 
 ent ; that you are not to confine your pious 
 regards and attentions to the sabbath, or the 
 temple. You are to " walk in the fear of the 
 Lord all the day long ; and whether ye eat or 
 drink, or whatever ye do, you are to do all to 
 the glory of God." In his journey the travel- 
 ler may pause for a moment to behold the 
 beauty of the scenery around him ; or, in the 
 evening, he may " turn aside to tarry for a 
 night;" but in the morning he goes on his 
 way : nothing diverts him ; he thinks only of 
 the object for which he set out. If, however, 
 a man goes forth without an end in view, or 
 does not feel the necessity of pursuing it; if 
 he travels extempore, and leaves the determi- 
 nation of his course to accident ; he is liable 
 to be caught with any pleasing prospect ; he 
 will be ready to comply with any flattering in- 
 vitation ; he will be driven back, or turned 
 aside, by every appearance of difficulty. — 
 Fix your aim, my brethren, and establish in 
 your minds a conviction of the importance of 
 it. Then you will no longer live at random ; 
 then you will have a principle which will sim- 
 plify all your concerns, by giving them one 
 common tendency ; then you will have a di- 
 rector to guide you in every perplexing un- 
 certainty ; then you will have a standard, by 
 which to decide what you are to shun, and 
 what you are to pursue: it will induce you to i 
 examine all with a reference to this, and to 1 
 make all contribute to this. Every occurrence 
 will furnish lessons and helps. In relation to i 
 this we shall judge of what is good or evil : 1 
 this will keep us from murmuring when we ] 
 feel things which, though painful, urge us for- 
 ward; and from sighing for things which, < 
 though pleasing, will prove an incumbrance, i 
 I would remark, further, that there are not < 
 only diversions from religion, but diversions t 
 in it ; and of these also you are to beware. I 
 Here, finding you are unsuspicious of danger, 1 
 the enemy often succeeds : for his end is fre- £ 
 quently answered by things good in themselves. ' 
 He is satisfied if he can draw off your atten- 1 
 
 - tion from great things, and engross it with 
 r little ones; if he can make you prefer opi- 
 s nions to practice, and controversy to devotion ; 
 
 - if, by consuming your zeal on the circumstan- 
 f tials of religion, he can render your minds 
 . cold to the essence ; if he can bring you to lay 
 ; more stress upon those peculiarities in which 
 
 - you differ, than upon those all-important points 
 
 > in which you agree. 
 
 > Thirdly, Guard against despondency. 
 . There are indeed many things which when 
 I viewed alone, have a tendency to discourage 
 
 > the mind. We know your weakness, and we 
 ! know the difficulties and dangers to which 
 ! you are exposed. Your progress will prove 
 I warlike ; your possession, like the inheritance 
 [ of the Jews, is to be conquered : but " be cou- 
 [ rageous ;" nothing will so much animate you 
 
 • as holy confidence. . To strengthen this prin- 
 . ciple, you have the promise of a faithful God. 
 ; It encourages you with an assurance of event- 
 i ual success, and of immediate assistance, 
 i The advantages are certain as they are great. 
 
 • The labour and the hope of the husbandman 
 i may be destroyed : but here are no casualties 
 , — " He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing 
 
 precious seed, shall doubtless come again with 
 rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." 
 , The soldier fights uncertainly : but there is 
 no peradventure in this warfare — " Yea, in 
 ' all these things we are more than conquerors, 
 through Him that loved us." How enliven- 
 ing is the persuasion that we cannot be defeat- 
 ' ed in our enterprise, or disappointed in our 
 hope ! But you want immediate help. And 
 God has engaged that you shall not advance 
 alone : his presence shall be with you, and hia 
 grace shall be sufficient for you. "So that you 
 may boldly say, the Lord is my helper. I will 
 not fear. I will go forth in the strength of the 
 Lord." — See, however, that your confidence 
 be scriptural, and your reliance properly plac- 
 ed : And, 
 
 Fourthly, Beafraid of presumption. "Even 
 the youths shall faint and be weary, and the 
 young men shall utterly fall ; but they that 
 wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength : 
 they shall mount up with wings as eagles, 
 they shall run and not be weary, and they 
 shall walk and not faint." Our dependence 
 upon God is absolute and universal. " In him 
 we live, and move, and have our being." Hia 
 agency is more indispensable in spiritual 
 things than in natural : sin has rendered us 
 peculiarly weak, helpless, and disaffected. 
 Without him we can do nothing. Our pro- 
 gress in religion will be in proportion to hia 
 influences. We are "led by the Spirit of 
 God ;" " we live in the Spirit ; we walk in 
 the Spirit." Be sensible of this, and, as a 
 proof of it, be much in prayer. Prayer is the 
 language of dependence : by this we call for 
 succour, and by this we obtain it. Thus, 
 " when we are weak, then are we strong," 
 because this sense of our insufficiency lead3 
 
58 
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 us to implore the power of God ; and " if we 
 seek, we shall find." Hence it follows, that 
 if we have not more grace, it is because we 
 pray so little. Prayer increases religion by 
 its very exercise. It naturally promotes re- 
 signation, cherishes hope, and strengthens 
 faith. Our intercourse with God will natural- 
 ly diminish worldly impressions on the mind, 
 and refine and elevate our powers: it will in- 
 crease our resemblance of God ; and we shall 
 come forth from his presence like Moses, shin- 
 ing in his rays. Prayer also is rich in promise : 
 " I never said to the seed of Jacob, seek ye 
 me, in vain." — " The Lord is nigh unto all 
 them that call upon him, to all them that call 
 upon him in truth ; he will fulfil the desire of 
 them that fear him ; he will also hear their 
 cry, and will save them." On these two prin- 
 ciples, prayer ranks highest among those in- 
 stitutions which we call means of grace; 
 and will be incessantly regarded by all those 
 who are concerned to enjoy soul-prosperity. 
 
 Fifthly, It would be profitable for you to 
 " call to remembrance the former days," and 
 especially to review the beginning of your 
 religious course. It is said of Jehoshaphat, 
 that " he walked in the first ways of his fa- 
 ther David :" it is an intimation that he was 
 not so zealous, and so accurate in his conver- 
 sation, afterwards. Our Saviour tells the 
 church of Ephesus, " I have somewhat against 
 thee, because thou hast left thy first love : re- 
 member from whence thou art fallen, and re- 
 pent, and do thy first works." Ah ! Chris- 
 tians, do not your minds appropriate this re- 
 proach 1 — O how you abounded in the duties 
 of obedience then ! O how you prized ordi- 
 nances ! O how you longed for the sabbath ; 
 and how glad were you " when they said, let 
 us go into the house of the Lord !" How 
 much of your time was employed in medita- 
 tion, and prayer, and praise ! And all was 
 deemed a privilege ! There was nothing like 
 burden or bondage. How did the bitterness 
 of repentance make you loathe sin; and at 
 what an awful distance did you keep your- 
 selves from its approach ! How glorious did 
 the Saviour appear in your deliverance; 
 and with what vigour did you say, " Lord, 
 I will follow thee whithersoever thou go- 
 est !" — Must I " cry in the ears of Jerusa- 
 lem, saying, thus saith the Lord, I remember 
 thee the kindness of thy youth, and the 
 love of thine espousals, when thou wentest 
 after me in the wilderness, in a land that 
 was not sown !" Alas ! is it necessary to lead 
 you back in the history of your religion, and 
 to derive from yourselves in former years ex- 
 amples to excite you now] To make you 
 blush at a change not for the better, but the 
 worse ; to cover you with confusion, by com- 
 paring the slackness of your progress with 
 the ardours of your commencement] 
 
 Finally, It will not be less profitable for you 
 
 to LOOK FORWARD, AND SURVEY THE CLOSE OF 
 
 all. Christians ! " it is high time to awake 
 out of sleep ; for now is your salvation nearer 
 than when ye believed: the night is far 
 spent, the day is at hand." Would you slum- 
 ber on the verge of heaven ] The stream in- 
 creases as it approximates the sea ; motion 
 accelerates as it approaches the centre. — You 
 have beheld dying saints, and have oflen heard 
 them mourn that they had been so negligent, 
 and that they had done so little for God in 
 their day and generation ; and are you re- 
 solved to fill a dying hour with similar re- 
 grets ] Did you know that " the time of" 
 your " departure was at hand," you instantly 
 would arise, and have "your loins girded, 
 and your lamps burning." But the season will 
 come soon, and may come immediately. 
 Therefore " whatsoever thy hand findeth to 
 do, do it with thy might ; for there is no 
 work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wis- 
 dom, in the grave, whither thou goest." 
 
 — Yes; this is the only opportunity you 
 will have to do good toothers and to get good 
 for yourselves. Joshua had the clay protract- 
 ed, to enable him to complete his victory ; — 
 but no addition will be made to yours: no 
 sun will stand still while you finish your 
 course. See ! the shadows of the evening 
 are closing in ; and " the night cometh, 
 wherein no man can work," Will you always 
 be in a condition which will render reprieve 
 anxiously desirable 1 Will you be always 
 praying, when you apprehend the summons, 
 " O spare me, that I may recover strength, 
 before I go hence and be no more !" Does it re- 
 quire no more mortification than you now 
 possess, submissively and cheerfully to bid 
 farewell to the world] Does it require no 
 more assurance of hope than you now feel, to 
 pass fearlessly the dark " valley of the shadow 
 of death 1" — And what a trial awaits you be- 
 yond the grave ! For there is a tribunal be- 
 fore which, superficial tears will not be con- 
 sidered as repentance ; a happy temper will 
 not pass for conversion ; a few sluggish en- 
 deavours will not be accepted in the room 
 of vital godliness — nothing will be crowned 
 but a faith that "overcomes the world;" a 
 " hope that purifies even as He is pure ;" a 
 love that " constrains us to live not to our- 
 selves, but to Him that died for us, and rose 
 again ;" a patience " that endureth to the 
 end :" a perseverance that keeps us from 
 "being weary in well-doing" — "The Lord 
 grant that we may find mercy of the Lord in 
 that day." — Amen, and Amen. 
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 THE SECURE ALARMED 
 
 Woe to them that are at ease in Zion .' 
 
 Amos vi. 1. 
 
 There is something very agreeable and de- 
 sirable in ease. Even external ease is valua- 
 
SERMON X. 
 
 50 
 
 ble ; and we are ready to pronounce the man 
 happy, whose connexions and affairs are all 
 prosperous and peaceful. But what is exter- 
 nal ease — without bodily ? Pain will produce 
 anguish, which neither riches nor palaces can 
 relieve. An aching head, a jarring tooth, will 
 destroy all the sensations of pleasure arising 
 from worldly things. Enter the house of af- 
 fliction ; observe thy neighbour ; " he is chas- 
 tened with pain also upon his bed, and the 
 multitude of his bones with strong pain ; so 
 that his life abhorreth bread, and his soul dain- 
 ty meat : his flesh is consumed away, that it 
 cannot be seen; and his bones, that were not 
 seen, stick out : yea, his soul draweth near 
 unto the grave, and his life to the destroyers." 
 Perhaps some of you have been in a similar 
 condition; your " soul hath it still in remem- 
 brance ;" you said, " I am made to possess 
 months of vanity, and wearisome nights are 
 appointed to me : when I lie down, I say, when 
 shall I arise, and the night begone ? I am full 
 of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the 
 day : my bed does not comfort me, nor my 
 couch ease my complaint." O how delicious 
 is health after sickness, and ease after pain ! 
 But what is bodily ease without mental ? " The 
 spirit of a man may sustain his infirmity ; but 
 a wounded spirit who can bear'!" Can a man 
 be happy while corroded with care, fretted 
 with envy, burning with malice, perplexed 
 with doubts, tormented with fears ? Think of 
 a man who carries, lodged within him, a trou- 
 bled conscience — " He eats ashes like bread, 
 and mingles his drink with weeping ;" "His 
 life hangs in suspense before him, and he has 
 none assurance of his life ;" He trembles at 
 the shaking of a leaf ; " Terrors take hold on 
 him, as waters : a tempest stealeth him away 
 in the night ;" "He is scared with dreams, and 
 terrified with visions." O what can be so pre- 
 cious as peace of mind — a calm within ! 
 
 — And yet, strange as the declaration may 
 appear, this tranquillity is too common; and 
 to disturb it, is the design of this discourse : 
 a design, not only justified by inspired exam- 
 ple, and demanded by ministerial fidelity, but 
 required even by love to your souls. For 
 though it may wear the appearance of harsh- 
 ness, it is in reality the kindest expression of 
 friendship : it is the severity of one who rushes 
 forth, and breaks in upon your pleasing reve- 
 rie, when you approach the brink of a dread- 
 ful precipice ; it is the severity of one, who 
 should knock loudly, and interrupt your re- 
 pose, when he perceived your house becoming 
 the prey of devouring flames, and saw you had 
 scarcely time to escape : for your peace is 
 a false peace. It is the friendship of Joab con- 
 cealing his murderous dagger. It is the slum- 
 ber of Samson in the lap of Delilah, softly de- 
 priving him of his locks. It is a sleep obtain- 
 ed by opium. It is the loss of feeling, the pre- 
 sage of death. It is the calm of the dead sea, 
 the consequence and the evidence of a curse. 
 
 Thus we have observed, that before a fall of 
 exceedingly heavy rain, the wind has been 
 unusually still. Thus travellers inform us, 
 that before an earthquake the air is uncom- 
 monly serene. Whether therefore you will 
 hear, or whether you will forbear, I sound the 
 
 alarm, and give you warning from God 
 
 " Woe to them that are at ease in Zion !" 
 
 But it will be proper to ascertain precisely 
 the characters whose delusion we wish to de- 
 stroy. Who deserves this charge 1 Who is 
 obnoxious to this curse ? Some are " at ease 
 in Zion," from selfish insensibility — some, 
 from infidel presumption — some, from vain 
 
 CONFIDENCE SOlTie, from PRACTICAL INDIFFER- 
 ENCE. 
 
 I. Some "are at ease in Zion," from selfish 
 insensibility. Such there were in the days 
 of Amos. " They lie," says the prophet, 
 " on beds of ivory, and stretch themselves up- 
 on their couches, and eat the lambs out of the 
 flock, and the calves out of the midst of the 
 stall : they chaunt to the sound of the viol, 
 and invent to themselves instruments of mu- 
 sic, like David : they drink wine in bowls, and 
 anoint themselves with the chief ointment ; 
 
 BUT ARE NOT GRIEVED FOR THE AFFLICTION OF 
 
 Joseph." In similar language, Isaiah up- 
 braids the Jews : " In that day did the Lord 
 God of Hosts call to weeping, and to mourn- 
 ing, and to baldness, and to girding with sack- 
 cloth : and, behold, joy and gladness, slaying 
 oxen, and killing sheep, eating flesh, and 
 drinking wine; let us eat and drink, for to- 
 morrow we shall die." How criminal this ap- 
 peared in the eyes of Jehovah, may be infer- 
 red from the threatening : " And it was re- 
 vealed in mine ears by the Lord of Hosts, 
 surely, this iniquity shall not be purged from 
 you till ye die, saith the Lord God of Hosts." 
 
 In this representation we discover some- 
 thing peculiarly applicable to many in our 
 day. The judgments of God have been abroad 
 in the earth, nor has our own nation escaped 
 their influence. We have passed through a 
 period singularly awful and trying. In no 
 common degree have we been called upon to 
 become serious, humble, and susceptible of 
 instruction and impression. What instruc- 
 tion have we received? What impression has 
 been made upon our minds ? What amuse- 
 ments have we relinquished? What correspond- 
 ence of feeling with the dealings of God have 
 we discovered ? What sympathy in the neces- 
 sities and woes of half-fed perishing multitudes 
 have we expressed ? What tears have we shed 
 overthe funeral ofthree millions of our fellow- 
 creatures, and six hundred thousand of our 
 fellow-countrymen, all torn from their beloved 
 connexions, all hurried into an eternal state ! 
 Whatever occurs, these human brutes graze 
 on. " They regard not the work of the Lord, 
 neither consider the operation of his hands." 
 The cares of the world engross them : the 
 pleasures of the world amuse them. The 
 
60 
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 miseries of mankind are nothing to them. 
 Like members severed from the body of huma- 
 nity, they are dead, and devoid of feeling. 
 " A thousand may fall at their side, and ten 
 thousand at their right hand ;" they are satis- 
 fied if it does " not come nigh them." An 
 attention to their own indulgence regulates 
 all their actions. They pass by on the other 
 side the poor traveller wounded, bleeding, 
 half-dead, lest their feelings should be shock- 
 ed at the spectacle.. If they ever give of their 
 abundance, or distribute any thing that re- 
 mains after every passion and appetite is gra- 
 tified to excess, they avoid every sacrifice of 
 charity, — all expense of trouble and of feel- 
 ing ; they do not " visit the fatherless and the 
 widows in their affliction." The eye would 
 affect the heart ; and the heart must not be af- 
 fected — it is their plan to live " at ease." And 
 sorry am I to be compelled to say, that there 
 are not a few florid professors of the Gospel 
 who expose themselves to this censure — per- 
 sons who are zealous for orthodox sentiments, 
 but cold in generous affections : " having a 
 name to live," while they "are dead" to all 
 those fine and tender feelings, which render 
 us social and useful ; which constitute the 
 glory of the man, and of the Christian — " This 
 man's religion is vain." 
 
 Your dispositions, my brethren, are always 
 to correspond with the providence of God, and 
 the purposes for which he placed you in the 
 world. He continues the poor always with 
 you, and encompasses you with diversified 
 scenes of distress, to awaken your attention ; 
 to increase your benevolence ; to discover 
 your excellencies : and to form you into a re- 
 semblanceof Himself ; that "you may be mer- 
 ciful, even as your Father which is in heaven 
 is merciful." The Stoics indeed placed all 
 mercy in beneficence, as distinguished from 
 sympathy and commiseration. Weeping with 
 another, was a littleness of soul unbecoming 
 a wise man. Their doctrine required this; 
 for if they were to be insensible to their own 
 afflictions, they were surely forbidden to feel 
 the calamities of others. But it is obviously 
 the design of God, that we should lay the mi- 
 series of others to heart, and that the kindness 
 we shew them should flow from compassion. 
 And so necessary is the exercise of this ten- 
 derness to the condition of mankind, which is 
 a state of misery and dependence, that He has 
 bound it upon us by a natural, as well as by a 
 moral law. Such is the very frame and or- 
 ganization of the body ; such the motion and 
 direction of the animal spirits on the sight of 
 distress ; that we cannot help being moved 
 and pained : and therefore before we can be 
 unmerciful, we must become unnatural ; and 
 before we offer a violence to morality, we must 
 offer one to nature. And we may observe also, 
 that the strength of the social instinct is in 
 proportion to the importance of its exercise in 
 human life : the degree of emotion which ex- 
 
 cites us to weep with the miserable, is 
 stronger than the degree of sensation which 
 urges us to rejoice with the prosperous ; be- 
 cause the former stand more in need of our 
 sympathy and assistance than the latter. God 
 has clearly expressed his will in the Scrip- 
 tures. There he requires us to " mind every 
 man also the things of others ;" to be " piti- 
 ful ;" to " put on bowels of mercies." Soci- 
 ety is placed before us, both civil and reli- 
 gious, as a body, where, " if one member suf- 
 fers, all the members suffer with it." The 
 Gospel, we are assured, not only illuminates, 
 but softens: it takes away "the heart of 
 stone," and gives us "a heart of flesh." This 
 influence of divine grace we are never suffer- 
 ed to overlook in those characters which are 
 held forth as worthy of our imitation. View 
 David : what think you of a man who could 
 say even of them who had " rewarded him 
 evil for good, to the spoiling of his soul — As 
 for me, when they were sick, my clothing was 
 sackcloth : I humbled my soul with fasting : 
 I behaved myself as though he had been my 
 friend or brother; I bowed down heavily, as 
 one that mourneth for his mother." Nehemi- 
 ah, though high in office, the favourite of the 
 king, and enjoying every personal satisfaction, 
 is distressed because his "brethren are in 
 affliction, and the city of his God lies waste." 
 Jeremiah cries, " For the hurt of the daugh- 
 ter of my people am I hurt, I am black ; asto- 
 nishment has taken hold on me — O that my 
 head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain 
 of tears, that I might weep day and night for 
 the slain of the daughter of my people." 
 Paul could ask, " Who is weak, and I am not 
 weak ; who is offended, and I burn not I'' 
 Above all, contemplate Him who " went about 
 doing good ;" " who, when exhausted with fa- 
 tigue, suffered the moments allotted to need- 
 ful repose to be invaded, without murmuring ; 
 who " in all our afflictions was afflicted ;" 
 who, by an exquisite sensibility, made the sor- 
 rows he beheld his own ; who " took our in- 
 firmities, and bare our sicknesses;" who, 
 when he saw the multitude fainting and hav- 
 ing nothing to eat, " had compassion on them;" 
 who wept with friends at the grave of La- 
 zarus, and over enemies as " he drew near 
 Jerusalem." 
 
 Woe to such as have no claim to the honour 
 of classing with these men of mercy, headed 
 by the God of love ! You may perhaps be rea- 
 dy to congratulate yourselves : you may ima- 
 gine that you escape much anguish ; and that 
 you would only increase your sufferings by 
 sharing in the grief of others. Now, ac- 
 knowledging this, yet would it not be virtu- 
 ous, and peculiarly praiseworthy'! would it 
 not enable you to resemble Him, who " pleas- 
 ed not himself;" and who, "though he was 
 rich, yet for our sakes became poor?" But 
 we are not going to applaud insensibility : 
 the tenderness we recommended is accompa- 
 
SERMON X. 
 
 61 
 
 nied with sensations far superior to any the 
 selfish and the unfeeling ever experience. If 
 it is a source of pain, it is also a source of 
 pleasure. This sensibility gives another de- 
 gree of life ; adds a new sense ; enlarges the 
 sphere of satisfaction ; and increases the re- 
 lish of enjoyment. 
 
 For the unfeeling wretch conscience has 
 no kind office to perform ; it has no pleasing 
 recollections or prospects, with which to re- 
 fresh him ; no delicious entertainments with 
 which to feast him. It never caresses, but it 
 often smites. — "Neither do they which go 
 by say, the blessing of the Lord be upon you ; 
 we bless you, in the name of the Lord." For 
 him no orphan prays, no widow sings. To 
 all the luxury of a Job he is a stranger — 
 " When the ear heard me, then it blessed me ; 
 and when the eye saw me, it gave witness to 
 me ; because I delivered the poor when he 
 cried, the fatherless, and him that had none 
 to help him : the blessing of him that was 
 ready to perish came upon me, and I caused 
 the widow's heart to sing for joy." For him 
 the evd day comes on, charged with every 
 horror. He has no asylum in the feelings 
 of the community, the happiness of whose 
 members he never sought. When he fails, 
 there is none to receive him : every applica- 
 tion is rejected ; homeless and destitute, he 
 hears from many a merciless lip, " His mis- 
 chief is returned upon his own head, and his 
 violent dealing is come down upon his own 
 pate." Seized with affliction, he is led into 
 his chamber, but hears from no inspired 
 voice, as he enters, " The Lord will deliver 
 him in time of trouble: the Lord will 
 strengthen him upon the bed of languishing : 
 he will make all his bed in his sickness." His 
 offspring appear : he beholds " the desire of 
 his eyes," on whose desolate hours he should 
 have entailed mercy : but not to him belongs 
 the promise, " His seed is blessed ;" no di- 
 vine Comforter says, " Leave thy fatherless 
 children, I will preserve them alive ; and let 
 thy widow trust in me." — " The memory of 
 the just is blessed : but the name of the wick- 
 ed shall rot" To a dying man there is some- 
 thing in the thought that he shall not be 
 missed ; that his character is more perishable 
 than his body ; that the door of life will be 
 shut upon him, and bolted, before he is scarce- 
 ly out; that sinks the wretch lower than the 
 grave. — But " after death, the judgment ;" 
 and his rolling eyes read, inscribed on the 
 wall, " He shall have judgment without mer- 
 cy, who shewed no mercy." Have you cou- 
 rage to pursue him further ] See him at the 
 bar of God ; there to answer for crimes, 
 which at no tribunal here are punishable : he 
 is tried for being close-handed and hard-heart- 
 ed — And what fellowship can there be be- 
 tween an unfeeling wretch, and a Saviour, 
 full of "tender mercy 1"—" Then shall the 
 6 
 
 king say unto them on his left hand, depart, 
 ye cursed" — ' Why ? we were not profligate, 
 we never oppressed any' — " I was an hunger- 
 ed, and ye gave me no meat ; I was thirsty, 
 and ye gave me no drink ; I was a stranger, 
 and ye took me not in ; naked, and ye cloth- 
 ed me not ; sick, and in prison, and ye visit- 
 ed me not" — ' Lord, when saw we thee an 
 hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, 
 or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto 
 thee V — " Verily, I say unto you, inasmuch 
 as ye did it not to one of the least of these 
 rny brethren, ye did it not to me." 
 
 II. Some "are at ease in Zion," from infi- 
 del presumption. If there be any truth in 
 the Scriptures, the dispositions of the genera- 
 lity of mankind are very unsuitable to their 
 state and their destiny. When we see them 
 amused with trifles ; when we view them 
 sleeping securely ; when we hear them sing- 
 ing, devoid of all concern ; we are ready to 
 ask, Is this a prison ! Are these men under 
 sentence of condemnation, and waiting only 
 the hour of execution 1 — Such is the testimo- 
 ny of this Book. "The wrath of God is re- 
 vealed from heaven against all ungodliness 
 and unrighteousness of men. — Upon the wick- 
 ed, God shall rain down fire and brimstone, 
 and an horrible tempest : this shall be the por- 
 tion of their cup. — He that believeth not, is 
 condemned already." — Why then are they 
 not alarmed 1 They do not believe. Were 
 they persuaded of " the terror of the Lord," 
 it would be impossible for them to live in a 
 state of apathy and indifference. Could they 
 believe that " God resisteth the proud," and 
 be easy in their pride ! Could they believe 
 that he "abhorreth the covetous," and be 
 easy in their covetousness 1 No; did you 
 really believe the truth of God, and were you 
 fully convinced that all the threatenings he 
 has denounced in his word will be infallibly 
 accomplished, " the joints of your loins would 
 be loosed, and your knees would smite one 
 against another." If you had the faith of a 
 Noah, it would " move you with fear," and 
 lead you to " build an ark." If you had only 
 the faith of a devil, you would " tremble." 
 But you have not even this. Thus the sacred 
 writers have reasoned before us : " Where- 
 fore doth the wicked contemn God? He hath 
 said in hisheart, God will not requite it — They 
 have belied the Lord, and said, It is not He; 
 neither shall evil come upon us, neither shall 
 we see the sword or famine. — Because sen- 
 tence against an evil work is not executed 
 speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of 
 men is fully set in them to do evil :" — Because 
 the gallows is not in sight when the judge 
 pronounces the sentence, they conclude upon 
 their security. — " Where is the promise of 
 his coming V — all things continue as they 
 were from the beginning of the creation. — 
 One generation passeth away, and another 
 
63 
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 cometh ; but the earth abtdeth for ever. — 
 But, after all, what is this ease which flows 
 from infidel persuasion ! 
 
 First, It is obtained with difficulty. For be- 
 fore a man who designs to get rest in this 
 way, can sit down safe and undisturbed, he 
 has to prove that the Scripture is a falsehood ; 
 he has to reason down every species of evi- 
 dence ; he has to bring his mind to believe 
 the strangest improbabilities, and the grossest 
 contradictions; he has to explain how weak 
 men could deliver the sublimest wisdom, and 
 wicked men could be the most ardent friends 
 of virtue, the most zealous promoters of holi- 
 ness — he has to demonstrate that those per- 
 sons who took nothing on trust, and who made 
 every kind of proof their study, were all de- 
 ceived where they professed themselves to 
 be most certain ; he has to persuade himself 
 that he is wiser than the wisest of mankind : 
 and though, in this case, his vanity would 
 much aid his conviction ; yet surely, taking 
 the whole together, it can be no inconsidera- 
 ble task. 
 
 Secondly, It is partial, and liable to interrup- 
 tion. For there can be no perfect satisfaction, 
 without perfect certainty. Now this, it is im- 
 possible so acquire. In spite of all his endea- 
 vours to extirpate it, some remains of truth will 
 occasionally vex him. There is an internal wit- 
 ness, whose voice will be sometimes heard : 
 when conscience cannot govern, it can cen- 
 sure ; when it has not power enough to satisfy, 
 it is able to torment. Sleeping convictions will 
 sometimes be awakened, and fresh endeavours 
 will be needful to lull them again to repose. 
 Though they are not always " in bondage to 
 fear," they are as the apostle remarks, " sub- 
 ject to it ;" and a faithful reproof, or an alarm- 
 ing sermon, an accident or a disease, a sudden 
 death or an opening grave, and a thousand 
 other things, may revive their alarm, and 
 make them dread a futurity at which they 
 have laboured to laugh. In these cases, their 
 grand resource is diversion ; and they rush 
 into company and amusement, in order to 
 erase the impressions. Yet who can always 
 be engaged t who can always avoid thought ? 
 
 But, thirdly, the less liable it is to be dis- 
 turbed, the more awful ; for it is penal. It 
 shews that God has suffered them to wander 
 very remote from the truth they deemed 
 their enemy, and to penetrate far into the 
 darkness they loved. There is something 
 more insensible than " a spirit of slumber." 
 It is questioned, whether it be possible 
 for any man to be really an atheist: but 
 is there any thing too bad for a man to fall 
 into, when abandoned of God 1 And is there 
 nothing that can provoke God to withdraw 
 his assistance from the sinner 1 Is He com- 
 pelled to accompany him when he says, " De- 
 part from me, for I desire not the knowledge 
 of thy ways!" Is He unjust, because He 
 does not force the inclinations of a man ; but 
 
 allows him, in compliance with his own 
 wishes, to go alone ! If there be an atheist, 
 we should not search tor him in the heathen 
 world, but among those " who are at ease in 
 Zion." — " For this people's heart is waxed 
 gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and 
 their eyes they have closed ; lest at any time 
 they should see witli their eyes, and hear with 
 their ears, and should understand with their 
 heart, and should be converted, and I should 
 heal them. — They received not the love of 
 the truth, that they might be saved ; and for 
 this cause, God shall send them strong de- 
 lusion, that they should believe a lie; that 
 they all might be damned who believed not 
 the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteous- 
 ness." 
 
 Hence, fourthly, this ease is fatal. Its du- 
 ration is momentary ; it must end, and end in 
 anguish and despair. The denial of any thing 
 does not falsify it. If a man has swallowed 
 poison, his adopting an opinion that it cannot 
 kill him, contributes nothing to his safety : and 
 it is awful to stand and see his conviction and 
 his death arriving together. Your denying a 
 resurrection, will not hide you forever in the 
 grave. Your disbelieving a day of retribution, 
 will not keep you from appearing before God. 
 "Their judgment," says the apostle, "now 
 of a long time lingereth not, and their damn- 
 ation slumbereth not:" — while they reason, 
 it rolls on ; every argument brings it one dis- 
 tance nearer. 
 
 The confutation set off before the infidel 
 began the book, and it may arrive before he 
 has finished it. Noah preached to the inha- 
 bitants of the old world — they derided him, 
 and pursued their business and their plea- 
 sures ; but " the flood came, and took them 
 all away." When Lot warned " his sons-in- 
 law, he seemed unto them as one that mock- 
 ed :" but the cities were destroyed. Various 
 things prophesied of the Jews, at a time when 
 there was no human probability of their occur- 
 rence, were minutely accomplished. Baby- 
 lon seemed secure : its walls were impregna- 
 ble ; its provisions defied a siege : hence her 
 confidence : " For thou hast trusted in thy 
 wickedness — thou hast said in thine heart, I 
 am, and there is none else beside me : there- 
 fore shall evil come upon thee, thou shalt 
 not know from whence it riseth : and mischief 
 shall fall upon thee, thou shalt not be able to 
 put it off : and desolation shall come upon thee 
 suddenly, which thou shalt not know" — And 
 it was taken and destroyed in one night. 
 "The Scriptures cannot be broken:" there- 
 fore thus it will be with all the threatenings 
 of Heaven : and " when they shall say, Peace 
 and safety, then sudden destruction cometh 
 upon them, as travail upon a woman with 
 child ; and they shall not escape." Nor will 
 they only be condemned notwithstanding their 
 unbelief; but they will be punished for it. 
 Men are never more offended than when their 
 
SERMON X. 
 
 68 
 
 veracity is suspected ; and they are instantly 
 ready to demand satisfaction for the injurious 
 affront — and can you " turn the truth of God 
 into a lie," with impunity ! " If there should 
 be among you any man, who, when he hear- 
 eth the wordsofthis curse, shall bless himself 
 in his heart, saying, I shall have peace, though 
 I walk in the imagination of my heart to add 
 drunkenness to thirst ; the Lord will not spare 
 him, but then the anger of the Lord and his 
 jealousy shall smoke against that man ; and 
 all the curses that are written in this book 
 shall lie upon him, and the Lord shall blot out 
 his name from under heaven." 
 
 III. Some " are at ease in Zion," from 
 vain confidence; relying on the goodness of 
 their present state, and on the certainty of 
 their future happiness. See one of these de- 
 luded creatures going up into the temple to 
 pray — " The Pharisee stood and prayed thus 
 with himself: God, I thank thee that I am 
 not as other men are, — extortioners, unjust, 
 adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast 
 twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I 
 possess." In this state, according to his own 
 confession, was Paul once — "I was alive, 
 without the law ;" cheerful and happy, full 
 of false hope and false joy, fully satisfied of 
 my acceptance with God, and a stranger to all 
 apprehension of danger. Such was the 
 Church of Laodicea — "Thou say est, I am 
 rich, and increased with goods, and have 
 need of nothing; and knowest not that thou 
 art wretched, and miserable, and poor, 
 and blind, and naked." Nor are these in- 
 stances unusual, or singular ; " for there is 
 a generation that are pure in their own 
 eyes, and yet are not washed from their fil- 
 thiness." There is then such a thing as spi- 
 ritual self-flattery ; there is such a thing as a 
 delusive dependence, in religion: yes; 
 " there is a way that seemeth right unto a 
 man, but the end thereof are the ways of 
 death." The unhappy conclusion is drawn 
 from innumerable sources: from pious an- 
 cestors and distinguished privileges ; from ri- 
 tual observances; from formal duties in which 
 the affections are never engaged ; from vir- 
 tues weighed against vices ; from comparisons 
 of ourselves with others; from partial re- 
 formations ; from hearing sermons ; from 
 dreams ; from sudden impulses ; from the 
 casual application of promises; from ortho- 
 doxy ; from terror in the conscience ; from 
 fervour in the passions ; from spiritual gifts. 
 These are only a few articles from the in- 
 ventory of delusion, by which the enemy of 
 souls, according to the character and circum- 
 stances of mankind, excites and encourages 
 r hope which will one day cover its possessor 
 with shame. And it sometimes happens that 
 the same person successively occupies many 
 of these refuges of lies : as he is expelled by 
 conviction from one, there is another to re- 
 ceive him : only the continuance of his satis- 
 
 faction requires, that if his knowledge in- 
 crease, every fresh deception should become 
 more subtle and specious. Thus "the strong 
 man armed keepeth his palace ;" and while this 
 is the case, " his goods are in peace." There 
 is a stillness in the conscience. The mind 
 has no misgiving fears. Such characters 
 are backward to self-examination ; and wish 
 not to have the good opinion they entertain 
 of themselves shaken. If you lived with 
 them, you would never find them walking 
 mournfully before the Lord : you would never 
 hear them complaining of their inward con- 
 flict, or hear them asking, " What must I do 
 to be saved V — Nothing can be more dread- 
 ful than this state: for consider only two 
 things. 
 
 First, this confidence keeps them from look- 
 ing after salvation. Were it not for this shel- 
 ter, they would be induced to flee for refuge. 
 They are too good to be saved. Hence, says 
 our Saviour, " publicans and harlots shall en- 
 ter into the kingdom of heaven before" such. 
 Few ever pretend to vindicate vice ; and a 
 vigorous charge on the conscience of the un- 
 godly may succeed ; but no weapon can pene- 
 trate this self-righteous armour. While the 
 man continues wrapped up in this presumption, 
 there is no hope of his conversion; the word 
 has no power over him. Do we exhort him 
 to believe 1 He congratulates himself that he 
 is a believer. Do we urge him to repentance 7 
 He needs none. Do we press him to escape 
 from the wrath to come? He is in no danger. 
 He applies to himself only promises and pri- 
 vileges to which he has no claim, and which 
 will only serve to render the consequences of 
 his delusion the more painful. 
 
 For, secondly, this course will terminate in 
 woful surprise and disappointment. The 
 foolish builder, who did not suspect the stabili- 
 ty of the house, will learn its weakness in the 
 storm and the ruins: the man is past all hope 
 before he begins to fear. His mistake is dis- 
 covered when it is too late to be rectified ! O 
 what confusion ! O the horrors of regret and 
 of despair ! — " Strive to enter in at the strait 
 gate; for many will seek to enter in, and shall 
 not be able. When once the master of the 
 house is risen up, and hath shut to the door, 
 and ye begin to stand without, and to knock 
 at the door, saying, Lord, Lord, open unto us; 
 and he shall answer, and say unto you, I know 
 you not whence you are; then shall ye begin 
 to say, we have eaten and drunk in thy pre- 
 sence, and thou hast taught in our streets. 
 But he shall say, I tell you, I know you not 
 whence you are ; depart from me, all ye work- 
 ers of iniquity. There shall be weeping and 
 gnashing of teeth, when ye shall see Abraham, 
 and Isaac, and Jacob, and all the prophets, in 
 the kingdom of heaven, and ye yourselves 
 thrust out." My dear hearers, remember this 
 awful caution ; and since so many mistake, 
 " let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed 
 
64 
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 lest he fall." Dare you trust your state with- 
 out trying it? In a business of everlasting im- 
 portance, can you be satisfied with equivocal 
 or with slender evidence] In all other cases, 
 will you think you can never be too sure, and 
 this is the only one in which you are resolved 
 never to doubt ? O see that you possess that 
 "grace which bringeth salvation." Go, and 
 compare your character with the representa- 
 tions given of real Christians in the Scriptures. 
 Go, and " learn what that meaneth — If any 
 man be in Christ, he is a new creature : old 
 things are passed away; behold, all things 
 are become new." — We sometimes try to 
 alarm you by your sin ; we would alarm you, 
 in this discourse, by your religion. The re- 
 ligion of many of you is likely to prove the 
 means of your eternal ruin. 
 IV. Some " are at ease in Zion," from 
 
 PRACTICAL INDIFFERENCE. — You Would much 
 
 offend persons of this class, were you to in- 
 quire whether they believed the Scripture. 
 They read it daily: they come to God's mi- 
 nisters as his people come : and the preacher 
 " is unto them as a very lovely song of one 
 that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well 
 on an instrument; for they hear his words, 
 but they do them not." They are " like unto 
 a man beholding his natural face in a glass : 
 for he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, 
 and straightway forgetteth what manner of 
 man he was." Nor are these persons to be 
 charged sentimentally with Antinomianism, 
 or any other error. They know the Gospel 
 in theory ; but they are strangers to its divine 
 efficacy. Of all the various characters we 
 have to deal with in our ministry, these are 
 the most unlikely to insure success. When 
 we endeavour to convince the ignorant, or to 
 rouse the unthinking, we feel some hope; 
 but as for those of you who have heard the 
 Gospel from your infancy, or who have sat un- 
 der it long enough to learn distinctly and fa- 
 miliarly all the truths it contains ; who know 
 every thing we can advance; who believe 
 every thing we can prove ; who can even 
 "contend earnestly for the faith once deliver- 
 ed to the saints," and rest satisfied, regardless 
 of the influence of these things in your hearts 
 and lives — you, you are the most likely to 
 drive ministers to despair. We preach : you 
 acknowledge and ad mire — but you discover 
 no more concern to obtain the one thing need- 
 ful we propose, than if you were persuaded 
 we called you "to follow a cunningly devis- 
 ed fable." You believe there is no felicity in 
 the creature, and that satisfaction is to be 
 found in God only. The conviction is just: 
 but it is completely useless ; for you are " for- 
 saking the fountain of living waters, and hew- 
 ing out to yourselves broken cisterns, cisterns 
 that can hold no water." You confess there 
 is a hell, and that its misery is extreme; but 
 you never take one step to avoid it. We cry, 
 " Death is rapidly approaching you ; and the ! 
 
 Judge standeth before the door." You an- 
 swer, Yes; and slumber on. Your life is a 
 perpetual contradiction to your creed : you are 
 not happy, and contrive not to be miserable. 
 
 O what a waste of means and privileges 
 have you occasioned ! Why did you not in- 
 form us from the beginning that you never in- 
 tended to regard these things ? Then we could 
 have turned to others : you have robbed them 
 of sermons which they would have heard to 
 purpose, and which you have heard in vain. 
 I need not say, you are not Christians — that 
 you are wholly unlike them — that you do not 
 " war a good warfare" — that you do not " run 
 the race set before you :" for you are acquaint- 
 ed with all this : you do not mistake your con- 
 dition ; you know you are in a state of con- 
 demnation — and are still at ease ! ! O what a 
 paradox are you ! — Nothing can be so hateful 
 to the Supreme Being as this state of inacti- 
 vity. He would you " were either cold or 
 hot." Since you know your Lord's will, and 
 do it not, you will " be beaten with many 
 stripes." — " It will be more tolerable for So- 
 dom and Gomorrah in the day of j udgment than 
 for you." No instance in the Scripture is re- 
 corded of the conversion of persons in your pe- 
 culiar circumstances. You are sermon-proof. 
 A Bible has poured forth all its treasures be- 
 fore you : it has thrown down at your feet hea- 
 ven and hell — but it has excited neither hope 
 nor fear. Surely, you have reason to appre- 
 hend that means, so long applied in vain, will 
 be always useless: for what probability is 
 there that the word which has done nothing 
 already, should prove efficacious now? Will 
 the sword of the Spirit become keener ? Will 
 the remedy acquire more virtue to heal?'! 
 
 This illustration of our subject leads us to 
 suggest the following inferences. 
 
 First, If " woe be to them that are at ease 
 in Zion;" surely they are highly criminal, 
 who countenance and promote such a state. 
 Of this number are ministers, who preach so 
 as never to give offence, or excite alarm ; 
 "saying, Peace, peace, when there is no 
 peace." — " A wonderful and horrible thing is 
 committed in the land : the prophets prophesy 
 falsely, and the priests bear rule by their 
 means ; and my people love to have it so : 
 and what will you do in the end thereof?" O 
 how dreadful will it be in the day of judg- 
 ment to hear the reproach — "There is the 
 man that deceived me, and thereby destroyed 
 me. There is the cursed watchman, who ne- 
 ver announced my danger, till the enemy had 
 secured his prize." — Of this number also are 
 characters who will never seize an opportuni- 
 ty to warn a fellow-creature, or a friend, of 
 his condition ; and who will suffer a soul to 
 perish, rather than incur a reflection, or a 
 frown, by the exercise of faithful kindness. 
 " Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thine 
 heart; thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy 
 neighbour, and not suffer sin upon him." 
 
SERMON X. 
 
 65 
 
 Secondly, If" woe be to them that are at 
 ease in Zion," let none be troubled when they 
 find their connexions distressed and alarmed 
 with a sense of their sin and danger." " This 
 sickness is not unto death." This pain is a 
 sign of returning life. This " want" will 
 make the prodigal think of home, where 
 " there is bread enough and to spare." When 
 people of the world see their friends and rela- 
 tions in spiritual anxiety, they fear approach- 
 ing derangement or melancholy ; they are ea- 
 ger to send them into company, or to order 
 them to the theatre. But those who have 
 been through this state of mind themselves, 
 can rejoice while they sympathize : knowing 
 that it is the common method of the Saviour 
 to wound before he heals, to humble before he 
 exalts; and hoping that this process is the 
 preparation for that mercy which is never priz- 
 ed till we are made to feel our misery. Such 
 was the disposition of the apostle — " Now I 
 rejoice, not that ye were made sorry, but that 
 ye sorrowed to repentance : for godly sorrow 
 worketh repentance to salvation not to be re- 
 pented of; but the sorrow of the world work- 
 eth death." 
 
 Thirdly, If " woe be to them that are at 
 ease in Zion," there is nothing so much to be 
 dreaded as false security in religion. I know 
 that there are many alarms which never issue 
 in salvation. I know that many fear hell, who 
 never fear sin. But still, these distressing 
 convictions are hopeful : they produce move- 
 ments which may receive a heavenly tenden- 
 cy : they look like the harbingers of religion : 
 they are blossoms, if not fruit; and though 
 they may be blighted or shaken off, we can- 
 not help hailing them. — Some are afraid of 
 their trouble : we wish they were afraid of 
 their peace. They are glad when, by com- 
 pany or amusement, they have freed them- 
 selves from certain painful impressions; 
 whereas this may be rather a judgment than 
 a mercy. They rejoice, says an old divine, 
 to get rid of a shaking ague, though it has 
 left them in a deep decline. There is nothing 
 so fatal as the carelessness and indifference 
 of a man who was never distressed about sin, 
 or deprived of one hour's rest by saying, 
 " What have I done !" It is terrible when a 
 man is struck with spiritual senselessness. It 
 is better for God to ruin your estate, to bereave 
 you of your friends, to destroy your health, 
 than suffer you to have a " seared conscience," 
 or a heart " hardened through the deceitful- 
 ness of sin." It would have been well, if the 
 foolish virgins had been roused from their 
 sleep before the midnight cry, had it been 
 done even by the intrusion of robbers. — This 
 induces us to be so urgent in this case ; anxious 
 if by any means to produce in you that salu- 
 tary alarm which will lead you to precaution 
 and remedy ; and, by destroying the peace of 
 sin, secure to you " the peace of God, which 
 passeth all understanding." 
 
 I 6* 
 
 Fourthly, If " woe be to them that are at 
 ease in Zion ;" there is consolation for them 
 that are distressed, there. Nothing is more 
 common than to find gracious souls filled with 
 discouraging apprehensions and fears — and 
 frequently " they refuse to be comforted." 
 We do not admire and applaud all their doubts 
 and their dejections ; but these painful scru- 
 ples are easily accounted for, and they lie on 
 the safe side. They are very distinguishable 
 from unbelief ; and arise — 1. From their view 
 of the importance of the concern : it is nothing 
 less than the everlasting salvation of their 
 souls. Such a thing cannot be slightly deter- 
 mined : they are always suspicious; they can 
 never have sufficient certainty ; they require 
 evidence upon evidence — " This is the only 
 opportunity to ensure my welfare — What if I 
 should be mistaken V 2. From a conviction 
 of the deceitfulness of their own hearts, which 
 have often imposed upon them. 3. From a 
 recollection that many live and die in their 
 delusion — and what if they should be of the 
 number ? Thus they can hardly argue them- 
 selves into ease ; and while others do not fear 
 at all, these fear too much. While others will 
 not perceive the saddest evidences of sin, these 
 will hardly discern the fairest evidences of 
 grace. Both are blameable ; but they are not 
 equally dangerous. The one loses his peace 
 for a time ; the other loses his soul for ever. 
 It is better to have a burdened, than a benumb- 
 ed conscience. It is better to be scrupulous, 
 than licentious. They are not likely to pe- 
 rish, who are afraid of perishing. 
 
 But, after all, Christians, your God is con- 
 cerned, not only for your safety, but for your 
 happiness ; and many advantages would arise 
 from your spiritual joy. Jesus is "appointed 
 unto them that mourn in Zion, to give them 
 beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, 
 the garment of praise for the spirit of heavi- 
 ness." He has promised " another Comforter, 
 who shall abide with you for ever." He 
 has written this Book for your " learning ; 
 that you, through patience and comfort of the 
 Scriptures, might have hope." To his minis- 
 ters he has said, " Comfort ye, comfort ye my 
 people." O that I could now execute my 
 commission ! O that I had the tongue of the 
 learned, and could speak a word in season to 
 him that is weary ! O that I could remove all 
 your groundless fears and distressing jealous- 
 ies ! O that I could place the promises with- 
 in your view, and within your reach ! — " Bless- 
 ed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the king- 
 dom of heaven." " Blessed are they that 
 mourn, for they shall be comforted." " Bless- 
 ed are they that do hunger and thirst after 
 righteousness, for they shall be filled." 
 " Blessed are the merciful, for they shall ob- 
 tain mercy." — Remember, the sacrifices of 
 God are a broken spirit ; a broken and a con- 
 trite heart, God will not despise." Remember, 
 the dawn is the pledge and the beginning of 
 
66 
 
 SERMON XL 
 
 day. Remember, your desires are an evidence 
 of something good, and an " assurance of 
 something better." — "Now our Lord Jesus 
 Christ himself, and God even our Father, 
 which hath loved us, and hath given us ever- 
 lasting consolation and good hope through 
 grace, comfort your hearts, and stablish you 
 in every good word and work." Amen. 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 
 THE PRIVILEGES OF THE RIGHT- 
 EOUS. 
 
 For the Lord God is a sun and shield: the 
 Lord -will give grace and glory ; no good 
 thing -will he withhold from them that -walk 
 uprightly. — Psalm lxxxiv. 11. 
 
 David was remarkably distinguished by the 
 fervency of sacred affections. He could say. 
 with propriety, " The zeal of thy house hath 
 eaten me up." Hence his anxiety and reso- 
 lution to establish a residence for the ark : 
 " Surely, I will not come into the tabernacle 
 of my house, nor go up into my bed ; I will 
 not give sleep to mine eyes, or slumber to 
 mine eyelids ; until I find out a place for the 
 Lord, an habitation for the mighty God of Ja- 
 cob." Hence his peculiar distress, when de- 
 prived of public privileges : " When I remem- 
 ber these things, I pour out my soul in me : 
 for I had gone with the multitude; I went 
 with them to the house of God, with the voice 
 of joy and praise ; with a multitude that kept 
 holy-day." When, by the unnatural rebellion 
 of Absalom, he is driven from his throne, he 
 feels the loss of his palace much less than the 
 loss of the sanctuary ; and the feelings of the 
 king are absorbed in the concern of the wor- 
 shipper for the ordinances of religion. 
 
 Infidels may indeed endeavour to explain 
 this, by supposing that David was a man of a 
 melancholy turn of mind ; and that, like other 
 weak and gloomy persons, he sought relief in 
 devotional exercises, when he should have 
 been engaged in forming wise counsels, and 
 adopting vigorous measures. But let us attend 
 to his real character. He was the hero of the 
 age ; and had immortalized his name by nu- 
 merous exploits. In him were united the 
 prowess of the soldier and the skill of the ge- 
 neral ; and a succession of the most brilliant 
 victories had procured for him the highest con- 
 fidence, as well as the highest honour. He 
 was qualified to rule as a judge, and to govern 
 as a politician. To all these he added the 
 charms of poetry and music ; and " the harp 
 of the son of Jesse still continues to drive 
 away the evil spirit." Nevertheless he passes 
 by all these distinctions : every other exercise, 
 every other pleasure, gives place to one : in 
 this he centres all his happiness — " One thing 
 have I desired of the Lord : that will I seek 
 
 after: that I may dwell in the house of the 
 Lord all the days of my life, to behold the 
 beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his tem- 
 ple." " How amiable are thy tabernacles, O 
 Lord of Hosts !" " Blessed are they that dwell 
 in thine house; they will be still praising 
 thee." " For a day in thy courts is better 
 than a thousand : I had rather be a door-keeper 
 in the house of my God, than to dwell in the 
 tents of wickedness." — Such was the lan- 
 guage of his decided preference. Nor was it 
 the ebullition of enthusiasm : he speaks " the 
 words of truth and soberness :" he gives solid 
 reasons for his predilection. The House of 
 God had afforded him multiplied advantages : 
 there he had experienced Divine manifesta- 
 tions and influences ; there he hoped to enjoy 
 fresh communion, and renewed supplies ; 
 " for the Lord God is a Sun and a Shield : the 
 Lord will give grace and glory ; and no good 
 thing will he withhold from them that walk 
 uprightly." Let us examine these words in 
 a sense more detached and general. Let us 
 contemplate " the Lord God" we adore in the 
 sanctuary ; let us consider what He is — " a 
 
 SUN AND SHIELD." What He GIVES " GRACE 
 
 AND GLORY." What He WITHHOLDS " NO 
 
 good thing." And whom He regards — 
 
 " THEM THAT WALK UPRIGHTLY." 
 
 Part I. If God, my brethren, speaks to 
 man, He must condescend to employ human 
 language, not divine. He has done so : and 
 behold nature and art lending their combined 
 powers to aid the weakness of our apprehen- 
 sion ! Nature furnishes us with a sun, and art 
 with a shield; and all that is implied in these 
 images, and more than all, is God to his peo- 
 ple. 
 
 He is a " Sun." — Who can be ignorant of 
 the glory and importance of this luminary in 
 the system of nature — always the same ; dis- 
 pelling the horrors of darkness ; making our 
 day ; gladdening, fertilizing, adorning the 
 whole creation of God ? — Every thing here be- 
 low is changeable and perishing. " The grass 
 withereth ; the flower thereof fadeth away." 
 Man himself partakes of the general instabili- 
 ty. How many empires has the sun beheld 
 rising and falling ! how many generations has 
 it seen successively descending into the grave ! 
 how many new possessors have occupied yon- 
 der estate ! how many fresh classes of labour- 
 ers have toiled in yonder field — while the 
 same sun, from the beginning, has annually 
 called forth the produce ! At this moment I 
 feel the very sun which " beat upon the head 
 of Jonah." While I speak, mine eye sees the 
 very same sun which shone on " the dial of 
 Ahaz ;" and " stood still in the valley of Aja- 
 lon :" the very same sun which saw our Sa- 
 viour " going about doing good ;" Noah step- 
 ping forth from the ark ; Adam walking in the 
 garden of Eden ! It has shone nearly six thou- 
 sand years ; but it is unaltered. It has been 
 perpetually dispensing its beams. But it is 
 
SERMON XI. 
 
 87 
 
 undiminished : it lias blessed myriads ; but it 
 is not less able to cheer us. Kindle a thou- 
 sand lamps or fires, — they will not enable you 
 to discern the sun ; the sun can only be seen 
 by his own light. As he discovers himself, so 
 he renders every thing- else visible : by means 
 of his rays, the volume charms us, we hail the 
 smiling face of friendship, we pursue our call- 
 ings, and shun the dangers to which we are 
 exposed. " If any man walk in the day, he 
 stumbleth not, because he seeth the light of 
 this world." " The sun ariseth — man goeth 
 forth to his work and to his labour until the 
 evening." The illumination of the sun is pro- 
 gressive. The dawn is neither clear nor dark ; 
 night reluctantly resigns its sway ; it strug- 
 gles for a while, but by-and-by it yields : the 
 shadows retire, the clouds disperse, the mists 
 and fogs evaporate, before the rising orb ; and 
 the " shining light shineth more and more unto 
 the perfect day." — And " truly the light is 
 sweet ; and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to 
 behold the sun." Nature ' smiles ; the birds 
 welcome his approach ; the lark rises up, and 
 sings as he ascends ; the little lambs are sport- 
 ive with the sympathy ; children are eager to 
 go abroad. How welcome is the return of the 
 sun after the dreary hours of night, and the 
 chilling weeks of winter ! See those poor crea- 
 tures, who lose its presence for several months 
 at a time — see them, on its return, climbing 
 to the tops of their frozen mountains, with 
 longing eyes, straining to catch a greedy 
 glance ! — Though the sun be so immensely 
 remote, we feel him near: what a penetra- 
 tion, what a potency, is there in his rays ! 
 how he warms, enlivens, fructifies! David 
 tells us, " there is nothing hid from the heat 
 thereof :" Moses speaks of " the precious 
 things put forth by the sun." For, without his 
 influences, vain would be the labour of the ox, 
 and the skill of the husbandman. He produ- 
 ces the loveliness of spring, and the abundance 
 of autumn. He " renews the face of the earth ;" 
 he decks all nature in charms. 
 
 I imagine myself abroad in the depth of win- 
 ter. I look around me. All exhibits a scene 
 of desolation : the earth is covered with snow ; 
 the rivers are sealed up with ice ; the vege- 
 table tribes are dead, and the tuneful dumb ; 
 favourite walks and beloved gardens, like 
 friends in adversity, are abandoned by their 
 admirers: " He sendeth abroad his ice, like 
 morsels ; who can stand before his cold ?" I 
 rush in; and after the lapse of a very few 
 months, I come forth, and take a fresh survey. 
 I am filled with wonder. The ground is dress- 
 ed " in living green." The woods are cover- 
 ed with foliage, " where the birds build their 
 nests," and indulge their songs. "The flow- 
 ers appear on the earth." — What has the sun 
 been doing 7 He has perfumed the rose ; he 
 has painted the tulip ; he has made " the val- 
 leys to stand thick with corn, and the little 
 
 hills to rejoice on every side ;" " he has made 
 all things new." 
 
 And who is not reminded by all this of One, 
 " who is the Father of lights, with whom there 
 is no variableness, or shadow of turning!" — 
 And He only can be known by his own disco- 
 veries. " As it is written, Eye hath not seen, 
 nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart 
 of man the things which God hath prepared 
 for them that love him. But God hath re- 
 vealed them unto us by his Spirit: for the 
 Spirit searcheth all things, even the deep 
 things of God. For what man knoweth the 
 things of a man, save the spirit of a man 
 which is in him 1 Even so, the things of God 
 knoweth no man, but the Spirit of God." — 
 " God is light :" he scattered " the darkness 
 which covered the earth." — "Through the 
 tender mercy of our God, the day-spring from 
 on high hath visited us, to give light to them 
 that sit in darkness, and in the shadow of 
 death ; to guide our feet into the way of peace." 
 — " He who commanded the light to shine out 
 of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give 
 the light of the knowledge of the glory of God 
 in the face of Jesus Christ." He has opened 
 " the eyes of our understanding ;" subdued our 
 prejudices ; fixed our attention ; and given us 
 a taste capable of relishing the sublime truths 
 of his word. He "has called us out of dark- 
 ness into his marvellous light." 
 
 — His people are not strangers to happiness, 
 and they derive it all from him. The know- 
 ledge he gives them " rejoiceth the heart." 
 He fills them " with all joy and peace, in be- 
 lieving." His " ways are ways of pleasant- 
 ness, and all" his " paths are peace." He lifts 
 up "the light of his countenance upon" them, 
 and this puts " gladness into their hearts, more 
 than" the wicked experience " when their 
 corn and wine increase." If they have sea- 
 sons which may be called their night, or their 
 winter, they are occasioned by his absence: 
 " He hides his face, and they are troubled : 
 then they cry, O when wilt thou come unto 
 me !" — Cold, languishing, dead, before ; when 
 He returns, he brings prosperity. " He works 
 in us to will and to do:" he enlivens every du- 
 ty, and actuates every grace. Quickened by 
 his influences, our religion buds forth: we 
 "blossom as the rose;" we are "filled with 
 all the fruits of righteousness, which are by 
 Jesus Christ unto the glory and praise of God." 
 
 — " The beauty of the Lord our God is up- 
 on us." Even here the change which Divine 
 grace accomplishes is truly marvellous : but 
 we shall "see greater things than these." 
 That soul will soon be " presented faultless 
 before the presence of his glory with exceed- 
 ing joy." That body too shall partake of the 
 renovation : " it is sown in corruption, it is 
 raised in incorruption ; it is sown in dishon- 
 our, it is raised in glory ; it is sown in weak- 
 ness, it is raised in power ; it is sown a natu- 
 
66 
 
 SERMON XL 
 
 ral body, it is raised a spiritual body." — " He 
 will beautify the meek with salvation." — Be- 
 hold the sublimest image which even the 
 imagination of David could seize; but even 
 this falls infinitely below the subject to which 
 it is applied. After considering the magni- 
 tude of its body, the rapidity of its light, the 
 force of its influence, and all the wonderful 
 things which philosophers have told us ; hear 
 our Saviour saying, " He maketh his sun to 
 rise on the evil and on the good :" and re- 
 member, it is only one of his creatures, which 
 he made by " the breath of his mouth ;" which 
 he upholds " by the word of his power;" and 
 which he commands with infinitely more ease 
 than you can manage the smallest lamp : it is 
 only one ray of his glory. — The insufficiency 
 of all metaphor requires a variety of compari- 
 son ; and hence David adds, 
 
 "The Lord God is a shield." This piece of 
 defensive armour has been made of different 
 materials. There have been shields of lea- 
 ther, of wood, of iron, of brass, and some even 
 of silver and gold. Your shield, O Christian, 
 is divine. — He, to whom " belong the shields 
 of the earth," who lends the strongest all 
 their strength, with whom " nothing is im- 
 possible," — He is your shield— a shield al- 
 ways at hand ; impenetrable by any weapon ; 
 capacious, encompassing, adequate — For what 
 part of the Christian lies uncovered, unpro- 
 tected 1 — His substance ? " Has he not made 
 an hedge about him; and about his house, and 
 about all that he hath on every side?" — His 
 reputation 3 " He shall hide them in the se- 
 cret of his presence from the pride of man; 
 he shall keep them secretly in a pavilion from 
 the strife of tongues." — His body ? " He keep- 
 eth all his bones; not one of them is broken." 
 — His soul ! " The Lord shall preserve thee 
 from all evil : he shall preserve thy soul." 
 The defence of our health and of our estate is 
 conditional, and is decided in subserviency to 
 our spiritual and everlasting welfare ; but for 
 the safety of the soul God has absolutely en- 
 gaged : this " shall never perish." Although 
 the enemies that conspire to destroy it are 
 formidable and numerous, they shall all rage 
 in vain. In the perfections, the word, the 
 providence, the grace of God, we find ample 
 refuge and security. O Christian! while an 
 apprehension of exposure, and a conscious- 
 ness of weakness, is every day pressing upon 
 your mind, and urging you to draw very | 
 gloomy conclusions ; remember the assu- 
 rance of effectual assistance and defence : by 
 faith, see God placing himself between you and 
 danger ; see Jehovah spreading himself all 
 around for your protection ; and fulfilling the 
 promise, " As the mountains are high about 
 Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about his 
 people, from henceforth even for ever." — 
 " For I," saith the Lord, " will be unto her a 
 wall of fire round about, and I will be the 
 glory in the midst of her." Ah ! well may 
 
 I Wisdom say, " Whoso hearkeneth unto me 
 I shall dwell safely, and shall be quiet from the 
 fear of evil." And well may you say, and 
 " boldly" too, " the Lord is my helper." " The 
 Lord is my light and my salvation ; whom 
 shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my 
 life ; of whom shall I be afraid ! Though an 
 host should encamp against me, my heart shall 
 not fear : though war should rise against me, 
 in this will I be confident." 
 
 II. Such God is ; and what does He give ] 
 " Grace and glory." — The meaning, the 
 importance, the dependence, the union of these 
 blessings, deserve our attention. 
 
 And what is grace? It is the favourite 
 word of Inspiration : and here, as in many 
 other parts of Scripture, it intends Divine as- 
 sistance and influence, springing from the free 
 favour of God. It is often expressed plurally : 
 we hear of the graces of the Holy Spirit : and 
 some speak of them, as if they were so many 
 little, separate, conscious agents, respectively 
 stationed in the soul : whereas it is one grand 
 agency, restoring man to the image and ser- 
 vice of God, and operating various ways, ac- 
 cording to the nature of the object. When it 
 regards truth, we call it faith ; — a future good, 
 hope ; — trouble, patience. 
 
 And what is glory ? It denotes splendour, 
 fame, excellency displayed ; and the sacred 
 writers apply it by way of distinction to the 
 transcendent dignity and sublime happiness 
 reserved in heaven for the righteous. " Thou 
 shalt guide me by thy counsel, and afterward 
 receive me to glory." — " I reckon that the 
 sufferings of this present time are not worthy 
 to be compared with the glory which shall be 
 revealed in us." — " When he who is our life 
 shall appear, then shall we also appear with 
 him in glory." 
 
 These blessings are absolutely essential to 
 our welfare : this the Christian acknowledges. 
 From the beginningofhis religious course, he 
 has been convinced of the necessity of divine 
 grace, and his conviction grows with his days. 
 He feels himself wholly unequal to the work 
 he has to do, the race he has to run, the war- 
 fare he has to accomplish. Nor can he live 
 upon the grace which he has received : " his 
 strength" must be " renewed ;" he must re- 
 ceive "the continual supply of the Spirit of 
 Jesus Christ." From the nature of his dispo- 
 sition, he desires more grace ; from the na- 
 ture of his condition, he needs more. He 
 wants grace to sustain him in his troubles. 
 He wants grace to subdue his corruptions, 
 and to sanctify his tempers. He wants grace 
 to preserve him " in the hour of temptation." 
 He wants grace to quicken his languid affec- 
 tions, " for his soul cleaveth to the dust." 
 He wants grace to enlarge his experience, to 
 render him useful to others, to qualify him for 
 the various offices and relations of life, to 
 " hold on his way," to "endure to the end;" 
 and, oh ! what grace does he want, to enable 
 
SERMON XI. 
 
 69 
 
 him to say, when lie looks forward, " Yea, 
 though I walk through the valley of the shadow 
 of death, I will fear no evil ; for thou art with 
 me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me !" — 
 Rejoice, O Christian ! from the throne of God 
 you shall " obtain mercy, and find grace to 
 help in time of need." The " God of all 
 grace" invites you near; "ask, and ye shall 
 receive, that your joy may be full." — My 
 grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is 
 made perfect in weakness." 
 
 " The Lord will give grace :" and thus the 
 promise provides for the believer while in this 
 world- But he is not to live here always; 
 this is only the beginning of his existence : 
 before him lies an opening eternity. And 
 here the promise meets him with " everlasting 
 consolation," and assures him of "glory." He 
 knows that when his wanderings are ended, 
 " he shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, 
 and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven ;" that, 
 after a few more painful struggles, he shall 
 wear "the crown of life ;" that, as soon as 
 " the earthly house of this tabernacle is dis- 
 solved, he shall have a building of God, a 
 house not made with hands, eternal in the 
 heavens." Of this "glory" we can know 
 but very little, till we shall hear the voice 
 saying, " Come and see." But this circum- 
 stance wonderfully magnifies it ; for what 
 must be implied in a felicity which surpasses 
 all description, all conception, and which is 
 hidden rather than unfolded by all the grand 
 imagery employed to express it ! — But we 
 have some intimations which serve to awaken 
 our desires, to elevate our hopes, and to solace 
 our minds, in all the difficulties of life. It is 
 a pleasing thought, that " there remaineth a 
 rest for the people of God ;" — that " God shall 
 wipe away all tears from our eyes ;" — that 
 " there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, 
 nor crying, neither shall there be any more 
 pain ;" — that we shall " join the general as- 
 sembly and church of the first-born, whose 
 names are written in heaven ;" — that 
 
 " There we shall see his face, 
 
 And NEVER, NEVER sill — 
 
 that he will "shew us the path of life," and 
 bring us into " his presence, where there is 
 fulness of joy," and to his " right hand, where 
 there are pleasures for evermore." — " It doth 
 not yet appear what we shall be; but this wc 
 know, that when he shall appear we shall 
 be like him, for we shall see him as he is." 
 
 Again : These blessings may be consider- 
 ed in their order. Grace stands before glory ; 
 and though God gives both, irrespective of any 
 meritorious worthiness in the recipients, he 
 never gives glory till he has given grace. 
 We wish this to be observed, because the ge- 
 nerality of people would pass to the enjoy- 
 ment of glory without submitting to the laws 
 of grace. But such a hope is fiilse and absurd. 
 Thus stands the purpose of God: "Blessed 
 are the pure in heart, for they shall see God ;" 
 
 " Without holiness no man shall see the 
 Lord ;" " Except a man he born a<fain, he 
 i'\nmit see the kingdom ofGod." And hence 
 you perceive that it is not only forbidden, but 
 impossible'. Indeed if there were no law to 
 exclude the unsanctified sinner from glory, he 
 would necessarily remain miserable. Sin is 
 hell. His disposition would destroy all the 
 happiness of heaven : the service and the joy 
 would only disgust and torment the mind. 
 God cannot make us happy with himself, till 
 he has made us holy like himself. " What 
 fellowship hath righteousness with unrigh- 
 teousness ? and what communion hath light 
 with darkness]" 
 
 We may also observe the connexion of 
 these blessings. They are inseparable : 
 where the Lord has given grace, he will 
 certainly give glory. And therefore, my 
 dear hearers, the grand question is, whether 
 you have grace ! Decide this by its influences 
 and effects, as they are marked in the Scrip- 
 tures — by loathing sin; by hungering and 
 thirsting after righteousness ; by acceding to 
 the terms of discipleship, — denying yourselves, 
 taking up ypur cross, and following the 
 Saviour ; by your love to the ordinances, the 
 word, and the people of God ; by your dead- 
 ness to the world, and having your conversa- 
 tion in heaven. — Thus ascertain the reality of 
 your grace, and " rejoice in hope of the glory 
 of God ;" " being confident of this very thing, 
 that he who hath begun a good work in you, 
 will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ." 
 — Did I say, where there is grace, there will 
 be glory 1 I go further — there is glory : " the 
 Spirit of glory resteth upon them." They are 
 " changed from glory to glory." They " re- 
 joice with joy unspeakable, and full of glory." 
 — " He that believeth on the Son of God, hath 
 everlasting life." He has more than the 
 promise — he has a part of heaven : he has 
 " the earnest of his inheritance ;" he has " the 
 first-fruits of the Spirit" — the same in kind, 
 though not in degree, with the whole' harvest. 
 Grace is glory in the bud, and glory is grace 
 matured. Grace is the lowest degree of glory, 
 and glory is only the highestdegree of grace. 
 This He gives ; 
 
 III. And what does He withhold 1 "No 
 good thing." — O how tii 1 1 and comprehen- 
 sive is the language of promise! The Holy 
 Ghost, in framing it, seems to anticipate all 
 the objections of our suspicious hearts. It was 
 much to tell us, God was " a sun and shield :" 
 but he enlarges, and adds, " The Lord will 
 give grace and glory." And surely this will 
 suffice. No, my brethren ; there is something 
 still behind — the condition of "the life which 
 we now live in the flesh." This frequently 
 presses upon the mind, and perplexes, and 
 troubles the people of God. They have bo- 
 dies: they have families: they are command- 
 ed to " provide things honest in the sight of 
 all men." Where is the man who never 
 
70 
 
 SERMON Xf. 
 
 thought within himself, "If I make religion 
 my chief concern, and sacrifice whatever it 
 requires, shall I not injure my temporal cir- 
 cumstances?" Where is the man, whose li- 
 berality was never checked, and whose confi- 
 dence was never weakened, by slender means 
 of subsistence ! Where is the man, who, with 
 increasing demands from a numerous offspring, 
 never with anxiety asked, " What shall they 
 eat, and what shall they drink ; and where- 
 withal shall they be clothed !" — " He knoweth 
 our frame, and remembereth that we are dust :" 
 He stoops to our weaknesses ; and saves us 
 the pain and shame of telling him our unwor- 
 thy fears, by giving us promises which effec- 
 tually provide against them — " Your heavenly 
 Father knoweth that ye have need of all these 
 things." " Seek ye first the kingdom of God 
 and his righteousness, and all these things 
 shall be added unto you." "No good thing 
 will he withhold from them that walk upright- 
 ly." — Let us take three views of this exten- 
 sive promise. 
 
 First, Behold in it the grandeur of his 
 possessions. He who engages to withhold no 
 good thing, must have all good things at his 
 disposal. And, lo ! " he is able to do for us 
 exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask 
 or think." " Thine, O Lord, is the greatness, 
 and the power, and the glory, and the victory, 
 and the majesty : for all that is in the heaven 
 and in the earth is thine : thine is the kingdom, 
 O Lord, and thou art exalted as head above 
 all. Both riches and honour come from thee, 
 and thou reignest over all ; and in thine hand 
 it is to make great, and to give strength un- 
 to all." " The silver and the gold are thine." 
 " Every beast of the forest is thine, and the 
 cattle upon a thousand hills." " The earth is 
 the Lord's, and the fulness thereof ; the world, 
 and they that dwell therein" — And what is 
 this lower world ? An inconsiderable province 
 of his empire — " Lift up your eyes on high, 
 and behold, who hath created these things; 
 that bringeth out their host by number : he 
 calleth them all by names, by the greatness 
 of his might, for that he is strong in power, 
 not one failing." His dominion is universal ; 
 his resources boundless ; his possessions infi- 
 nite — Can he be poor, whose Father is so 
 rich? 
 
 Secondly, Behold in this promise the won- 
 ders of his liberality. All earthly benefactors 
 shrink from a comparison with him. He acts 
 by no ordinary rule of bounty, by no human 
 standard of beneficence. " As the heavens 
 are higher than the earth, so are his ways 
 higher than your ways, and his thoughts than 
 your thoughts." " O how great is the good- 
 ness which thou hast laid up for them that fear 
 thee, which thou hast wrought for them that 
 trust in thee before the sons of men !" — " The 
 same Lord over all is rich unto all that call up- 
 on him." — " My God shall supply all your 
 need, according to his riches in glory by 
 
 Christ Jesus."—" No good thing will he with- 
 hold." 
 
 Thirdly, Behold in this promise the wisdom 
 of his dispensations. He has qualified his en- 
 gagement, and regulated our hope, by the 
 goodness of the things insured. Instead of 
 regretting this condition, the Christian re- 
 joices in it; it secures his happiness. Had 
 God engaged to indulge him in all these 
 things, whether they were good for him or 
 evil, it would have been a threatening, not a 
 promise. He now sees the providence of God 
 choosing his inheritance for him, managing 
 all his affairs, and equally designing bis wel- 
 fare when it gives, or when it withholds. 
 
 For there is often a great difference be- 
 tween what is pleasing, and what is profitable. 
 Hence the apostle tells us, "No chastening 
 for the present seemeth to be joyous, but griev- 
 ous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the 
 peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them 
 which are exercised thereby." And David 
 could say, " It is good for me that I have been 
 afflicted." If health, if honour, if riches will 
 be good for us, they are secured ; if indigence, 
 if obscurity, if sickness will conduce to our 
 advantage, they will not be denied: for 
 " no good thing" will He withhold. Of all 
 this he is the infallible Judge. Let us then 
 drop not only our murmuring, but our anxie- 
 ty : let us "cast all our care upon Him who 
 careth for us ;" let us be satisfied that " all 
 things work together for good to them that 
 love God ;" and ever remember the word upon 
 which he has caused us to hope — " the young 
 lions may lack and suffer hunger ; but they 
 that seek the Lord shall not want any good 
 thing." And, 
 
 IV. Whom does God regard in all these ex- 
 ceeding great and precious promises'! — 
 " Them that walk uprightly." While, by 
 this single expression, David takes down the 
 confidence of the presumptuous, he encourages 
 the hope of the real Christian, who, under all 
 the imperfections which make him groan, 
 knows that his desire is to the Lord, " and to 
 the remembrance of his name." For the cha- 
 racter is not sinless : he has " not attained," 
 he is "not already perfect" — "but this one 
 thing" he does: "forgetting those things 
 which are behind, and reaching forth unto 
 those things which are before," he " presses 
 toward the mark for the prize of his high call- 
 ing of God in Christ Jesus." He is " an Isra- 
 elite indeed, in whom is no guile." His sin- 
 cerity may be viewed in reference to himself; 
 to others ; and to God. 
 
 He walks uprightly, with regard to himself. 
 In all his dealings with his own soul, he guards 
 against self-deception and flattery. He dreads 
 a false peace; he wishes to free his mind from 
 every bias in his own favour, and to survey 
 impartially his state* and character. He does 
 not shut his eyes against the evidence of of- 
 fensive truth ; nor hold back, or divert his un- 
 
SERMON XII. 
 
 71 
 
 derstanding from those inquiries which may 
 issue in mortifying and painful convictions. 
 He comes to the light. He suspects, and exa- 
 mines himself He reads, and compares, and 
 judges himself again ; again he investigates 
 himself, and kneels, and prays, " Search me, 
 O God, and know my heart: try me, and 
 know my thoughts : and see if there be any 
 wicked way in me ; and lead me in the way 
 everlasting." 
 
 He walks uprightly, with regard to God. 
 It is an awful consideration, that " with him 
 we have to do" in all our religious exercises. 
 In singing, we profess to praise him ; in 
 prayer, we profess to seek him ; in hearing 
 his word, we profess to obey him — And " God 
 is not mocked." He distinguishes between ap- 
 pearance and reality. And, in the Christian 
 indeed, there is something more than pre- 
 tence : he does not " draw nigh to God with 
 his mouth, and honour him with his lips, 
 while his heart is far from him." He worships 
 God in "spirit and in truth." His external 
 service arises from inward principle. Hence 
 he makes conscience of private duties. He is 
 the same in his family, as in the temple. 
 He is the same in prosperity, as in adversity. 
 The simple and pure regard which he has to 
 the will and the glory of God, keeps him from 
 partiality in religion : there is no sin which 
 he cherishes ; there is no duty which he dis- 
 likes : he esteems all the divine precepts 
 concerning all things to be right, and he 
 hates every false way. 
 
 He walks uprightly, with regard to men. 
 His transactions with his fellow-creatures are 
 distinguished by candour, openness, honesty, 
 punctuality. His professions are the sure 
 pledges of his designs. What he promises, 
 he performs. He does not consider his tongue 
 as given him to deceive. He hates and ab- 
 hors lying. He shuns adulation ; he gives 
 not flattering titles to any. He does not suf- 
 fer sin upon his neighbour: " faithful are the 
 wounds of" this "friend." He does not abound 
 in ceremony : it is too deceitful an article for 
 him to traffic with. He is not an actor on a 
 stage: he is not a. rotten sepulchre, over 
 which stands a whitewashed tomb — He is 
 what he appears to be. 
 
 Such is the character of the righteous: 
 these are their privileges. "For the Lord 
 God is a sun and shield : the Lord will give 
 grace and glory; and no good thing will he 
 withhold from them that walk uprightly" — 
 Hence we learn how exceedingly we are 
 mistaken, if we view religion as unfriendly to 
 our happiness. " Godliness is profitable unto 
 all things; having promise of the life that now 
 is, and of that which is to come." It is the 
 "one thing needful ;" and if we make light of 
 it, whatever be the prize we pursue, we are 
 " observing lying vanities, and forsaking our 
 own mercies." — 
 
 Hence we expostulate. Can the service of 
 
 sin, or the pursuits of the world, afford you 
 advantages like these? Can earthly things, 
 even in their abundance, heal a wounded con- 
 science, sustain you under the troubles of 
 life, take away the sting of death, and raise you 
 above the dread of eternity'! What have they 
 done for you already ? You have tried their 
 efficacy — are you happy? Why will you re- 
 fuse a fresh proposal, sanctioned by the ex- 
 perience of millions, and the success of all who 
 have tried it? "Acquaint now thyself with 
 Him, and be at peace; thereby good shall 
 come unto thee." "Have the workers of ini- 
 quity no knowledge?" "Wherefore do ye 
 spend money for that which is not bread, and 
 your labour for that which satisfieth not ? 
 Hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that 
 which is good, and let your soul delight itself 
 in fatness." " Incline your ear, and come unto 
 m'e ; hear, and your soul shall live ; and I 
 will make an everlasting covenant with you, 
 even the sure mercies of David." — 
 
 We congratulate others. "All hail, ye 
 highly favoured of the Lord." " Happy art 
 thou, O Israel : who is like unto thee, 0 peo- 
 ple saved by the Lord, the shield of thy help, 
 and who is the sword of thy excellency ! and 
 thine enemies shall be found liars unto thee ; 
 and thou shalt tread upon their high places." 
 " Blessed is the people that is in such a case ! 
 yea, happy is that people whose God is the 
 Lord."— 
 
 " We have heard, O God, that thou hast a 
 people upon earth distinguished by innumera- 
 ble and inestimable privileges. We would 
 not be satisfied with knowing and admiring 
 their portion. Weary of the world, which 
 has yielded us nothing but vanity and vexa- 
 tion of spirit, we would seek our inheritance 
 among them that are sanctified by faith that 
 is in Christ Jesus. We would take hold of 
 the skirt of him that is a Jew, saying, I will 
 go with you, for I have heard that God is 
 with you. I am a companion of all them that 
 fear thee, of them that keep thy precepts. 
 Look thou upon me, and be merciful unto me, 
 as thou usest to do unto those that love thy 
 name. Remember me, O Lord, with the fa- 
 vour that thou bearest unto thy people; O 
 visit me with thy salvation : that I may see 
 the good of thy chosen, that I may rejoice in 
 the gladness of thy nation, that I may glory 
 with thine inheritance." May God inspire us 
 with these sentiments ! Amen. 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 
 THE CONDITION OF CHRISTIANS IN 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 I pray not that llioit shouldest take them out of 
 the -world, but thai thou shouldest keep them 
 from the evil. — St. John, xvii. 15. 
 These words were spoken by our Saviour, 
 
 on a very memorable occasion — an " hour" 
 
SERMON m 
 
 unparalleled in the annals of time. — " Having 
 loved his own which were in the world, he 
 loved them unto the end." While lie was 
 with them, he had withheld no proof of his 
 kindness and care. He gave them free access 
 to his presence, he relieved their complaints, 
 he removed their doubts, he bore with their 
 infirmities. Such an intercouse of sacred 
 friendship had endeared him to their affections, 
 and rendered the prospect of separation inex- 
 pressibly painful. — When the venerable Sa- 
 muel died, "all the Israelites were gathered 
 together, and lamented him." — When the 
 amiable friend of David fell "on his high 
 places," the bleeding survivor said, "I am 
 distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan : 
 very pleasant hast thou been to me: thy 
 love to me was wonderful, passing the love of 
 women." — When Elisha beheld the reformer 
 Elijah ascending, " He cried, My father, rny 
 father ! the chariot of Israel, and the horse- 
 men thereof." — The case of the disciples was 
 more peculiarly afflictive ; and " sorrow filled 
 their hearts." — Our Saviour was never de- 
 prived of self-possession : in every state, he had 
 the full command of his powers ; and even in 
 the immediate view of his tremendous sufier- 
 ings, he does not forget any one circumstance 
 that claims his attention. He thinks more of 
 his disciples than of himself: he enters into 
 their feelings — they were to remain behind, 
 poor and despised : " as sheep among wolves ;" 
 as passengers in a vessel " tossed by the 
 waves" — He will not leave them " comfort- 
 less." On the evening before his crucifixion, 
 and a few moments before his agony, by the 
 gate of the garden of Gethsemane, surround- 
 ed with his family, " he lifts up his eyes to 
 heaven," and commends them into the hands 
 of his " Father and our Father, his God and 
 our God." 
 
 Do not say, my fellow-christians, this prayer 
 was for the apostles — it was for them prima- 
 rily, but not exclusively. Hear his own 
 words : " Neither pray I tor these alone, but 
 for them also which shall believe on me 
 through their word." Thus it extends to 
 all the followers of our Lord in every age, in 
 every place. He prays therefore for you, even 
 for you ; and this is his language : " I pray 
 not that thou shouldest take them out of the 
 world, but that thou shouldest keep them from 
 the evil." 
 
 From these words the following instructions 
 may be derived. I. It is the province of 
 God to take us out of the world. II. 
 This world is a proper situation for the 
 righteous to live in for a season. Ill: 
 There is evil in the world, to which 
 they are exposed, and by which they may 
 be injured. IV. The divine protection is 
 essential to their security. V. It is en- 
 couraging to remember that our Lord 
 and Saviour prays for our preservation. 
 
 I. It is the province of God to take us 
 out of the world. 
 
 It is the obvious design of the Scripture to 
 bring the mind into a pious frame, by induc- 
 ing us to acknowledge God in all our ways; 
 to apprehend him in every occurrence ; to 
 adore him in the field, as well as in the temple ; 
 to hold communion with him in his works as 
 well as in his word, in his dispensations as 
 well as in his ordinances. While our minds 
 are perplexed and discomposed by beholding 
 the mass of human affairs, and the perpetual 
 fluctuations of worldly things ; this blessed 
 book lends us a principle, which when appli- 
 ed reduces the confusion to order ; explains 
 the mystery ; and calms the inquirer. It 
 teaches us that nothing occurs by chance; it 
 shews us the Supreme Being superintending 
 the whole, " seeing the end from the begin- 
 ning;" " working all things after the counsel 
 of his own will;" advancing towards the exe- 
 cution of purposes worthy of himself, with 
 steady, majestic steps ; never turning aside ; 
 never too precipitate ; never too slow. We 
 see Divine Providence fixing " the bounds of 
 our habitation," and presiding over all the cir- 
 cumstances of our birth, and our death. In 
 our appointed time we appear ; in the places 
 designed for us we are fixed. When we have 
 finished our course, and ended our work, " he 
 says, Return, ye children of men:" and it is 
 not in the power of enemies to accelerate, or 
 of friends to retard the period of our departure. 
 " Is there not an appointed time to man upon 
 earth ] Are not his days also like the days of 
 an hireling'!" — "His days are determined: 
 the number of his months are with th'ee : thou 
 hast appointed his bounds that he cannot pass." 
 — " In his hand thy breath is, and his are all 
 thy ways." " The righteous and the wise, 
 and their works, are in the hand of God." 
 Does he " number the hairs of your head," 
 and not the years of your pilgrimage 1 Does 
 " not a sparrow fall to the ground without your 
 heavenly Father!" and are ye not "of more 
 value than many sparrows]" 
 
 This world, we have reason to believe, was 
 never designed fully to accomplish the pur- 
 pose of God in the original creation of man. 
 It was to precede a nobler state ; and the mode 
 of transition from glory to glory, would have 
 been easy and delightful. But the passage is 
 now become rough and dismaying. " By one 
 man sin entered into the world, and death 
 by sin ; and so death hath passed upon all men, 
 because all have sinned." It is not pleasing 
 to human nature, to think of being " taken 
 out of" these bodies in which we have taber- 
 nacled ; " out of" these houses in which we 
 have lived ; " out of these circles in which 
 we have moved ; " out of" this " world," in 
 which we were born, and to which we have 
 been so long accustomed — to be laid hold of, 
 and detached from all we now enjoy, by the 
 
SERMON XII. 
 
 7:5 
 
 messengers of " the king of terrors ;" to be 
 divided ; to lie down and putrify ; to enter a 
 new and untried world. But irksome as the 
 consideration may be, the Christian cannot 
 banish it from his thoughts : he endeavours, 
 especially in particular circumstances, to ren- 
 der it familiar; and there are things which 
 have a tendency to encourage his mind in the 
 contemplation of it. — The enemy is disarmed 
 of his sting. While " walking through the 
 valley of the shadow of death," God will be 
 with him. — The event is entirely under the 
 controling influence of his heavenly Father. 
 How pleasing is the reflection, " Well ; my 
 times are in his hand. On him depend the 
 occurrences of my history, and the duration of 
 my life. He is best qualified to judge of the 
 scenes through which lam to pass, and ofthe 
 manner in which I am to leave this world — 
 whether it be sudden, or lingering ; by acci- 
 dent, or disease ; alone, or surrounded with 
 friends ; in youth, or in age. — It is the Lord ; 
 let him do what seemeth him good. Have I 
 been bereaved of beloved relations, and useful 
 connexions ? — My soul hath it still in remem- 
 brance — but were they not Ids'! He had a 
 right to do what he would with his own. He 
 came and took them away, not as a thief, but 
 as a proprietor. He employed in the seizure 
 not only power, but wisdom and kindness. 
 What I know not now, I shall know hereafter. 
 Behold, he taketh away; who can hinder 
 him? Who will say unto him, What doest 
 thou? I was dumb, I opened not my mouth, 
 because thou didst it. He is the rock, his 
 work is perfect; for all his ways are judg- 
 ment: a God of truth and without iniquity, 
 just and right is he." 
 
 II. This world is a proper situation 
 
 FOR THE DISCIPLES OF JeSUS TO CONTINUE IN 
 
 for a season. — It is probable, that if our weak 
 reason were allowed to speculate concerning 
 the state ofthe righteous, it would decide on 
 the propriety of raising them to the high places 
 ofthe earth; of delivering them from all tri- 
 bulation ; of withholding from them no joy — 
 or rather, of calling them away from this re- 
 gion of sin, from this vale of tears, from this 
 miserable exile, to " sit down with Abraham, 
 Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven." 
 The Scripture seems to countenance this no- 
 tion. It says, " Arise ye, and depart ; for this 
 is not your rest, because it is polluted." It 
 commands us " not to be unequally yoked to- 
 gether with unbelievers." It asks, " What 
 fellowship hath righteousness with unrigh- 
 teousness ? And what communion hath light 
 with darkness ? And what concord hath Christ 
 with Belial ? Or what part hath he that be- 
 lieveth with an infidel ? M How perfectly has 
 the Creator arranged every thing in the uni- 
 verse ! How wisely has he separated the day 
 and the night, the dry land and the sea, the 
 various classes of beasts and birds ! And will 
 he join the living and the dead ? Will he min- 
 is 7 
 
 gle error and truth? virtue and vice? Will 
 lie confound the pious with the wicked ? Yes ; 
 this world, so opposite to their heavenly na- 
 ture, so unsuitable to their desires, so incapa- 
 ble of affording them happiness, while from 
 every quarter it wounds and vexes ; forcing 
 from them many a sigh, " Woe is me, that I 
 sojourn in Mesech !" " O that I had wings like 
 a dove ! for then I would fly away, and be at 
 rest; I would hasten my escape from the 
 stormy wind and tempest — this world is to 
 retain them year after year ; and our Saviour 
 does not pray to take them out of it. 
 
 First, From their remaining here, the wick- 
 ed derive innumerable advantages. They 
 have instances of religion before them, which 
 encourage while they condemn. By these 
 they learn that godliness is practicable, and 
 profitable. They see persons of the same pas- 
 sions, of the same age, of the same occupations 
 with themselves, walking in the paths of righ- 
 teousness ; and, much oftener than we ima- 
 gine, the portion ofthe righteous forming a con- 
 trast with their own unhappy circumstances, 
 leads them to exclaim, "How goodly are 
 thy tents, O Jacob ! and thy tabernacles, O Is- 
 rael ! Let me die the death of the righteous, 
 and let my last end be like his." It is in the 
 very nature of religion to render Christians 
 active in doing good. They are often the 
 means of " saving a soul from death, and of 
 hiding a multitude of sins." Sometimes a few 
 individuals have changed the moral face of a 
 whole neighbourhood ; and the language of 
 prophecy has been realized — " the wilderness 
 and the solitary place shall be made glad for 
 them, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom 
 as the rose." 
 
 The disorders which prevail in the world 
 are great; but the state of society would be 
 far worse, not to say intolerable, were the 
 righteous to be withdrawn, and the licentious- 
 ness of sinners to be no longer repressed, or 
 counteracted by their rebuke, their example, 
 and their influence. They " are the salt of 
 the earth ;" they are " the light of the world." 
 They are blessings in the families, cities, coun- 
 tries, in which they reside. They have fre- 
 quently, by their prayers, obtained deliveran- 
 ces for those among whom they live. They 
 have "stood in the breach," and held back the 
 invading judgments of the Almighty. "Ex- 
 cept the Lord of Hosts had left unto us a very 
 small remnant, we should have been as Sodom, 
 and we should have been like unto Gomor- 
 rah." While a father sees his children stand- 
 ing intermixed with his foes, he levels not his 
 arrows : the one is preserved for the sake of 
 the other. When God has secured his peo- 
 ple, the wicked become the fair mark of his 
 indignation ; the vials of his wrath are poured 
 down ; time shall be no longer ; the heavens 
 pass away with a great noise ; the earth is 
 burned up. 
 
 Again : Some reasons are taken from 
 
74 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 
 Christians themselves. " We know that all 
 tilings work together for good to them that 
 love God :•" and does not their situation in the 
 world call forth every active, every suffering 
 virtue ! Can there be any grandeur of charac- 
 ter, where there are no difficulties and dan- 
 gers 3 Can there be a triumph where there is 
 no warfare, or a warfare where there is no 
 enemy ? when do the righteous feel motives 
 to keep them humble] When they behold in 
 the wicked an image of themselves. When 
 are they urged to gratitude for distinguishing 
 grace ! When they are reminded by sinners 
 of what they were " by nature" as well " as 
 others." When do they display their compas- 
 sion, and increase their benevolence 1 While 
 feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, teach- 
 ing the ignorant, and endeavouring to rescue 
 their fellow-creatures from perdition. Can 
 they exercise divine patience and forgiveness ! 
 Yes, while they have an opportunity to " ren- 
 der good for evil." 
 
 They can discover their holy courage, 
 while bearing the " reproach of the cross," 
 and enduring " the defaming of many." Here, 
 by the sacrifices they are called to make, and 
 their readiness to leave father or mother, son 
 or daughter, lands or life, for his sake, they 
 demonstrate the supremacy of their love to 
 the Saviour. Here, their sincerity and reso- 
 lution appear unsuspicious, by not drawing 
 back, or turning aside, when the world would 
 terrify by its frowns, or allure by its smiles. 
 Here we behold the vigour of those principles 
 which bear sway in the minds of the godly. — In 
 heaven we shall glorify God. But heaven is not 
 a state of trial. There sin never enters : and 
 what is it to live innocent where there is no 
 temptation 1 But to see evil patterns, and not 
 copy them ; to breathe pestilential air, and not 
 inhale the infection ; to renounce our inclina- 
 tions, and say, " Thy will be done j" to live 
 with our conversation in heaven, when every 
 thing conspires to bind us down to earth 
 — here the Christian honours God, and here 
 he gathers glory in a manner the most dis- 
 tinguishing — and all this is peculiar to his re- 
 sidence in this world. 
 
 Let him therefore avail himself of the sin- 
 gular opportunities his situation affords ; and 
 while he remains here, let him labour to fulfil 
 the design of Heaven in his continuance, 
 both with regard to himself and others. Let 
 him remember, that all rash and eager wishes 
 for death are improper ; that it may be " need- 
 ful for him to abide" longer " in the flesh ;" 
 that of this expediency he must leave God to 
 judge ; that His pleasure will be discovered 
 by the event ; that he will not be detained a 
 moment longer than is necessary to accom- 
 plish some valuable purpose ; that, instead of 
 indulging in impatience, it becomes him to 
 say, with Job, " All the days of my appointed 
 time will 1 wait until my change come." 
 The man in harvest, while bearing " the bur- 
 
 den and heat of the day," may occasionally 
 look up to see where the sun is; and may 
 console himself with the reflection, "The 
 evening shades will by-and-by come on, and 
 invite me to an honourable retreat" — but it 
 does not become him to throw down his im- 
 plements, and hasten home before he obtains 
 such a discharge. 
 
 As Christians are to think of living for a 
 while in the world, it is not unreasonable for 
 them to be affected with its occurrences and 
 changes. Some plead for a kind of abstract- 
 ed and sublimated devotion, which the circum- 
 stances they are placed in by their Creator 
 render equally impracticable and absurd. — 
 They are never to notice the affairs of govern- 
 ment, or the measures of administration : war, 
 or peace ; liberty, or slavery ; plenty, or scar- 
 city — all is to be equally indifferent to them ; 
 they are to leave these carnal and worldly 
 things to others. But have they not bodies 1 
 Have they not families 1 Is religion founded 
 on the ruins of humanity 1 When a man be- 
 comes a Christian, does he cease to be a mem- 
 ber of civil society 1 Allowing that he be not 
 the owner of the ship, but only a passenger in 
 it, has he nothing to awaken his concern in 
 the voyage 1 If he be only a traveller towards 
 a better country, is he to be told, that because 
 he is at an inn which he is soon to leave, it 
 should not excite any emotion in him, whether 
 it be invaded by robbers, or consumed by flames 
 before the morning? " In the peace there- 
 of ye shall have peace :" — and are not Chris- 
 tians to " provide things honest in the sight of 
 all men!" Are they to detach themselves 
 while here from the interests of their fellow- 
 creatures ; or to " rejoice with them that re- 
 joice, and weep with them that weep!" Is 
 not religion variously affected by public trans- 
 actions J Can a Christian, for instance, be in- 
 different to the cause of freedom, even on a 
 pious principle 1 Does not civil liberty neces- 
 sarily include religious 1 and is it not neces- # 
 sary to the exertions of ministers, and the 
 spreading of the Gospel 1 
 
 And, Christians, as the world is a station in 
 which you are to reside for a season, religion 
 does not require you to witndraw from society, 
 to relinquish secular business, to live in soli- 
 tude. It more than justifies your being visi- 
 ble, social, active. " Neither do men light a 
 candle, and put it under a bushel : but on a 
 candlestick ; and it giveth light unto all that 
 are in the house. Let your light so shine be- 
 fore men, that they may see your good works, 
 and glorify your Father which is in heaven." 
 It becomes you, however, to remember, 
 III. That there is evil in the world, 
 
 TO WHICH YOU ARE EXPOSED, AND BY WHICH 
 
 you may be injured. And what is this 
 " evil !" There is the evil of sin, and the evil 
 of suffering. It is not the latter that our Sa- 
 viour deprecates — " If any man will come af- 
 ter me, let him deny himself, and take up his 
 
SERMON XII. 
 
 75 
 
 cross." "In the world ye shall have tribula- 
 tion." " Blessed are they who are persecuted 
 for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the king- 
 dom of heaven." Indigence and affliction are 
 generally a soil favourable to the prosperity 
 of religion. "By the sadness of the counte- 
 nance, the heart is made better." Security 
 from sin is preferable to immunity from sor- 
 row. It is therefore moral evil from which 
 we should be most anxious to be preserved. 
 And by this you are perpetually endangered 
 while in the world. 
 
 The people of the world are enemies to re- 
 ligion. How pernicious are their maxims, 
 their errors, their number, their example, 
 their influence ! How ensnaring are their 
 smiles, and how intimidating their frowns ! 
 How powerful are the fear of censure, and the 
 love of praise ! The things of the world are 
 prejudicial to a life of godliness. Every sta- 
 tion, every condition, hides innumerable temp- 
 tations. It has been questioned, whether pros- 
 perity or adversity be the more hazardous. 
 Affluence flatters our pride, and nourishes the 
 passions. It has a tendency to draw off" our 
 dependence from Divine Providence. It fur- 
 nishes us with substitutes for the consolations 
 of the Gospel ; and as to its duties, it multi- 
 plies diversions, excuses, and hindrances. Ma- 
 ny a man has parted with his religion in walk- 
 ing from a cottage to a mansion. " They that 
 will be rich, fall into temptation, and a snare, 
 and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which 
 drown men in destruction and perdition. For 
 the love of money is the root of all evil : 
 which while some coveted after, they have 
 erred from the faith, and pierced themselves 
 through with many sorrows." 
 
 But indigence has its perils; hence the 
 prayer of wisdom has always been, " Give me 
 neither poverty nor riches ; feed mc with food 
 convenient for me : lest 1 be full, and deny 
 thee, and say, Who is the Lord ? or lest I be 
 poor, and steal, and take the name of my God 
 in vain." Sensible things press upon the 
 body, and the body affects the mind. The 
 world has the advantage of neighbourhood 
 and constant intercourse. It presents itself 
 to the eye, the ear, the touch. It corresponds 
 with a party within, which excites us to wel- 
 come every proposal it brings. The world 
 does not ask us to deny, but to please our- 
 selves ; not to row against the current, but to 
 sit down in the boat, and leave it to the stream. 
 When the world knocks, " the spirit of 
 the world" is ready to open: and when 
 temptations to vanity meet with vain hearts, 
 and temptations to folly meet with foolish 
 hearts, the success is more than probable. 
 In the seduction of mankind, the world has 
 a marvellous diversity of means : every dis- 
 position is suited with an object. If a man 
 be not grovelling enough to be fond of money, 
 here is honour to allure him: if he spurn 
 sensual gratifications, he may pursue "the 
 
 knowledge which puffeth up." And as it is 
 said of Joab, that " he had turned after Adoni- 
 jah, though he turned not after Absalom;" 
 so a man who has vanepiished one temptation, 
 may be overcome by another, more suitable 
 to his propensity, and more aided by circum- 
 stances. O what spoils of truth, of conscience, 
 and of devotion can the world display ! In 
 how many has it had the unhappy influence 
 to counteract conviction, and to destroy the 
 most promising beginnings of seriousness ! 
 Hence the apostacy- of Demas — " he loved 
 this present world" — " Felix trembled," but 
 " willing to show the Jews a pleasure, left 
 Paul bound." — "Herod heard John gladly, 
 and did many wonderful things ;" but the 
 charms of a beloved Herodias obtained an or- 
 der for his execution. The young man inquir- 
 ed after eternal life, and our Saviour " loved 
 him ;" but " he went away sorrowful, for he 
 was very rich" — " He also that received seed 
 among thorns, is he that heareth the word ; 
 and the cares of this world, and the deceitful- 
 ness of riches, choke the word, and it becom- 
 eth unfruitful." 
 
 — And where the world does not acquire 
 such a predominancy in the soul as to be en- 
 tirely subversive of religion, it may prevail to 
 such a degree as to be very injurious to it. A 
 real Christian may have too keen a relish for 
 the allowed indulgences of life. He may be 
 too much alive to the opinion of his fellow- 
 worms. He may be too eager to " add house to 
 house, and to join field to field." He may 
 " load himself with thick clay," and go on 
 heavily. He may " touch the unclean thing," 
 soil " the fine linen which is the righteous- 
 ness of the saints," and wear a " garment 
 spotted by the flesh." He may spread earth 
 over his affections, and damp their ardour. 
 As the consequence of nil this worldly influ- 
 ence, there will be little spirituality in his 
 conversation ; little life in ordinances ; little 
 pleasure in drawing near to God ; a loss of in- 
 ward peace ; corroding care ; a dread of af- 
 fliction ; a thorny dying pillow. He will be 
 a stumbling-block to the weak, and a distress 
 to the strong: nor will his religion stand 
 forth prominently enough to be visible and 
 striking " to them that are without." 
 
 Christians ! there are two things which we 
 wish you to remember. The one is, that 
 your greatest danger lies in things lawful ; 
 for the proposal of any thing apparently sin- 
 ful would awaken your fears, and your fears 
 would secure you. " Every creature of God 
 is good ;" but if it be not " sanctified by the 
 word of God and prayer," the blessing may be 
 turned into a curse, and our very "table may 
 become a snare and a trap." We are even 
 bound to love our connexions : but love may 
 grow up into idolatry. Extremes are conti- 
 guous. The line of separation between law- 
 ful and unlawful is a single hair : on this the 
 1 enemy takes his station, in order that, when 
 
78 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 
 lie finds us advancing to the verge of permis- 
 sion, to draw us over, and induce us to trans- 
 gress. The other is, that this evil frequent- 
 ly advances by slow degrees ; approaches the 
 heart by imperceptible access; and, by spe- 
 cious pretensions, justifies its continuance 
 there. It assumes a thousand flexible shapes ; 
 wears various names ; passes under the no- 
 tion of good breeding, sociability, opportuni- 
 ties of usefulness, "laying up for the chil- 
 dren" — " With her much fair speech she 
 causes him to yield ; with the flattery of her 
 lips she forces him — he goeth after her 
 straightway, as an ox goeth to the slaughter, 
 or as a fool to the correction of the stocks : 
 till a dart strike through his liver; as a bird 
 hasteth to the snare, and knoweth not that it 
 is for his life." — What is the conclusion of all 
 this T O professors of religion, " love not the 
 world, nor the things of the world." " Be not 
 conformed to this world." Consider it as an 
 enemy. Regard it with caution. Walk as 
 among snares. Be circumspect. Be watch- 
 ful. And if you would pass through the world 
 with safety, recollect, 
 
 IV. That the divine protection is es- 
 sential to your security. The more va- 
 luable things are, the more dependent will 
 they be found. Sheep require more care than 
 wolves ; vines, than brambles. A garden de- 
 mands more attention than a wilderness ; and 
 children are reared with far greater solici- 
 tude than animal young. Nothing equals the 
 dependence of the Christian : but herein lie 
 all his spiritual resources ; for when he " is 
 weak, then he is strong." When in himself 
 he can do nothing, he forms an alliance with 
 Omnipotence, and can do all things. 
 
 — Be sensible of your inability to sustain 
 and defend yourselves. Bring under your re- 
 view all those who, possessing every advan- 
 tage, have drawn back unto perdition. They 
 advanced far, and promised well ; but, like a 
 stone urged up the side of a hill, which, 
 when the impelling force is removed, rushes 
 back with greater velocity, and bounds fur- 
 ther into the plain below ; so these have en- 
 tered again into the world, and are more dis- 
 tinguished by its vices and follies than before. 
 " For if, after they have escaped the pollu- 
 tions of the world, through the knowledge of 
 the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, they are 
 again entangled therein, and overcome ; the 
 latter end is worse than the beginning." Mark 
 the falls of good men themselves, who have 
 been " recovered from the snare of the devil." 
 When they went forth, but not "in the 
 strength of the Lord," they were found une- 
 qual to the trial, and by bitter experience 
 were convinced of their weakness. When 
 our Saviour had informed the disciples, that 
 •'the Shepherd would be smitten, and the 
 sheep scattered abroad ;" Peter said, " Though 
 all men should be offended because of thee, I 
 will never be offended." When our Lord 
 
 gave him the premonition, " Before the cock 
 crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice ;" he 
 exclaimed, " Though I should die with thee, 
 yet will I not deny thee." He was sincere, 
 but self-confident. And what was the conse- 
 quence 1 His resolution failed him : he deni- 
 ed his Lord with " oaths and curses." Weigh 
 well the language of One who knows what is 
 in man, and who has said, " Without me, ye 
 can do nothing." Compare your experience 
 with it. And, painful as it will be, call to 
 your remembrance the numerous variations, 
 instabilities, declensions, backslidings of your 
 lives. 
 
 — Be equally persuaded, also, that the Di- 
 vine power is as adequate, as it isjiecessary 
 to your preservation. "Even the youths shall 
 faint and be weary, and the young men shall 
 utterly fall. But they that wait upon the Lord 
 shall renew their strength; they shall mount up 
 with wings, as eagles; they shall run and not 
 be weary, and they shall walk and not faint." 
 It is his character, and his prerogative, that 
 "He is able to keep you from falling, and to 
 present you faultless before the presence of his 
 glory with exceeding joy." He preserved 
 Abijah in the wicked family of Jeroboam. He 
 secured "saints even in Caesar's household." 
 Behold yonder illustrious "multitude stand- 
 ing before the throne, with palms in their 
 hands." Full of weakness, they passed 
 through a world of danger: their sufficiency 
 was of God. He enabled them " to hold on 
 their way, and to wax stronger and stronger." 
 He "girded them with strength, and made 
 their way perfect." By "Him, they ran 
 through a troop, and leaped over a wall." By 
 Him, they " trod on the lion and adder : the 
 young lion and the dragon they trampled un- 
 der feet." And He is the same. His "hand 
 is not shortened that it cannot save, nor his 
 ear heavy that it cannot hear." " The Lord 
 redeemeth the soul of his servants; and none 
 of them that trust in him shall be desolate." 
 
 As the Divine protection is necessary, 
 and adequate to your defence, so it is attain- 
 able; and the 
 
 Last division of our subject shews us how 
 it is to be obtained — By prayer. " Ask, and 
 it shall be given you ; seek, and ye shall find ; 
 knock, and it shall be opened unto you." 
 Hence the practice of the saints — "Set a 
 watch, O Lord, upon my lips ; keep the door 
 of my mouth." " Hold thou me up, and I 
 shall be safe." " Order my steps in thy word : 
 and let not any iniquity have dominion over 
 me." " Uphold me, according to thy word ; 
 that I may live : and let me not be ashamed 
 of my hope." " Lead us not into temptation, 
 but deliver us from evil." 
 
 Christians, however, are sensible of the im- 
 perfections of their own performances. They 
 can scarcely call their weak efforts, prayer. 
 " Like a crane, or a swallow, so did I chat- 
 ter." "Could I see an inspired record of all 
 
SERMON XII. 
 
 77 
 
 my prayers — could I see as God does the 
 manner in which I have always addressed 
 him — The vain thoughts! The numberless 
 distractions ! How often I have asked amiss ! 
 Sometimes without ardour, sometimes with- 
 out confidence" Hence it is a pleasing 
 
 relief to their minds, to know that their bre- 
 thren pray for them ; that God is daily hear- 
 ing, from lips more devout than their own, 
 " Do good, O Lord, unto those that be good, 
 and to them that are upright in their hearts." 
 " Let all those that seek thee, rejoice and be 
 glad in thee : let such as love thy salvation, 
 say continually, The Lord be magnified." Is 
 my character here described ? How pleasing 
 is it to reflect, that I am peculiarly interested 
 in the daily supplications of all the people of 
 God ; and that " the effectual fervent prayer 
 of a righteous man availeth much !" 
 
 But their chief consolation is derived from 
 a higher source. " And another angel came, 
 and stood at the altar, havinga golden censer : 
 and there was given unto him much incense ; 
 that he should offer it with the prayers of all 
 saints upon the golden altar, which was before 
 the throne. And the smoke of the incense 
 which came with the prayers of the saints, as- 
 cended up before God, out of the angel's 
 hand." Thus Jesus perfumes and presents 
 our services; thus he obtains for our suppli- 
 cations audience and acceptance. Whether 
 the intercession of our High Priest in heaven 
 be verbal, or mental only, it is not necessary 
 for us to determine. We know it is real. 
 We know that " He appears in the presence 
 of God for us." We know that having been 
 " reconciled by his death, we shall be saved 
 by his life." We know that " He is able al- 
 so to save them to the uttermost that come un- 
 to God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make 
 intercession for them." 
 
 It may be necessary, however, to caution 
 ou not to mistake the nature and design of 
 lis intercession. It is not to inform God, as 
 if he were ignorant. It is not to remind him, 
 as if he were forgetful. It is not to persuade 
 him, as if he were unkind. The appointment 
 is entirely his own. It sprang from his mer- 
 cy, and exemplifies his wisdom. What a dis- 
 play have we here of the majesty and holi- 
 ness of God, that he will not suffer us to ap- 
 proach him without a Mediator ! How power- 
 fully does it convince us of our unwor- 
 thiness and vileness! How loudly does it 
 preach to us reverence and humility ! What 
 becomes of self-righteousness, if we can bring 
 nothing deserving the Divine regards; if our 
 best duties need forgiveness, rather than re- 
 compense; if "the iniquity of our most holy 
 things" would be sufficient to destroy all our 
 confidence 1 But, O how it meets the fears of 
 the returning sinner, and the discouragements 
 of the dejected saint ! " We have boldness and 
 access with confidence by the faith of Him." 
 If this dispensation were not designedly typi- 
 
 I- 
 
 hi 
 
 fied, it is beautifully illustrated in the address 
 of God " to Eliphaz, and his two friends" — 
 " You have not spoken of me the thing that 
 is right. Therefore take unto you now seven 
 bullocks, and seven rams, and go to my ser- 
 vant Job, and offer up for yourselves a burnt- 
 offering — and my servant Job shall pray for 
 you; for him will I accept: lest I deal with 
 you after your folly." 
 
 We conclude by observing, what a view this 
 gives us of our Lord and Saviour. What an 
 infinitely important station does he occupy ! 
 What an understanding must he possess, to 
 be accurately acquainted with the diversified 
 circumstances and necessities of all the re- 
 deemed ! How unparalleled is that love, 
 which knows no variableness ; which renders 
 him, not only in his lowest abasement, but in 
 his highest dignity, the friend of sinners; 
 which induces him, while surrounded by all 
 the adorations of heaven, to listen to the com- 
 plaints and petitions of each of his people up- 
 on earth ; and which never suffers him for one 
 moment to remit the kindness of his atten- 
 tions ! 
 
 Again : what a representation does the sub- 
 ject give us of the happiness of believers ! 
 Though their Saviour be " passed into the 
 heavens," they know that he has not dropped 
 his concern for them : they know that they 
 "have not an High Priest, who cannot be 
 touched with the feeling of their infirmities." 
 — And what is the inference ? " Let us there- 
 fore come boldly to the throne of grace, that 
 we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help 
 in time of need." "Having such an High 
 Priest over the house of God, let us draw near 
 in full assurance of faith." Let us contem- 
 plate our glorious Intercessor. Let us remem- 
 ber the dignity of his nature — he "is the 
 brightness of the Father's glory, and the ex- 
 press image of his person." Let us remem- 
 ber the dearness of his character — " This," 
 says the Father, " is my beloved Son, in whom 
 I am well pleased." " Ask of me, and I shall 
 give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, 
 and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy 
 possession." Let us remember the value of 
 his atonement — he is more than an interces- 
 sor, he is " an advocate with the Father ;" " he 
 is the propitiation for our sins." He could 
 say, " I have glorified thee on the earth ; I 
 have finished the work which thou hast given 
 me to do : and now, Father, glorify me." " He 
 entered heaven with his own blood, having ob- 
 tained eternal redemption for us." His suf- 
 ferings and death, his obedience and righ- 
 teousness, all plead our cause: he asks no- 
 thing which God had not suspended on a con- 
 dition which he has already performed. And 
 in consequence of all this, let us remember the 
 certainty of his success — "I know that thou 
 hearest me always." 
 
 — Come then, Christians, and " rejoice 
 with joy unspeakable, and full of glory." You 
 
78 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 
 have a Friend in court ; an elder brother in ' 
 the palace of the King of kings. In his all- 
 prevailing name you may approach ; and while 
 blushing over your poor services, you may be 
 assured that your prayers will be heard, that 
 your strength shall be equal to your day, that 
 your grace shall be crowned with glory, and 
 that "no good thing shall be withholden from 
 you." While Zechariah was burning incense 
 within, all the people were praying without. 
 
 0 pleasing emblem of Christians, and of " the 
 High Priest of their profession!" While you 
 are praying in the outer court of this world, 
 he is " within the vail," with " the blood of 
 sprinkling," and the censer. It was the hap- 
 piness of the Israelites, while fighting in the 
 plain below, to look up and see Moses plead- 
 ing with God for them on the hill. — Be not 
 dismayed, ye seed of Jacob. " Who shall lay 
 any thing to the charge of God's elect 1 It is 
 God that justifieth : who is he that condemn- 
 ed ! It is Christ that died, yea, rather, that is 
 risen again ; who is even at the right hand of 
 God ; who also maketh intercession for us." 
 — " Nay, in all these things we are more than 
 conquerors through him that loved us. For 
 
 1 am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, 
 nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor 
 things present, nor things to come, nor height, 
 nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able 
 to separate us from the love of God, which is 
 in Christ Jesus our Lord." 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 
 CONCUPISCENCE PUNISHED. 
 And there -went forth a -wind from the Lord, 
 and brought quails from the sea, and let 
 them fall by the camp, as it -were a day's 
 journey on this side, and as it -were a day's 
 journey on the other side, round about the 
 camp, and as it -were two cubits high upon 
 the face of the earth. And the people stood 
 up all that day, and all that night, and all 
 the next day, and they gathered the quails : 
 he that gathered least gathered ten homers : 
 and they spread them all abroad for them- 
 selves, round about the camp. And while 
 the flesh was yet between their teeth, ere it 
 was chewed, the wrath of the Lord was 
 kindled against the people ; and the Lord 
 smote the people with a very great plague. 
 And he called the name of that place Ki- 
 broth-haltaavah ; because there they buried 
 the people that lusted. — Numbers xi. 31 — 34. 
 
 It is one design of the sacred Scriptures to 
 make " sin appear exceeding sinful." Some- 
 times they place the evil before us in its es- 
 sential deformity and vileness. Atothertimes, 
 they surround it with " the terrors of the Al- 
 mighty," drawn from those dreadful threaten- 
 ings which justify all our fears. To confirm 
 these declarations, and illustrate t hese motives, 
 we have also given us numerous examples, in 
 
 which we see the malignity of sin realized. 
 " Let no man say, when he is tempted, I am 
 tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted 
 with evil; neither tempteth he any man. But 
 every man is tempted when he isdrawn away 
 of his lust and enticed : then, when lust hath 
 conceived, it bringeth forth sin ; and sin, when 
 it is finished, bringeth forth death." 
 
 The event which is to engage our present 
 attention is singularly awful. We do not 
 wonder that God, who esteems the prayer of 
 the wicked an abomination, should refuse their 
 unreasonable cry. But when we see him 
 working a miracle to gratify their wishes, and 
 making his bounty the means of their destruc- 
 tion, we are compelled to exclaim, "How un- 
 searchable are hisjudgments ; and his ways 
 are past finding out !'.' 
 
 The Israelites had been for some time pre- 
 ternaturally fed with manna. At length they 
 despise it, and, influenced by the multitude of 
 strangers that was among them, fall a lusting. 
 " They wept again," and said, " Who shall 
 give us flesh to eat] We remember the fish 
 which we did eat in Egypt freely : the cucum- 
 bers and the melons, the leeks, and the onions, 
 and the garlick : but now our soul is dried 
 away ; there is nothing at all besides this man- 
 na before our eyes." The Lord hearkened 
 and heard. He promised to indulge them : 
 and behold the dreadful accomplishment of his 
 word ! "And there went forth a wind from 
 the Lord, and brought quails from the sea, and 
 let them fall by the camp, as it were a day's 
 journey on this side, and as it were a day's 
 journey on the other side, round about the 
 camp, and as it were two cubits high upon the 
 face of the earth. And the people stood up 
 all that day. and all that night, and all the 
 next day, and they gathered the quails : he 
 that gathered least gathered ten homers ; and 
 they spread them all abroad for themselves 
 round about the camp. And while the flesh 
 was yet between their teeth, ere it was chew- 
 ed, the wrath of the Lord was kindled against 
 the people ; and the Lord smote the people 
 with a very great plague. And he called the 
 name of that place Kibroth-hattaavah ; because 
 there they buried the people that lusted." 
 But, alas ! though the fathers were buried, 
 their children survived ; and there are many 
 among Christians now, as well as among the 
 Jews of old, upon whose tombs Kibroth-hat- 
 taavah may be inscribed, with a translation 
 under, The graves of lusts. Let us ap- 
 proach these sepulchres, and receive instruc- 
 tion. 
 
 I. Let us remark the power and domi- 
 nion of God. Every element, every crea- 
 ture is subject to his authority, and yields to 
 his control. He holds " the wind in his fist :" 
 he determines the quarter from which it 
 blows; the time of its rising and of its falling; 
 the degree of its influence ; the quality of its 
 effects. " Every living thing" stands before 
 
SERMON XIII. 
 
 79 
 
 nim, and ministers unto him : he says to one, 
 " Go, and lie goeth ; to another, come, and lie 
 cometh." He speaks — and the fowls of the 
 air and the beasts of the field repair to Adam 
 for names, to Noah for shelter. Has he ene- 
 mies ! Where can they hide ? how can they 
 escape ! Every place is a magazine of arms ; 
 every being becomes an executioner, from an 
 angel to a fly. Has he friends 1 He can never 
 want instruments to deliver or relieve them. 
 A fish supplies Peter with the sacred tribute. 
 Lions refuse to touch Daniel. Ravens feed 
 Elijah. He nods, and the sea divides, the 
 rock pours out water, manna drops from the 
 clouds. — " And there went forth a wind from 
 the Lord, and brought quails from the sea, 
 and let them fall by the camp, as it were a 
 day's journey on this side, and as it were a 
 day's journey on the other side, round about 
 the camp, and as it were about two cubits 
 higli upon the face of the earth." The Israel- 
 ites were unbelieving; they questioned his 
 ability to supply them — they said, " Can God 
 furnish a table in the wilderness'! Behold, 
 He smote the rock, and the waters gushed 
 out, and the streams overflowed; can he give 
 bread also, can he provide flesh for his peo- 
 ple ?" — Even Moses staggered through unbe- 
 lief. " The people among whom I am, are 
 six hundred thousand footmen ; and thou hast 
 said, I will give them flesh, that they may eat 
 a whole month. Shall the flocks and herds 
 be slain for them, to suffice them ? or shall all 
 the fish in the sea be gathered together for 
 them, to suffice them 3 And the Lord said 
 unto Moses, Is the Lord's hand waxed short 1 
 Thou shalt see now whether my word shall 
 come to pass unto thee or not." Christian ! 
 why dost thou limit " the Holy One of Is- 
 rael !" Why does thy confidence tremble 
 when difficulties multiply, and ordinary means 
 of relief fail thee? " Hast thou not known, 
 hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, 
 the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, 
 fainteth not, neither is weary?" Behold in 
 Him, whose you are and whom you serve, 
 boundless resources at the command of friend- 
 ly sympathy and fatherly care. " To him be- 
 long the issues from death." " The silver 
 and the gold are his." " His are the cattle 
 upon a thousand hills." " The earth is the 
 Lord's, and the fulness thereof; the world, 
 and they that dwell therein." " O fear the 
 Lord, ye his saints ; for there is no want to 
 them that fear him : the young lions may lack 
 and suffer hunger, but they that seek the Lord 
 shall not want any good thing." 
 
 II. See how much more diligent men are 
 
 IN COLLECTING THE MEAT THAT PERISHETH, 
 THAN IN LABOURING FOR THAT MEAT WHICH 
 ENDURETH UNTO EVERLASTING LIKE. " And 
 
 the people stood up all that day, and all that 
 night, and all the next day, and gathered the 
 quails : he that gathered least gathered ten 
 homers : and they spread them all abroad for 
 
 themselves round about the camp." What 
 eagerness, what assiduity, what perseverance, 
 what sacrifices of ease, and even of sleep, do 
 we here discover ! — " This is our opportunity ; 
 this may not continue ; this may never re- 
 turn." " The children of this world are wiser 
 in their generation than the children of light." 
 The wants of nature are pressing, and knock 
 till they are relieved ; but spiritual necessi- 
 ties are either unknown, or disregarded. 
 When the body is in danger, we are alarmed, 
 and instantly inquire for means of safety : but, 
 inattentive to the exposure of the soul, who 
 asks for the " Balm of Gilead? for the Phy- 
 sician there 1" We are quicksighted in the 
 affairs of time ; but O what stupidity blinds 
 us as to the concerns of eternity ! If there be 
 a prospectof improving our secular advantage, 
 we need no arguments : a hint excites us ; 
 we are awake; we rise early, sit update, eat 
 the bread of carefulness : we form our plans ; 
 we lay hold of every accidental assistance; 
 we compass sea and land. But when we are 
 to obtain " the honour that cometh from God," 
 to gain a seat " in heavenly places," to secure 
 " the true riches" — we are all torpor, and for- 
 getfulness. Here we need line upon line, 
 precept upon precept. Sabbaths must be in- 
 stituted, to impress us ; ministers must be ap- 
 pointed, to stir up our minds by way of re- 
 membrance ; conscience must be deputed, to 
 live within us as a constant monitor — and 
 where is our assiduity and application, after 
 all ? Who sees us " working out our salva- 
 tion with fear and trembling ?" " striving to 
 enter in at the strait gate 1" " pressing into 
 the kingdom of God 1" " giving all diligence 
 to make our calling and election sure ?" 
 III. Persons may gather and hoard up 
 
 WHAT THEY WILL NEVER LIVE TO ENJOY. See 
 
 these men. They are anxious to lay in a 
 stock for days and weeks to come. They ac- 
 cordingly provide it, and prepare it. — But 
 would they have been so active, so eager, so 
 grasping, had they foreseen that they were 
 immediately to leave their abundance, and 
 that as soon as they tasted they were to die ! 
 But so it was — " And while the flesh was yet 
 between their teeth, ere it was chewed, the 
 wrath of the Lord was kindled against the 
 people, and the Lord smote the people with a 
 very great plague." — By many considera- 
 tions, my brethren, do we labour to quench 
 your undue ardours in the chace of earthly 
 things. We have often laid before you the 
 Divine prohibitions. We have shewn you 
 how impossible it is " to serve God and Mam- 
 mon." We have proved that " a man's life 
 consisteth not in the abundance of the things 
 that he possesses ; that nature is satisfied 
 with little, and grace with less. — And, after 
 all this, are you torn with anxieties, and 
 wearying yourselves in worldly pursuits? 
 Take another view — contemplate the vanity, 
 the brevity, the uncertainty of life, upon the 
 
SO 
 
 SERMON Xin. 
 
 continuance of which all depends. "Go to 
 now, ye that say, To-day or to-morrow we 
 will go into such a city, and continue there a 
 year, and buy and sell, and get gain : whereas 
 ye know not what shall be on the morrow. 
 For what is your life! It is even a vapour, 
 that appeareth for a little time, and then 
 vanisheth away." " And he thought within 
 himself, saying, What shall I do, because I 
 have no room where to bestow my fruits ! 
 and he said, this will I do : I will pull down 
 my barns, and build greater ; and there will I 
 bestow all my goods. And I will say to my soul, 
 Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many 
 years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be 
 merry. But God said unto him, Thou fool, 
 this night thy soul shall be required of thee : 
 then whose shall those things be which thou 
 hast provided V " There is one alone, and 
 there is- not a second ; yea, he hath neither 
 child nor brother : yet is there no end of all 
 his labour; neither is his eye satisfied with 
 riches; neither saith he, For whom do I la- 
 bour, and bereave my soul of good ? This is 
 also vanity." " Surely every man walketh in 
 a vain shew ; surely they are disquieted in 
 vain : he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not 
 who shall gather them." " In the fulness of 
 his sufficiency, he shall be in straits : every 
 hand of the wicked shall come upon him. 
 When he is about to fill his belly, God shall 
 cast the fury of his wrath upon him, and shall 
 rain it upon him while he is eating." 
 
 Have you read this in the Bible only 1 Is 
 it there alone that human life is reduced to a 
 span, a tale, a dream, a nothing ! — Whom 
 have you followed down to the grave 1 Who 
 are perpetually falling around you ] The aged 
 and the infirm'! — Who has promised you 
 length of days ] Who has engaged to secure 
 you from disasters and disease, till you have 
 reached your aim ] And what is the tenure of 
 your possession, when the envied prize is ac- 
 quired ! Does the honour wither as we gather 
 if! Do we come to an estate, only to bequeath 
 it] Do we lay out so much for a mansion 
 which hangs on one dying life, and when we 
 know the Lord of the manor will not allow us 
 to renew ! Shall we purchase at a great 
 price articles which death has appraised and 
 pronounced to be injured and nearly unser- 
 viceable] As strangers and pilgrims, shall we 
 take a world of pains to beautify and enrich 
 an inn which accommodates us only for a 
 night, when in the morning we are to go on 
 our way — a way by which we shall never 
 return. 7 — "Lord, teach us to number our 
 days, that we may apply our hearts unto 
 wisdom. 
 
 IV. It is not the refusal, but the 
 
 GRATIFICATION OF OUR DESIRES THAT OFTEN 
 
 proves ruinous. God was provoked — And 
 how does he shew his anger and punish the 
 offenders] By indulgence — Ah! well had it 
 been for Israel if God had turned away his. 
 
 ear from their clamour, and they had never 
 seen a quail — Poor harmless birds ! you un- 
 knowingly carry along the curse of Heaven. 
 Deluded suppliants ! You hail their approach : 
 but you are filling your laps with poison — 
 and plague — and death ! Rachel said, " Give 
 me children, or else I die" — She had children 
 and died. The Jews were impatient for a 
 king — and says God, " I gave them a king in 
 mine anger, and took him away in my 
 wrath." "Who knoweth what is good for 
 man in this life, all the days of his vain life 
 which he spendeth as a shadow !" Connec- 
 tions passionately sought may prove " scourges 
 in your sides, and thorns in your eyes." A 
 well-spread table may be made a snare, and a 
 trap, and a stumblingblock, and a recom- 
 pense." Your prosperity may destroy you. 
 " They that will be rich fall into temptation, 
 and a snare, and into many foolish and hurt- 
 ful lusts, which drown men in destruction 
 and perdition." 
 
 When men are intemperate in their desires 
 after worldly things, and succeed in obtain- 
 ing what Divine Providence, from a know- 
 ledge of its consequences, was willing to 
 withhold — the displeasure of God comes 
 along with their unhallowed successes; and 
 it matters not in what way the curse is in- 
 flicted — whether more visibly or secretly — 
 whether by miracle, or by the natural in- 
 fluence of events on their depravity. 
 
 Sometimes the things so eagerly lusted af- 
 ter prove injurious to health. Thus a man 
 is enabled to resign business — but he becomes 
 gloomy and melancholy. He lives more 
 sumptuously, and deliciously — but diseases, 
 to which he was once a stranger, spring from 
 repletion and indulgence, and becloud his fu- 
 ture days. 
 
 Sometimes satisfaction is taken out of 
 these things, and the man is far less happy 
 than he was before he had gained them. His 
 wishes multiply more than his means: his 
 successes pamper every principle unfavourable 
 to internal repose. "He that loveth silver 
 shall not be satisfied with silver; nor he that 
 loveth abundance, with increase." "There 
 is an evil which I have seen under the sun, 
 and it is common among men: a man, to 
 whom God hath given riches, wealth, and 
 honour, so that he wanteth nothing for his 
 soul of all that he desireth ; yet God giveth 
 him not power to eat thereof." 
 
 Things so coveted have often proved mo- 
 rally injurious. They have been oil, to 
 feed the flame of those evil passions which 
 ought to be extinguished. They have proved 
 rain and sunshine, to call forth and ripen a 
 thousand seeds of temptation, which were bu- 
 ried under ground. By these, the character 
 has not only been developed, but formed. 
 The man has changed with his condition ; 
 and has become the monster he once abhor- 
 red. — " He gave them their hearts' desire, 
 
SERMON XIV. 
 
 81 
 
 but sent leanness into their souls." — And is 
 this a matter of congratulation ! Can that be 
 a blessing which injures your chief welfare, 
 and destroys the prosperity of the soul? Are 
 you strangers to that spirituality of frame 
 which you once discovered 1 Are you chilled 
 in your holy affections ? Are you become on- 
 ly formal worshippers ! Are you deprived of 
 the joy of God's salvation ! Is your conversa- 
 tion less in heaven ! Do you mind earthly 
 things ! Are you more unwilling to leave this 
 world, and enter a better ! — And are you 
 gainers — because, with the sacrifice of all 
 these religious advantages, you have risen in 
 life, and increased in affluence 1 
 
 Many professors of religion, not satisfied 
 with the state in which God has placed them, 
 greedily desire more — and upon what princi- 
 ple ! Not their necessities ; but their lusts. 
 It is not a house they want : this they have 
 already — but a mansion. It is not food and 
 raiment they want : these are provided — but 
 superfluities. It is not an ability to travel 
 they want : they have strength and feet al- 
 ready — but it is a carriage. They wish to be 
 idle, luxurious, splendid, superior to others. 
 He enlarges their resources: he indulges 
 them — indulges their indolence, their pride, 
 their arrogance, their carnality, their forget- 
 fulness of God — and what is such an indul- 
 gence ? — what is it for Providence to feed our 
 sin J to give us permission to go astray ] and, 
 instead of hedging up our way with thorns, to 
 render it alluring and seducing, by scattering 
 it aU^-long with flowers ? 
 
 Men and brethren, the reflection is no less 
 edifying than lawful. 
 
 It shews us, First, How impossible it is to 
 determine the love or anger of God from ex- 
 ternal circumstances. Behold the rich man 
 clothed in purple and fine linen, and faring 
 sumptuously every day. See Lazarus laid at 
 his gate full of sores, and desiring to be fed 
 with the crumbs which fell from his table. But 
 the former is the enemy, and the latter the 
 friend of God : long ago the one has been com- 
 forted, and the other tormented — and there 
 were the same dispositions in God towards 
 them when they were upon earth. There is 
 nothing concerning which we are more liable 
 to err, than worldly success. It depends so 
 entirely upon God, and it is so flattering to our 
 feelings, that we can scarcely persuade our- 
 selves that it is ever an unfavourable omen. 
 But this is not unfrequently the case. It is 
 sometimes sent in anger: and we should la- 
 bour to ascertain the principle from which it 
 is given. A natural man regards only the ef- 
 fect, but the Christian looks to the Source. A 
 stranger would prefer the flower of a plant to 
 the root, but the gardener who owns it values 
 the root more than the flower. Oh ! it is well 
 to be able to say, " Thou hast, in love to my 
 soul," delivered me from the pit of corruption, 
 formed for mo such a union, prospered the la- 
 
 bour of my hands, blessed my bread and my 
 
 water — 
 
 '• How swept our daily comforts prove. 
 When tliey are season'd with Ilis love!" 
 
 Secondly. This principle crushes envy, 
 " Be not thou afraid when one is made rich, 
 when the glory of his house is increased." 
 " Fret not thyself because of him who pros- 
 pereth in his way" — you are not certain that 
 his condition is really desirable — would you 
 envy a man the wine he is going to drink, if 
 you knew that it would poison him ? or the 
 robe he is going to wear, if you knew that it 
 would infect him with the plague ! On the 
 other hand, you may err in your pity. You 
 say, such a friend, alas ! is reduced — but he is 
 only taken down from the hill of danger and 
 placed in the vale of safety. You say, he 
 groans — yes, a limb is amputating : but it is to 
 save the whole body from mortification and 
 death. 
 
 Thirdly. The prosperity of the wicked, 
 and the sufferings of the righteous, are a mys- 
 tery, which has often perplexed even good 
 men — but here it is explained. He can give 
 in wrath, and refuse in mercy. He can in- 
 dulge us to destruction ; and he can chasten 
 us, that we may not be condemned with the 
 world. 
 
 Fourthly. Here we can harmonize the 
 character and promise of God with those de- 
 nials which He sometimes gives to our peti- 
 tions. He is a God hearing prayer. He has 
 said, "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, 
 and ye shall find." But you have implored 
 many things which you have never obtained 
 — This helps you to understand the Scriptures, 
 and shews you with what conditions and qua- 
 lifications God has spoken. He did not engage 
 to gratify your desires,whether his indulgence 
 would be beneficial or injurious — This would 
 have been a threatning, not a promise. " A 
 heathen could say, "It is kind in the gods 
 not to hear us, when we pray for things that 
 are evil." If a man give "good things" un- 
 to his children, in answer to their reasonable 
 and needful desires, he is a good father: and 
 who would think of reflecting upon him, as 
 not discharging the duties of his relation, be- 
 cause he does not, wliile they are incapable 
 of judging for themselves, give them a knife or 
 a loaded pistol, or suffer them to climb a ladder, 
 and, becoming giddy, expose themselves to 
 instant destruction ] 
 
 Let us learn, also, with what a reserve we 
 should always pray. Let us not presume to 
 determine beforehand that certain things are 
 indispensably necessary, and, because we think 
 we absolutely want them, grow fretful and 
 miserable when we are refused. This is to 
 prescribe to God ; to impeach his wisdom and 
 his goodness : and nothing can be more im- 
 proper in the unworthy who have no claims, 
 and in the ignorant who have been so often 
 deceived in their judgments. Let us always 
 
B2 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 refer ourselves to his counsel. Let us be al- 
 ways his followers, not his guides. Let us 
 trust, and not teach him : and let us learn to 
 imitate the example of David, who, in a case 
 the most trying-, said, " Carry back the ark of 
 God into the city : If I shall find favour in 
 the eyes of the Lord, he will bring me again, 
 and shew me both it and its habitation — But 
 if he thus say, I have no delight in thee ; be- 
 hold, here I am ; let him do to me as seemeth 
 good to him." And be it remembered, this is 
 the way to succeed. When God gives in 
 kindness, he produces a previous temperance 
 of desire which will allow him to indulge us 
 with safety. A preparation for our mercies 
 is as necessary as a preparation for our trials 
 and our duties — who thinks of this! 
 
 Finally, The subject says to us, in forcible 
 language — Be moderate in your desires — 
 "let your conversation be without covetous- 
 ness — be content with such things as ye have." 
 " Seekest thou great things to thyself ! seek 
 them not." Our Saviour teaches you this 
 lesson, in your very devotion : " Give us this 
 day our daily bread." All Jacob stipulates 
 for is " bread to eat and raiment to put on." 
 And "having food and raiment," says an 
 apostle, " let us be therewith content." This 
 is the grand improvement we ought to make 
 of the piece of history before us — " Now these 
 things were our examples, to the intent 
 
 THAT WE SHOULD NOT LUST AFTER EVIL 
 THINGS, AS THEY ALSO LUSTED." How Were 
 
 quails evil things 1 — Is not every creature of 
 God good 1 — The case was this — They were 
 evil in their consequences, and also in the 
 principle from which they were desired. 
 These Jews craved them unnecessarily : they 
 had a sufficiency before, from the miraculous 
 and merciful providence of Heaven — they 
 craved them intemperately and unsubmissive- 
 ly : they demanded : " they wept aloud." — 
 Christians, beware of such senseless and in- 
 ordinate longings: beware of a roving fan- 
 cy; of imaginary wants; of unsanctified 
 wishes. " Dearly beloved, I beseech you, as 
 strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly 
 lusts, which war against the soul." " They 
 that are Christ's, have crucified the flesh, 
 with the affections and lusts." 
 
 Men and Brethren ! — We have forbidden 
 you to seek after temporal things with too 
 much solicitude — but remember, it is far 
 otherwise with regard to divine concerns. 
 Spiritual blessings suit the soul; afford real 
 satisfaction ; secure the friendship of God ; 
 endure for ever — these are our perfection. 
 Here we cannot be too earnest, too ambi- 
 tious, too covetous. " Open thy mouth wide, 
 and I will fill it." " Ask and receive, that 
 your joy may be full." — " And this I pray : 
 that your love may abound yet more and 
 more, in knowledge, and in all judgment : 
 that ye may approve things that are excel- 
 lent : that ye may be sincere and without of- 
 
 fence till the day of Christ; being filled with 
 the fruits of righteousness, which are by Je- 
 sus Christ unto the glory and praise of God." 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 Jlnd hope maketh not ashamed; because the 
 love of God is shed abroad in our hearts, by 
 the Holy Ghost which is given unto us. — Ro- 
 mans v. 5. 
 
 The Christian never finds this world to be 
 his rest. He is called to a life of labour and 
 difficulty ; of mortification and reproach ; and 
 his afflictions are many. But he possesses 
 one incomparable advantage : he has a hope 
 full of immortality. This renders every duty 
 delightful : this teaches him, in whatsoever 
 state he is, therewith to be content : this en- 
 lightens his darkness, and alleviates his sor- 
 row. Like a helmet of salvation, it guards 
 his head in the day of battle. Like an anchor 
 of the soul, it holds and secures him in the 
 storms of adversity. Like a pleasing compa- 
 nion, it travels with him through all the te- 
 diousness of the wilderness, and often reminds 
 him of his removal from this vale of tears to 
 the rest that remains for the people of God. 
 — He is saved by hope. — He rejoices in 
 hope. — 
 
 Of this hope the Apostle speaks, in the 
 words which we have read; and his language 
 is peculiarly worthy of our attention. " And 
 hope maketh not ashamed; because the love 
 of God is shed abroad in our hearts by th*e Ho- 
 ly Ghost which is given unto us." Let us 
 consider the excellency, and the evidence of 
 this hope. — Let us, I. Shew how it pre- 
 serves from shame ; and, II. Ascertain its 
 connexion with the love of God. 
 
 Part I. It is not necessary to enlarge upon 
 the nature of hope — it is a pleasing expecta- 
 tion of some future attainable good. But a 
 commendation is here given it, which it will 
 be useful for us to examine. It maketh not 
 ashamed. We may take three views of it. 
 We may oppose it to the hope of the world- 
 ling; the hope of the Pharisee; and the hope 
 of the Antinomian. Hope causes shame, by 
 the insufficiency of its object — and this is 
 the hope of the Worldling ; by the weak- 
 ness of its foundation — and this is the hope 
 of the Pharisee ; by the falseness of its 
 warrant — and this is the hope of the Anti- 
 nomian. — The hope of the Christian has the no- 
 blest object, the surest foundation — the clear- 
 est warrant : and, with regard to each of these, 
 it maketh not ashamed. 
 
 First. Hope may cause shame by the in- 
 sufficiency of its object — and such is the 
 hope of the worldling. And here we are 
 not going to observe how frequently " the men 
 of the world" never reach the mark and ob- 
 tain the prize for which they run. We allow 
 
SERMON XIV. 
 
 them to be successful ; and only call upon you 
 to witness their disappointment when their 
 expectations are accomplished. For what 
 have they gained, to reward their toil, and to 
 indemnify them for the sacrifices they have 
 made J As they examine the acquisition which 
 they so much overvalued, sec how they blush ; 
 hear how they exclaim, " Vanity of vanities ! 
 all is vanity and vexation of spirit!" 
 
 " In vain we seek a heaven below the sky. 
 The world has false hut flattering charms : 
 Its distant joys shew big in our esteem, 
 But lessen still as they draw near the eye ; 
 In our embrace, the visions die ; 
 And when we grasp the airy forms, 
 We lose the pleasing dream." 
 
 Look forward, and see the worldling called 
 to strip and die. See him laying down all his 
 honours, all his riches on the side of the 
 grave; bidding farewell to every scene his 
 soul held dear, and entering the eternal 
 world destitute. Now thought can no longer 
 be diverted: every disguise drops oft". — 
 Now he forms a true estimate of things — 
 And what does he think of those objects for 
 which he deprived himself of rest, and racked 
 himself with anxieties'! — for which he disre- 
 garded the calls of religion, and abandoned 
 the prospect of endless life ? — what does he 
 think of them now they are fled, for ever fled 1 
 — and have left him without resource 1 What 
 does Alexander now think of his bloody tro- 
 phies ! What does Herod now think of killing 
 James, and condemning Peter, because he 
 saw " it pleased the people !" What does Ju- 
 das think of his thirty pieces of silver 7 They 
 are all covered with confusion, and filled with 
 contempt. 
 
 But let us view them in their present cir- 
 cumstances. Here, they are in their best es- 
 tate : they have their portion in this life. 
 Here, the crowned votaries of the world seem 
 to be happy, and they are envied by all around 
 them. They are envied — but it is only by 
 the foolish and the ignorant, who know them 
 not. They seem indeed to be happy — but pe- 
 netrate through the glory which surrounds 
 them — and look within — and you will find them 
 harassed with doubts; agitated with fears; a 
 prey to evil passions ; " a troubled sea when it 
 cannot rest, whose waves cast up mire and dirt." 
 Could you approach them in those moments 
 in which the delusions of imagination give 
 place to the remonstrances of conscience and 
 reason, you would hear them confessing — 
 " All this is important only in the eyes of 
 strangers. They gaze on the exhibition and 
 admire — but we are behind the scenes, and 
 view the naked ropes and pulleys. We are 
 not happy ; nor is it in the power of these 
 things to satisfy our desires. In all this dis- 
 sipation, we never taste a drop of pure joy. 
 The friendship of the world is worse than no- 
 thing. We do not follow these vanities — we 
 are dragged after them. Our life is bondage — 
 O that we were free indeed ! — ah ! ye righ- 
 
 teous, you alone have liberty and peace. Hap- 
 piness is only to be found in a deliverance from 
 the present evil world. We will retire : we 
 will reform : we will seek a better, even a 
 heavenly country." 
 
 Yes ; tell me, you who have made the 
 world your hope, what has it done for you 7 
 In the many years you have devoutly served 
 it, how much has it advanced your happiness? 
 What have your pleasures and satisfactions 
 been, compared with your regrets and dis- 
 gusts ! How soon, when lulled to sleep, have 
 your charming dreams vanished, and your 
 waking disquietudes tormented you again ! 
 At the moment of my address — are you hap- 
 py"! Do you fear nothing'! desire nothing] 
 Are you not asking, in language with which 
 you commenced your career twenty, forty 
 years ago, Who will shew me any good 7 Do 
 you not shun solitude and retirement'! Are 
 you not afraid of reflection ? Do you not flee 
 from one company and amusement to another, 
 to get rid of yourselves 7 Do you never envy 
 the happiness of the brutes ? Are you stran- 
 gers to a wish that you had never been born ? 
 — And if this be the case with regard to all 
 your good things, what do you think of your 
 evil ones 7 Having no support in the day of 
 adversity, you must sink. Having no diver- 
 sion, you cannot escape the scourge of your 
 own mind ; and conscience, free from re- 
 straints, will be able to take a dreadful blow. 
 — Such is your present condition. You are 
 as certain of disappointment in this world as 
 in the world to come : and when you appear 
 before God in judgment, you will not be 
 heard to lament that all your enjoyments are 
 over, that your happiness is ended and your 
 misery begun. No. You will not say, 
 " Our happiness is ended" — but " we never 
 were happy : our misery is begun — we al- 
 ways were miserable — we found the way as 
 well as the end of transgressors hard ; and, by 
 a wretched time, we prepared ourselves only 
 for a more wretched eternity." 
 
 On this dark ground we bring forward the 
 Christian to advantage. The object of his 
 hope is the greatest good a creature can pos- 
 sess ; and while in every thing else the ex- 
 pectation exceeds the reality, in this the real- 
 ity infinitely surpassesthe expectation. When 
 we propose the hope of the Christian, we ex- 
 clude every evil we feel or fear ; every im- 
 perfection which degrades or grieves us. It 
 is " a house not made with hands, eternal in 
 the heavens ;" it is " a city which hath foun- 
 dations, whose builder and whose maker is 
 God ;" it is " a kingdom which cannot be shak- 
 en;" it is "a crown of glory that fadeth not 
 away." Think of the company with which 
 he will associate — all the truly wise and good : 
 " the innumerable company of angels ;" " the 
 Lord of all," in whose " presence there is ful- 
 ness of joy, and at whose right hand there are 
 pleasures for evermore." Take his body : it 
 
H4 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 is now vile; but it shall be changed and 
 fashioned like the glorious body of the Sa- 
 viour — think of the body of the Son of God : a 
 body to bo worn by the Judge of all when he 
 sits upon his throne ; a body in which he will 
 be for ever adored. This is the model to 
 which the Christian will be conformed. And 
 after all, this is only the inferior part of him : 
 this is only the dwelling — what will the in- 
 habitant be ! this is only the instrument — 
 what will the agent be ! however refined and 
 subtilized, this is only matter — what will the 
 spirit be! "It doth not yet appear what we 
 shall be ; but this we know, that when he shall 
 appear we shall be like him, for we shall see 
 him as he is." Such is his hope, and it 
 " maketh not ashamed." His understanding 
 does not reproach him for pursuing such a 
 prize. He does not blush to avow his pur- 
 pose to the world. He does not shrink from 
 a comparison with philosophers, princes, he- 
 roes. He leads asublimerlife: he has taken a 
 grander aim. — And when he has acquired this 
 blessedness, will he be ashamed that he so high- 
 ly valued it, and that to gain it he was wil- 
 ling to deny himself, and take up his cross'! 
 No ; rather, if shame could enter heaven, he 
 would be ashamed to think — that it made so 
 feeble an impression upon his mind; that it 
 engrossed so little of his attention ; that, 
 with such a happiness in prospect, he should 
 ever have walked mournfully before the Lord ; 
 and that, with such a prize suspended before 
 him, he should ever have been so sluggish 
 in his endeavours to seize it. 
 
 Secondly. Hope may cause shame by the 
 
 WEAKNESS OP ITS FOUNDATION and SUCh is 
 
 the hope of the self-righteous Pharisee. 
 For on what does he place his dependence 
 but something of his own — his own worthi- 
 ness, or his own works? — And here we may 
 observe, first, that what he relies on does not 
 come up to the nature of genuine religion, 
 but is something merely ritual, ceremonious,' 
 external, in which the heart has no concern. 
 He derives his encouragement from negative 
 qualities, from comparison of himself with 
 others, from the number of his performances, 
 from the balancing of duty with omissions, 
 and of virtue with vice. " And the Pharisee 
 stood, and prayed thus with himself: God, I 
 thank thee that I am not as other men are, 
 — extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as 
 this Publican. I fast twice in the week ; I 
 give tithes of all that I possess." Secondly, 
 if the works he pleads were in their princi- 
 ples truly spiritual and holy, they would not 
 afford a ground of dependence. They would 
 be a part of the building, but could not be the 
 foundation. They would furnish us with evi- 
 dence, but could not give us a title. Thirdly, 
 the indulgence of such a hope' is even crimi- 
 nal, and highly offensive to God. While he 
 seeks to obtain a right to eternal life by his 
 own obedience, he is seeking salvation by the 
 
 works of the law, and not by the faith of Jesus 
 Christ : accordingly, he opposes the whole 
 design of the Gospel dispensation ; robs God 
 of his peculiarglory ; reflects upon his wisdom, 
 as having been employed in a needless trifle ; 
 contemns his authority in commanding us to 
 believe on the Lord Jesus Christ; denies his 
 truth in the record which he has given of his 
 Son ; frustrates his grace, and makes Jesus 
 Christ to be dead in vain. He disregards 
 the love and mercy of the Saviour, tramples 
 under foot the blood of the Son of God, and 
 views his righteousness and his sufferings as 
 wholly unnecessary, or as only an addition to 
 supply a deficiency. Therefore, fourthly, 
 such a hope can never secure him from shame. 
 It will be found "like a spider's web;" curi- 
 ously wrought, but easily, irreparably destroy- 
 ed. The basis being too weak, the super- 
 structure falls, and crushes him as a fool and 
 an offender — guilty in his very ruin. " Too 
 proud," says God, " to submit to my righ- 
 teousness, you shall appear before me in your 
 own. Refusing the Gospel, you shall be tried 
 by the Law to which you have appealed. 
 Unable to save yourselves, I devised a method 
 of salvation : I revealed it — but this you have 
 despised, and have sought another — Walk in 
 the light of your own fire, and in the sparks 
 that ye have kindled : This shall ye have of 
 mine hand; ye shall lie down in sorrow." 
 
 — Now see the awakened, humbled sinner. 
 He is asking, " How shall man be just with 
 God J" " Wherewith shall I come before the 
 Lord ?" " Where can I safely rest a hope that 
 maketh not ashamed }" These inquiries lead 
 him to the Bible — and he soon finds the inform- 
 ation he wants. " The Son of man is come, 
 to seek and to save that which was lost. It 
 hath pleased the Father that in him should all 
 fulness dwell. He hath made us accepted in 
 the Beloved. He is the end of the law for 
 righteousness to every one that believeth. By 
 him, all that believe are justified freely from 
 all things" — This is like cold water to a 
 thirsty soul. This attracts him ; this deter- 
 mines the course of his application. "In him 
 will I trust. He is the door; by him will I 
 enter. He is the only refuge ; in him I will 
 hide. There is no other, and I desire no 
 other foundation ; and on this will I build. I 
 love obedience, I pray for gratitude ; but I ab- 
 hor the thought of merit. When I liave done 
 all, I am an unprofitable servant. Sin mixes 
 with all 1 do. I must relinquish every other 
 confidence : I have no medium between this 
 reliance and despair." 
 
 Now this hope cannot deceive him : it is as 
 firm as the truth of God and the all-suffi- 
 ciency of the Saviour can make it. " Be- 
 hold," says God, " I lay in Zion a stumbling- 
 stone and rock of offence ; and whosoever be- 
 lieveth on him shall not be ashamed." In 
 proportion as the faith of the believer in- 
 creases, he partakes of this assurance, and can 
 
SERMON XIV. 
 
 85 
 
 6ay, " I know in whom I have believed, and 
 am persuaded that lie is able to keep that 
 which I have committed to him against that 
 day." See him advancing to the throne of 
 God — " Who is he that condenmeth J It is 
 Christ that died." Who can hinder his ap- 
 proach ! He is seen marked with "the blood 
 of sprinkling;" he is heard making mention 
 of His righteousness only. — 
 
 " All joy to the believer ! He can speak— 
 Trembling, yet happy ; confident, yet meek. 
 Since the dear hour that brought me to thy foot 
 And cut up all my follies by the root, 
 I never trusted in an arm but thine, 
 Nor hoped but in thy righteousness divine. 
 My pravers and alms, imperfect and defiled, 
 Were but the feeble efforts of a child. 
 Howe'er performed, it was their brighter part 
 That they proceeded from a thankful heart: 
 Cleansed in thine own all-purifying blood, 
 Forgive their evil, and accept their good : 
 I cast them at thy feet — my only plea 
 Is what it was — dependence upon thee — 
 While struggling in the vale of tears below, 
 That never fa i I'd — nor shall it fail me now. 
 
 Angelic cratulations rend the skies; 
 Pride falls unpity'd, never more to rise ; 
 Humility is crown'd ; and faith receives the prize." 
 
 Thirdly. Hope may cause shame by the 
 falseness of its warrant — and such is the 
 hope of the Antinomian. How dreadful will 
 it be " to fall into the hands of the living God," 
 while we are imagining ourselves to be his 
 friends : to suppose ourselves in the road to 
 heaven, and drop at once into the depths of 
 hell ! " There is a way which seemeth right 
 unto a man, but the end thereof are the paths 
 of death." And in this way all those are 
 walking, who, while they profess to expect 
 eternal life, and to place all their dependence 
 upon the Saviour, " have not the Spirit of 
 Christ," and are devoid of his image: whose 
 faith does not overcome the world ; whose 
 hope does not purify them " even as He is 
 pure." For while in this state, their expec- 
 tation of heaven, whatever be their knowledge 
 or their creed, is a mere fancy. A man, with 
 all his ignorance, may as well persuade him- 
 self that he is the greatest philosopher ; or, 
 with all his indigence, may as rationally con- 
 clude that he is possessed of all the wealth of 
 the Indies; as persons imagine, that they are 
 in a fair way for glory, while they are stran- 
 gers to real sanctification and " newness of 
 life." 
 
 There is nothing in the Scripture that does 
 not condemn such a hope. It assures us, that 
 " without holiness no man shall see the Lord ;" 
 and that except we " be converted, antFbe— 
 come as little children," we " shall in no case 
 enter the kingdom of God." Hence our Sa- 
 viour, by a very striking similitude, holds forth 
 the folly of leaning on any thing as a proof 
 of our state, separate from holy obedience. 
 " Whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, 
 and doetii them, I will liken him unto a wise 
 man, who built his house upon a rock : and 
 the rain descended, and the floods came, and 
 the winds blew and beat upon that house ; and 
 
 it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock. 
 And every one that heareth these sayings of 
 mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened 
 unto a foolish man, who built his house upon 
 the sand : and the rain descended, and the 
 floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon 
 that house ; and it fell, and great was the fall 
 of it." 
 
 And, indeed, to take another view of the 
 subject, it would be perfectly useless to give 
 such a man a title to glory, and even to bring 
 him there — For he would be miserable still : 
 he would carry hell along with him in his sin : 
 he would have no capacity for the services, no 
 relish for the enjoyments of heaven — God 
 himself cannot do that which contradicts the 
 essential perfections of his nature ; and he 
 cannot make us happy with himself till he has 
 made us holy like himself. " For what fellow- 
 ship hath righteousness with unrighteousness"? 
 and what communion hath light with dark- 
 ness?" Thus the very nature of things, as 
 well as the word of God, necessarily limits 
 this hope to the regenerate and sanctified. 
 And therefore the grand inquiry should be — 
 what evidence you have of this change, and 
 what reason you are able to give of the hope 
 that is in you "! A more convincing and satis- 
 factory one it is impossible to assign, than the 
 Apostle furnishes — 
 
 Part II. When he tells us, " Hope maketh 
 not ashamed ; because the love of God is 
 
 SHED ABROAD IN OUR HEARTS BY THE HoLY 
 
 Ghost, which is given unto us." Let us 
 examine the connection there is between this 
 love, and the accomplishment of our hope. 
 The following considerations will render it ob- 
 vious. 
 
 First. This love is the blessed proof of the 
 Divine regard — for the affection is mutual : 
 " I love them that love me;" — yea, our love 
 to him is the consequence of his love to us : 
 " I have loved thee with an everlasting love ; 
 therefore with loving kindness have I drawn 
 thee. We love him because he first loved us." 
 And what can we desire more, than to know 
 we are beloved of God ? What does not his 
 friendship insure ? With Him, there is no va- 
 riableness, or shadow of turning. He is able 
 to do for us exceeding abundantly above all 
 that we ask or think. He knoweth all things. 
 He is very pitiful, and of tender mercy. 
 
 Secondly. This love characterizes the per- 
 sons for whom this happiness is reserved. 
 Seaxcb. the Scriptures, and see who areauthor- 
 ized to claim the promise of eternal life — 
 Not those, who are enemies to God by wicked 
 works — not those who live without God in the 
 world — No: but those, and those only, who 
 desire, and strive to please and to serve Him 
 — " We know that all things work together 
 for good to them that love God." " Blessed 
 is the man thatendureth temptation ; for when 
 he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, 
 which the Lord hath promised to them that 
 
86 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 love him." "Hath not God chosen the poor 
 of this world, rich in faith, and heirs of the 
 kingdom which he hath promised to them that 
 love him]" 
 
 Thirdly. This love qualifies us for the glo- 
 ry which shall be revealed. Take a proper i 
 view of this happiness. Is it not divine 1 < 
 Does it not flow from the presence of God '! 
 from the display of his perfections'! from the 
 adorations and praises which he will eternal- 
 ly receive ? — What then can prepare you for 
 it but the love of God ! If you do not love a 
 person, it would be a torment rather than a 
 delight to be continually with him, and to 
 hear him extolled. But the stronger the love 
 is which you bear to another, the more plea- 
 sure you feel in his company and conversa- 
 tion, the more satisfaction you derive from the 
 share you have in his regards, and from the 
 confidence which enables you to say, he is 
 mine. By loving God, you are prepared for a 
 happiness which is found only in him. And 
 has he made you meet to be partakers of the 
 inheritance of the saints in light 1 — and will 
 he fail to give you possession \ Has he quali- 
 fied you for a situation which you shall never 
 fill \ and prepared you for a blessedness which 
 he never designed you to experience? 
 
 Fourthly. This love is indeed the beginning, 
 and the foretaste of this happiness. We are al- 
 ways the same with the object of our affec- 
 tion. The image dwelling in the mind, leaves 
 its impression. We take the likeness of the 
 excellency we contemplate, and are exalted 
 into the perfection we adore. If our love be 
 fixed upon any thing mean and sordid, it will 
 debase us. If it be fixed upon creatures, we 
 shall partake of their changes and miseries. 
 If it be fixed on the ever-blessed God, we shall 
 become divine and heavenly ; it will dignify, 
 and refine, and tranquillize, and fill, and satis- 
 fy the soul. With this love, we cannot be mise- 
 rable. It renders difficult things easy, and 
 bitter ones sweet. It makes the duties of re- 
 ligion to be " ways of pleasantness." We 
 call " the sabbath a delight." We are glad 
 when they say to us, " Let us go into the 
 house of the Lord." It is good for us " to 
 draw near to God." O the " comforts of this 
 love !" They are heaven come down to earth 
 — Heaven is the world of love — There it 
 breathes ; there it reigns ; there it triumphs. 
 It is all love, and only love — " And he that 
 dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God, and God in 
 him." Hence it fully appears, that a hope 
 connected with the love of God, may be safe- 
 ly indulged, and can never make us ashamed. 
 For this love is the proof of the Divine favour 
 — the character of the heirs of promise — the 
 preparation for future glory — the commence- 
 ment of heaven, the dawning of the day, the 
 first-fruits of the Spirit, the earnest of our in- 
 heritance. — 
 
 Men and Brethren, attend to a few reflec- 
 tions, which naturally arise from this impor- 
 
 tant subject. The first is awful and distress- 
 ing. We have reason to fear that the hope 
 cherished by the greater part of mankind, and 
 by too many professors of religion, is such as 
 will cover them " with everlasting shame and 
 contempt." — Perhaps there are some of this 
 deluded number in this assembly. You are 
 ready to say — " Our minds are easy — we feelf 
 no forebodings — we hope to be saved, and are 
 not inclined to question the propriety of out] 
 conclusion." Even this circumstance looks 
 suspicious. This reluctance to examine your 
 state betrays apprehension of its goodness. 
 And who, in a case of such moment, would 
 leave things doubtful and uncertain 3 Suffer 
 me then to ask you what your hope is 1 Will 
 it bear investigation ! Is it sanctioned by the 
 word of truth 3 Has it been formed in the 
 light of conviction, or is it the offspring of 
 darkness J Is there no danger of its proving 
 false and fatal 7 — Such the hope must prove, 
 that is accompanied with no suitable influence, 
 productive of no proper effects — in other 
 words, that is not in alliance with the love of 
 God. But, alas ! if the love of God was in 
 you, it would be impossible for you to live as 
 you now do. You could not banish Him from 
 your remembrance ; your meditation of Him 
 would be sweet, and your thoughts of Him 
 would be precious. You could not love the 
 world ; " for if any man love the world, the 
 love of the Father is not in him." You could 
 not transgress the divine laws : " for this is 
 the love of God, that we keep his command- 
 ments." You could not be regardless of the 
 welfare of your fellow-creatures: for "if a 
 man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, 
 he is a liar ; for he that loveth not his brother 
 whom he hath seen, how can he love God 
 whom he hath not seen ]" " Whoso hath this 
 world's good, and seeth his brother have need, 
 and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from 
 him, how dwelleth the love of God in him 1" 
 Destitute of the love of God, it matters not 
 what you are — If this be not the grand influ- 
 encing principle of your lives, your orthodoxy 
 is only a December's night, equally clear and 
 cold ; your religion is vain ; your hope pre- 
 sumption, delusion, destruction. 
 
 Secondly. You may learn, from hence, 
 how to attain " the full assurance of hope un- 
 to the end." It is not by dreams and visions, 
 sudden suggestions, mysterious impressions,* 
 and an inexplicable consciousness — but by . 
 keeping yourselves in the love of God, and I 
 abounding therein more and more. It is ab- j 
 surd to imagine that your hope of heaven will 
 be lively, if your love of God be weak and lan- 
 guid. Every worldly conformity will impede 
 the exercise, and darken the prospect of this 
 hope ; every sin will give Satan an advantage 
 over you, and rob you of much evidence and 
 consolation. Though the blessings of salva- 
 tion are all of grace, they are to be enjoined 
 • only in the way of obedience. " Then 6hall 
 
SERMON XV. 
 
 we know, if we follow on to know the Lord. 
 His going forth is prepared as the morning : 
 and he shall come unto us as the rain, as the 
 latter and the former rain upon the earth." 
 He that hath my commandments, and keepeth 
 them, he it is that loveth me : and he that 
 loveth me shall be loved of my Father ; and I 
 will love him, and manifest myself to him." 
 
 Thirdly. There are some of you, in whose 
 hearts the Holy Ghost has shed abroad the 
 love of God. By a display of infinite benevo- 
 lence, he has slain the enmity of your minds, 
 enlightened your understandings, and renew- 
 ed your dispositions. It is now your chief aim 
 to please and to enjoy him. And your lan- 
 guage is, " Whom have I in heaven but thee, 
 and there is none upon earth that I desire be- 
 side thee ! The Lord is my portion, saith my 
 
 » SOul J THEREFORE WILL I HOPE IN HlM, " 
 
 | Yes — and you have reason to do so. Let the 
 exercise of this hope be constant and increas- 
 ing. Though you have much in possession, 
 you have infinitely more in reversion. In 
 , whatever sense you are poor, in one you are 
 I certainly rich — Hope. From the emptiness 
 of the creature you can turn to the fulness of 
 the Word, and say, " Thy testimonies have I 
 taken as my heritage for ever, for they are 
 the rejoicing of my heart." You have now 
 the supplies of minority, and in a little while 
 you will be " Lord of all." — Give vigour and 
 scope to this principle, in all the circum- 
 stances which can awaken thy concern. Hope 
 for strength equal to thy day. Hope for suc- 
 cour in trouble ; for assistance in duty ; for 
 nelp in death. Hope for a joyful resurrection, 
 a blessed immortality, a crown of glory that 
 fadeth not away. " Now the God of hope 
 
 FILL YOU WITH ALL JOY AND PEACE IN BELIEV- 
 ING, THAT YOU M AY ABOUND IN HOPE, THROUGH 
 THE POWER OF THE HOLY GlIOST. 
 
 SERMON XV. 
 
 THE PARABLE OF THE TWO SONS. 
 
 What think ye? A certain man had two sons. 
 And he came to the first, and said, Son, go 
 ■work to-day in my vineyard : lie answered 
 and said, I -will not ; but afterward he repent- 
 ed, and went. And he came to the second, and 
 said likewise : and he answered and said, I 
 go. Sir ; and went not. Whether of them 
 twain did the will of his father ? They say 
 unto him, the first. — Matthew xxi. 28 — 38. 
 
 My Brethren, it is no very easy thing to 
 lodge an obnoxious truth in a mind armed 
 with prejudice. "Lovers of themselves," 
 men are averse to the knowledge of their im- 
 perfections, and remain " willingly ignorant" 
 ofdiscoveries which would interrupt their pur- 
 suits, or disturb their slumbers. Hence the 
 wise have contrived a species of instruction, 
 by which they conceal their design, till the 
 sentiment they wish to convey has taken pos- 
 
 session of the mind. Then they strip off the 
 disguise, and exhibit their meaning : and the 
 man finds, to his surprise and confusion, that 
 he has admitted a conclusion which criminates 
 himself, and that out of his own mouth he is 
 condemned. He is led on unconsciously, 
 step by step, till he finds his retreat cut off, 
 and he is compelled to surrender. 
 
 He who " spake as never man spake," ex- 
 celled in this as well as in every other mode 
 of tuition. A memorable instance is now be- 
 fore us — His adversaries had asked our Sa- 
 viour, by what authority he had commenced 
 reformer, and had purified the temple. — 
 He engages to satisfy them, provided they 
 will answer him one question ; namely, 
 Whence John derived his authority to preach 
 and baptize] They found themselves equally 
 in a dilemma, whether they acknowledged the 
 origin to be human or divine — " If we shall 
 say, from Heaven, he will say unto us, why 
 then did ye not believe him! But if we shall 
 say, of men, we fear the people ; for all hold 
 John as a prophet." Hence they affect igno- 
 rance, and remain silent. Our Saviour per- 
 ceiving their perverseness, refuses their in- 
 quiry ; and, by a familiar representation, in- 
 duces them to pass judgment on themselves. 
 " But what think ye 1 A certain man had two 
 sons. And he came to the first and said, Son, 
 go work to-day in my vineyard : he answered 
 and said, I will not ; but afterward he repent- 
 ed, and went. And he came to the second, and 
 said likewise : and he answered and said, Igo, 
 Sir; and went not. Whether of them twain 
 did the will of his father I They say unto him, 
 the first." 
 
 The Parable has a particular application, 
 which may be thus explained. John preach- 
 ed to the Jews. His audience consisted of 
 two classes : the profane, and the pretending. 
 Some among his hearers were profligate — 
 Such were the publicans and harlots. These 
 made no profession of religion : they never 
 spake of the Messiah, or hoped for his king- 
 dom. But when they heard John, they re- 
 ceived his doctrine — were humbled by it — 
 and obtained repentance and remission of sins. 
 Others were sanctimonious — Such were the 
 Scribes and Pharisees. They assumed extra- 
 ordinary appearancesof devotion, observed eve- 
 ry punctilio of the law, wore a peculiar dress, 
 used a singular gait, crucified their counte- 
 nances, made long prayers and frequent fasts, 
 gave tithes of all their possessions, and pre- 
 tended a high regard for the writings of Mo- 
 ses and the prophets, who all testified of 
 Christ. But when his forerunner came, and 
 announced his speedy approach, they incon- 
 sistently rejected his ministry. Thus far we 
 cannot be mistaken, for we follow an infalli- 
 ble Guide— "Jesus saith unto them, Verily, I 
 say unto you, that the publicans and harlots 
 go into the kingdom of God before you. For 
 John came unto you in the way of righteous- 
 
68 
 
 SERMON XV. 
 
 ness, and ye believed him not; but the publi- 
 cans and harlots believed him. And ye, when 
 ye had seen, repented not afterward, that ye 
 might believe him." 
 
 By a more extensive allusion, it applies to 
 the Jews and the Gentiles. The Gentiles were 
 the children of disobedience: they had lived 
 without God in the world, and the way of 
 peace had they not known. But when the 
 Gospel was published among them, they 
 " obeyed from the heart the form of doctrine 
 which was delivered to them : and being 
 made free from sin, they became the servants 
 of righteousness." The Jews from the begin- 
 ning were the professing people of God. 
 They had never been wanting in high pre- 
 tensions and promises. When the Law was 
 given on Horeb, they exclaimed, " All that 
 the Lord commandeth us will we do, and be 
 obedient." When Joshua addressed them in 
 Sechem, they again said, " The Lord our 
 God will we serve, and his voice will we 
 obey" — " Nevertheless, they did flatter him 
 with their mouth, and they lied unto him 
 with their tongues. For their heart was not 
 right with him, neither were they steadfast in 
 his covenant." — " What shall we say then 1 
 That the Gentiles, which followed not after 
 righteousness, have attained to righteousness, 
 even the righteousness which is of faith : but 
 Israel, which followed after the law of righ- 
 teousness, hath not attained to the law of righ- 
 teousness. Wherefore 1 Because they sought 
 it not by faith, but as it were by the works of 
 the law; for they stumbled at the stumbling- 
 stone ; as it is written, Behold, I lay in Zion 
 a stumbling-stone, and rock of offence : and 
 whosoever believeth On him, shall not be con- 
 founded." 
 
 The similitude will stand as an illustration 
 of various characters to the end of time. Ac- 
 cordingly, we are going to consider it, I. As 
 
 HOLDING FORTH THE COMMAND OF GoD TO HIS 
 CREATURES. And, II. AS EXEMPLIFYING THE 
 MANNER IN WHICH IT IS REGARDED BY THEM. 
 
 Part I. " The Lord looketh from heaven : 
 he beholdeth all the sons of men." Neither 
 as his creatures, or as his subjects, are they 
 beneath his concern. To display his authori- 
 ty and to secure their welfare, He addresses 
 them in language appropriate to their circum- 
 stances. His command is distinguished by 
 three characters. It is affectionate — it is 
 
 PEACTICAL — it is URGENT. 
 
 First. It is affectionate. He speaks as 
 unto children — " My Son, go, work to-day in 
 my vineyard." He is the lovely Father of all 
 mankind ; and though sin has rendered us un- 
 worthy of his care, it has not destroyed our 
 relation to him. " We have had fathers of 
 our flesh, who corrected us ; and we gave 
 them reverence : shall we not much rather 
 be in subjection to the Father of spirits, and 
 live V They were only the instruments of our 
 existence : but to Him the name belongs in 
 
 ! all its perfection. " We arc his offspring ;" 
 " we are all the work of his hands." Our 
 very souls are his ; produced by his power, 
 and subject to his agency. This is the com- 
 mon character given of him in the New Tes- 
 tament. Under this encouraging representation 
 we are taught to address him in prayer: in 
 this tender relation we are to view him as dis- 
 pensing his commands. I see the father blend- 
 ing witli the sovereign: I see goodness ming- 
 ling with authority: I obey from love: it is a 
 Father I serve, and his service is perfect free- 
 dom. If He employ us as children, he "knows 
 our frame, and will remember that we are 
 dust." He will not lay upon us more than is 
 meet : He will be kind to our infirmities, and 
 spare us, as a man spareth his own son that 
 serveth him. " We have not received the 
 spirit of bondage again to fear, but the spirit of 
 adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. 
 Wherefore no more a servant, but a son ; and 
 if a son thou art then an heir of God through 
 Christ." 
 
 Secondly. It is practical. For to what 
 does the Father call him ! To " work in his 
 vineyard." — I admire this Father. He does 
 not bring up his children in idleness. Though 
 he be a rich man, and have a vineyard of his 
 own, he requires them to labour. And " it is 
 good for a man to bear the yoke in his youth." 
 The Grand Seignior of Turkey is always 
 taught some mechanical business. The 
 Jews, whatever was their rank, always gave 
 their sons some manual trade. Paul had a 
 learned education, and was brought up at the 
 feet of Gamaliel ; but he knew the craft of 
 tent-making. There was wisdom in this plan. 
 It preserved the young from sloth ; it rilled 
 up the vacancies of life; it prevented temp- 
 tation ; it made them useful in society ; it 
 furnished them with resource in case of re- 
 duction and distress. Adam was placed in the 
 garden of Eden to dress it. The Son of God, 
 till he assumed his public character, wrought 
 at the business of a carpenter. Heaven is all 
 energy and activity : " they rest not day nor 
 night." It is better to pursue the meanest 
 occupation, and even to be a servile day- 
 labourer, than to live in idleness, a mere 
 cumberer of the ground. Parents ! early ac- 
 custom your children to exertion, and difficul- 
 ties. Bring them up idly and delicately, and 
 they are ruined for this world, and the world 
 to come. I equally pity and condemn that 
 father, who is ashamed or afraid to say to a 
 son — "Go, work in my vineyard." And 
 what think you of God 1 He assigns us our 
 place of action, and prescribes the nature of 
 our employ. It is extensive and various. Our 
 diligence is to be used in " working out our 
 salvation with fear and trembling." Sinner ! 
 there is a burden lying upon thy shoulders, 
 which, unless it be removed, will sink thee 
 to the lowest hell. Thou art pursued by the 
 avenger of blood, and if overtaken, thou wilt 
 
SERMON XV. 
 
 89 
 
 assuredly perish — Thy first concern should 
 be a deliverance, a refuge. Thy first effort 
 should he an application to Him who came 
 into the world to save sinners. " Then said 
 they unto him, What shall we do, that we 
 might work the works of God ? Jesus answer- 
 ed and said unto them, This is the work of 
 God, that ye believe on him whom he hath 
 sent" This is your first care. And a second 
 is like unto it — personal sanctification. You 
 are called not only to believe, but to obey : 
 not to shew your faith instead of your works, 
 but your faith by your works. — Many would 
 rather consider the Gospel as designed to 
 furnish a substitute for holiness, than as a 
 system which requires piety and morality in 
 all its parts. But how readest thou 1 Where 
 does it promise a salvation in sin ? Where 
 does it encourage a hope which leaves its pos- 
 sessor impure ? " God has not called us unto 
 uncleanness, but unto holiness. The grace 
 of God, which bringeth salvation, hath ap- 
 peared to all men : teaching us, that, deny- 
 ing ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should 
 live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this 
 present world." Nor arc you less required to 
 serve your generation according to the will 
 of God. " None of us liveth to himself." 
 Our fellow-creatures have claims upon us. 
 We are to " rejoice with them that rejoice, 
 and weep with them that weep ;" to love as 
 brethren ; to " bear one another's burdens, 
 and so fulfil the law of Christ." And however 
 inferior our stations or slender our abilities, 
 we have all one talent.' — How have we em- 
 ployed it ? We have all had some means and 
 opportunities of usefulness — What brand have 
 we plucked out of the fire ? What naked 
 wretch have we clothed ? What child of ig- 
 norance have we instructed? In what in- 
 stances have we resembled Him who " went 
 about doing good ;" who pleased not himself ; 
 who came, not to be ministered unto, but to 
 minister, and to give his lifo a ransom for 
 many ? 
 
 Thirdly. It is urgent. You are called 
 not only to labour, but to labour immediately. 
 " My son, go work to-day in my vineyard." 
 The King's business requires haste — and this 
 is the business of the King of kings. A bu- 
 siness of importance requires haste — And no 
 business can be so momentous in its conse- 
 quences as this. A business requires haste 
 that can be performed only in a certain time, 
 especially if the season be short and uncer- 
 tain — And "what is thy life? It is even as 
 a vapour that appeareth for a little time, and 
 then vanisheth away." The Scripture there- 
 fore only borrows the language of common 
 sense when it says, "Whatsoever thy hand 
 findeth to do, do it with thy might ; for there 
 is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor 
 wisdom in the grave whither thou goest." 
 Observe your elder Brother : he never lost a 
 moment : " I must work the work of Ilim 
 M 8* 
 
 that sent me while it is day : the night 
 cometh, wherein no man can work." God al- 
 ways says, "To-day" — " to-morrow" is always 
 the language of the Enemy of Souls. And 
 wherefore? Because procrastination is the 
 most successful device he employs. Because, if 
 he can keepyou from religion TO-DAT,he knows 
 — either that you will not live till to-mor- 
 row — or that the delay will leave you more 
 disinclined to duty, and will obstruct your way 
 with fresh impediments. " Now is the accept- 
 ed time ; now is the day of salvation." Such 
 is the command of God. Let us see, 
 
 Part II. The manner in which it is 
 regarded. This is exemplified in the be- 
 haviour of these two sons. There is a re- 
 markable difference between them. One 
 proves better than he promises. The other 
 promises better than he proves. Of the one 
 it may be said, that his words were evil and 
 his actions good ; of the other, that his words 
 were good and his actions evil. 
 
 Behold the first. No sooner does he hear 
 the command of his father, than he answers, 
 " I will not ;" and walks off| rebellious and 
 insulting — To such a length of rudeness, in- 
 solence, and presumption does sin sometimes 
 carry men ; so that they do not make excuses, 
 or plead only for delays, but positively and 
 daringly refuse ! " They say unto God, De- 
 part from us, for we desire not the knowledge 
 of thy ways." "Who have said, With our 
 tongue will we prevail; our lips are our 
 own; who is Lord over us?" "But his citi- 
 zens hated him, and sent a message after him, 
 saying, We will not have this man to reign 
 over us." — Who says this? Yonder Swearer, 
 who never opens his mouth but to express the 
 abomination of his heart That Drunkard, 
 whose insatiable appetite, like the horse- 
 leech, cries, Give, give ; and never saith, It 
 is enough. The Fornicator, who lives in 
 chambering and wantonness. The man who 
 neglects all the ordinances of religion, who 
 never calls upon the name of God, never hears 
 his word, never honours his sabbaths. These 
 make no pretences to godliness; embarrass 
 th/mselves with no formality; wear no dis- 
 guise ; use no hesitation. They openly shew 
 the image of their master impressed upon 
 their forehead. They explicitly avow their 
 determination. Actions speak louder than 
 words ; and nothing less than this is the 
 dreadful language of their lives — " I am for 
 hell : 1 will run the downward road : I am 
 resolved to perish." 
 
 And is it possible, that characters like these 
 should ever be heard " asking the way to 
 Zion," or seen walking before God " in new- 
 ness of life ?" — " Such were some of you : 
 but ye are washed ; but ye are sanctified ; 
 but you are justified in the name of the Lord 
 Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God." Yes, 
 even this son — "afterward repented 
 and went." He came to himself— reflection 
 
90 
 
 SERMON XV. 
 
 returned — looking back, he saw the old man 
 lifting up his hands to Heaven, and then wip- 
 ing his eyes from tears — and he cried — 
 " What have I done 1 Is he not my father ! 
 Has he suffered me to want any proof of ten- 
 derness which he could shew me ! Do I thus 
 requite his kindness and his love'! What was 
 there unreasonable in the command I reject- 
 ed ! He that will not work should not eat — 
 What is it for a son to work in a father's vine- 
 yard ! Is it not labouring for himself! Mine 
 is the expectation — I will go." — For, my 
 Brethren, no sooner was this undutiful child 
 reclaimed than he was employed. — He did 
 not satisfy himself with returning and con- 
 fessing and bewailing his offence. He acted 
 repentance. He knew the will of his father 
 which he had transgressed — and he repented 
 and went. The one was the consequence 
 and the evidence of the other. Who could 
 have believed the reality of his remorse and 
 the sincerity of his acknowledgment, unac- 
 companied with reformation and obedience 1 
 
 Are there no individuals in this assembly 
 whose history I Have recalled to mind 1 Do 
 you not remember your alienation from the 
 life of God ! — But in your departure from 
 him your minds were far from being at rest. 
 Sometimes you thought of home — a Father 
 struck you — your rebellion appeared unrea- 
 sonable — you condemned yourselves. These 
 recollections at first visited you occasionally, 
 like unwelcome guests, and you got rid of 
 them. At length you found them quartered up- 
 on you, like so many soldiers — resistance was 
 useless. Alone — in business — surrounded 
 with company — these convictions followed 
 you. You begun to pray ; to read the Scrip- 
 ture ; to associate with the Lord's people. 
 You brought forth fruits meet for repentance. 
 The change in your disposition was discover- 
 ed in your conversation : and this became the 
 language of your actions as well as of your 
 lips — " I have sinned ; what shall be done 
 unto thee, O thou Preserver of men 1 What 
 I know not teach thou me : if I have done 
 iniquity, I will do so no more. Lord, what 
 wilt thou have me to do 1 Speak, Lord, fir 
 thy servant heareth." 
 
 Let us consider the second son. On hear- 
 ing the command of his father, " he said, I go, 
 Sir ; and went not." His language was re- 
 spectful, his promise was fair, and he walked 
 forth towards the vineyard, till he apprehend- 
 ed himself out of sight — Then he turned aside 
 — loitered away his time — joined evil compa- 
 ny — set off to a revel — in a little time " spent 
 all his substance in riotous living" — died in 
 wretchedness — and as he expired was heard 
 to groan, " O that I had hearkened to a fa- 
 ther's counsel !" 
 
 Ah ! how many in a few years have we 
 seen, whose pretensions were equally strong, 
 whose promises were equally flattering, whose 
 
 declensions have been equally grievous, whose 
 end has been equally fatal ! 
 
 We have seen children trained up in the 
 nurture and admonition of the Lord, to whose 
 tender minds religion was presented by ma- 
 ternal care in all its loveliness; who lisped 
 the language of prayer and of praise as soon 
 as they began to speak — They promised well. 
 
 We have seen young men, ingenuous, 
 teachable, despising the bondage of corrup- 
 tion, hating even the garment spotted with 
 the flesh — They promised well. 
 
 We have seen hearers under the preaching 
 of the Word alarmed, melted, almost per- 
 suaded to be Christians — They promised fair. 
 
 We have seen men reclaimed from various 
 vices becoming regular in their lives, and at- 
 tentive to moral and relative duties — They 
 promised fair. 
 
 We have seen characters coming forward 
 eager to join in Christian communion, and 
 laying themselves under an obligation to 
 walk " in all the commandments and ordi- 
 nances of the Lord blameless." — These pro- 
 mised fair. And nothing would have been 
 more uncandid and suspicious, than to have 
 questioned their present sincerity, or their fu- 
 ture perseverance — And where are they now ? 
 See the tears of their connections ; hear the 
 sighs of their ministers ; listen to the triumph 
 of the enemy — They are turned aside to vain 
 jangling — they are so bewitched, that they 
 cannot obey the truth — they are walking in 
 the counsel of the ungodly, standing in the 
 way of sinners, and sitting in the seat of the 
 scornful : " for it has happened unto them ac- 
 cording to the true proverb : the dog is turn- 
 ed to his own vomit again ; and the sow that 
 was washed, to her wallowing in the mire." 
 
 Let us conclude by deriving an inference 
 from the subject, and by addressing ourselves 
 to persons of two classes. — The parable fully 
 authorizes us to observe, that religious effects 
 are often very unanswerable to expectation ; 
 and that the most specious characters are not 
 always the most likely to enter into the king- 
 dom of Heaven. The subject is delicate : we 
 know we tread on dangerous ground, nor 
 would we advance without caution. God for- 
 bid that we should ever plead for wickedness, 
 or intimate that immorality ispreferable to mo- 
 rality. — Our Lord intended to establish no 
 such principle by these examples. He does 
 not view these things as they are in their 
 own nature, but as they are frequently found 
 in their accidental relations and consequences. 
 And is it not undeniable that persons possess- 
 ed of distinguishing privileges and moral en- 
 dowments are too often filled with pride, 
 wrapped up in self-righteousness, lulled to 
 sleep by carnal security, deeming themselves 
 safe, from comparisons with those who are 
 profligate 1 Are they not too often offended 
 when told — that they must be indebted for 
 
SERMON XV. 
 
 salvation to grace perfectly free and unmerit- 
 ed — that they must be accepted upon the 
 same terms with the most vile — and that how- 
 ever excellent these things may be in them- 
 selves, they afford them no ground of depen- 
 dence, yield them no claims whereof they may 
 glory before God ? An attempt to couch the 
 eyes of those who say we see, an offer of par- 
 don to the innocent, a communication of alms 
 to the wealthy, would only exasperat and dis- 
 gust — But would this be the case with the 
 blind, the guilty, and the poor? It is compara- 
 tively easy to convince the more criminal — 
 how can they deny the charge ! to alarm them 
 — how can they deny the danger ! Having 
 no armour of defence — they can sooner receive 
 a wound which will make them cry for mercy. 
 Conscious that they have no righteousness of 
 their own — they more readily admit, that if sav- 
 ed at all, it must be by grace. Having no shel- 
 ter in which to hide — when they see the storm 
 approaching, they willingly flee for refuge to 
 the hope set before them in the Gospel. 
 
 Nor are such trophies of Divine grace unu- 
 sual. We can appeal to the page of Histor : 
 and we can refer to our own age. We have 
 seen the most unlikely materials subdued by 
 Divine agency to holy purposes; and sinners 
 called from courses the most ungodly, whose 
 conversion has awakened not only the joy, but 
 the astonishment of their pious friends. Let 
 this encourage our hope. Let us consider 
 none of our fellow-creatures as desperate, and, 
 giving up our endeavours and our prayers, 
 abandon them. Reformer! let it animate thee. 
 " Be not weary in well-doing. In the morn- 
 ing sow thy seed, and in the evening with- 
 hold not thine hand: for thou knowest not 
 whether shall prosper, this or that ; or whether 
 they both shall be alike good. Brethren, 
 if any of you do err from the truth, and one 
 convert him ; let him know, that he who con- 
 verteth a sinner from the error of his way, 
 shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a 
 multitude of sins." Minister! let it encou- 
 rage thee ! " Can these dry bones live 1 
 — Prophesy upon these bones ; and say, Come 
 from the four winds, O breath, and breathe 
 upon these slain, that they may live." " Is 
 any thing too hard for the Lord 1" Parent ! 
 let it animate thee — though means have hi- 
 therto proved ineffectual, and instructions and 
 tears have been in vain — " I say unto you, 
 that God is able of these stones to raise up 
 children unto Abraham !" 
 
 Men and Brethren, let me ask you — Which 
 of these two sons did the will of his Father ! 
 — You say, and you say justly, Both of them 
 were culpable: the one was rude, and the 
 other false. But which, on comparison, do 
 you prefer ? You say, and you say truly, The 
 first. On what principle 1 Because his ac- 
 tions were better than his words, and his lat- 
 ter end fairer than his beginning. Yes ; bet- 
 ter is a late penitent than an old formalist. 
 
 Yes; more desirable is the condition of this 
 returning sinner, trembling at God's word, 
 broken-hearted with a review of unprofitable 
 years, and resolving to redeem the time by fu- 
 ture zeal — than the state of yonder profess- 
 or who has sat under the Word till he is 
 past feeling; honouring God with his lip, 
 while his heart is far from him ; having a 
 name to live, while he is dead , saying per- 
 petually, by appearances, I go, but never ac- 
 tually taking one step in the ways of godli- 
 ness. 
 
 But I have another question — Which of 
 these two sons do you at this time resemble ? 
 — It is undeniable that you have had calls 
 from God. Your duty, and the consequences 
 of inattention, have been plainly set before 
 you. He has spoken by his creatures. He 
 has addressed you by his providence. Afflic- 
 tions have had a voice. Fire has rushed out 
 of the brambles to which you repaired for 
 shelter. The gourd, whose shade refreshed 
 you, has withered away. It was a broken reed 
 upon which you leaned: it disappointed your 
 hope, and pierced you through with many 
 sorrows. Sickness told you that you were 
 mortal. The death of others reminded you of 
 your own ; and loud spake the silent grave. 
 Many a remonstrance, many a warning, you 
 have had from conscience. From sabbath to 
 sabbath you have heard the Gospel. Minis- 
 ters, some in harsher accents, and some in 
 milder language, have laboured to persuade 
 you — No, you cannot plead ignorance — you do 
 not want motive and encouragement — Suffer 
 me then to ask you, Which of these sons de- 
 scribes you ? 
 
 Are you saying, with the first — " I will 
 not ?" — What irreverence ! " A son heareth 
 his father, and a servant his master : if then I 
 be a father, where is my honour ? and if I be 
 a master, where is my fear 1 saith the Lord 
 of Hosts." — What ingratitude ! " Hear, O ye 
 heavens ; and give ear, O earth : for the Lord 
 hath spoken, I have nourished and brought up 
 children, and they have rebelled against me." 
 " Do ye thus requite the Lord, O foolish peo- 
 ple and unwise 1 Is he not thy Father that 
 hath bought thee 1 hath he not made thee and 
 established thee V — What madness ! If you 
 abide by this determination, you are undone: 
 " because of these things cometh the wrath of 
 God upon the children of disobedience." 
 Have you duly considered the work you de- 
 cline 1 It is a service the most reasonable, the 
 most honourable, the most pleasant, the most 
 profitable : it is " profitable unto all things, 
 having the promise of the life that now is, 
 and of that which is to come." Here we can- 
 not labour in vain. The reward is sure ; the 
 recompense is glorious. Nor are we called 
 to labour without assistance. He who em- 
 ploys us has engaged to make his strength 
 perfect in our weakness, and to render his 
 grace sufficient for us. To which we may 
 
92 
 
 SERMON XVI. 
 
 add, that it is a work the most indispensable — 
 it is the one thing needful — and it is at the 
 peril of thy soul and thy eternal happiness to 
 say, " I will not" — But I have said this, and 
 lived accordingly. — " O that my head were 
 waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears !" — 
 Returning sinner, there is hope in Israel con- 
 cerning this tiling. There is forgiveness with 
 Him, and repentance secures it. 
 
 Raise thy downcast eyes, and see 
 What forms His throne surround: 
 
 They, though sinners once like thee, 
 Have full salvation found — 
 
 — He has pardons to impart, 
 {Brace to save thee from thy fears: 
 
 See the love that fills his heart, 
 And wipe away thy tears. 
 
 Thy present distress is a pledge of a pre- 
 paration for the discovery of his forgiving 
 love — He repented, and went — Go, and do 
 likewise; and encourage thyself under every 
 gloomy fear by representations the most ap- 
 propriate and tender — " I have surely heard 
 Ephraim bemoaning himself thus: Thou hast 
 chastised me, and I was chastised, as a bul- 
 lock unaccustomed to the yoke ; turn thou 
 me, and I shall be turned, for thou art the 
 Lord my God. Surely, after that I was turned 
 I repented ; and after that I was instructed, I 
 smote upon my thigh : I was ashamed, yea, 
 even confounded, because I did bear the re- 
 proach of my youth — Is Ephraim my dear son 1 
 is he a pleasant child 1 for since I spake against 
 him, I do earnestly remember him still : there- 
 fore my bowels are troubled for him ; I will 
 surely have mercy upon him, saiththe Lord." 
 " And he said, I will arise, and go to my Fa- 
 ther, and will say unto him, Father, I have 
 sinned against Heaven and before thee, and 
 am no more worthy to be called thy son; 
 make me as one of thy hired servants. And 
 he arose, and came to his Father — But when 
 he was yet a great way off, his Father saw 
 him, and had compassion on him, and ran, and 
 fell on his neck, and kissed him — And said to 
 his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put 
 it on him ; and put a ring on his hand and 
 shoes on his feet. And bring hither the fitted 
 calf, and kill it ; and let us eat and be merry. 
 For this my son was dead, and is alive again ; 
 he was lost, and is found. And they began to 
 be merry." 
 
 Are you saying, with the second — " I go, 
 Sir !" — This is well — but, oh ! beware of in- 
 sincerity. Consider seriously the solemn pro- 
 fession you make. I go, Sir ! — But remember 
 to whom you say this — a Being, whose eyes 
 are as a flame of fire, and who desireth truth 
 in the inward parts : thou art not lying unto 
 man, but unto God. I go, Sir ! — But remember 
 that the vows of God are upon you ; that you 
 have raised the expectation of your friends 
 and foes ; that heaven, earth, and hell are look- 
 ing for a practice which will verify your pre- 
 tensions : and will you tell them all, " I am 
 only — a liar — a hypocrite V I go, Sir ! — But 
 
 remember, that your doom will be determin- 
 ed not by "fair speeches" and a "show of 
 godliness," but by your actions and your lives. 
 " Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, 
 Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, 
 but he that doeth the will of my Father which 
 is in heaven." I go, Sir ! — But remember, 
 nothing is so dangerous to the soul as false 
 dealing with God ; that no character is so rare- 
 ly converted as a false professor ; that no state 
 is so tremendous as the end of an apostate. I 
 go, Sir ! — But remember — it is the language 
 of God — " if any man draw back, my soul 
 shall have no pleasure in him." " For it is im- 
 possible for those who were once enlightened, 
 and have tasted of the heavenly girt, and were 
 made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have 
 tasted of the good word, and the powers of the 
 world to come, if they shall fall away, to re- 
 new them again unto repentance ; seeing 
 they crucify to themselves the Son of God 
 afresh, and put him to an open shame — But, 
 Beloved, we are persuaded bettor things of 
 you, and things that accompany salvation, 
 though we thus speak." 
 
 SERMON XVI. 
 
 CHRISTIAN DILIGENCE. 
 
 .?)i/7 besides this, giving- all diligence, add to 
 your faith virtue ; and to virtue, knowledge ; 
 and to knowledge, temperance ; and to tem- 
 perance, patience ; and to patience, godli- 
 7iess ; and to godliness, brotherly kindness ; 
 and to brotherly kindness, charity. — 2 Peter 
 i. 5—7 
 
 My Brethren, it is a very easy, and it is a 
 very difficult thing to be a Christian. It is a 
 very easy thing to be a nominal Christian : but 
 it is a very difficult thing to be a real one. It 
 is a very easy thing to be a modern Christian : 
 but it is a very difficult thing to he a Scrip- 
 tural one. Do not imagine that we mean to 
 trifle, or advance a paradox to awaken your 
 attention at the beginning of a discourse : we 
 speak " the words of truth and soberness." 
 It is undeniable that we have many Chris- 
 tians among us, who are strangers even to 
 common decency and morality ; " being abo- 
 minable, and disobedient, and to every good 
 work reprobate." Others make a much strict- 
 er profession — but, alas ! their Christianity 
 leaves them as it finds them, and in their lives 
 there is very little difference discernible be- 
 tween them and the people of the world. 
 Their tempers are unsubdued ; their tongues 
 are unbridled ; they mind earthly things ;" 
 they make no sacrifices, no exertions. Their 
 hope is a lifeless expectation. Their faith is 
 a scheme of doctrine, which they have laid 
 asleep in the mind, and which never disturbs 
 or stimulates them. 
 
 But is this the religion of the New Testa- 
 ment ? — Search the Scriptures. Observe the 
 
SERMON XVI. 
 
 03 
 
 delineations of the Gospel, and compare your- 
 selves with them. In these, a profession is 
 found to mean a practical dissent from the 
 spirit and manners of the world ; the hope 
 which maketh not ashamed is held forth as 
 purifying 1 the possessor from the love of sin 
 and the dominion of sense; and the faith by 
 which we are justified and saved, is distin- 
 guished as a vital and a vigorous principle, 
 drawing after it a train of graces and good 
 works. Witness the language of our apostle. 
 " And besides this, giving all diligence, add to 
 your faith virtue ; and to virtue, knowledge ; 
 and to knowledge, temperance; and to tem- 
 perance, patience ; and to patience, godliness; 
 and to godliness, brotherly kindness ; and to 
 brotherly kindness, charity." Christians ! 
 these words specify, I. The additions which 
 you are to make to your faith. And, II. Pre- 
 scribe the means by which you are to make 
 them. 
 
 I. The apostle does not exhort Christians to 
 seek after faith — This he supposes them to 
 possess already. He addresses them as be- 
 lievers, and calls upon them to pursue a 
 course worthy of their faith, corresponding 
 with their faith, and to which their faith binds 
 them. — " Remember, Christians, the worthy 
 name by which you are called. Consider the 
 tendency of the principles you profess to be- 
 lieve. You have embraced the Gospel — it 
 lays an obligation upon you to deny all un- 
 godliness and worldly lusts, and to live soberly, 
 righteously, and godly in the present world. 
 You say you have faith — but faith without 
 works is dead, being alone. Faith resembles 
 a foundation — of high importance in case of a 
 building — but useless if no superstructure be 
 reared. It is only a beginning — which is no- 
 thing without progress. What are clear no- 
 tions unless they influence ; or proper motives 
 unless they impel ] Abraham had faith, and 
 he offered up Isaac. Moses had faith, and he 
 esteemed the reproach of Christ greater riches 
 than the treasures of Egypt. Abel and Noah 
 had faith — but it was belief, alive and in mo- 
 tion : it led the one to sacrifice, and the other 
 to build. If you know these things — happy 
 are ye if ye do them. You have received the 
 truth — now walk by it. You are sound in 
 doctrine — be so now in practice. You are 
 ■orthodox — now be holy, defraud no man, speak 
 evil of no man. You have faith — add to your 
 faith virtue ; and to virtue, knowledge ; and 
 to knowledge, temperance; and to temper- 
 ance, patience; and to patience, godliness; 
 and to godliness, brotherly kindness ; and to 
 brotherly kindness, charity." Such is the 
 meaningof the apostle : and thus we conceive 
 he would have explained himself, had he been 
 living in our day and called to address some 
 of our audience. 
 
 The first addition which he requires of you 
 as believers is virtue. But it does not here 
 signify goodness in general : it is immediate- 
 
 ly distinguished from the various excellences 
 included in the common acceptation of the 
 .word. It therefore expresses some particular 
 finality; and by referring to the Greek and 
 Latin writers we can soon determine what it 
 is — They mean by it Fortitude, Courage. My 
 Brethren, this principle in the whole of your 
 Christian course will be found indispensably 
 necessary. You live in a world unfriendly to 
 religion. You are called to various duties, 
 in the discharge of which you will meet with 
 oppositions and discouragements the most 
 painful and trying. It will be found no easy 
 thing to deny yourselves, and take up your 
 cross ; to pluck out a right eye, and to cut off 
 a right hand — being both the patients and the 
 agent too. It will be found no very easy thing 
 to encounter opinion : to incur the frowns of 
 connections, the scorn of superiors, the ridi- 
 cule of the multitude ; to feel yourselves in a 
 small and despised minority ; to have your 
 designs suspected, your actions misrepresent- 
 ed, your very virtues transformed into vices, 
 and where you have deserved best of your 
 fellow-creatures to be most condemned by 
 them. 
 
 Some of these difficulties indeed might be 
 avoided if you were only to be religious and 
 not to appear so. But not to observe that it 
 is impossible to conceal religion in number- 
 less instances when it is fairly reduced to 
 practice, we wish you to remember that you 
 are required to be open and explicit ; you are 
 commanded to " let your light shine before 
 men ;" to " confess with the mouth" as well 
 as to "believe with the heart;" to "hold 
 fast," not your faith, but the " profession of 
 your faith, without wavering ;" and not only 
 to be " on the Lord's side," but to be active 
 in his service, " rising up lor him against 
 the evil doers, and standing up for him 
 against the workers of iniquity." 
 
 If we trace things to their origin, we shall 
 find a thousand evils springing, not from ig- 
 norance but cowardice. Pilate condemned a 
 Saviour of whose innocency he was conscious 
 — because of the Jews. Many of the Phari- 
 sees " believed on him ; but feared to confess 
 him lest they should be put out of the syna- 
 gogue." The disciples were afraid, and for- 
 sook him. Peter trembled, and denied him. 
 It is owing to the influence of the same cause, 
 that persons can hold the truth in unrigh- 
 teousness ; refuse to hear the very doctrines 
 they believe ; change with every compa- 
 ny in which they are found ; hear the name 
 of God blasphemed and the Gospel vilified, 
 and " sit as men in whose mouths there is no 
 reproof." But holy courage will raise a man 
 above this influence. It will produce in him 
 a dignity which scorns every mean compli- 
 ance; a firmness which gives decision and 
 consistency to his character ; a determination 
 not indeed to make singularity his aim, but to 
 walk by those rules which will unavoidably 
 
94 
 
 SERMON XVI. 
 
 render it a consequence , a boldness to follow 
 his convictions wherever they may lead him, 
 and inflexibly to persevere in the path of duty, 
 regardless of the reproach he may endure,' 
 or the losses he may sustain. 
 
 A second addition is knowledge. And 
 this very properly follows the former. It 
 serves to characterize, and to qualify the cou- 
 rage of the believer. It reminds us — that it 
 makes him open, but not ostentatious — ready, 
 but not challenging and vaunting — decided, 
 but not violent — bold, but not rash and incon- 
 siderate. It teaches us that courage is a 
 force which wisdom is to employ — Courage 
 may urge us to undertake the war, but judg- 
 ment is to manage it : it may impel us along 
 in our course, but knowledge is to observe the 
 road — otherwise our animation will only lead 
 us astray, and the swifter our speed, the 
 greater will be our folly. 
 
 And hence it will be easy to determine 
 the nature of this qualification. It is practi- 
 cal knowledge; it is what we commonly 
 mean by prudence, which is knowledge ap- 
 plied to action. It is what Paul recommends 
 when he says, " Be ye not unwise, but un- 
 derstanding what the will of the Lord is. 
 Walk circumspectly, not as fools but as wise. 
 Walk in wisdom towards them that are 
 without, redeeming the time." It is what 
 Solomon enjoins when he says, "let thine eyes 
 look right on, and thine eyelids look straight 
 before thee. Keep sound wisdom and discre- 
 tion; so shall they be life unto thy soul and 
 grace to thy neck. Then shalt thou walk 
 in thy way safely, and thy foot shall not stum- 
 ble : when thou liest down, thou shalt not be 
 afraid; yea, thou shalt lie down, and thy sleep 
 shall be sweet." 
 
 This kind of knowledge results principally 
 from experience and observation ; and he is 
 blameable indeed who does not grow wiser 
 as he grows older, and who does not make 
 every day a correction of the former. Our 
 own history affords us some of the best mate- 
 rials to improve and embellish our character. 
 — There, being heedless, I was surprised. By 
 that trifle I was robbed of temper. Here, I 
 dashed on a rock, and a plank saved me. Our 
 rashness should teach us the meekness of 
 wisdom. We should derive strength from our 
 weaknesses, and firmness from our falls. 
 
 But, alas ! what numbers are there, upon 
 whom the continuance of life, and all means 
 of improvement, seem to be thrown away ! 
 They have eyes, but they see not : ears have 
 they, but they hear not. They pass through 
 a country full of instructive scenes and inte- 
 resting occurrences — but they travel in a 
 hearse. And here many religious people 
 seem peculiarly deficient: they perpetually 
 remind us of the observation, " the children of 
 this world are wiser in their generation than 
 the children of light." They are always 
 roving from one public assembly to another, 
 
 and are never alone. They hear much and 
 think little. Even the kind of information 
 they obtain often serves only to draw them 
 away from things of immediate concern, and 
 to disqualify them for the duties of the sta- 
 tions in which they move. With their eyes 
 stretched to the ends of the earth, or roving 
 among the stars, they go on regardless of any 
 thing before them, and tall over every stum- 
 bling-block in the road. 
 
 Whereas "the wisdom of the prudent is to 
 understand his way." "The prudent man 
 looketh well to his going." He draws down 
 his knowledge from speculation, and uses it 
 in common life. He judges of the value of 
 his notions by their utility. He studies his 
 character and condition. He examines his 
 dangers, his talents, his opportunities. He 
 marks events as they arise, and has a plan to 
 receive them. He distinguishes times, 
 places, circumstances. He discerns both 
 when to keep silence, and when to speak. 
 He reproves with skill. He gives with judg- 
 ment. He " approves things that are excel- 
 lent." 
 
 Thirdly. You are to avoid intemperance. 
 There is a sense in which this word may be 
 applied to the mind as well as the body. For 
 we are required to think soberly — to keep all 
 our passions within due bounds — to moderate 
 our desires to enjoy earthly pleasures, and our 
 anxieties to acquire worldly possessions. 
 Our Saviour therefore commands his disciples 
 " to take heed lest at any time their hearts 
 should be overcharged," not only " with sur- 
 feiting and drunkenness," but also "the cares 
 of this life, and so that day should come upon 
 them unawares." The motive is as pertinent 
 as it is awful ; 'for if we are to live in expec- 
 tation of this important event, and are to be 
 so habitually prepared for it as not to be taken 
 by surprize when it comes, it is necessary 
 that we should be temperate in all things. 
 
 The word, however, principally refers to 
 moderation in satisfying our bodily appetites. 
 But can it be needful to enlarge upon a sub- 
 ject like this in a Christian congregation? — 
 Surely, something far short of the pure and 
 exalted system of the Gospel would be suffi- 
 cient to restrain men from degrading them- 
 selves below the beasts that perish. Surely, 
 we need not interpose the authority of God, 
 and reveal the misery he has prepared in an- 
 other world, in order to keep them from being 
 gluttons and drunkards. Against this, Hea- 
 thenism exclaims — Nature rises up — Health 
 preaches. Intemperance is arraigned and 
 punished here. It impoverishes our circum- 
 stances. It beggars our families. It renders 
 the body lazy and sickly, and breeds all man- 
 ner of diseases. It besots the mind, and stu- 
 pifies reason; it impedes with filthy crudi- 
 ties the way through which the spirits should 
 pass, and bemires the soul so that it drags on 
 heavily ; it unfits for every duty, and prepares 
 
SERMON XVI. 
 
 95 
 
 for every sin Surely otic half of this is 
 
 enough to make you flee all intemperance; 
 and to lead you not only to avoid the gross- 
 er excesses of this infamy, but to abhor eve- 
 ry degree of approach to it Shun there- 
 tore those " whose god is their belly, and 
 whose glory is in their shame." Scorn the 
 bondage of corruption. Disdain to be the 
 slaves of a pampered appetite. Never advance 
 to the bounds of things lawful. Beware of 
 beginnings, and the excuses which would 
 authorize them. " But put ye on the Lord 
 Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the 
 flesh to fulfil the lusts thereof." 
 
 Fourthly. You are to add to your tempe- 
 rance patience. There is an obvious and 
 striking relation between these. The one 
 requires us to bear, the other to forbear. The 
 one regards the good things, the other the evil 
 things of the world. By temperance we are 
 preserved under the smiles of prosperity, and 
 by patience we encounter the frowns of ad- 
 versity. These two therefore furnish us 
 " with the armour of righteousness on the 
 right hand and on the left." And the one is 
 as necessary as the other. For you will not 
 be assailed from one side only. When the 
 weather is fair, the road agreeable, and the 
 adjoining groves and meadows very alluring, 
 you are in danger of pausing and wandering 
 — but the storm driving in your face, and your 
 feet sinking in deep mire where there is no 
 standing, you will sometimes be discouraged 
 because of the way, question whether you are 
 right, and debate with yourselves whether to 
 advance or turn back. — Yes, Christians, you 
 will have need of patience, and perhaps of 
 much more than you are aware. You know 
 not what a day may bring forth. " Riches" 
 may " make to themselves wings, and flee 
 away." Your " friends may deal deceitfully 
 with you as a brook." Your present comforts 
 may become your greatest troubles. Trials, 
 which so far from expecting, never entered 
 your thoughts, may suddenly arise. Has not 
 this world been always a vale of tears ! Did 
 any of your brethren who were before you es- 
 cape sorrow 1 Are you not assured that it is 
 through much tribulation you must enter the 
 • kingdom 1 But patience will prepare you for 
 every changing scene, and every suffering 
 hour. What it cannot remove, it will allevi- 
 ate; what it cannot diminish, it will strength- 
 en you to bear. It will produce a composure 
 which will allow you to discover every fa- 
 vourable circumstance in your situation ; a si- 
 lence which will enable you to hear every 
 message of the rod. " Let patience have her 
 perfect work ; that ye may be perfect and en- 
 tire, lacking nothing." 
 
 Fifthly. Godliness is indispensable. Cou- 
 rage and Prudence, Temperance and Pa- 
 tience, would be no Christian qualities, if 
 in the exercise of them we were not in- 
 fluenced by suitable regards to God. With- 
 
 out this reference, our religion is nothing 
 more than morality: our practice has no 
 adequate principle : our duties are in vain, 
 as to their acceptance ; and precarious, va- 
 riable, lifeless, irksome, as to their perform- 
 ance. When we are governed by the au- 
 thority of God, and make his word our rule, 
 and his glory our aim, we please him ; and 
 though our services are attended with many 
 imperfections, they are accepted. When we 
 love and fear him, when we realize his pre- 
 sence, confide in his mercy, implore his grace, 
 and maintain continual communion with him 
 through the mediation of his Son and by the 
 influences of his Spirit — our work becomes our 
 privilege; all is enlivened; all is secured. 
 In this godliness consists : it is, to bring God 
 into every part of life and religion ; to make 
 him the Alpha and Omega of all we do. 
 Though morality is distinguished from godli- 
 ness, it always and inseparably attends it ; and 
 he never performs his duty towards God, who 
 lives unrighteously towards man : " If a man 
 say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is 
 a liar ; for he that loveth not his brother whom 
 he hath seen, how can he love God whom he 
 hath not seen 1 And this commandment have 
 we from him, That he who loveth God, love 
 his brother also." Hence 
 
 We are to add to godliness brotherly 
 kindness. And who are our brethren! All 
 Christians. However they may differ from 
 us in their age, their dress, their features, 
 they are all children of the same Father, 
 members of the same family, heirs of the same 
 grace, travellers towards the same heavenly 
 country. They have therefore claims upon 
 ns: and we are to aid and relieve them. 
 " Whoso hath this world's good, and seeth his 
 brother have need, and shutteth up his bow- 
 els of compassion from him, how dwelleth the 
 love of God in him 1 Let us not love in word, 
 neither in tongue, but in deed and in truth." 
 Who are our brethren 1 All mankind. " God 
 hath made of one blood" all the nations of the 
 earth. They possess the same powers of con- 
 science, reason, and immortality ; they are 
 capable of the same privileges ; need the same 
 succours; are liable to the same afflictions. — 
 Hence love, good-will to the whole human 
 race, finishes the train, and becomes " the 
 bond of perfectness." — And — 
 
 — To brotherly kindness, charity. Thus 
 we are " the children of our Father which is 
 in heaven : for he maketh his sun to rise on 
 the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on 
 the just and on the unjust." Thus every dis- 
 pute concerning the extent or limitation of 
 benevolence is settled — As we have opportu- 
 nity, we are to do good unto all men, espe- 
 cially unto them who are of the household 
 of faith. "To some, indeed, I am peculiar- 
 ly bound ; to few, only, can I be personally 
 useful — but my kind wishes and prayers ex- 
 tend to every individual of the human race. 
 
IX) 
 
 SERMON XVI. 
 
 By the law of the Gospel I am required to 
 cherish in my bosom those sentiments of be- 
 nevolence which are only hindered from be- 
 ing universal in their exercise by inability 
 and necessity." 
 
 Thus you are to add to your faith virtue ; 
 to virtue, knowledge ; to knowledge, tempe- 
 rance ; to temperance, patience ; to patience, 
 godliness; to godliness, brotherly kindness; 
 and to brotherly kindness, charity. — But let us, 
 
 II. Inquire how this is to be accomplished. 
 The apostle tells us. It is by giving all di- 
 ligence. To excite you to this, we would 
 remind you — that these things deserve your 
 diligence — that diligence will secure them — 
 and that they cannot be attained without di- 
 ligence. 
 
 First. These things deserve your dili- 
 gence. It is pitiable to see men employing 
 their zeal and consuming their strength upon 
 trifles. But this is the case with regard to 
 the pursuits of thousands. You may ask 
 them, as they rusli by, "Wherefore do ye 
 spend your money for that which is not bread, 
 and your labour for that which satisfieth not !" 
 None of these things can relieve them in 
 their greatest exigences, promote their chief 
 interests, reward them for their toil, or in- 
 demnify them for the sacriliccs they make. 
 But this cannot be said of spiritual blessings 
 and graces. These are in the sight of God 
 of great price. They are necessary to man. 
 They purify his passions, and tranquillize his 
 conscience. They enrich, they dignify him : 
 they are his perfection. They make him 
 happy in himself, and render him a blessing 
 to all around him. Conceive how striking 
 and how useful a single individual would be 
 if seen — thus adorning the doctrine of God 
 our Saviour in all things : not only a believer, 
 but courageous ; not only courageous, but 
 wise ; not only wise, but self-denying, and 
 gentle, and pious: and all this followed by 
 kindness and benevolence ! What then would 
 a number of these characters accomplish as 
 they passed along through life ] They would 
 look forth as the morning, fair as the moon, 
 clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with 
 banners : bearing down reproach, disarming 
 infidelity, putting to silence the ignorance of 
 foolish men, and constraining beholders to glo- 
 rify God in the day of visitation. 
 
 Secondly. Diligence will infallibly se- 
 cure these things. In the career of worldly 
 good, many run, but few obtain the prize : 
 and the race is not to the swift, nor the battle 
 to the strong ; neither yet bread to the wise, i 
 nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor : 
 yet favour to men of skill; but time and 
 chance happeneth to them all. Fame depends 
 upon a combination of circumstances, which : 
 may never return. A despised rival may sud- I 
 denly rise up, and carry off an acquisition i 
 which you had been pursuing incessantly < 
 tlirough life. Though the sower soweth in 1 1 
 
 i hope, many things may frustrate his expecta- 
 
 • tions. " But to the righteous there is a sure 
 
 • reward." "He that goeth forth and weep- 
 eth, bearing precious seed, shurll, doubtless, 
 return again with rejoicing, bringing his 
 
 ; sheaves with him." "Ask, and it shall be 
 given you ; seek, and ye shall find ; knock, 
 and it shall be opened unto you : for every 
 one that asketh, receiveth ; and he that seek- 
 eth, findeth ; and to him that knocketh, it shall 
 be opened." In the world, men spare no 
 pains, decline no difficulty, fear no hazard, 
 though they have nothing more than probabi- 
 lity to excite and encourage them — and shall 
 we be insensible and motionless, who have 
 nothing less than actual certainty ? 
 
 Thirdly. There is no attaining these 
 things -without diligence. Diligence is in- 
 dispensable. 
 
 Indispensable, if we appeal to analogy. You 
 must labour even for " the meat that perish- 
 eth." Through what a succession of process 
 does your bread pass before it be prepared for 
 use ! The same may be said of raiment; of 
 trade ; of science — of every thing valuable and 
 excellent — you do not expect to gain them 
 without diligence ; you would not esteem and 
 prize them if you could. 
 
 " On earth naught precious is obtain'd, 
 
 But what is painful too. 
 By travail, and to travail born, 
 Our sabbaths are but few." 
 
 — Indispensable, if we appeal to the charac- 
 ter of a Christian. He is a merchant, a scho- 
 lar, a husbandman, a traveller, a soldier — the 
 anxiety of the merchant, the application of 
 the scholar, the hardy toil of the husbandman, 
 the wearying progress of the traveller, the 
 painful exercise of the soldier, are images 
 which ill accord with indolence and ease. 
 
 — Indispensable, if we appeal to the pro- 
 mises of the Gospel. These all require it, 
 encourage it, produce it. Is God said to 
 work in us to will and to do of his own good 
 pleasure 1 It is made a motive to induce us to 
 work out our own salvation with fear and trem- 
 bling. Has he engaged to renew our strength ] 
 It is when we are waiting upon him — this is 
 the condition : it is, that we may mount up 
 with wings as eagles ; that we may run and • 
 not be weary, and walk and not faint — this is 
 the design. And if the promises of divine 
 grace do not supersede the necessity of dili- 
 gence — what else can render it needless ? 
 
 Awake, then, my fellow Christians, and be 
 zealous. Be not satisfied with your present 
 attainments ; but, forgetting the things which 
 are behind, and reaching forth unto those 
 things which are before, be ever pressing to- 
 wards the mark for the prize of the high call- 
 ing of God in Ciirist Jesus. Others are ambi- 
 tious, covetous, active. The learned are add- 
 ing to their intellectual treasures ; the hon- 
 ourable are adding to their splendour and dis- 
 tinctions ; the rich are adding house to house, 
 
SERMON XVII. 
 
 07 
 
 and field to field : and none of them saith, 
 " It is enough." And have you no concern 
 to go from strength to strength, to be changed 
 from glory to glory, to shine more and more 
 unto the perfect day ! Will not you add to 
 your faith virtue ; and to virtue, knowledge ; 
 and to knowledge, temperance ; and to tem- 
 perance, patience ; and to patience, godliness ; 
 and to godliness, brotherly kindness ; and to 
 brotherly kindness, charity'! 
 
 Here, My Brethren, call forth all your dili- 
 gence. Here is a prize which is able to re- 
 ward it — which will assuredly crown it — but 
 which it is impossible to acquire without it. 
 Keep this always in your remembrance, that 
 there is only one way to prosper in religion ; 
 that your strength is not to sit still ; that 
 something more is necessary than airy notions, 
 sleepy wishes, feeble resolutions, wavering 
 and cold endeavours ; that temptations are to 
 be resisted, obstacles to be overcome, means 
 to be incessantly used — especially prayer, that 
 divine grace may be mighty in you, and suffi- 
 cient for you. " He becometh poor that deal- 
 eth with a slack hand ; but the hand of the 
 diligent maketh rich." " The soul of the 
 sluggard desireth, and hath nothing : but the 
 soul of the diligent shall be made fat." " And 
 we desire that every one of you do shew the 
 same diligence, to the full assurance of hope 
 unto the end : that ye be not slothful ; but 
 followers of them, who through faith and pa- 
 tience inherit the promises." " Wherefore, 
 my beloved Brethren, be ye stedfast, unmove- 
 able, always abounding in the work of the 
 Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour 
 is not in vain in the Lord." 
 
 SERMON XVII. 
 
 THE ABUSE OF DIVINE FORBEAR- 
 ANCE. 
 
 Because sentence against an evil -work is not 
 executed speedily, therefore the heart of the 
 sons of men is fully set in them to do evil, — 
 Eccles. viii. 11. 
 
 My Brethren, to know things in their prin- 
 ciples has always been deemed the highest 
 kind of science. The attention of a vulgar 
 mind may be roused by effects ; but a wise 
 man looks back from consequences to the 
 cause, and explores the source of the disease 
 in order to prescribe more certainly the means 
 of cure. 
 
 That there is much wickedness in the 
 world, is undeniable. Whence does it arise 1 
 — Solomon views it as resulting from an 
 Abuse of Divine Forbearance. Not that this 
 is the only source of iniquity : but it is a very 
 powerful, and a very prevailing one. In such 
 a dreadful course as Sin, a man needs encou- 
 ragement ; and he awfully derives it from the 
 goodness and long-suffering of his God. "Be- 
 cause sentence against an evil work is not 
 N 9 
 
 executed speedily, therefore the heart of the 
 sons of men as fully set in them to do evil." 
 
 " There is a sentence denounced against 
 Sin — The execution of it is commonly long 
 suspended — This delay emboldens the sin- 
 ner in his crimes. These three things are 
 obviously contained in the words before us ; 
 and with these I would engage your present 
 attention. " To-day, if ye will hear his voice, 
 harden not your heart." 
 
 I. Sin is deservedly called an evil work. 
 I fear none of us are sufficiently impressed 
 with a sense of its vileness and malignity. It 
 is " the work of the Devil." It is folly, in- 
 gratitude, rebellion, treason. It degrades the 
 soul : it defiles the soul. It robs us of the like- 
 ness, the presence, the favour of God. How 
 deplorable are its consequences ! What mise- 
 ry has it produced ! — For it cannot go unpu- 
 nished. — There is a sentence denounced 
 against it. 
 
 God is of "purer eyes than to behold iniqui- 
 ty :" " He is angry with the wicked every 
 day." But what is anger in God! Not a 
 passion, but a principle — a determination to 
 punish. It is justice — and this justice is es- 
 sential to the perfection of his character : and 
 we could neither adore nor love him, if we 
 believed that he was indifferent to an evil 
 which not only subverts his designs, but de- 
 stroys the welfare of his creatures. What 
 would you think of a magistrate who should 
 " bear the sword in vain ;" and who, when you 
 led before him one who had invaded your pro- 
 perty, and another who had killed your child, 
 should smile, and say, What is this to me 1 
 Would you not exclaim — Why, are you not 
 " a minister of God for good, a revenger to 
 execute wrath upon him that doeth evil V — 
 Crimes, in all well-governed empires, are pu- 
 nished ; and on their punishment much of our 
 peace and safety depend. Hence prisons- 
 are necessary as houses; and onr houses 
 would afford us no security without prisons. 
 What would be the consequences of the ab- 
 rogation ofall the penalities attached to crimes 
 in this country — but disorder, anarchy, robbe- 
 ry, and murder ? 
 
 God is the governor of the world. But there 
 is no governing without laws, and laws are 
 nothing without sanctions — from these they 
 derive their force and their efficacy. Laws 
 issued by a legislator, unaccompanied with 
 threatenings, would be harmless; and inspir- 
 ing no terror, would be trifled with, or consi- 
 dered only as advice. Thus the notion of pu- 
 nishment follows from the very constitution 
 of law. If any should be ready to say, " The 
 case before us is a peculiar one, and laws so 
 excellent as those which God has given us 
 should be cheerfully obeyed for their own 
 sake," — We answer, First, that man was ori- 
 ginally made capable of fear, and that God 
 even in a state of innocency addressed him- 
 self to this passion, to aid his authority and 
 
98 
 
 SERMON XVII. 
 
 secure his dominion. Witness the threaten- 
 ing, " In the day that thou eatest thereof thou 
 shalt surely die." Secondly, as man is now 
 fallen and depraved, and lives so much under 
 the dominion of sense, such a revelation of ter- 
 ror is become far more necessary, to check 
 the power of appetite, and break the force 
 of temptation. Accordingly a sentence the 
 most tremendous is denounced against every 
 transgressor. — Do you ask where it is re- 
 corded ? 
 
 Look within thee, O man, and read it there: 
 read it in the trouble, the remorse, the forebod- 
 ings of thy own conscience. Why are you un- 
 easy when any thing reminds you of the ap- 
 proach of Deity ? Whence has sickness, a sud- 
 den death, an opening grave, such power to 
 alarm you ! Why are you unwilling to be alone; 
 and why do you require a succession of business 
 and diversion to maintain your tranquillity? 
 Are not these things more frequently your re- 
 fuge than your choice 1 And are you not fear- 
 ful to leave any hour unfilled up, lest a faith- 
 ful monitor finding you disengaged, should 
 afford you employment ? Why are you unea- 
 sy, not only for the time — but for weeks and 
 months after the contraction of the guilt? 
 Why are you uneasy, not only when you are 
 discovered — but when no eye sees you ! Why 
 are you uneasy, not only when you have 
 exposed yourselves to the penalty of civil 
 law — but when you have committed crimes 
 for which you are amenable to no earthly 
 tribunal? What judge, what prison is it you 
 then dread ? Why do you not shake off these 
 terrors, and be a man ? — Why do you suffer 
 them to follow you into solitude and into 
 company? Turn, and frown them back; and 
 suffer your peace of mind to be no longer dis- 
 turbed — Ah ! it is in vain to argue against a 
 truth, which depends, not only on reasoning, 
 but sentiment; and to annihilate a principle 
 interwoven in human nature by the finger of 
 God. — Where is it recorded 1 
 
 Examine the history of mankind, and read 
 it there. See it in the expulsion of the happy 
 pair from Paradise; in the flood which de- 
 stroyed the world of the ungodly ; in the fire 
 and brimstone which consumed the cities of 
 the plain. Go, and read it inscribed on the 
 pillar of salt, and engraven on the arms rolled 
 to the shore of the Red Sea. View it in the 
 desolations of a people hated and scattered, 
 once the favourites of Heaven — View it in 
 every calamity, in every disease, in every 
 death. — Where is it recorded ? 
 
 Open the Bible, and peruse it there. There 
 you read that the soul that sinneth, it shall 
 die. There the wrath of God is revealed 
 from heaven against all unrighteousness and 
 ungodliness of men. Sometimes it is ex- 
 pressed in simple terms, and more frequently 
 in figurative language. Sometimes a little of 
 it is distinctly specified, but often the whole 
 is left in dreadful obscurity. Sometimes we 
 
 see the curse coming to meet the sinner, ana 
 beginning his misery here; but more gene- 
 rally we are led forward to eternity — For the 
 present is only a state of trial — the future is 
 a world of retribution : here we only sow — 
 there we shall reap : the sentence is already 
 denounced, but the infliction is commonly 
 long suspended. This is the 
 
 II. Division of our subject. Sentence 
 against an evil work is not speedily exe- 
 cuted. Here, however, we wish to observe — 
 That there is no uncertainty as to its final ac- 
 complishment — it is taken for granted that it 
 will be executed. "God is not a man, that 
 he should lie ; or the son of man, that he 
 should repent : hath he said, and shall he not 
 do it ? or hath he spoken, and shall he not 
 make it good ?" " Heaven and earth shall pass 
 away, but my word shall not pass away." It 
 may be also remarked — That he does not al- 
 ways defer the execu tion of the sentence. Men 
 have perished even in their crimes. Witness 
 the destruction of Korah and his company. 
 The leprosy of Gehazi. The death of Ana- 
 nias and Sapphira. — And what has happened 
 to one, may befall another. 
 
 But the language of the wise man agrees 
 with the general proceedings of the Supreme 
 Being. With much long-suffering he en- 
 dures the provocations of the ungodly, and 
 delays from day to day and from year to year 
 the wrath which they have deserved. He is 
 slow to anger, and punishes with reluctance. 
 Judgment is his strange work. Patience is 
 one of the distinguishing glories of his charac- 
 ter : it is often ascribed to him in Scripture ; 
 and the exercise of it appears in numberless 
 and undeniable instances. The old world was 
 warned an hundred and twenty years before 
 the flood came, and took them all away. Four 
 hundred years He suffered the Amorites to 
 fill up the measure of their iniquities. Forty 
 years long was he grieved with the Jews in 
 the wilderness. If we take the history of this 
 people ages after, we hear the God of patience, 
 in language the most exquisitely tender, say- 
 ing, " How shall I give thee up, Ephraim 1 
 how shall I deliver thee, O Israel ? how shall 
 I make thee as Admah ? how shall I set thee 
 as Zeboim ? Mine heart is turned within me, 
 my repentings are kindled together." And 
 are not you, are not all of you examples ? Can 
 you consider the time of your provocation — 
 the number of your offences — the aggravations 
 of your iniquities ; and not say, with wonder 
 and admiration, " It is of the Lord's mercies 
 that we are not consumed, because his com- 
 passions fail not ?" — Let us take some parti- 
 cular views of this dispensation, that we may 
 discover the principles from which it springs, 
 and the purposes which it is designed to an- 
 swer. 
 
 We are obviously intended for a social 
 state : but the intercourse we are required to 
 maintain with our fellow-creatures exposes us 
 
SERMON XVII. 
 
 98 
 
 ijo innumerable provocations and offences; 
 and the effects of sudden and uncontrolled re- 
 sentments would be fatal to ourselves and 
 others. Hence we are commanded to be 
 " slow to wrath ;" and to be " patient towards 
 all men." And in this forbearance God places 
 himself before us as our example. He teaches 
 us a divine lesson of meekness and kindness; 
 and calls upon us to cherish that gentleness 
 which is not easily provoked, and to repress 
 those passions which would impel us to re- 
 venge. " Therefore is the kingdom of hea- 
 ven likened unto a certain king, which would 
 take account of his servants. And when he 
 had begun to reckon, one was brought unto 
 him which owed him ten thousand talents: 
 but forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord 
 commanded him to be sold, and his wife and 
 children, and all that he had, and payment to 
 be made. The servant, therefore, fell down, 
 and worshipped him, saying, Lord, have pa- 
 tience with me, and I will pay thee all. Then 
 the lord of that servant was moved with com- 
 passion, and loosed him, and forgave him the 
 debt. But the same servant went out, and 
 found one of his fellow-servants, which owed 
 him an hundred pence; and he laid hands on 
 him, and took him by the throat, saying, Pay 
 me that thou owest. And his fellow-servant 
 fell down at his feet, and besought him, say- 
 ing, Have patience with me, and I will pay 
 thee all. And he would not ; but went, and 
 cast him into prison till he should pay the 
 debt So when his fellow-servants saw what 
 was done, they were very sorry, and came 
 and told unto their lord all that was done. 
 Then his lord, after that he had called him, 
 said unto him, O thou wicked servant, I for- 
 gave thee all that debt, because thou desiredst 
 me: shouldest not thou also have had compas- 
 sion on thy fellow-servant, even as I had pity 
 on thee ! And his lord was wroth, and deliver- 
 ed him to the tormentors, till he should pay 
 all that was due unto him. So likewise shall 
 my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye 
 from your hearts forgive not every one his 
 brother their trespasses." 
 
 If the commission of sin were always im- 
 mediately followed with the punishment of 
 it, this world would not be a state of probation 
 — obedience would not be voluntary, but forc- 
 ed — we should walk, not by faith, but by sight 
 — we should not honour God by our confidence 
 in his perfections and in the dispensations of 
 his Providence — he would not be " a God 
 hiding himself — his "judgments" would not 
 be " a great deep" — and the whole nature 
 and design of religion would be subverted. 
 
 IT the wrath of God instantly crushed every 
 transgressor, he would be the destroyer rather 
 than the governor of the world. To destroy, 
 is comparatively easy, and discovers little per- 
 fection: but the wisdom of God appears in 
 reigning over the extravagance of the world ; 
 in taking into his plans such diversities and 
 
 contradictions, and bending every thing he 
 meets with, however adverse, to his own pur- 
 poses; in bringing good out of evil, and order 
 out of confusion ; in making the wrath of man 
 to praise him. It is also worthy of our re- 
 mark, that many of those who deserve de- 
 struction are useful, in the present state of the 
 world : they are able to promote the arts and 
 sciences; and are qualified to render great 
 services to a country. Such men are links 
 in the chain of Providence, and their destiny 
 secures them. There are also purposes which 
 the wicked only can accomplish. God calls 
 the Assyrian, the rod of his anger and the 
 staff of his indignation ; and says, "I will send 
 him against an hypocritical nation; and 
 against the people of my wrath will I give 
 him a charge, to take the spoil, and to take the 
 prey, and to tread them clown like the mire 
 in the streets." When he had fulfilled the 
 designs of Heaven, in punishing some and 
 chastening others, he was laid aside. The 
 ungodly, by their continuance, are useful to 
 the righteous: they exercise their patience, 
 call forth their zeal, and wean them from the 
 present world. 
 
 Mankind are so variously and intimately 
 blended together, that it is scarcely possible 
 to strike an individual only, without affecting 
 others. Now the judge of all the earth will not 
 punish indiscriminately, and destroy the righ- 
 teous with the wicked. He would rather 
 spare a thousand enemies, than injure one 
 friend. If ten righteous men had been found 
 in Sodom, the place would have been pre- 
 served. The angel did not, yea, he said he 
 could not, do any thing till Lot was safely es- 
 caped. Why were not the messengers suf- 
 fered to eradicate the tares? Because it would 
 have been doing an injustice to them 1 No — 
 but lest, " in gathering up the tares, they 
 should also root up the wheat with them." 
 
 But, above all, the goodness of God is to be 
 acknowledged in this dispensation. " The 
 Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as 
 some men count slackness: but is long-suffer- 
 ing to us-ward ; not willing that any should pe- 
 rish, but that all should come to repentance." 
 We are to " account that the long-suffering of 
 our Lord is salvation." We see this exemplified 
 in Saul of Tarsus. Had he, in his way to Da- 
 mascus, been smitten tohell when he was struck 
 to the ground, he had never obtained mercy ; 
 never have been a Christian, a preacher, an 
 apostle. While the execution of the criminal 
 is still suspended, a pardon may arrive : while 
 life continues, there is a possibility of repent- 
 ance. " I will give him," says God, " a long- 
 er period — other means may be more effec- 
 tual I will afford him a season of recollec- 
 tion — he may come to himself. I will leave 
 him — thoughtfulness may succeed levity : 
 disappointment may break the charm which 
 now fascinates him. He is near the melan- 
 choly consequences of his perverseness — then 
 
100 
 
 SERMON XVII. 
 
 he will know what an evil and bitter thin? 
 it is to forsake the Lord. At such a time he 
 will lose the desire of his eyes with a stroke, 
 and his children shall follow their mother to 
 the grave — then he will enter his closet — and 
 say — And now, Lord, what wait I for 1 my 
 hope is even and only in Thee." Here, 
 Christians, if I knew your histories, perhaps I 
 could say to one of you, Oh ! it was well you 
 died not before a change in your affairs oc- 
 casioned your removal to that city ; for there 
 you " heard words whereby you were saved." 
 To another, You were mercifully spared till 
 Providence brought you that religious friend ; 
 for he "guided your feet into the path of 
 peace." "To a third, What if you had been 
 cut off* in your sin ! You went on frowardly — 
 you proceeded from evil to evil — a change 
 appeared hopeless — but by-and-by you began 
 to be in want : all prodigal as you were, you 
 said, " I will arise, and go to my father" — Nor 
 was it too late — He came forth to meet you 
 — " received you graciously, and loved you 
 freely." — "Therefore doth the Lord wait, 
 that he may be gracious ; and therefore will 
 he be exalted, that he may have mercy 
 upon you." Such is the design of this sus- 
 pension — But, alas ! " let favour be shewed to 
 the wicked, yet will he not learn righteous- 
 ness :" and Solomon reminds us, 
 
 HI. That the depravity of man turns di- 
 vine clemency into presumption, and abuses 
 the patience which bears with him to purposes 
 the most vile. "Because sentence against 
 an evil work is not executed speedily, there- 
 fore THE HEART OF THE SONS OF MEN IS FUL- 
 LY SET IN THEM TO DO EVIL." 
 
 In this mode of proceeding there is some- 
 thing specious. Man is a rational creature, 
 and is obliged to give his actions a colour of 
 reason. What he cannot forbear, he will en- 
 deavour to justify: what he cannot justify, 
 he will extenuate : what he cannot extenu- 
 ate, he will excuse — and, unhappily, he pos- 
 sesses no little ingenuity in devising excuses 
 to authorize the passions, or to keep off re- 
 morse and alarm. 
 
 When men begin a wicked course, con- 
 science is tender, scrupulous, fearful. They 
 are soon terrified, and often look immediately 
 for the punishment they have deserved. But 
 it does not arrive — They venture again — The 
 expectation diminishes. After many suc- 
 cesses and impunities, they go forward care- 
 lessly and boldly. What they once approached 
 with hesitation, now grown familiar, ceases to 
 shock. What once made them tremble, is 
 now ridiculed as a trifle. Where conscience 
 once thundered, it is now scarcely heard. 
 They cannot think that what produces no 
 evil consequences can be so bad as they once 
 apprehended. They infer from the Divine 
 indulgence, either that there is no God, or no 
 Providence; either that God does not attend 
 to these things, or will not punish them ; or 
 
 derive from his lenity such views of hie good- 
 ness as lead them to conclude that it has no 
 bounds. There is a disposition in the mind 
 to reason from the past to the future. Thus, 
 because reprieved so often, Pharaoh conclud- 
 ed he should escape again ; and this encou- 
 raged him to renew his disobedience. And 
 thus He who assigns motives and gives 
 language to actions has said, " There shall 
 come in the last days scoffers, walking af- 
 ter their own lusts, and saying, Where is 
 the promise of his coining] for since the fa- 
 thers fell asleep, all things continue as they 
 were from the beginning of the creation." 
 " These things hast thou done, and I kept si- 
 lence: and thou thoughtest that I wasaltoge- 
 ther such an one as thyself. He hath said in 
 his heart, I shall not be moved : for I shall 
 never be in adversity." " Wherefore doth 
 the wicked contemn God 1 He hath said in 
 his heart, Thou wilt not require it." "Be- 
 cause sentence against an evil work is not 
 executed speedily, therefore the heart of the 
 sons of men is fully set in them to do evil." 
 Nothing is more common, nothing more vile, 
 nothing more fatal, than this perversion. 
 
 First. Solomon does not draw the reflection 
 from a few single instances — Nothing is more 
 common than this abuse. Perhaps many of 
 you are examples of it. To decide this, I ask 
 — Would you have continued in your sinful 
 courses to this hour, had you not been per- 
 suaded that God would bear with you 7 — 
 Would you now perpetrate another crime, if 
 you supposed that God would instantly de- 
 stroy you for it ! Why, then, it is the long- 
 suffering of God, that encourages and embold- 
 ens you to go forward ; and you are evil be- 
 cause he is good. 
 
 Secondly. Nothing can be more vile and 
 base than this abuse. Clemency affords you 
 a shelter from the storm ; and you enter ; 
 and then wound your kind Benefactor, and 
 wound him because he had pity upon you. 
 Had you the least ingenuousness, you could 
 not help admiring, and loving, and serving 
 such a Being — but you insult him because of 
 his excellences and loving-kindnesses. You 
 sin because grace abounds, and choose to ap- 
 pear a monster in a garb of ingratitude blacker 
 than hell. 
 
 Thirdly. Be assured nothing will be more 
 fatal. " God shall wound the head of his ene- 
 mies, and the hairy scalp of such an one as 
 goeth on still in his trespasses." Mercy is 
 your final resource ; and when this is provok- 
 ed, to what can you turn ? If a father disown 
 you, what expectation can you have from an 
 incensed adversary ? God is, in this case, pe- 
 culiarly concerned to shew his displeasure. 
 He designed this long-suffering to answer 
 other purposes; and shall he be over-ruled 
 and mocked 1 No ; he will not lose the hon- 
 our of his patience, though you may lose the 
 advantage. If it be not glorified in your sal- 
 
SERMON XVTII. 
 
 101 
 
 vation, it will in your destruction. Wrath 
 loses nothing 1 by sleeping — it grows fresher 
 by repose. The longer the stone be in de- 
 scending 1 , the heavier it falls. Long prepara- 
 tion indicates the more dreadful execution. 
 
 Whoever may hope for audience in the 
 day of visitation, you cannot expect it. 
 " When your fear cometh as desolation, and 
 your destruction cometh as a whirlwind ; 
 when distress and anguish cometh upon you 
 — Then shall they call upon me, but I will 
 not answer ; they shall seek me early, but 
 they shall not find me ; for that they hated 
 knowledge, and did not choose the fear of the 
 Lord : they would none of my counsel, they 
 despised all my reproof. Therefore shall they 
 eat of their own ways, and be filled with their 
 own devices." 
 
 Whoever may hope to come off with a 
 lighter doom, you cannot expect it. Thy 
 reckoning is increased by delay — thou "de- 
 spiscst the riches of his goodness, and forbear- 
 ance, and long-suffering: not knowing that 
 the goodness of God leadeth thee to repent- 
 ance ; but after thy hardness and impenitent 
 heart, treasurest up unto thyself wrath against 
 the day of wrath, and revelation of the righ- 
 teous judgment of God." " But, and if that 
 servant say in his heart, my Lorddelayeth his 
 coming; and shall begin to beat the men ser- 
 vants and maidens, and to eat and drink, and 
 to be drunken; the Lord of that servant will 
 come in a day when he looketh not for him, 
 and in an hour when he is not aware ; and 
 will cut him in sunder, and will appoint him 
 his portion with the unbelievers." 
 
 Whoever may hope to be apprized of his 
 danger, surely you cannot expect it. " He 
 that being often reproved hardeneth his neck, 
 shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without 
 remedy." " For when they shall say, Peace 
 and safety, then sudden destruction cometh 
 upon them, as travail upon a woman with 
 child ; and they shall not escape." 
 
 And do you promise yourself exemption al- 
 ways 3 — Even the patience of the vine-dresser 
 has an end : he only prayed for another year ; 
 and perhaps this was more than eleven months 
 ago. Are you sure that he who waited to- 
 day, will wait to-morrow also? Having stood 
 so long knocking, will he never depart? May 
 he not withdraw, this very evening, saying, 
 " O that thou hadst known in this thy day the 
 things which belong to thy peace ! but now 
 they are hid from thine eyes." 
 
 But at present this is not your case. Your 
 harvest is not yet past, your summer is not yet 
 ended. The lives of some of you are spared 
 even to old age. Grey hairs are here and 
 there upon you ; and each of them proclaims 
 the patience of God. You are in his House 
 — and before his Throne — and capable of 
 hearing his Word. He has seen all your sin, 
 and abhorred all. He has had you completely 
 in his power : he could have frowned you in- 
 9* 
 
 to perdition. He has guarded you from acci- 
 dents, and raised you up from beds of lan- 
 guishing. How many, once your companions 
 in folly and sin, have been removed ! where 
 are they now ? O let this goodness encourage 
 you — not to sin, but to pray. Approach, and 
 kneel before him. " O Thou, who hast given 
 me space, give me also grace to repent. I 
 am now sensible of my guilt, and of thy good- 
 ness. I now know what misery I have de- 
 served, and what a blessedness thy mercy is 
 ready to bestow. I am filled with sorrow, 
 and shame, and self-abhorrence, to think that 
 I have so long transgressed thy Law, and de- 
 spised thy Gospel ; provoked thy justice, and 
 contemned thy grace. If, after all, Thou 
 wilt be favourable to such an ungrateful 
 wretch, and accept the remains of a sinful 
 life, I here devote all I am, and all I have, to 
 Thee. Thee I will love and obey. Adieu, 
 my vain and foolish desires, my degrading 
 lusts, my unprofitable pursuits — Pardon — 
 Heaven is even now attainable, and I am fol- 
 lowing after it. O my God ! enable me to 
 run and not be weary, and to walk and not 
 faint." May God inspire you with these sen- 
 timents ! To Him be glory and dominion for 
 ever and ever. Amen. 
 
 SE RMON XVIII. 
 
 ASSURANCE. 
 In this the children of God are manifest, and 
 the children of the Devil : -whosoever doeth 
 not righteousness is not of God ; neither he 
 that loveth not his brother. — 1 John iii. 10. 
 
 My Brethren, when God would admonish 
 and encourage Jeremiah in the discharge of 
 his office, he said, " If thou take forth the 
 precious from the vile, thou shalt be as my 
 mouth." This address determines the duty 
 of every preacher, who would "make full 
 proof of his ministry." It requires him to at- 
 tend peculiarly to the states of his hearers; 
 to delineate character; to bring forward fre- 
 quently and boldly the difference between the 
 righteous and the wicked ; and to apply with 
 confidence and wisdom the threatenings and 
 promises of the Scripture, for the conviction 
 of the sinner, and the consolation of the godly. 
 
 In this manner our Apostle studied to shew 
 himself approved unto God, — " a workman 
 that needed not to be ashamed, rightly divid- 
 ing the word of truth." — " In this, the chil- 
 dren of God are manifest, and the children of 
 the Devil : whosoever doeth not righteousness 
 is not of God ; neither he that loveth not his 
 brother." 
 
 Of the persons here mentioned we shall 
 consider three things. I. The character by 
 which thoy are described. II. The manner in 
 which they are discovered. III. The marks 
 by which they are distinguished. 
 
102 
 
 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 Men and Brethren ! While I am endeavour- 
 ing to explain and improve a subject so im- 
 portant, let me entreat you to employ your 
 minds, not in determining the condition of 
 others, but in judging your own : " let every 
 man prove his own work, and then shall he 
 have rejoicing in himself alone and not in ano- 
 ther: for every man shall bear his own bur- 
 den." 
 
 I. The persons opposed are The children 
 of God, and the children of the Devil. 
 To suppo.se that there are no such characters, 
 would be a reflection upon the wisdom of the 
 inspired writer in making the comparison. 
 But let us consider the meaning and impor- 
 tance of the titles. — " The children of God, 
 and the children of the devil," mean good and 
 bad men. It is common in the Scripture to call 
 persons, distinguished by any quality or ac- 
 quisition, the children of those from whom it 
 was originally derived, or by whom it was 
 pre-eminently possessed. Thus we read in 
 the Book of Genesis, that " Jabal was the Fa- 
 ther of such as d well in tents, and of such as 
 have cattle ; and that Jubal was the Father 
 of all such as handle the harp and the organ." 
 And thus they who have the faith and do the 
 works of Abraham, are called the Children 
 of Abraham. — The devil is the introducer of 
 evil : the wicked morally proceed from him — 
 partake of his depravity — resemble him — are 
 proud like him, are liars like him, and so of 
 the rest. Hence, says our Apostle, " He that 
 committeth sin is of the devil, for the devil 
 sinneth from the beginning." And hence 
 our Lord says to the Jews, who were endea- 
 vouring to accuse and destroy him, " Ye are 
 of your father the devil, and the lusts of your 
 father you will do. He was a murderer from 
 the beginning, and abode not in the truth, 
 because there is no truth in him. When he 
 speakcth a lie, he speaketh of his own : for he 
 is a liar, and the father of it." — God is the au- 
 thor of all goodness ; and Christians are said 
 to be "born of him" — to be " partakers of the 
 divine nature" — to be " followers of him as 
 dear children." They admire his excellences, 
 and imitate his perfections. Is he a God of 
 truth 1 They walk in the truth. Is he holy 1 
 They are holy. Is he merciful 1 They are 
 merciful. — And thus they are "the children 
 of their Father which is in heaven : for he 
 maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the 
 good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the 
 unjust." The sinner makes the devil his 
 model, and every degree of transgression adds 
 to the likeness. The believer aspires after 
 conformity to the highest of all examples; 
 and as he grows in grace, he is " changed 
 into the same image, from glory to glory, even 
 as by the Spirit of the Lord. 
 
 These are the persons here described by 
 the characters of " the children of God, and 
 the children of the devil." This division is 
 the most general and universal. It extends 
 
 to all mankind ; and, by o classification the 
 most eimple, reduces the innumerable diver- 
 sities of the human race into two orders. It 
 enters this house, and arranges this assembly : 
 it finds no individual in a state of neutrality : 
 it instantly blends each of you with those chil- 
 dren of wrath, or with these heirs of glory. 
 
 It is also a division the most serious and 
 eventful. It overlooks every thing adven- 
 titious, and considers only character. It 
 passes by the distinctions of speech, complex- 
 ion, rank; and regards the soul and eternity. 
 It views even the diversities, which arise 
 from the endowments of nature and the gitts 
 of Providence, as nothing, compared with 
 those which spring from faith and infidelity, 
 holiness and sin. How soon will the differ- 
 ence between the learned and illiterate, ty- 
 rants and slaves, poor and rich, be abolished ! 
 — Death levels them all, and sends them into 
 the world of spirits, not as lords or vassals ; 
 not saying, This came from a mansion, and 
 this from a cottage — He separates by a more 
 unchangeable rule of discrimination — This 
 was a true worshipper of God on earth ; let 
 him enter the temple above : this made the 
 wicked his choice and his companions; let 
 him be led forth with the workers of iniquity. 
 Death decides the importance of every claim : 
 your true greatness is your final ; and those 
 distinctions are alone worthy of your regard, 
 which, being internal and spiritual, will ad- 
 here to you when you leave every thing else 
 behind, and which will remain with you for 
 ever. 
 
 Let us consider, farther, what results from 
 these relations. According as you are " the 
 children of God, or the children of the devil," 
 you are crowned with honour, or covered with 
 disgrace. How did David prize an alliance 
 which made him son-in-law to the King ! 
 How vain are the people of their lineage and 
 extraction ! — But to be " sons and daughters 
 of the Lord Almighty" confers substantial 
 dignity, unfading honour, in comparison with 
 which, all the glory derived from secular no- 
 bility vanishes into smoke. Upon this princi- 
 ple, what infamy attaches to the sinner — who 
 has for his father the devil, a rebel, a traitor, 
 who forfeited his inheritance, and is bound in 
 chains of darkness, a murderer, the most ac- 
 cursed being in the universe ! — And what 
 renders him more worthy of reproach, and 
 draws from us execration where otherwise 
 we should rather show pity, is, that this is all 
 his choice, that he is not ashamed to acknow- 
 ledge the relation — every time he sins, he 
 calls him Father — every time he swears, 
 slanders, takes revenge, Observe, says he, my 
 pedigree, and behold the example I copy. 
 
 Upon these connections innumerable privi- 
 leges or evils depend. Are you the children of 
 God"! Heaven is your home : it is your Father's 
 house, where are many mansions. He has in 
 reserve for you an inheritance incorruptible 
 
SERMON XVIII. 
 
 103 
 
 and undofiled, and that fadcth not away. 
 And here you shall want "no good thing." 
 « Your heavenly Father knoweth what things 
 ye have need of helbre you ask him." Have 
 you afflictions? He will pity you "as a Fa- 
 ther pitieth his children." Have you infirmi- 
 ties? He will spare you, "as a man sparetli 
 his own son that serveth him." Are you to 
 be prepared for a " high calling ?" You shall 
 " be all taught of the Lord." Do you require 
 care and attention ? The angels shall be your 
 guardians : " are they not all ministering 
 spirits, sent forth to minister for them who 
 shall be the heirs of salvation 1'' But, my dear 
 hearers — I leave you to rill up the remaining 
 article, and to think of the children of the 
 wicked one. I leave you to reflect upon the 
 miseries they endure, from their perplexities, 
 their fears, their passions, and their pursuits 
 in life. I leave you to look forward to the 
 horrors which will devour them in a dying 
 hour; to follow them homk, and to contem- 
 plate their portion " with thedevil and his 
 angels." " The way of transgressors is hard." 
 — " The end of these things is death." It is 
 therefore, above all things, necessary for you 
 to know in which of these classes you rank : 
 and we are going to shew, 
 
 II. The possibility of ascertaining this. 
 The children of God, and the children of the 
 devil, are manifest. Observe, it is not spok- 
 en of as a future, but as a present discovery — 
 they are manifest. There is indeed a period 
 of separation approaching, when those who 
 are now blended shall be detached from each 
 other, and mingle no more. It is called 
 "the manifestation of the sons of God." 
 " Every man's work shall be made manifest, 
 for the day shall declare it." This "will 
 bring to light the hidden things of darkness, 
 and make manifest the counsels of the hearts ; 
 and then shall every man have praise of God." 
 " And then shall ye return and discern be- 
 tween the righteous and the wicked, between 
 him that serveth God and him that serveth 
 him not." But even now they arc to be dis- 
 covered, though not sufficiently and perfectly 
 known. They "arc manifest." You ask, 
 To whom ? 
 
 First. They are manifest to God. It is 
 impossible to impose upon him : he " is not 
 mocked." " His eyes are in every place, be- 
 holding the evil and the good." He " know- 
 eth them that are his ;" and he knoweth them 
 that are not his : " neither is there any crea- 
 ture that is not manifest in his sight ; but all 
 things are naked and open unto the eyes of 
 Him with whom we have to do." 
 
 Secondly. They are manifest to others. 
 The tree is known by its fruit. " A good 
 man out of the good treasure of his heart 
 bringeth forth good things, and an evil man 
 out of the evil treasure of his heart bringeth 
 forth evil tilings." The partakers of divine 
 grace are designed to be distinguished from 
 
 others: they arc to appear religious, as well 
 as be so ; they are to hold forth the word of 
 life; to reprove and convince others: their 
 light is to "shine before men, that they may 
 see their good works, and glorify their Father 
 who is in heaven." And surely there must 
 be an observable difference between them and 
 others. It is unreasonable to suppose that 
 persons, whose principles, and aims, and rules 
 of action, are not only so widely different, 
 but so completely opposite, can be undistin- 
 guishingly confounded together. The differ- 
 ence is not indeed so conspicuous as it ought 
 to be — but this arises from the imperfect de- 
 gree of their religion: for when they live as 
 they ought, they " declare plainly that they 
 seek a country ;" " they are manifestly the 
 epistles of Jesus Christ, known and read of 
 all men." 
 
 Thirdly. They are manifest to themselves. 
 It will readily be acknowledged that it is not 
 possible for a man to be wicked without 
 knowing it. He cannot live in the practice 
 of sin, and in the omission of the various du- 
 ties of religion ; he cannot love the one, and 
 hate the other; and not be conscious of it. 
 But is the same true of a good man ! — In re- 
 ply to this, suffer me to ask two things — First. 
 Is it not necessary for him to be able to know 
 his character ? If promises are made to a re- 
 ligious state, how can he claim these promises 
 unless he can determine that he is in this 
 state? If privileges are suspended upon duty, 
 how can he rejoice in these privileges, unless 
 he can determine that he has performed this 
 duty ? Secondly. What is religion ? An unin- 
 telligible mystery? a charm? an operation 
 which passes upon us and leaves no trace be- 
 hind ? — Is it not the most serious and impres- 
 sive concern in which we were ever engaged ? 
 — Does it not excite fears and hopes, joys and 
 sorrows, far superior to those which can arise 
 from any other source ? — Does it not involve 
 us in a succession of difficulties, oppositions, 
 and warfare ? — Is it not a general and conti- 
 nued course of action ? The business of life, to 
 which we endeavour to render every thing else 
 subordinate and subservient ? Our prevailing 
 aim ? our chief care ? — And is this incapable of 
 being known ? But these are the views which 
 you should take of religion ; and by these 
 your condition is to be tried — which brings us, 
 
 III. To consider the marks of distinction 
 between these characters. " In this the 
 children of God are manifest, an«the children 
 of the devil." 
 
 In what ? Not in temporal success. This 
 is given or withheld too indiscriminately to 
 allow of our knowing love or hatred : In this, 
 " all things come alike to all : there is one 
 event to the righteous and to the wicked. As 
 is the good, so is the sinner ; and he that 
 sweareth, as he that feareth an oath." — 
 
 In what ? Not in religious profession. Ju- 
 das and Demas were both visible members of 
 
104 
 
 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 the Church of God. There have always been 
 many who had a name to live, while they 
 were dead ; and assumed a form of godliness, 
 while they denied the power thereof. In our 
 day, all this is too cheap to be valuable ; too 
 common to be distinguishing'. — 
 
 In what? Not in talking — not in contro- 
 versy — not in a sound creed — not in the pro- 
 nunciation of the Shibboleths of a particular 
 party. — How few, in answering this question, 
 would have adduced the practice of righ- 
 teousness, AND THE EXERCISE OF LOVE ! 
 
 But such is the distinction of our Apostle. In 
 this the children of God are manifest, and 
 the children of the devil : he that doeth not 
 righteousness is not of God, neither he that 
 loveth not his brother. 
 
 And here we may observe, First. The 
 manner in which the subject is expressed. It 
 is held forth negatively — Nor is this with- 
 out design. It reminds us that omissions de- 
 cide the character, even where there is no po- 
 sitive vice. It is the representation of the 
 ungodly, that " he hath left off to be wise and to 
 do good." The " unprofitable" servant is call- 
 ed a 11 wicked" one ; and condemned, not be- 
 cause he abused his talent, but because he 
 " hid it in a napkin." And " every tree that 
 bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn 
 down and cast into the fire : he that doeth not 
 righteousness is not of God, neither he that 
 loveth not his brother." 
 
 Secondly. The union of these excellences 
 is worthy of our notice. We commonly see 
 them combined in the Scripture. It is said 
 of a good man, " He is gracious, and full of 
 compassion, and righteous." "He hath dis- 
 persed ; he hath given to the poor : his righ- 
 teousness endureth for ever." It is said also, 
 that " pure and undefiled religion before God 
 and the father is this, to visit the fatherless 
 and widows in their affliction, and to keep 
 himself unspotted from the world." And this 
 enables us to rectify the mistake of those 
 who are always endeavouring to separate 
 what God has joined together. Some place 
 their religion entirely in charity, and in one 
 equivocal exercise of it — for all they mean by 
 charity is alms-giving; and "this covers a 
 multitude of sins." And some trust in them- 
 selves that they are righteous and despise 
 others, who never seem to have read that " the 
 end of the commandment is charity out of a 
 pure heart, and a good conscience, and faith 
 unfeigned ;" that "charity is the bond of per- 
 fectness ;" that " by this shall all men know 
 that we are his disciples, if we love one ano- 
 ther." 
 
 Thirdly. From these arises a criterion, 
 by which we are to judge of the reality and 
 genuineness of religion. — Not that these are 
 the only marks which we are to employ; 
 there are many other evidences in the Scrip- 
 tures, and some of them of a more experiment- [ 
 
 al kind, which we dare not depreciate — but 
 all the rest will be vain and delusive if unac- 
 companied with this righteousness and this 
 love. These are the never-failing conse- 
 quences of divine grace. These enter deeply 
 into the character. These are indispensable. 
 By these we shall be tried hereafter — By these 
 we should form our judgment here — The 
 Judge himself proposes this rule: "In this 
 the children of God are manifest, and the chil- 
 dren of the devil : he that doeth not righ- 
 teousness is not of God, neither he that loveth 
 not his brother." 
 
 Let me conclude by calling upon you to think 
 of this — in forming a judgment of others. It 
 is a serious thing to deprive a fellow-creature 
 of religion, and to exclude him from eternal 
 life ; and what authority have you for doing 
 so, if his life be exemplary, and righteousness 
 and charity blend and prevail in his charac- 
 ter ? You say, perhaps, A man may appear to 
 possess these things when he is a stranger to 
 the reality, or his practice may flow from no in- 
 ward or gracious principle. We allow this , 
 and it becomes such a person to examine him- 
 self, to see whether his heart be right with 
 God, and whether his views and his disposi- 
 tions be such as the Gospel requires — But 
 when I form a judgment concerning him, the 
 case is materially altered. I have nothing to 
 do with his motives; I cannot search his 
 heart: his life and conversation only fall un- 
 der my cognizance ; and these are my rule — 
 "by their fruits ye shall know them." When 
 will this necessary difference influence the 
 opinions of individuals ? When will it be re- 
 garded by our churches in the admission of 
 members to communion 1 When we find no- 
 thing objectionable in a candidate — who tells 
 us to keep him back till we find something 
 satisfactory 1 " In this the children of God are 
 manifest, and the children of the devil : he 
 that doeth not righteousness is not of God, 
 neither he that loveth not his brother." 
 
 Above all, do not forget this, in judging 
 yourselves. I presume you wish to know 
 your spiritual condition, and that you are not 
 willing to leave your eternal salvation to a 
 mere peradventure — Perhaps I shall be saved ; 
 perhaps I shall be lost ! ! " Wherefore, bre- 
 thren, give all diligence to make your calling 
 and election sure." But beware how you pro- 
 ceed in the inquiry. Remember that there 
 are marks and evidences which cannot lead 
 you to a certain and safe conclusion. Do not 
 place your confidence in speculative opinions: 
 be not influenced by particular feelings, 
 which having much of animal nature in them, 
 may sometimes elevate and sometimes de- 
 press you, while your state is the same : do 
 not wait for sudden impressions, and vision- 
 ary suggestions ; but remember that the wit- 
 ness and the seal of the Spirit are his work 
 and influences. " Hereby we know that we 
 
SERMON XIX. 
 
 105 
 
 dwell in him and he in us, because he hath 
 given us of his Spirit." " If any man have 
 not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his." — 
 
 Here then lay the stress. Try yours by 
 your prevailing dispositions, and the tenour 
 of your lives. Many, I know, deride such a 
 standard — it is legal. They derive their as- 
 surance from some other source ; especially 
 from " a direct act of faith ;" or, in other 
 words, from a persuasion into which they 
 work themselves, without being able to assign 
 any reason whatever to justify it, save the 
 consciousness itself. They not only reject 
 good works, like others, as causes of salvation, 
 but they reject them even as evidences too. 
 They are not satisfied, like others, to exclude 
 them from their justification : they exclude 
 them even from their sanctification too, which 
 with them means only a relative change. May 
 you be preserved, my dear brethren, from this 
 dreadful perversion of " ungodly men, who 
 turn the grace of God into lasciviousness." 
 Remember, nothing can be so awful as final 
 deception : and nothing can more certainly 
 expose you to it, than imagining yourselves 
 the favourites of Heaven, while you are stran- 
 gers to the renewing power of divine grace, 
 and your tempers and lives are under none of 
 the purifying and affectionate influences of 
 the Gospel. " The secret of the Lord is with 
 them that fear him." " The meek will he 
 guide in judgment, and the meek will he teach 
 his way." They, to whom there is no con- 
 demnation because they are in Christ, " walk 
 not after the flesh, but after the Spirit." 
 " He that is born of God, overcometh the 
 world." "By this we know that we do 
 know him, if we keep his commandments." 
 These are the true sayings of God ; and such 
 is the invariable reference of the Scripture. 
 
 Suffer me then to ask you what you know 
 of these things. Are you doing righteous- 
 ness 1 and are you doing it — not reluctantly, 
 but with pleasure? — not occasionally, but 
 constantly? — not partially, but without re- 
 serve 1 Do you " esteem all his command- 
 ments concerning all things to be right," and 
 do you " hate every false way V Are your 
 infirmities your afflictions ? and do you derive 
 from them motives to vigilance and prayer ? 
 or are you satisfied and careless under them 1 
 Do you "love your brother also!" Do you 
 regard all your fellow-creatures and fellow 
 Christians ? And as you have opportunity, do 
 you do good unto all men ; especially unto 
 "those who are of the household of faith?" 
 Does this principle actuate you to afford them 
 relief, to bear their burdens, to seek their wel- 
 fare, and to serve them at the expense of self- 
 denial? 
 
 If this be not your condition, it is well to 
 know it ; and it will be your mercy to lay it 
 to heart. For your case, though bad, is not 
 desperate. If you are now sensible of your 
 sin, and really desirous of conversion, he 
 
 calls, he encourages you. " Wash ye, make 
 ye clean ; put away the evil of your doings 
 from before mine eyes; cease to do evil; 
 learn to do well; seek judgment, relieve 
 the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for 
 the widow. Come now, and let us reason to- 
 gether, saith the Lord ; though your sins 
 be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow ; 
 though they be red like crimson, they shall 
 be as wool. Let the wicked forsake his way, 
 and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and 
 let him return unto the Lord, and he will 
 have mercy upon him ; and to our God, for 
 he will abundantly pardon." And what he 
 requires, he also bestows." Read his promises 
 in connection with his commands. W hile the 
 one determines your work, the other insures 
 you ability for the performance of it. Beseech 
 Him to create in you a clean heart, and to re- 
 new a right spirit within you. Depend upon 
 his grace, which will be " sufficient for you ;" 
 and " being made free from sin, and become 
 servants to God, you will have your fruit un- 
 to holiness, and the end everlasting life. For 
 the wages of sin is death ; but the gift of God 
 is eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord." 
 Amen. 
 
 SERMON XIX. 
 
 DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 
 The voice of rejoicing- is in the tabernacles of 
 the righteous. — Psalm cxviii. 15. 
 
 Nothing can more usefully engage our at- 
 tention than Human Nature and Human Life. 
 The proper study of mankind is Man. His 
 origin and his end ; the structure of his body 
 and the powers of his mind ; his situation and 
 his connections ; are all capable of yielding 
 us boundless and edifying instruction. 
 
 In observing mankind, the private and fa- 
 miliar views of their character are by far the 
 most curious, interesting, and profitable. The 
 greater part of our history is composed of mi- 
 nute and common incidents : and little and 
 ordinary things serve more to discover a man, 
 and conduce more to render him useful, than 
 splendid and rare occurrences. Abroad, a 
 man appears cautious ; at home, he is unre- 
 served. Abroad, he is artificial ; at home, he 
 is real. Abroad, he is serviceable ; at home, 
 he is necessary. And of this we may be ful- 
 ly assured — that a man is in truth what he is 
 in his own family — whether vicious or virtu- 
 ous, tyrannical or mild, miserable or happy. 
 
 My Brethren, we are going to enter one of 
 those houses, of which David speaks — a ta- 
 bernacle "filled with the voice of rejoicing." 
 
 Domestic Felicity is our present subject. 
 Let us consider two things : the importance, 
 and the source of this happiness. I. What 
 may be said in commendation of it. II. 
 What will be necessary to the posses- 
 sion of it. O Thou, who hast said " It is 
 not good for man to be alone," " God of the 
 
SERMON XIX. 
 
 108 
 
 families of all the earth," may thy secret be 
 upon our tabernacles. Under the influence 
 of thy Providence and Grace, may we derive 
 from our unions all the blessedness they are 
 capable of affording: and to this end, guide 
 and sanctify our meditations. 
 
 Part I. One of the most agreeable scenes 
 we can ever survey upon earth, is a peace- 
 ful and happy family : where friendship comes 
 in to draw more closely the bonds of na- 
 ture ; where the individuals resemble the hu- 
 man body, and if one member suffer, all 
 the members suffer with it, and if one mem- 
 ber be honoured, all the members rejoice ; — 
 where every care is divided, every sorrow 
 diminished, every joy redoubled, by discovery, 
 by sympathy, by communion ; where mutual 
 confidence prevails, and advice, consolation, 
 and succour are reciprocally given and re- 
 ceived. To such a sight God himself calls 
 our attention. " Behold how good and plea- 
 sant a thing it is for brethren to dwell toge- 
 ther in unity !" Some things are good, but not 
 pleasant ; and some things are pleasant, but 
 not good — Here both are combined ; and the 
 effect is fragrant as the sacred perfume, and 
 reviving as the influences of Heaven. " It is 
 like the precious ointment upon the head, 
 that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's 
 beard ; that went down to the skirts of his 
 garments ; as the dew of Hermon, and as the 
 dew that descended upon the mountains of 
 Zion : for there the Lord commanded his bless- 
 ing, even life for evermore." Let us esta- 
 blish the importance of Domestic Happiness, 
 by taking some particular views of its con- 
 nections and influence. 
 
 And, First, We may consider it in reference 
 to our avocations and cares. These are 
 numerous and diversified, and demand relaxa- 
 tion and relief. Who could endure perpetual 
 drudgery and fatigue ? — and what so refresh- 
 ing, so soothing, so satisfying, as the placid 
 joys of home ! 
 
 See the traveller. Does duty call him for 
 a season to leave his beloved circle'! The 
 image of his earthly happiness continues vi- 
 vidly in his remembrance — it quickens him 
 to diligence — it cheers him under difficulties 
 — it makes him hail the hour which sees his 
 purpose accomplished, and his face turned to- 
 wards home — it communes with him as he 
 journeys — and he hears the promise which 
 causes him to hope, "Thou shalt know 
 also that thy tabernacle shall be in peace ; 
 and thou shalt visit thy habitation, and not 
 sin." Oh, the joyful re-union of a divided 
 family ; the pleasures of renewed interview 
 and conversation, after days of absence ! 
 
 Behold the man of science. He drops the la- 
 bour and painfulness of research — closes his vo- 
 lume — smoothes his wrinkled brows — leaves 
 his study — and unbending himself, stoops to 
 the capacities, yields to the wishes, and min- 
 gles with the diversions of his children — And 
 
 lie will nnt blush that has ft father's heart, 
 " To take in childish play a childish part; 
 " But bends his sturdy hack to any toy 
 " That youth takes pleasure in, to please his boy." 
 
 Take the man of trade. What reconciles 
 him to the toil of business? What enables 
 him to endure the fastidiousness and imperti- 
 nence of customers? What rewards him for 
 so many hours of tedious confinement '! By- 
 and-by the season of intercourse will arrive 
 — he will be embosomed in the caresses of 
 his family — he will behold the desire of his 
 eyes, and the children of his love, for whom 
 he resigns his ease — and in their welfare and 
 smiles he will find his recompense. 
 
 Yonder comes the labourer. He has borne 
 the burden and heat of the day : the descend- 
 ing sun has released him from his toil, and he 
 is hastening home to enjoy repose. Half-way 
 down the lane, by the side of which stands 
 his cottage, his children run to meet him : one 
 he carries, and one he leads. The companion 
 of his humble life is ready to furnish him with 
 his plain repast. See, his toil-worn counte- 
 nance assumes an air of cheerfulness — his 
 hardships are forgotten — fatigue vanishes — 
 he eats, and is satisfied — the evening fair, he 
 walks with uncovered head around his gar- 
 den — enters again, and retires to rest : and 
 "the rest of a labouring man is sweet, whe- 
 ther he eat little or much." Inhabitant of 
 this lonely, lowly dwelling, who can be in- 
 different to thy comfort ! — " Peace be to this 
 house" — 
 
 "Let not ambition mock thy useful toil, 
 11 Thy homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 
 
 " Nor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, 
 " The short and simple annals of the poor." 
 
 Secondly, We may consider this happiness 
 in reference to the afflictions of life. It 
 looks like a general remedy, furnished by the 
 kindness ofProvidence,to alleviate the troubles 
 which from various quarters we unavoidably 
 feel while passing through this world of va- 
 nity and vexation of spirit. How many little 
 sighing vacancies does it fill up ! How many 
 cloudy nervous vapours does it chase from the 
 mind ! Whose frowns and gloom will not the 
 mirth of a child dissipate? What corroding 
 anxieties will not retire from the attentions of 
 a virtuous wife ! What a consolation is her 
 gentleness ! Who has not experienced its heal- 
 ing, enlivening influence, in the day of sick- 
 ness and in the hour of depression ! Is your 
 confidence frequently checked by the baseness 
 and dissimulation of mankind? Here your 
 candour recovers, and you are reconciled to 
 your fellow-creatures again. Does the be- 
 haviour of too many with whom you have to 
 do, cherish a dissatisfaction which sours life? 
 Here a serenity, a sweetness, spreads over the 
 mind, from the simplicity, openness, • and 
 kindness, with which you are surrounded. 
 Are you repulsed by others ? Here you are 
 received with open and welcome arms. Does 
 the storm rage without ? Behold an asylum 
 
SERMON XIX. 
 
 107 
 
 within — Here we realize an emblem of the Sa- 
 viour: it says to us, "In the world ye shall 
 have tribulation, but in me ye shall have 
 peace." Here " the wicked cease from trou- 
 bling," and here " the weary are at rest." 
 
 Thirdly. We may consider this happiness 
 in reference to the good things of this 
 life. Without this, all will be insipid, all 
 will be useless. Your titles of distinction, 
 and your robes of office, are laid aside before 
 you enter your own dwelling. There the se- 
 nator, the minister, the lawyer, draw back ; 
 and we behold only the husband, the father, 
 the man ! There you stand only in those rela- 
 tions in which nature has placed you. There 
 you feel only your personal character. What 
 remains after these deductions are made, as- 
 certains your value. You are to judge of your 
 worth by the honour you command where rank 
 does not overawe — of your importance, by the 
 esteem and admiration you engage when de- 
 prived of all adventitious appendages — of your 
 happiness, by the resources you possess to 
 give cheerfulness and charms to those return- 
 ing hours which no splendour gilds, which no 
 fame inspires, and in which all the attractions 
 of popularity fail. For what would it avail 
 you to live in popular opinion, and to be fol- 
 lowed with applause home to your very door 
 — if you were then to be compelled to con- 
 tinue in the element of discord, the seat of 
 strife, the house of bondage and correction 1 
 Imagine yourselves prosperous in your affairs ; 
 trade pouring in wealth, your grounds bring- 
 ing forth plentifully, your cup running over 
 — Misery under your own roof would be suffi- 
 cient to canker your gold and silver ; to cor- 
 rupt your abundance ; to embitter every plea- 
 sure ; to majie you groan, even on a costly 
 sofa, " All this availeth me nothing !" — 
 
 Sufferings from strangers are less acute 
 than from friends. David magnifies the af- 
 fliction he endured by the nearness of the 
 quarter from which it came — " It was not an 
 enemy that reproached me ; then I could have 
 borne it : neither was it he that hated me, 
 that did magnify himself against me ; then I 
 would have hid myself from him. But it was 
 thou — mine equal, my guide, and my ac- 
 quaintance." This circumstance gave it all 
 the shock of surprise, all the bitterness of dis- 
 appointment, all the breach of obligation. It 
 is bad to be wounded any-where ; but to be 
 " wounded in the house of a friend" is men- 
 tioned as a peculiar aggravation. No foes 
 are like those of " a man's household." Their 
 situation favours hostility : they can choose 
 the moment of attack ; they can repeat the 
 blow ; they can injure imperceptibly. And 
 what can be so dreadful as to be associated 
 with persons from whom you cannot separate, 
 and with whom you cannot live 1 What are 
 occasional smiles, against habitual frowns 1 
 What is friendship abroad, against enmity at 
 home ? What is it for a man to be comfortable 
 
 where he visits, and to be tormented where he 
 dwells ? If our happiness flow from others — 
 and that it does in no small degree is unques- 
 tionable — it will necessarily follow, that it 
 must be most affected by those to whom we 
 are most seriously related, and with whom we 
 most intimately blend — not those whom we 
 accidentally meet, but those with whom we 
 daily reside — not those who touch one part of 
 our character only, but those who press us on 
 every side. 
 
 Fourthly. Let us consider it in reference 
 to THE seductions and snares of the 
 world. From the danger of these, there is 
 no better preservative than the attractions of 
 a family. The more a man feels his welfare 
 lodged in his own house, the more will he 
 prize and love it. The more he is attached 
 to his wife and children, the less will he risk 
 their peace and comfort by hazardous specu- 
 lations, and mad enterprises in trade. A life 
 of innocency, regularity, and repose, in the af- 
 fections of his family, will check the rovings 
 of restless ambition, and secure him from the 
 follies of the pride of life. " Evil communica- 
 tions corrupt good manners." But these pleas- 
 ing cords will draw him back from " the coun- 
 sel of the ungodly," " the way of sinners," 
 " the seat of the scornful." In vain will he be 
 tempted to go abroad for company or for plea- 
 sure, when home supplies him with both. 
 "And what," says he, "are the amusements 
 and dissipations of the world ! I have better 
 enjoyments already — enjoyments springing 
 fresh from the growth, the improvement, the 
 culture of our rising charge — from our rural 
 walks — from our social evenings — from our 
 reading and conversation — from our cheerful, 
 lively, mutual devotion. Here are pleasures 
 perpetually renewing, and which never cloy. 
 Here are entertainments placed easily with- 
 in our reach, and which require no laborious 
 preparation, no costly arrangement. Here I 
 acknowledge only the dominion of nature ; 
 and follow only the bias of inclination. Here 
 I have no weaknesses to hide, no mistakes to 
 dread. Here my gratifications are attended 
 with no disgrace, no remorse. They leave 
 no stain, no sting behind. I fear no reproach 
 from my understanding, no reckoning from my 
 conscience — my prayers are not hindered. 
 My heart is made better — I am softened — 
 prepared for duty — allured to the Throne of 
 Grace. And can I be induced to exchange 
 all this, O ye votaries of the world, for your 
 anxieties, confusion, agitations, and expense? 
 Shall I part with my ease and independence, 
 for the trammels of your silly forms, the en- 
 cumbrance of your fashions, the hypocrisies of 
 your crowds ? Shall I resign my freedom for 
 the privilege of your slavery, which so often 
 compels you to disguise your sentiments, to 
 subdue your genuine feelings, to applaud fol- 
 ly, to yawn under a lethargy of pleasure, and 
 to sigh for the hour of retirement and release 1 
 
108 
 
 SERMON XIX. 
 
 Shall 1 sacrifice my innocent endearments, to 
 pursue the fatal routine of your dissipation — 
 the end of which is heaviness — and from 
 which you return, deprived of seasonable rest, 
 robbed of peace of mind, galled by reflection, 
 disinclined to prayer, feeling the presence of 
 God irksome, and the approach of death intole- 
 rable 1— 
 
 " Domestic Happiness, thou only bliss 
 
 "Of Paradise that has escap'd the Fall! 
 
 " Thou art not known where Pleasure is ador'd, — 
 
 " That reeling goddess with a zoneless waist : 
 
 " Forsaking thee, what shipwreck have we made 
 
 " Of honour, dignity, and fair renown I" 
 
 — Who can help lamenting to see the valu- 
 able enjoyments of home sacrificed to a fond- 
 ness for amusements, and a rage for indiscri- 
 minate intercourse with a false unfeeling 
 world ! But so it is. People were never more 
 social, and never less domestic, than they now 
 are. — The phrensy has reached all ranks and 
 degrees. Our females are no longer keepers 
 at home. Even children are led into these 
 circles of infatuation, and made to despise the 
 simple and natural manners of youth. From 
 mansions and shops and common dwellings 
 we see increasing numbers pouring forth to 
 balls, and assemblies, and routs, and concerts, 
 and public spectacles, and theatrical enter- 
 tainments : every evening has some foreign 
 claim. 
 
 " Who will shew me any good V — is the 
 cry. The world passing along hears it, and 
 says, Follow me — emulate this splendour — 
 mix with this throng — pursue these diver- 
 sions. We comply. We run, and we run 
 in vain — the prize was nigh us when we be- 
 gan ; but our folly drew us away from it. Let 
 us return home, and we shall find it. Let us 
 remember, that happiness prefers calmness to 
 noise, and the shades to publicity ; that it de- 
 pends more upon things cheap and common, 
 than upon things expensive and singular : that 
 it is not an exotic which we are to import 
 from the ends of the earth, but a plant which 
 grows in our own field, and in our own gar- 
 den. Every man may be made happy, if you 
 could induce him to make a proper estimate of 
 happiness; if you could keep him from judg- 
 ing after outward appearances ; if you could 
 persuade him to stoop, rather than to aspire ; 
 to kneel, rather than to fly. To confine us to 
 our respective stations, God has wisely render- 
 ed happiness only attainable in them : were it 
 placed — not in the way of duty, but on the 
 other side of the boundary — the very position 
 would lead us astray, arid seduce us to trans- 
 gress. — But home is not always heaven, nor is 
 domestic life necessarily productive of domes- 
 tic happiness. Hence it becomes needful, 
 
 Part II. To open its sources, and exa- 
 mine on what it depends. 
 
 It does not depend upon rank and afflu- 
 ence. It is confined to no particular condi- 
 tion : the servant may enjoy it, as well as the 
 master ; the mechanic, as well as the noble- 
 
 man. It exhilarates the cottage, as well as 
 the palace. What am I saying ] What says 
 common opinion 1 Does it not invariably as- 
 sociate more enjoyment with the lowly roof, 
 than with the towering mansion 1 Ask those 
 who have risen from inferior life, whether 
 their satisfaction has increased with their cir- 
 cumstances; whether they have never ad- 
 vanced to the brow of the eminence they have 
 ascended, and looking down sighed, " Ah ! 
 happy vale, from how much was I sheltered 
 while I was in thee !" There can be indeed 
 but one opinion concerning the wretchedness 
 of those who have not the necessaries of life. 
 But " Nature is content with little, and Grace 
 with less." " Better is a dinner of herbs 
 where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred 
 therewith." " Better is a dry morsel, and 
 quietness therewith, than a house full of sa- 
 crifices and strife." This blessedness then re- 
 sults not from worldly things — and we men- 
 tion this the more readily, because some seem 
 afraid to enter a state honourable in all, be- 
 cause they have before them no openings of 
 wealth — others dread the increase of children, 
 as an accession of misery — while many are 
 waiting for a larger fortune, a more spacious 
 house, and more splendid furniture, before they 
 can even think of enjoying themselves. 
 
 We may also observe, that some individu- 
 als seem much more qualified to enjoy this 
 happiness than others. Some have little taste 
 for any thing. They are made up of stupidi- 
 ties : they have eyes, but see not ; ears, but 
 hear not. They are the automatons of na- 
 ture ; the machines of Providence ; doing the 
 work which the constitution of the world re- 
 quires of them, devoid of any lively emotions. 
 If they ever feel, it is only from the impression 
 of something tumultuous and violent — if the 
 are ever pleased, it is only with factitious joys. 
 But others are full of life and sensibility 
 They are susceptible of delicate impressions : 
 they love every thing tranquil ; relish every 
 thing simple ; enjoy every thing natural ; and 
 are touched and dissolved by a thousand pleas- 
 ing circumstances which convey nothing to 
 others. 
 
 There are, however, some things which 
 have an indispensable influence in producing 
 and maintaining the welfare of families, which 
 fall more properly under our cultivation. 
 Order — Good Temper — Good Sense — Reli- 
 gious Principles. These will bless, thy 
 dwelling, and fill thy "tabernacle with the 
 voice of rejoicing." 
 
 First. Without order you can never rule 
 well your own house. " God is not the God 
 of confusion." He loves order: order per- 
 vades all his works. He overlooks nothing. 
 " He calleth the stars by their names ;" " He 
 numbereth the hairs of our head." " He ap- 
 pointed the moon for seasons ; and the sun 
 knoweth his going down." There is no dis- 
 cord, no clashing, in all the immense, the 
 
SERMON XIX. 
 
 109 
 
 amazing whole ! He has interposed his au- 
 thority, and enjoined us "to do every thing 
 decently, and in order." And this command 
 is founded in a regard to our advantage. It 
 calls upon you to lay down rules, and to walk 
 by them ; to assign every thing its proper 
 place — its allowance of time — its degree of 
 importance ; to observe regularity in your 
 meals — in your devotions — in your expenses. 
 From order spring frugality, economy, 
 charity. From order result beauty, harmony, 
 concurrence. Without order there can be 
 no government, no happiness. Peace flies 
 from confusion. Disorder entangles all our 
 affairs ; hides from us the end, and keeps from 
 us the clew — we lose self-possession ; and 
 become miserable — because perplexed, hur- 
 ried, oppressed, easily provoked. 
 
 Secondly. Many things will arise to try 
 your temper : and he is unqualified for social 
 life who has no rule over his own spirit ; 
 "who cannot bear," to use the words of a 
 good writer, " the frailties of his fellow-crea- 
 tures with common charity, and the vexations 
 of life with common patience." Peter, ad- 
 dressing wives, reminds them that " the orna- 
 ment of a meek and quiet spirit is in the sight 
 of God of great price." And Solomon often 
 mentions the opposite blemish in illustrating 
 the female character. " It is better to dwell 
 in a corner of the house-top, than with a 
 brawling woman in a wide house." " The 
 contentions of a wife are a continual dropping" 
 — and so on. We should deem it invidious 
 to exemplify this imperfection in one sex only 
 — we would address you equally ; and call 
 upon you, as you value a peaceful abode, to 
 maintain a control over your tempers. Be- 
 ware of passion : say little when under irrita- 
 tion ; turn aside — take time to reflect and to 
 cool — a word spoken unadvisedly with your 
 lips may produce a wound which weeks can- 
 not heal. " I would reprove thee," said the 
 philosopher, "were I not angry" — It is a 
 noble suggestion. Apply it in your repre- 
 hension of servants and correction of children. 
 But there is something against which you 
 should be more upon your guard than occa- 
 sional sallies of passion — I mean habitual pet- 
 tishness. The former may be compared to a 
 brisk shower which is soon over; the latter, 
 to a sleet drizzling rain driving all the day 
 long. The mischief which is such a disturb- 
 er of social enjoyment, is not the anger which 
 is lengthened into malice, or vented in re- 
 venge ; but that which oozes out in constant 
 fretfulness, murmuring, and complaint : it is 
 that which renders a man not formidable, but 
 troublesome ; it is that which converts him, 
 not into a tiger, but into a gnat. Good hu- 
 mour is the cordial, the balm of life. The 
 possessor of it spreads satisfaction wherever 
 he comes, and he partakes of the pleasure he 
 gives. Easy in himself, he is seldom offend- 
 ed with those around him. Calm and placid 
 10 
 
 within, every thing without wears the most 
 favourable appearance ; while the mind, agi- 
 tated by peevishness or passion, like a ruffled 
 pool, even reflects every agreeable and lovely 
 image false and distorted. 
 
 Thirdly. The influence and advantage of 
 good sense are incalculable. What streams, 
 what vessels, are the noisy ! The shallow, 
 the empty. Who are the unyielding ! The 
 ignorant, who mistake obstinacy for firmness. 
 Who are the infallible] They who have not 
 reflection enough to see how liable and how 
 likely we are to err ; they who cannot com- 
 prehend how much it adds to a man's wisdom 
 to discover, and to his humility to acknow- 
 ledge, a fault. Good sense will preserve us 
 from censoriousness ; will lead us to distin- 
 guish circumstances ; to draw things from the 
 dark situation of prejudice which rendered 
 them frightful, that we may candidly survey 
 them in open day. Good sense will keep us 
 from looking after visionary perfection — 
 The infirmities I behold are not peculiar to 
 my connexions ; others, if equally near, would 
 betray the same : universal excellence is un- 
 attainable ; no one can please in every thing. 
 And who am I, to demand a freedom from 
 imperfections in others, while I am encom- 
 passed with infirmities myself!" Good sense 
 will lead us to study dispositions, peculiarities, 
 accommodations : to weigh consequences ; to 
 determine what to observe and what to pass 
 by; when to be immoveable and when to 
 yield. Good sense will produce good man- 
 ners; will keep us from taking freedoms and 
 handling things roughly ; for love is delicate, 
 confidence is tender. Good sense will never 
 agitate claims of superiority; it will teach 
 us to "submit ourselves one to another, in the 
 fear of God." Good sense will lead persons 
 to regard their own duties, rather than to re- 
 commend those of others. 
 
 Fourthly. We must go beyond all this, and 
 remind you of those religious principles by 
 which you are to be governed. These are to 
 be found in the word of God ; and as many 
 as walk according to this rule, mercy and 
 peace shall be upon them. God has engaged 
 that if you will walk in his way, you shall find 
 rest unto your souls. If it be said — There are 
 happy families without religion — I would an- 
 swer, First, There is a difference between ap- 
 pearances and reality. Secondly, If we be- 
 lieve the Scripture, this is impossible — "the 
 way of transgressors is hard : there is no peace, 
 saith my God, unto the wicked." Thirdly, 
 Religion secures those duties, upon the per- 
 formance of which the happiness of house- 
 holds depends. Would any man have reason 
 to complain of servants, of children, or of any 
 other relation — if they were all influenced by 
 the spirit, and regulated by the dictates of the 
 Gospel 1 Much of religion lies in the discharge 
 of these relative duties — and to enforce these, 
 i religion brings forward motives the most pow- 
 
110 
 
 SERMON XX. 
 
 erful, and alwaysbinding — calls in conscience, 
 and God, and heaven, and hell. Fourthly, 
 Religion attracts the Divine blessing — and all 
 we possess or enjoy depends upon its smiles. 
 God can elevate or sink us in the esteem of 
 others : he can send us business or withhold 
 it; he can command or forbid thieves to rob, 
 and flames to devour us; he can render all 
 we have satisfying-, or distasteful — and they 
 that honour him he will honour. " The 
 house of the wicked shall be overthrown, but 
 the tabernacle of the upright shall flourish. 
 The curse of the Lord is in the house of the 
 wicked ; but he blesseth the habitation of the 
 just." Finally, Religion prepares us for all 
 events. If we succeed — it keeps our prosper- 
 ity from destroying us. If we suffer — it pre- 
 serves us from fainting in the day of adversi- 
 ty. It turns our losses into gains ; it exalts 
 our joys into praises ; it makes prayers of our 
 sighs — and, in all the uncertainties of time 
 and changes of the world, it sheds on the 
 mind a " peace which passeth all understand- 
 ing." It unites us to each other — not only 
 as creatures, but as Christians ; not only as 
 strangers and pilgrims upon earth, but as heirs 
 
 of glory, honour, and immortality For you 
 
 must separate — it is useless to keep back the 
 mortifying truth — It was the condition upon 
 which your union was formed. O man ! 
 it was a mortal finger upon which you placed 
 the ring, vain emblem of perpetuity. O wo- 
 man! it was a dying hand that imposed it. 
 After so many mutual and growing attach- 
 ments, to separate ! — What is to be done 
 here 1 O Religion, Religion, come, and relieve 
 us, in a case where every other assistance fails. 
 Come, and teach us not to wrap up our chief 
 happiness in the creature. Come, and bend 
 our wills to the pleasure of the Almighty, and 
 enable us to say, " It is the Lord ! let him 
 do what seemeth him good : the Lord gave, 
 and the Lord hath taken away ; and bless- 
 ed be the name of the Lord." Come, and tell 
 us that they are disposed of infinitely to their 
 advantage ; that the separation is temporary ; 
 that a time of re-union will come ; that we 
 shall see their faces and hear their voices 
 again. — 
 
 Take two Christians, who have been walk- 
 ing together, like " Zechariah and Elisabeth, 
 in all the commandments and ordinances of the 
 Lord, blameless." Is the connection dissolv- 
 ed by death 1 No. We take the Bible along 
 with us; and inscribe on their tomb, " Pleas- 
 ant in life, and in death not divided." Is the 
 one removed before the other ? He becomes an 
 attraction to the other ; he draws him forward, 
 and is waiting to " receive him into everlast- 
 ing habitations." — Let us suppose a pious fa- 
 mily re-uniting together, after following each 
 other successively down to the grave. How 
 unlike every present meeting ! Here our in- 
 tercourse is chilled with the certainty of sepa- 
 ration : therevve shall meet, to part no more ; 
 
 we shall be for ever with each other, and for 
 ever with the Lord. Now affliction often enters 
 our circle, and the distress of one is the con- 
 cern of all : then we shall "rejoice with them 
 that rejoice," but not " weep with them that 
 weep ;" for " all tears shall be wiped from our 
 eyes, and the days of our mourning shall be 
 ended." 
 
 Come then, my dear hearers, and invite the 
 religion of the blessed Jesus — this one thing 
 needful — this universal benefactor of mankind. 
 It has " the promise of the life that now is, 
 and of that which is to come" — It secures our 
 individual and our relative happiness — It 
 brings peace into our bosoms, and joy into our 
 dwellings. Let us resolve to pursue it our- 
 selves ; let us enforce it upon our connections. 
 Let us dedicate our tabernacles to God ; offer 
 the morning and evening sacrifice of prayer 
 and of praise : and whatever be the determi- 
 nation of others, let each of us say, for our- 
 selves, " As for me and my house, we will 
 serve the Lord." 
 
 SERMON XX. 
 
 HAPPINESS IN DEATH. 
 
 For so an entrance shall be ministered unto 
 you abundantly into the everlasting kingdom 
 of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Clwist. — 
 2 Peter I. 11. 
 
 My Brethren ! Among the various motives 
 with which Revelation abounds, there are 
 none more solemn and impressive than those 
 which are derived from Death. Hence the 
 sacred writers often refer to it. They remind 
 us of the suddenness of its arrival. They 
 forewarn us of the nearness of its approach. 
 They also intimate the importance of its con- 
 sequences, as terminating this state of trial, 
 sealing up our characters, and transmitting 
 them to the judgment of the great day, to be 
 opened and published before an assembled 
 world. 
 
 The Apostle Peter urges the manner of 
 our dying — He would have us die well — not 
 only in a state of salvation, but of peace — and 
 triumph. " So an entrance shall be ministered 
 unto you abundantly into the everlasting 
 kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
 Christ." To do justice to this subject, it will 
 be necessary to consider three things. I. 
 The state to which the Christian looks for- 
 ward — "the everlasting kingdom of our Lord 
 and Saviour Jesus Christ." II. The mode 
 of his admission — "an entrance ministered 
 abundantly." III. The condition on which 
 the privilege depends — it is the consequence 
 of something clearly implied. " So — So an 
 entrance shall be ministered unto you 
 abundantly into the everlasting kingdom 
 of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." 
 
SERMON XX. 
 
 Ill 
 
 I. Christians, We know very little of "the 
 hope which is laid up for us in heaven :" it is 
 " the glory which shall ho revealed in us." 
 While we are in this weak state of flesh and 
 blood, the full disclosure would be too dazzling 
 for the feeble eye. It would also, by making 
 too strong an impression, operate injuriously, 
 unhinging us from our present connections, 
 and depriving those concerns which demand 
 a subordinate share of attention, of all power 
 t<j strike and engage our minds. " We walk 
 by faith, not by sight" — but " we know in 
 part." W e have some representations of our 
 future blessedness, accommodated to our fa- 
 culties, and derived from scenes with which 
 we are familiar. 
 
 It is a kingdom — a state of royal empire, 
 expanding over a better, a heavenly country 
 — where there is no curse — whose laws are 
 equity and perfection — whose riches and hon- 
 ours and resources are infinite — whose sub- 
 jects are all wise and good — living together 
 as friends — all princes themselves — all happy 
 — escaped from the troubles of life, the imfirm- 
 ities and diseases of body, the distresses and 
 accusations of conscience, the remains of ig- 
 norance and of sin — and innumerable vexa- 
 tions, which now mnke us groan, and long to 
 emigrate thither. Two things are spoken of 
 this kingdom, which deserve remark. 
 
 The first concerns its permanency and du 
 ration — It is "the everlasting kingdom of 
 our Lord and Saviour." Every thing here is 
 perishable and transitory. We tremble to 
 look at our possessions and enjoyments, lest 
 we should see them in motion, spreading their 
 wings to flee away. Many already, in talking 
 of their comforts, are compelled to go back — 
 "I had a husband — children — health — afflu- 
 ence — and I said, I shall die in my nest." — 
 As it is with individuals and families, so it 
 is with communities. "The fashion of this 
 world passeth away." Where now is the 
 city whose top was to reach to heaven and 
 defy a second flood ! What have become of 
 the kingdoms of the earth, whose fame fills 
 the page of history ? The Assyrian, Persian, 
 Grecian, Roman empires arose, astonished 
 mankind for a season, and disappeared. And 
 not only the most magnificent and durable 
 productions of human power and skill, but 
 even the established frame of nature, shall be 
 demolished. " The heavens shall piss away 
 with a srreat noise, and the elements shall 
 melt with fervent heat ; the earth also, and 
 the works that are therein, shall be burnt up. 
 Nevertheless, we, according to his promise, 
 look for new heavens, and a new earth, where- 
 in dwelleth righteousness" — Then follows a 
 kingdom not marred by sin, not liable to de- 
 clension or change. A kingdom which can- 
 not be shaken, secure from internal decay and 
 external violence. A kingdom, prepared 
 from the foundation of the world, and which 
 shall survive its dissolution ; and, having seen 
 
 the sun turned into darkness and the moon in- 
 to blood, shall flow on through eternal ages. 
 
 The greater any good is which we possess, 
 the more docs it awaken our concern, and the 
 more anxious are we to inquire after its se- 
 curity and tenure. But here is no room for 
 apprehension — the happiness is as certain as 
 it is excellent, as durable as it is vast. And 
 the Scripture never overlooks this important 
 consideration. Is it "meat?" It "endureth 
 to everlasting life." Is it a " treasure 1" 
 " Moth and rust cannot corrupt, nor thieves 
 break through and steal." Is it a " crown of 
 glory V It " fadeth not away." Is it a 
 " house V It is " a building of God, not made 
 with hands, eternal, in the heavens." Is it a 
 " city 1" It is " a city which hath foundations, 
 whose builder and whose maker is God." Is 
 it a "kingdom!" It is "everlasting." 
 
 Behold the second circumstance with re- 
 gard to this blessed state. It is " the ever- 
 lasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour 
 Jesus Christ." And what means this rela- 
 tion 1 It is surely designed to distinguish him 
 from a mere possessor, and to intimate pe- 
 culiar prerogative, residence, administration. 
 It is his by claim. As the Son of God, he is 
 " heir of all things : being made so much 
 better than the angels, as he hath by inheri- 
 tance obtained a more excellent name than 
 they. For unto which of the angels said he, 
 at any time, Thou art my Son, this day have 
 I begotten thee 1 And again, I will be to 
 him a Father, and he shall be to me a Son 3 
 And again, when he bringeth in the first-be- 
 gotten into the world, he saith, And let all 
 the angels of God worship him. And of the 
 angels he saith, Who maketh his angels 
 spirits, and his ministers a flame of fire. But 
 unto the Son he saith, Thy throne, O God, is 
 for ever and ever ; a sceptre of righteousness 
 is the sceptre of thy kingdom : thou hast loved 
 righteousness, and hated iniquity ; therefore 
 God, even thy God, hath anointed thee with 
 the oil of gladness above thy fellows." For 
 under another view he acquired it as the re- 
 ward of his obedience and sufferings. " For 
 unto the angels hath he not put in subjection 
 the world to come, of which we speak. But 
 we see Jesus, who was made a little lower than 
 the angels, for the suffering of death, crowned 
 with glory and honour." " Who, being in 
 the form of God, thought it not robbery to be 
 equal with God ; but made himself of no re- 
 putation, and took upon him the form of a 
 servant, and was made in the likeness of men ; 
 and being found in fashion as a man, he hum- 
 bled himself, and became obedient unto death, 
 even the death of the cross. Wherefore God 
 also hath highly exalted him, and given him 
 a name which is above every name : that, at 
 the name of Jesus, every knee should bow, of 
 things in heaven, and things in earth, and 
 things under the earth ; and that every tongue 
 should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, 
 
112 
 
 SERMON XX. 
 
 to the glory of God the Father." He has now 
 the disposal of the offices and privileges of the 
 empire among his faithful followers. This 
 was surely the idea of the dying thief, when 
 he prayed, " Lord, remember me when thou 
 comest into thy kingdom;" and of Paul, when 
 he said, " and the Lord shall deliver me from 
 every evil work, and preserve me unto his 
 heavenly kingdom." He is the Sovereign ; 
 and there he rules — not, as here, " in the 
 midst of his enemies" — No treason, no sedi- 
 tion, no disaffection there. All are adoring and 
 praising him — "Worthy is the Lamb that 
 was slain to receive power, and riches, and 
 wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, 
 and blessing." There he reigns immediately 
 — always in view — and accessible to all. 
 There he appears in our nature — the princi- 
 ple, the image, the pledge of our glory and 
 happiness. He has taken possession in our 
 name ; and is preparing a place for us ; and 
 will by-and-by receive us to himself, that 
 where he is, there we may be also. 
 
 It has been often said, " that however we 
 may differ from each other, we all hope for 
 the same heaven." But nothing can be more 
 untrue. The believer in Jesus, who loves 
 him above all, and places the whole of his 
 happiness in him — he — and he alone really 
 desires the heaven of the Bible : a pure, spi- 
 ritual, christian heaven, the essence of which 
 is the presence and glory of the Redeemer. 
 This is the heaven he demanded for all his fol- 
 lowers — " Father, I will that they also whom 
 thou hast given me, be with me where 1 am, 
 to behold my glory." This is the heaven 
 Paul desired for himself : " 1 long to depart, 
 to be with Christ, which is far better." And 
 such is the disposition of every true follower 
 of the Lord Jesus. " This is enough — this is 
 the heaven of Heaven — there I shall see Him 
 who is altogether lovely. There I shall be- 
 hold Him who gave his life a ransom for me. 
 There I shall approach the Lamb in the midst 
 of the throne, who will feed me and lead me 
 to living fountains of water. There I shall 
 be like him ; for I shall see him as he is. 
 There I shall be for ever with the Lord." — 
 Having considered the state to which we are 
 encouraged to look forward, let us observe, 
 
 II. The desirable mode of admission. And 
 here we read of an entrance — ministered — 
 
 ABUNDANTLY. 
 
 What is this entrance] Unquestionably 
 — Death. " By one man sin entered into the 
 world, and death by sin ; and so death hath 
 passed upon all men, because all have sinned." 
 With two exceptions, this has been the way 
 of all the earth. " Enoch was translated, that 
 he should not see death." " Elijah went up 
 by a whirlwind into heaven" — They depart- 
 ed, without the separation of soul and body — 
 and knew nothing of " pains and groans and 
 dying strife." They were not unclothed, 
 but clothed upon : and in them, mortality was 
 
 swallowed up of life. But only one passage 
 remains for us : and this — not an easy and an 
 alluring, but a rough and a gloomy one. A 
 messenger brings us to God ; but it is " the 
 King of Terror^ :" we enter the land flowing 
 with milk and honey; but it is through "the 
 valley of the shadow of death." 
 
 But you should remember that your en- 
 trance into the invisible world is administer- 
 ed. " Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing 1 
 and one of them shall not fall to the ground 
 without your Father. Fear not therefore: 
 ye are of more value than many sparrows." 
 " The" very " hairs of your head are all 
 numbered." " Precious in the sight of the 
 Lord is the death of his saints :" and he orders 
 all the circumstances attending it. Not only 
 is the will of God concerned in the general 
 sentence of mortality pronounced upon us, 
 but death always receives a particular com- 
 mission from him. Hence, in a similar condi- 
 tion, one is taken and another left. The cir- 
 cumstance of time is fixed by him : " the num- 
 ber of our months is with him." The place 
 is determined by his purpose. The means 
 and the manner of our removal are disposed 
 by his pleasure. Whether we are to die 
 young or old ; whether we are to be seized 
 at home or abroad ; whether we shall be car- 
 ried off by accidents or disease ; whether we 
 shall expire slowly or suddenly — are secrets 
 impenetrable to us; but all is wisely and 
 kindly regulated by his providence. 
 
 The death of some is distinguished by in- 
 dulgences and honours not vouchsafed to all : 
 and this is what the Apostle means by an en- 
 trance ministered unto us abundantly. For 
 all do not enter alike. Some, shipwrecked, 
 are washed by the surge half dead on the 
 shore, or reach it clinging terrified to a plank ; 
 others, with crowded sails and with a pre- 
 served cargo of spices and perfumes, beauti- 
 fully, gallantly enter the desired haven. 
 Some are scarcely saved ; and some are more 
 than conquerors. A triumph was not decreed 
 to every Roman general upon his return to the 
 capital. Can we imagine that the martyrs is- 
 suing from the flames, entered heaven like a 
 Christian who had been often tempted to con- 
 ceal his religion to escape a sneer or a frown 7 
 We may observe a remarkable diversity even 
 in the deaths of common believers. Some die 
 only safe; while their state is 'unknown to 
 themselves, and suspected by others. In 
 some, hope and fear alternately prevail. Some 
 feel a peace which passeth all understanding 
 — while some exult with a joy unspeakable 
 and full of glory. And in these is fulfilled 
 the language of the promise, " With gladness 
 and rejoicing shall they be brought: they 
 shall enter into the King's palace." They 
 are "joyful in glory" before they have reach- 
 ed it, and "shout aloud upon their" dying 
 " beds." God deals with them as he did with 
 Moses, when he led him to the top of Pisgah 
 
SERMON XX. 
 
 113 
 
 and gave him a prospect of the Holy Land : 
 only with this difference — his view was a 
 substitute for possession ; while their look 
 is to render the passage easier, and to make 
 them hasten to the goodly mountain of Leba- 
 non. Such a death the Apostle valued more 
 than the continuance of life: all his concern 
 was to " finish his course with joy :" and the 
 assured hope of this would animate thousands, 
 and reconcile them to all the trials they en- 
 dure. It is desirable and valuable, both with 
 regard to themselves and others. 
 
 They will need it themselves. It is a new 
 — -a trying — and — an awful thing to die. 
 They will find dying to be work enough, 
 without having doubts and fears to encounter. 
 The distresses of life admit of alleviation and 
 diversion — but it is otherwise with the pains 
 of death. Worldly pursuits are broken off, 
 sensual pleasures are excluded, conversation 
 is difficult, friends are anxious and fearful; 
 and if you have no joy springing up in you 
 from a spiritual source, your condition is de- 
 plorable and desperate. Would you die in 
 darkness, or in the light of God's counte- 
 nance ? Would you enter another world, ig- 
 norant whether you shall step into endless 
 happiness or misery ; or depart, able to say, 
 as you look back with a smile upon survivors, 
 " Whither I go ye know, and the way ye 
 know?" 
 
 You should long for this also on the behalf 
 of others. This is the last time you can do any 
 thing in serving God and your generation ; 
 but by this you may be rendered peculiarly 
 useful. Your dying looks and your dying 
 words may make impressions which shall ne- 
 ver be erased. Some who have refused to 
 hear sermons, have been convinced by a dy- 
 ing bed. The religion which can produce 
 such patience and resignation, courage and 
 joy, has become honourable in their esteem. 
 They have admired and resolved to follow a 
 Master, who does not cast off his servants 
 when their strength faileth, and who blesses 
 them with strong consolation when others are 
 left without support : the evidence is too plain 
 to be denied, too solemn to be ridiculed. — Such 
 a death has also often been profitable to those 
 who were already in the way to Zion, but 
 walking with trembling' steps, and often fear- 
 ing how it would go with them at last : when 
 they have seen the grace of God, they have 
 been glad, their ardour has rekindled, their 
 courage has been renewed — they have said, 
 " Why may it not be so with me 1 The Lord 
 is my helper; I will not fear." When Doc- 
 tor Rivet was labouring under the disease 
 which ended in his dissolution, he said — " Let 
 all who come to inquire after me, be allowed 
 to see me — I ought to be an example of reli- 
 gion, dying as well as living; and Christ 
 shall be magnified in my body, whether it be 
 by life or by death." — " Let me die the death 
 of the righteous, and let my last end be like 
 P 10* 
 
 his." — But in order to this, it will be neces- 
 sary for us, 
 
 III. To examine the condition upon which 
 this privilege is suspended, and which is obvi- 
 ously here implied — "For so an entrance 
 shall be ministered unto you abundantly into 
 the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Sa- 
 viour Jesus Christ." There are two things 
 which it will be proper for us briefly to pre- 
 mise. First, There are cases in which Chris- 
 tians may be affected all through life by bo- 
 dily causes, having something morbid and at- 
 rabilarious in their constitution, which sub- 
 jects them to various changes and depressions 
 with which religion has no concern — There 
 is no reasoning from these instances. Se- 
 condly, It is not for us to determine what God 
 may do in particular cases: for he does not 
 always deal with his people according to their 
 desert: he is slow to anger, and ready to for- 
 give — Nevertheless he has given us a rule 
 by which we are to walk ; and has wisely es- 
 tablished a connection between duty and pri- 
 vilege. And I am persuaded that there is 
 not an individual in this assembly, who would 
 not rationally and Scripturally expect to find 
 one course of life attended with a more fa- 
 voured and happy death than another: nor 
 can there be much dispute in determining the 
 nature of this course ; this being one of those 
 cases in which men are very nearly agreed. 
 It would be well if their knowledge and their 
 practice equally harmonized ; but, alas ! what 
 ignorance and infidelity cannot make us deny, 
 sin and the world can make us neglect! This 
 course requires — That you should habituate 
 yourselves to familiar thoughts of Death.— 
 This will dissipate the terrors which arise 
 from distance and imagination; this will 
 break the force of surprise ; this will turn a 
 frightful precipice into a gentle slope. He 
 who can say, " I die daily," is the most like- 
 ly to die comfortably. It requires — that you 
 should loosen your affections from the world 
 — A gentle breeze, a slight effort will bring 
 down the tree around which you have dug, 
 and whose larger roots you have cut oft*. And 
 the less powerfully you are attached to earth- 
 ly things, the more easy will be your separa- 
 tion from them. This is the man to die, 
 whose mind advances with his time; who 
 feels himself a stranger and a pilgrim upon 
 earth ; whose treasure is in heaven ; and who 
 views dying as only going home. It requires 
 — That you should obtain and preserve the 
 evidences of pardon — without these you can- 
 not be fearless and tranquil in the near views 
 of eternity — since "after death is the judg- 
 ment." It requires you to keep a conscience 
 void of offence towards God and towards man. 
 Is he in a condition to die, who has lived in 
 the practice of some known sin, and in the 
 omission of some known duty 7 Is he in a con- 
 dition to die, who has worn a mask of hypo- 
 crisy, which will now drop off, and expose 
 
114 
 
 SERMON XX. 
 
 him in his true character? Is he in a condi- 
 tion to die, who by artifice, unfair dealing, 
 grinding the faces of the poor, has amassed 
 gain, which will dishonour him if restored, 
 and condemn him if retained ? It requires — 
 us to live in the exercise of brotherly kindness 
 and charity. Of all we do for Him, nothing 
 pleases him more than this : this we know he 
 will acknowledge in the day of judgment — 
 and why not in the day of death 1 " Blessed 
 is he that considereth the poor : the Lord will 
 deliver him in time of trouble." "The Lord 
 will strengthen him upon the bed of languish- 
 ing: thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness." 
 Many are praying for him — the widows and the 
 fatherless cry, and their cry entereth " the 
 ears of the Lord of Sabaoth." It requires — 
 an attention to religion in your families. I 
 pity that father, who will be surrounded 
 when he dies with children, whose minds he 
 never informed, whose dispositions he never 
 curbed, whose manners he never guarded ; 
 who sees one an infidel, another a profligate, 
 and all irreligious. I know that you are not 
 answerable for the conversion of your offspring, 
 but you are responsible for the use of all pro- 
 per means; and if these have been neglected, 
 you will plant your dying pillow with thorns : 
 whereas, if you have seriously and persever- 
 ingly attended to them, your dying repose 
 shall not be disturbed by want of success; but 
 you shall be able to say, " Although my house 
 be not so with God, yet hath he made with 
 me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all 
 things and sure ; for this is all my salvation 
 and all my desire ; although he make it not 
 to grow." 
 
 In a word, it requires you to live in the 
 strenuous cultivation of practical and progress- 
 ive religion. " And besides this, giving all 
 diligence, add to your faith virtue ; and to vir- 
 tue, knowledge ; and to knowledge, temper- 
 ance ; and to temperance, patience ; and to 
 patience, godliness ; and to godliness, brotherly 
 kindness ; and to brotherly kindness, charity. 
 For if these things be in you, and abound, th y 
 make you that ye shall neither be barren nor un- 
 fruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ. But he that lacketh these things is blind, 
 and cannot see far off, and hath forgotten that he 
 was purged from his old sins. Wherefore the 
 rather, brethren, give diligence to make your 
 calling and election sure ; for if ye do these 
 things, ye shall never fall; — for so, an en- 
 trance shall be ministered unto you abun- 
 dantly into the everlasting kingdom of our 
 Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." 
 
 My brethren ; If there be such differences 
 among Christians in dying, we may be as- 
 sured that there will be inequalities in heaven. 
 If there be such diversities in the order of 
 their admission, who can suppose they will 
 all be upon a level as soon as they have en- 
 
 tered 1 There are various ranks and degrees 
 among our fellow-servants and elder bre- 
 thren — thrones and dominions, principalities 
 and powers. The works of God on earth and 
 in the visible heavens are distinguished by a 
 pleasing variety : " All flesh is not the same 
 flesh : but there is one kind of flesh of men, 
 another flesh of beasts, another of fishes, and 
 another of birds. There are also celestial bo- 
 dies, and bodies terrestrial : but the glory of 
 the celestial is one, and the glory of the terres- 
 trial is another. There is one glory of the sun, 
 and another glory of the moon, and another 
 glory of the stars: for one star differed) from 
 another star in glory. So also is the resur- 
 rection of the dead." Let us therefore "look 
 to ourselves, that we receive a full reward." 
 
 It is impossible to close, without asking 
 you, in the presence of God — What prepara- 
 tion have you made for a dying hour"! Surely 
 you do not expect to live here always ; you 
 know that you must die; and if ever you 
 think of it, you cannot help wishing to die in 
 peace. But can you hope to conclude in com- 
 fort a life passed in guilt'! " Be not deceived: 
 God is not mocked : for whatsoever a man 
 soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that 
 soweth to his flesh, shall of the flesh reap 
 corruption ; but he that soweth to the Spirit, 
 shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting." You 
 are not in a state to die even safely. You 
 have only heard what you are to lose. To 
 you no entrance will be administered. 
 
 But I address myself to Christians ; and 
 call upon you to think much of a dying hour. 
 The care of dying well, will influence you to 
 live so. Value things according tothe views 
 you will have of them when you look back 
 from the borders of the grave. You see, the 
 blessedness we speak of does not depend upon 
 genius, learning, earthly riches, worldly dis- 
 tinctions. But some things have a favourable 
 influence over a dying hour: value, select, 
 pursue these. By such a death, regulate your 
 plans of living. Be piously ambitious : seek 
 after spiritual prosperity : be rich in faith : be 
 filled with the fruits of righteousness: give 
 all diligence to the full assurance of hope unto 
 the end. — Happy is the man who is no longer 
 " in bondage through fear of death ;" who can 
 think with composure of " the house appoint- 
 ed for all living ;" who can spend an hour 
 among the tombs, and say, " Well, hither I 
 have no reluctance to come when my heaven- 
 ly Father sends the summons. I know in 
 whom I have believed ; and am persuaded that 
 He is able to keep that which I have com- 
 mitted to him against that day." — " O Death ! 
 where is thy sting ! O Grave ! where is thy 
 victory 1 The sting of death is sin, and the 
 strength of sin is the law ; but thanks be to 
 God, who giveth us the victory through our 
 Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
SERMON XXi. 
 
 115 
 
 SERMON XXI. 
 
 SERVICE DONE FOR GOD RE- 
 WARDED. 
 
 And it came to pass in the seven and twentieth 
 year, in the first month, in the first day of the 
 month, the word of the Lord came unto me, say- 
 ing; Son of man, Nebuchadrezzar king of Ba- 
 bylon caused his army to serve a great service 
 against Tyrus : every head was made bald, 
 and every shoulder was peeled : yet had he 
 no wages, nor his army, for Tyrus, for the 
 service that he had served against it : there- 
 fore thus saith the Lord God ; Behold, I 
 will give the land of Egypt unto Nebuchad- 
 rezzar king of Babylon; and he shall take 
 her multitude, and take her spoil, and take 
 her prey ; and it shall be the wages for his 
 army. I have given him the land of Egypt 
 for his labour wherewith he served against it, 
 because they wrought for me, saith the Lord 
 God.— Ezekiel xxix. 17—20. 
 
 " Surely the Lord will do nothing, but he 
 revealeth his secret unto his servants the pro- 
 phets." When he would bring in the flood 
 upon the ungodly world, he divulged his pur- 
 pose to Noah. From Abraham he would not 
 hide the thing he was about to do, in the de- 
 struction of the cities of the plain. When by 
 his judgments he resolved to punish the house 
 of Eli, he lodged the heavy tidings with Sa- 
 muel — To Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, he 
 announced the revolutions and doom of the 
 surrounding nations. 
 
 Now this was done — first, for the honour 
 of these distinguished servants of God, by 
 shewing the confidential friendship with 
 which he favoured them — and secondly, for 
 the conviction and confirmation of others. The 
 truth of these predictions would increasingly 
 appear in their successive accomplishments. 
 The inference was obvious and undeniable. 
 — Who could draw back the veil which con- 
 ceals futurity] Who could pierce through 
 the obscurity of ages and generations, and 
 foretell things to come 1 He, and He alone, 
 " who declareth the end from the beginning, 
 and from ancient times the things that are not 
 yet done; saying, My counsel shall stand, and 
 I will do all my pleasure." 
 
 The burden of the prophecy which is to 
 engage your present thoughts, is the donation 
 of Egypt to the king of Babylon for his trou- 
 ble in taking Tyre. 
 
 Tyre was a place famous for navigation, 
 merchandise, and riches. Our prophet calls 
 it "the mart of nations," and enumerates the 
 various countries in whose commerce it trad- 
 ed. But trade is perpetually changing its re- 
 sidence. It passed from Tyre to Alexandria, 
 from Alexandria to Venice, from Venice to 
 Antwerp, from Antwerp to Amsterdam, from 
 Amsterdam to London. And if there be any 
 truth in history — an abundance of commerce 
 
 has generally, if not universally, proved the 
 ruin of the countries in which it has prevail- 
 ed. It pours in wealth — wealth is favourable 
 to every species of wickedness — and wicked- 
 ness, by its natural tendency, as well as by 
 the curse of God, brings in calamity and mise- 
 ry. — So it was with Tyre. Luxury, pride, 
 insolence, licentiousness of manners, indiffer- 
 ence to the distresses of others, presumptuous 
 confidence in their resources — all these 
 abounded among them, and foreboded the 
 evil day — "Therefore thus saith the Lord 
 God; Behold, I am against thee, O Tyrus, 
 and will cause many nations to come up 
 against thee, as the sea causeth his waves to 
 come up. For, behold, I will bring up- 
 on Tyrus Nebuchadrezzar, king of Babylon, 
 a king of kings, from the north, with horses, 
 and with chariots, and with horsemen, and 
 companies, and much people. He shall slay 
 with the sword thy daughters in the field : 
 and he shall make a fort against thee, and 
 cast a mount against thee, and lift up the 
 buckler against thee. And he shall set en- 
 gines of war against thy walls, and with his 
 axes he shall break down thy towers. And 
 I will make thee like the top of a rock: thou 
 shalt be a place to spread nets upon — I the 
 Lord have spoken it." — 
 
 This prediction was now accomplished — 
 Tyre had fallen — but not without immense 
 labour and loss. Thirteen years Nebuchad- 
 rezzar besieged it with a large army. Toil- 
 ing for so many seasons, night and day, sum- 
 mer and winter, the soldiers endured incredi- 
 ble hardships — " every head was bald — every 
 shoulder was peeled." For the walls were 
 deemed impregnable, and the place being open 
 to the sea, could easily receive fresh supplies 
 of provision and of men from the various co- 
 lonies which they had in the Mediterranean. 
 — But its fate was determined. — At length a 
 breach was made; and further resistance be- 
 came useless — But numbers of the Tyrians 
 escaped in their vessels, after taking their 
 most valuable articles on board, and throwing 
 the rest into the sea — so thatNebuchadrezzar, 
 when he entered, instead of a rich booty, to 
 indemnify him for his losses, found nothing 
 but empty houses and ruins. This was no 
 small mortification : Ezekiel is therefore com- 
 missioned to insure him the acquisition of a 
 country, where he would find less difficulty 
 and more recompense ; a country abounding 
 in corn, in cattle, and all kinds of riches. 
 " And it came to pass in the seven and twen- 
 tieth year, in the first month, in the first day 
 of the month, the word of the Lord came unto 
 me, saying, Son of man, Nebuchadrezzar king 
 of Babylon caused his army to serve a great 
 service against Tyrus : every head was made 
 bald, and every shoulder was peeled : yet had 
 he no wages, nor his army, for Tyrus, for the 
 service that he had served against it: there- 
 fore thus saith the Lord God ; Behold, I will 
 
116 
 
 SERMON XXI. 
 
 give the land of Egypt unto Nebuchadrezzar 
 king of Babylon ; and he shall take her mul- 
 titude, and take her spoil, and take her prey ; 
 and it shall be the wages for his army. I 
 have given him the land of Egypt for his la- 
 bour wherewith he served against it, because 
 they wrought for me, saith the Lord God." 
 
 These words furnish us with three reflec- 
 tions. I. The disposal of states and nations 
 is the work of Divine Providence. II. Men 
 may serve God really, when they do not serve 
 him by design. III. We shall never be losers 
 by any thing we do for God. 
 
 I. The disposal of states and nations 
 is the work of Divine Providence. This 
 Daniel confessed, when he said, " Blessed 
 be the name of God for ever and ever : for 
 wisdom and might are his : and he changeth 
 the times and the seasons : he removeth kings, 
 and he setteth up kings : he giveth wisdom 
 to the wise, and knowledge to them that know 
 understanding." He rejected Saul, and gave 
 the kingdom to David, an obscure shepherd. 
 He took the ten tribes from Rehoboam, and 
 transferred them to Jeroboam, originally an 
 inferior officer in his own service. It was occa- 
 sioned, indeed, by the imprudence of the 
 king, in refusing the advice of the old men, 
 and following the rash counsel of the young ; 
 but " the thing," so it is expressly remarked, 
 " the thing was of the Lord." Thus He takes 
 Egypt from Pharaoh-hophra, and adds it to 
 the possessions and territories of the Babylon- 
 ish monarch. Nothing could be a greater 
 judgment upon a country, than to be laid open 
 to the horrors of invasion, and delivered up to 
 the despotism of an unprincipled tyrant, who 
 considered them as his property, used them as 
 his tools, degraded them as his vassals, dis- 
 posed of them as his victims — so that " whom 
 he would he slew, and whom he would he 
 kept alive" — But " the Lord gave it to him." 
 
 Do we examine this dispensation in refer- 
 ence to the authority of God 1 — It is unques- 
 tionably his prerogative : he has a right to do 
 what he will with his own. " I have made 
 the earth, the man and the beast that are up- 
 on the ground, by my great power and by my 
 out-stretched arm, and have given it unto 
 whom it seemeth meet unto me." 
 
 Do we consider it in connection with the 
 Divine power 1 — Nothing is too hard for the 
 Lord ; no difficulties lie in his way ; he moves 
 — and valleys rise, and mountains become a 
 plain : " all nations before him are as nothing, 
 and are counted to him less than nothing and 
 vanity." " When he giveth quietness, then 
 who can make trouble 1 and when he hideth 
 his face, then who can behold him ! whether 
 it be done against a nation, or against a man 
 only." 
 
 Do we survey the relat ion it has to the righ- 
 teousness of God 1 — He is the moral governor 
 of the universe, " who renders to every man 
 according to their works." Individuals can be 
 
 rewarded or punished in another world ; but 
 communities are judged only in this. Here 
 he deals with them in a way of retribution ; 
 and in none of his proceedings is he arbitrary : 
 there is always a cause. " Righteousness ex- 
 alteth a nation, and sin is a reproach to any peo- 
 ple." " O house of Israel, cannot I do with 
 you as this potter ! saith the Lord. Behold, 
 as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are ye 
 in my hand, O house of Israel. At what in- 
 stant I shall speak concerning a nation and 
 concerning a kingdom, to pluck up, and to pull 
 down, and to destroy it; if that nation, against 
 whom I have pronounced, turn from their 
 evil, I will repent of the evil that I thought to 
 do unto them. And at what instant I shall 
 speak concerning a nation, and concerning a 
 kingdom, to build and to plant it ; if it do 
 evil in my sight, that it obey not my voice, 
 then I will repent of the good wherewith I 
 said I would benefit them." 
 
 Do we think of it in application to our own 
 times ? — We should remember that it has no- 
 thing in it peculiar or uncommon ; that per- 
 sons in former ages are to be viewed as fair 
 specimens of human nature in general, and 
 the dealings of Divine Providence with them 
 as holding forth the unchangeable nature and 
 perfections of God ; that " he is the governor 
 among the nations" now, as much as in the 
 days of Ezekiel ; and that were a history of 
 modern events to be written by inspiration, 
 we should find him "working all things after 
 the counsel of his own will," and read it re- 
 corded, that "out of him came forth the cor- 
 ner, out of him the nail, out of him the battle 
 bow, out of him every oppressor together." 
 
 And, my brethren, this is precisely the view 
 we should endeavour to take of these changes. 
 A Christian should be wiser than other men; 
 and where they can only find instruments, he 
 should recognize a Divine agency : where 
 they only see a creature, he should acknow- 
 ledge a God, "of whom, and through whom, 
 and to whom, are all things." When we 
 view this sovereign Cause of all events, the 
 face of the universe is changed ; the earth 
 instantly becomes a place of equity and or- 
 der ; the history of the world is the history of 
 God, and is worth reading. Unless we fix 
 upon this principle, we shall be in danger of 
 debasing ourselves by joining in worldly par- 
 ties and political rage ; of feeling too much 
 confidence in one class of men, and too much 
 fear of another ; or prescribing the course of 
 events, and suffering disappointment and mor- 
 tification when our favourite measures are 
 subverted. We have seen how strangely un- 
 answerable to any human expectation various 
 occurrences have proved ; how little, compa- 
 ratively, there is in the various modifications 
 of civil policy deserving the anxiety of a 
 Christian ; how much, under all forms of go- 
 vernment, the passions of men remain the 
 same. A higher remedy is necessary, and it 
 
SERMON XXI. 
 
 117 
 
 is to be found in the Gospel only ; and by 
 their favourable bearings on the diffusion of 
 this blessing 1 it becomes us principally to es- 
 timate all public revolutions. This is the end 
 God has ultimately in view, and he is able to 
 accomplish it. He is " wonderful in counsel, 
 and excellent in working." He is doing all 
 things, and he is " doing all things well." 
 Let us not make our ignorance the standard 
 of his perfection. — He will deduce order from 
 confusion, and good from evil. " He stilleth 
 the raging of the sea, and the tumult of the 
 people." " The Lord reigneth ; let the earth 
 rejoice, let the multitude of the isles be glad 
 thereof." "Surely, O Lord, the wrath of 
 man shall praise thee; the remainder of 
 wratli shalt thou restrain." Which leads us 
 to observe, 
 
 II. That men may serve God really, 
 
 WHEN THEY DO NOT SERVE HIM BY DESIGN. 
 
 Nebuchadrezzar and his army, says God, 
 " wrought for me." " O Assyrian, the rod of 
 mine anger, and the staff in their hand is 
 mine indignation. I will send him against 
 an hypocritical nation, and against the people 
 of my wrath will I give him a charge, to take 
 the spoil, and to take the prey, and to tread 
 them down like the mire of the streets. 
 Howbeit he meaneth not so, neither doth his 
 heart think so ; but it is in his heart to destroy 
 and to cut off nations not a few." — The men 
 obeyed their commanders; their commanders 
 obeyed Nebuchadrezzar; Nebuchadrezzar 
 obeyed his pride, ambition, avarice, revenge — 
 and his pride, ambition, avarice, and revenge 
 obeyed the will of Heaven. He knew no- 
 thing of God ; but God knew him, and " gird- 
 ed and guided him." He had one end in 
 view, and God another — but, in taking a 
 wicked city, he was fulfilling the word of 
 truth, and inflicting the judgments of Heaven 
 — therefore says God, " he wrought for me." 
 And what do we learn from hence, — but that 
 great men, bad men, the worst of men, while 
 pursuing their enterprises — are subject to a 
 Divine control — are impelled in a prescribed 
 direction — are directed to a destined mark 1 
 
 What a strange scene was here — the king 
 of Babylon and his hosts arming at the Di- 
 vine call, and marching forth to subdue coun- 
 tries, to plunder provinces, to demolish cities 
 — and in all this, doing God service ! But 
 God can turn things from their natural ten- 
 dency into opposite channels — he can make 
 men act necessarily, while they are acting 
 voluntarily — he can bind them, while they 
 feel not their chains, but even boast of their 
 liberty. He has many designs to accomplish, 
 and he suits his instruments to their work — 
 some of his purposes are dreadful ; and he 
 can make executioners of those who are un- 
 qualified to wait in his royal presence. Some 
 of them are preparatory — and he may use, in 
 removing the rubbish, those who could not be 
 employed in the erection of the fair edifice. 
 
 And thus Nebuchadrezzar is called the ser- 
 vant of God, as well as the apostle Paul — but 
 observe the difference between them ; and, 
 as God will derive glory from all his crea- 
 tures, inquire which of these characters you 
 are resembling. — The former serves God, on- 
 ly from the influence of an overruling Provi- 
 dence — the latter, from the operation of di- 
 vine grace — "Behold, heprayeth:" his lan- 
 guage is, " Lord, what wilt thou have me to 
 do V — He catches the Spirit of his Master; 
 enters cheerfully into all his views ; doth his 
 will "from the heart." And so it is with all 
 his sincere followers. Whatever they once 
 were, they are made willing in the day 
 of his power; their minds are enlightened, 
 their dispositions are renewed ; they glorify 
 him, from conviction and principle; it is their 
 aim ; the delight of their souls, and the busi- 
 ness of their lives. " O Lord, other lords be- 
 side thee have had dominion over us ; hence- 
 forth by thee only will we make mention of 
 thy name. — Speak, Lord, for thy servant 
 heareth. I hold myself at thy disposal ; pre- 
 scribe the laws which are to govern me; choose 
 my inheritance for me." — 
 
 — Such is their language ; and never will 
 they have cause to repent of their engage- 
 ments. They have chosen that good part 
 which shall not be taken from them : in life 
 and in death, in time and in eternity, they will 
 have reason to say, "Thou hast dealt well 
 with thy servant, O Lord." For, 
 
 III. None can be losers by any thing 
 they do for God. In one way or another, 
 He will surely recompense them. Even ser- 
 vices done for Him by worldly men obtain a 
 temporal reward. The Egyptian females, 
 though strangers to the commonwealth of Is- 
 rael, " feared God, and did not as the king 
 commanded them ; but saved the men-chil- 
 dren alive — therefore God dealt well with 
 them, and he made them houses." Jehu was 
 a vain, ostentatious, wicked prince, " and de- 
 parted not from the sins of Jeroboam the son 
 of Nebat, who made Israel to sin" — but "the 
 Lord said unto Jehu, Because thou hast done 
 well in executing that which is right in mine 
 eyes, and hast done unto the house of Ahab 
 according to all that was in mine heart, thy 
 children of the fourth generation shall sit upon 
 the throne of Israel." — So here, " I have given 
 Nebuchadrezzar the land of Egypt for his la- 
 bour wherewith he served against it ; because 
 they wrought for me, saith the Lord God." 
 This is indeed a poor recompense. It may 
 appear splendid and important in the eye of 
 the vain and the sensual, but the righteous are 
 far from envying it. They dread to be ex- 
 cluded from future hope, by the sentence, 
 " they have their reward." They are more 
 afraid of the destiny than of the malice of the 
 wicked, and therefore pray, " Deliver my 
 soul from the wicked, which is thy sword ; 
 from men of the world, who have their por- 
 
118 
 
 SERMON XXI. 
 
 tion in this life, and whose belly thou fillest 
 with thy hid treasure : they are full of chil- 
 dren, and leave the rest of their substance to 
 their babes. — As for me, I will behold thy 
 face in righteousness : I shall be satisfied when 
 I awake with thy likeness." Egypt was all 
 the remuneration of Nebuchadrezzar — and 
 what could it do for him? What is it to him 
 now ] 
 
 Ye servants of the most high God, who 
 know him and love him ; He has provided 
 some better thing for you. You may argue 
 from the less to the greater — Does he reward 
 heathens, and will he abandon Christians 1 
 Does he observe slaves, and disregard sons 
 who serve him ! Does he honour instruments, 
 and pass by those who strive to please and 
 glorify him 1 " Fear not, little flock, for it is 
 your Father's good pleasure to give you the 
 kingdom." He who noticed the hardships 
 endured by the poor soldiers before Tyre, 
 when every head was bald, and every shoulder | 
 peeled, will not suffer you to labour in vain : 
 he sees your difficulties ; considers the bur- 
 dens under which you bend ; he hears your 
 groans, and your sighs — when without are 
 fightings, and within are fears. They who 
 speak often one to another, and they who 
 think only upon his Name, are — recorded in 
 the book of his remembrance. " God is not 
 unrighteous, to forg-et your work of faith and 
 labour of love." He applauded the widow's 
 mite. He said of Mary, " She hath done 
 what she could." " He that receiveth a pro- 
 phet in the name of a prophet, shall receive 
 a prophet's reward ; and he that receiveth a 
 righteous man in the name of a righteous man, 
 shall receive a righteous man's reward. And 
 whosoever shall give to drink unto one of 
 these little ones a cup of cold water only, in 
 the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you, 
 he shall in no wise lose his reward." 
 
 Christians, let all this animate you to vi- 
 gorous and increasing exertion. It is conde- 
 scension and kindness in God to employ you. 
 He needs you not : he does it to improve you, 
 to honour you, to enable you to procure what 
 you can never deserve ; to give your happi- 
 ness the nature of a reward. Do you not 
 long to be employed by him ! Is it nothing to 
 be workers together with God ? Is it a vain 
 thing to serve the Lord 1 " Godliness is pro- 
 fitable unto all things ; having promise of the 
 life that now is, and of that which is to come." 
 "There is no man that hath left house, or 
 parents, or brethren, or wife, or children, for 
 the kingdom of God's sake, who shall not re- 
 ceive manifold more in this present time, and 
 in the world to come life everlasting." "Be 
 ye strong therefore ; and let not your hands 
 be weak ; for your work shall be rewarded." 
 
 Do you ask — how can we work for Him 1 
 — In pulling down the strong-holds of sin ; in 
 diffusing truth ; in supporting the Gospel ; in 
 maintaining the worship of God ; in feeding 
 
 the hungry; in teaching the ignorant; in re- 
 claiming the vicious — for " it is not the will 
 of your Father who is in heaven that one of 
 these little ones should perish." 
 
 Do you ask — And what will be our reward ? 
 — You will find it in the very nature of your 
 work ; you will find it in the glow of plea- 
 sure which attends virtuous exertion ; you 
 will find it in the approving testimony of your 
 own conscience ; you will find it in the es- 
 teem of the wise and good ; you will find it 
 in the blessing of them that were ready to pe- 
 rish ; you will find it in the applause of your 
 Lord and Saviour — " Well done, good and 
 faithful servant ; thou hast been faithful over 
 a few things, I will make thee ruler over ma- 
 ny things: enterthou into the joy ofthy Lord." 
 
 — What ! some are ready to exclaim, What, 
 are you preaching up the doctrine of merit ! 
 — God forbid. Merit ! when both our dispo- 
 sition and our ability to serve Him come from 
 his grace. Merit ! when there is no propor- 
 tion between the reward and the work. Me- 
 rit! when, after we have done all, we are un- 
 profitable servants, and have done no more 
 than was our duty to do. Merit ! when in 
 many things we all offend, and deserve con- 
 demnation for our defects rather than recom- 
 pense for our doings. Merit! when all who 
 ever served God aright have exclaimed, "Not 
 unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy 
 name give we glory, for thy mercy and for 
 thy truth's sake. By the grace of God, I am 
 what I am— I laboured — yet not I, but the 
 grace of God which was with me" — But let 
 us not, under a senseless clamour, be afraid 
 to do justice to the language of Scripture — 
 to bring forward motives which we find stat- 
 ed by Infinite Wisdom — to display the muni- 
 ficence of God — the folly of those who refuse 
 his yoke — the wisdom of those who serve him 
 — "Wherefore, my beloved brethren, be ye 
 steadfast, unmoveable, alwaysaboundingSnthe 
 work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that 
 your labour is not in vain in the Lord." 
 
 Finally, Let us think of the Saviour. Did 
 God remunerate a despicable tyrant for his 
 labour and hardships — though they were not 
 personal, and for fulfilling His purpose — though 
 it was not intentional 1 " Behold his Servant 
 whom he upholds, his Elect in whom his soul 
 delighteth." This was expressly his motive : 
 " Lo ! I come to do thy will, O God : thy law 
 is within my heart." He trod "the wine- 
 press alone, and of the people there was none 
 with him." Behold him poor, not having 
 where to lay his head ; despised and rejected 
 of men; exceeding sorrowful. What a life 
 of suffering ! what a death of anguish ! — What 
 does God think of all this'! " He was obedient 
 unto death, even the death of the cross. — 
 Wherefore God also hath highly exalted 
 him, and given him a name which is above 
 every name : that at the name of Jesus every 
 knee should bow, of things in heaven, and 
 
SERMON XXII. 
 
 119 
 
 things in earth, and things under the earth ; 
 and that every tongue should confess that Je- 
 sus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Fa- 
 ther." "He shall see his seed, he shall pro- 
 long his days, and the pleasure of the Lord 
 shall prosper in his hands. He shall see of 
 the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied. 
 Therefore will I divide him a portion with 
 the great, and he shall divide the spoil with 
 the strong; because he hath poured out his 
 soul unto death : and he was numbered with 
 the transgressors ; and he bare the sin of ma- 
 ny, and made intercession for the transgress- 
 ors. Ask of me, and I shall give thee the hea- 
 then for thine inheritance, and the uttermost 
 parts of the earth for thy possession. His 
 Name shall endure for ever; his Name shall 
 be continued as long as the sun : and men 
 shall be blessed in him ; all nations shall call 
 him blessed. Blessed be the Lord God of Is- 
 rael, who only doeth wonderful things. And 
 blessed be his glorious Name for ever ; and let 
 the whole earth be filled with his glory. 
 Amen, and Amen." 
 
 SERMON XXII. 
 
 THE DISAPPOINTMENTS OF LIFE. 
 Then I said, I shall die in my nest. — Job 
 xxix. 18. 
 
 If we examine the world in which we 
 live, we shall everywhere discover variety, 
 changeableness, and succession. Here plains 
 rise into mountains, and there hills sink into 
 valleys. We see well-watered meadows, and 
 dry and barren sands. We rejoice in the 
 light ; but we are soon enveloped in darkness. 
 We hail the loveliness of spring, and welcome 
 the approach of summer ; but the agreeable 
 months soon roll away, and the north pours 
 down the desolations of winter. Equally 
 checquered and variable is human life. Our 
 bodies, our relations, our conditions and cir- 
 cumstances, are perpetually changing. But 
 this diversity constitutes the beauty and the 
 glory of Providence. It displays the Divine 
 perfections, by rendering their interposition 
 necessary and obvious. It furnishes means, 
 by which the dispositions of men are tried, 
 and their characters formed. It lays hold of 
 their hope and fear, joy and sorrow ; and ex- 
 ercisesevery principle of their nature, in their 
 education for eternity. 
 
 Hence Divine Providence is always de- 
 serving of our attention. Providence— is God 
 in motion. Providence — is God teaching by 
 facta Providence — is God fulfilling, explain- 
 ing, enforcing his own word. Providence — 
 is God rendering natural events subservient 
 to spiritual purposes— rousing our attention 
 when we are careless— reminding us of our 
 obligations when we are ungrateful — recall- 
 ing our confiJenco when we depart from him 
 
 by dependence upon creatures. " Whoso is 
 wise, and will observe these things, even 
 they shall understand the loving-kindness of 
 the Lord." 
 
 The words which I have read give us an op- 
 portunity to pursue and improve these reflec- 
 tions. — When Job uttered them, " he had se- 
 ven sons and three daughters. His substance 
 also was seven thousand sheep, and three 
 thousand camels, and five hundred yoke 
 of oxen, and five hundred she-asses, and a 
 very great household ; so that this man was 
 the greatest of all the men of the east." 
 Hear his own language : " I washed my steps 
 with butter, and the rock poured me out 
 rivers of oil. When I went out to the gate 
 through the city, when I prepared my seat in 
 the street, the young men saw me, and hid 
 themselves ; and the aged arose and stood up : 
 the princes refrained talking, and laid their 
 hand on their mouth ; the nobles held their 
 peace, and their tongue cleaved to the roof of 
 their mouth" — He had something better than 
 all this — " When the ear heard me, then it 
 blessed me ; and when the eye saw me, it 
 gave witness to me : because I delivered the 
 poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him 
 that had none to help him. The blessing of 
 him that was ready to perish came upon me : 
 and I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy. 
 [ put on righteousness, and it clothed me : my 
 judgment was a robe and a diadem. I was 
 eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame. 
 I was a father to the poor : and the cause 
 which 1 knew not I searched out. And I 
 brake the jaws of the wicked, and plucked the 
 spoil out of his teeth. — Then I said, I shall 
 die in my nest. — Then — when I had such 
 wealth, power, authority, honour — Then — 
 when all was green and flowery, when my sky 
 was clear and no cloud appeared — Then — 
 concluding on the permanency of my condi- 
 tion, imagining I was in no-danger of vicissi- 
 tude, and supposing I should live happy and 
 end my days in peace — Then I said, I shall 
 die in my nest." — ■ 
 
 What does this passage of Scripture imply 
 and express] What views and feelings of 
 mind does it characterize 1 
 
 I. In these words we see something good 
 — Even in his greatest prosperity, Job thought 
 of dying: whatever changes he hoped to es- 
 cape in life, he expected an hour of dissolu- 
 tion, and knew, if his possessions were conti- 
 nued, he should be called to leave them. 
 
 Death is always an irksome consideration 
 to the man of the world, who has his portion 
 in this life, and possesses no hope of a better 
 — He therefore strives to banish it from his 
 thoughts. He puts far off the evil day, and 
 lives as if he flattered himself with an im- 
 mortality upon earth. But the believer keeps 
 up a familiar acquaintance with it. He does 
 not think of death only when trouble embit- 
 ters life, and forces him to say, " I loathe it ; 
 
120 
 
 SERMON XXII. 
 
 I would not live always." He reflects upon 
 it when the world smiles, as well as when it 
 frowns. Whatever be his present circum- 
 stances, he feels and confesses himself to be 
 a stranger and a pilgrim on the earth. His 
 hope is always infinitely superior to his en- 
 joyments: beyond the grave, he has a house, 
 not made with hands; a city, which hath 
 foundations; a better, a heavenly country; 
 more numerous, more endeared connections 
 — There lies his inheritance — there dwells 
 his Father — there is his eternal home. Hence 
 we have seen even persons possessed of riches, 
 honour, friends, health, and surrounded with 
 every thing desirable, " willing to depart, to 
 be with Christ, which is far better." 
 
 It must, however, be acknowledged, that it 
 is far more difficult to maintain this state of 
 mind in pleasing and prosperous circum- 
 stances, than in trying and distressing scenes. 
 It was a wise reflection of Charles the Fifth to 
 the Duke of Venice, when he shewed him the 
 Treasury of St. Mark, and the glory of his 
 princely palace — Instead of admiring them, he 
 said — " These are the things that make men 
 so loath to die." When every thing is agree- 
 able in our condition, we are in danger of 
 feeling a disposition to settle, and of saying, 
 " It is good for us to be here" — Not, " Arise, 
 let us go hence." We think of adorning, not 
 leaving; of pulling down our barns and building 
 greater, not of contracting all into the narrow 
 limits of the grave. But it would be wise to 
 take often realizing views of death. It would 
 come over us like a cloud, to cool our brain- 
 less ardours — It would check the pride of life, 
 which so often carries us away — It would 
 sanctify our possessions, and keep our prospe- 
 rity from destroying us — It would lead us to 
 use soberly and profitably those talents of 
 which so shortly we must give up our ac- 
 count — It would excite us to secure those 
 things in their uses and effects which we 
 cannot retain in their substance — and urge 
 us to be "rich in good works; ready to dis- 
 tribute, willing to communicate ; laying up 
 in store for ourselves a good foundation 
 against the time to come ;" and to make our- 
 selves " friends of the mammon of unrigh- 
 teousness, that when we fail they may receive 
 us into everlasting habitations." 
 
 Accustom yourselves, therefore, to reflec- 
 tions so useful, and learn to "die daily." 
 Say, while walking over your fields, The hour 
 is coming when I shall behold you no more — 
 When you go over your mansion, "If I wait, 
 the grave is my house" — As you estimate 
 your property, " I cannot tell who shall gather 
 it" This apparel, which I now lay aside' and 
 resume, I shall soon lay aside for ever — and 1 
 this bed, in which I now enjoy the sleep of 
 nature, will by-and-by feel me chilling it with 
 the damps of death. " Lord, make me to know 
 mine end, and the measure of my days, what 
 it is, that I may know how frail I am !" And 
 
 surely it requires contrivance and difficulty to 
 keep off" reflections so reasonable and salutary. 
 Every thing is forcing the consideration upon 
 you — every thing is saying, "The time is 
 short : it remaineth that they that have wives 
 be as though they had none ; and thpy that 
 weep, as though they wept not ; and they that 
 rejoice, as though they rejoiced not ; and they 
 that buy, as though they possessed not ; and 
 they that use this world, as not abusing it: 
 for the fashion of this world passeth away." 
 I am the more diligent, says the apostle Peter, 
 "knowing that I must shortly put oft' this my ta- 
 bernacle; even as our Lord Jesus Christ hath 
 shewed me." And has he not shewed you the 
 same — if not by immediate revelation, yet by 
 the language of Scripture, by the brevity of 
 life, by the loss of connections, by personal 
 decays ? — " Stand with your loins girded, and 
 your lamps burning," — " Man, that is born of 
 a woman, is of few days, and full of trouble. 
 He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down : 
 he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth 
 not." " The fathers, where are they 1 and 
 the prophets, do they live for ever]" We en- 
 ter the city — and see man going to his long 
 home, and the mourners going about the 
 streets. We enter the sanctuary — and miss 
 those with whom we once took sweet coonsel, 
 and went to the house of God in company — 
 their places know them no more for ever. 
 We enter our own dwellings; and painful 
 recollection is awakened by the seats they 
 once filled, by the books they once read, and 
 have left folded down with their own hands : 
 we walk from room to room, and sigh, 
 " Lover and friend hast thou put far from me, 
 and mine acquaintance into darkness." We 
 examine ourselves, and find that our strength 
 is not the strength of stones, nor are our bones 
 brass ; we are crushed before the moth ; at 
 our best estate, we are altogether vanity — And 
 is it for such beings to live as if they were 
 never to die ! O Lord, " so teach us to num- 
 ber our days, that we may apply our hearts 
 unto wisdom." 
 
 II. In these words we see something de- 
 sirable. Who does not wish to have his 
 possessions and enjoyments continued ! to es- 
 cape painful revolutions in his circumstances? 
 "to die in his nest]" We talk of the benefit 
 of affliction — but affliction, simply considered, 
 is not eligible. We decry the passions — but 
 we are required to regulate the passions, ra- 
 ther than expel them. We appeal to Scrip- 
 ture — but the Scripture knows nothing of a 
 religion founded upon the ruins of humanity, 
 and unsuitable to the life that now is. He 
 who made us knows our frame, and does not 
 expect us to be indifferent to pain or ease, to 
 sickness or health, to indigence or compe- 
 tency, to exile or a place where to lay our 
 heads. These temporal things are good in 
 themselves ; they are needful : we have bo- 
 dies as well as souls ; we have connections to 
 
SERMON XXII. 
 
 121 
 
 provide for, as well as our own persons. They 
 are sometimes promised in Scripture. We 
 find pious men praying for them ; and their 
 prayers are recorded with honour. Our er- 
 ror in desiring them consists in two things. 
 
 First, in desiring them unconditionally. 
 In praying for temporal blessings, we are al- 
 ways to keep a reserve upon our wishes, in- 
 cluding submission to the will of God, and a 
 reference to our real welfare. For we often 
 know not what to pray for as we ought, and 
 may be more injured by the gratification than 
 by the refusal of our desires. We know our- 
 selves very imperfectly, and hence we cannot 
 determine what influence untried circum- 
 stances would have upon our minds. Placed 
 in the same situations with others, we may 
 act the very part we now condemn. The 
 changes which may take place in our cha- 
 racter may surprise others and shock our- 
 selves. " Who knoweth what is good for 
 man in this life, all the days of his vain life 
 which he spendeth as a shadow V Why God, 
 and God only — Refer, therefore, the decision 
 to Him : it is your interest as well as your 
 duty to leave him to choose all for you — 
 
 " His choice is safer than your own. 
 
 " Of ages past inquire — 
 " — What the most formidable fate? 
 
 H To have your own desire." 
 
 Hence, the prayer which Socrates taught his 
 pupil Alcibiades is not unworthy the use of a 
 Christian — " That he should beseech the Su- 
 preme Being to give him what was good for 
 him, though he should not ask it ; and to with- 
 hold from him whatever was injurious, if by 
 his folly he should be led to pray for it." 
 
 Secondly, When we desire them supreme- 
 ly. For whatever be their utility, they are 
 not to be compared with spiritual blessings in 
 heavenly places in Christ. Things are to be 
 valued and pursued according to their impor- 
 tance. Many things are serviceable ; " but 
 one thing is needful." Civil freedom is va- 
 luable — but the glorious liberty of the sons of 
 God is much more precious. It is well for the 
 body to be in health — but it is much better for 
 the soul to prosper. Silver and gold are use- 
 ful — but there are durable riches with righ- 
 teousness. It is pleasing to die in our nest — 
 but it is much more desirable to die even in a 
 prison or upon a dunghill, if we can say, with 
 Simeon, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant 
 depart in peace, according to thy word ; for 
 mine eyes have seen thy salvation." 
 
 III. In these words we find something very 
 common — It is affluence and ease cherishing 
 confidence and presumption — It is a supposi- 
 tion that we shall have no changes because 
 we feel none. The consequence is natural, 
 and it is easily explained. Present things 
 most powerfully impress the mind. Take a 
 man in trouble, and with what difficulty will 
 you persuade him to expect better days ! The 
 gloom of his situation darkens his very soul, 
 Q 11 
 
 and the burden of his afflictions presses and 
 keeps down every cheerful sentiment. Take 
 a man in agreeable circumstances, and his 
 feelings will give a colour to future scenes . 
 every thing will appear favourable, because 
 every thing is easy. The mind, softened 
 down by indulgence, shrinks even from the 
 contemplation of difficulties. And when ex- 
 perience has not furnished him with any in- 
 stances of the precariousness of worldly 
 things, he leans on these supports too firmly, 
 and does not suspect that they will give way. 
 Hence Agur prefers mediocrity to wealth — 
 " Lest I be full, and deny thee, and say, Who 
 is the Lord 1 Hence we are to charge the 
 rich, " not to trust in uncertain riches :" the 
 admonition implies the tendency there is in 
 the affluent to indulge such a dependence. 
 Having friends and powerful alliances, and 
 encouraged by the success of their former 
 plans and exertions, the conclusion follows 
 — " To-morrow shall be as this day, and much 
 more abundant." " Their inward thought is, 
 that their houses shall continue for ever, and 
 their dwelling places to all generations : they 
 call their land after their own name." " He 
 saith, in his heart, I shall never be moved ; 
 for I never shall be in adversity." Hear the 
 man whose ground brought forth plentifully : 
 " Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many 
 years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be 
 merry." — When did not prosperity promote 
 carnal security and presumptuous confidence } 
 Of Moab God complains, " Thou hast trusted 
 in thy works and in thy treasures." — " Jeshu- 
 run waxed fat, and kicked — Then he forsook 
 God which made him, and lightly esteemed 
 the Rock of his salvation." 
 
 For this is not the case with the people of 
 the world only — even the godly are in danger 
 of the same evil. David is an example. 
 Though he had passed through very trying 
 scenes, the ease which succeeded seems to 
 have abolished the memory of them, and 
 by continued indulgence his hopes became 
 earthly and rash — " In my prosperity, I said, 
 I shall never be moved." Good Hezekiah 
 furnishes another instance. He had been 
 recovered from sickness, delivered from inva- 
 sion, and enriched by presents — " But Heze- 
 kiah rendered not again according to the be- 
 nefit done unto him; for his heart was lifted 
 up" — His greatness elated him. He gloried 
 in his abundance, and vainly exposed the 
 treasures of his palace : to the ambassadors of 
 Babylon he showed his nest — and they told 
 Nebuchadrezzar their master, who returned 
 and took it — it is the very image under which 
 this plunderer speaks of his pillage— "By 
 the strength of my hand I have done it, and 
 by my wisdom ; for I am prudent : and I have 
 removed the bounds of the people, and have 
 robbed their treasures; and my hand hath 
 found as a nest the riches of the people : and 
 as one gathereth eggs that are left, have I 
 
*22 
 
 SERMON XXII. 
 
 gathered all the earth ; and there was none | 
 that moved the wing, or opened the mouth, 
 or peeped." And this brings us, 
 
 IV. To observe in these words something 
 very false and vain — " Then I said, I shall 
 die in my nest !" Ah, Job ! — " Boast not thy- 
 self of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what 
 a day may bring forth." " While you speak, 
 the storm is rising which will shake down 
 your nest, and lodge its contents upon the 
 dunghill." In a few hours, you will be de- 
 prived of all — one messenger shall announce 
 the loss of your cattle — another, the destruc- 
 tion of your servants — a third, the death of 
 your children. You will feel your health con- 
 verted into loathsomeness and disease — and 
 you will sit amongst the ashes, and take a 
 potsherd to scrape yourself withal. And 
 while your head is bare to the pelting of the 
 pitiless storm — your friends will come around 
 you, and read you lectures upon hypocrisy, 
 and insinuate that the sins in which you have 
 privately indulged have at last found you out 
 
 — Miserable comforters ! And you, alas! 
 
 how changed your voice ! — You will say, in 
 the bitterness of your soul, " I was not in 
 safety, neither had I rest, neither was I quiet 
 — yet trouble came." 
 
 — So ignorant are we of futurity — so erro- 
 neous are we in our calculations — so liable 
 are we to mortifying vicissitudes ! "The in- 
 habitants of Maroth waited carefully for 
 good, but evil came down from the Lord unto 
 the gate of Jerusalem." " Behold," says He- 
 zekiah, " for peace I had great bitterness." 
 " We looked for peace," says the Church, 
 " but no good came ; and for a time of health, 
 and behold trouble !" Indeed whatever en- 
 gages our affection may become a source of 
 sorrow : whatever excites our hope may prove 
 the means of disappointment. Such is the 
 hard condition upon which we take all our 
 earthly comforts. — ■ 
 
 Are we secure from disappointment with 
 regard to Life 1 This is the tenure by which 
 we hold all our possessions, and nothing can 
 be more uncertain. " For man also knoweth 
 not his time : as the fishes that are taken in 
 an evil net, and the birds that are caught in 
 the snare ; so are the sons of men snared in 
 an evil time, when it falleth suddenly upon 
 them." " Go to now, ye that say, To-day or 
 to-morrow we will go into such a city, and 
 continue there a year, and buy and sell, and 
 get gain : whereas ye know not what shall 
 be on the morrow. For what is your life"! 
 It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little 
 time, and then vanisheth away." 
 
 — Are we secure from disappointment in 
 our Health 1 This blessing is necessary to 
 our relishing every other enjoyment: but how 
 precarious is the continuance of it ! Upon how 
 many delicate and combined causes does it 
 depend ! How easily may some of them be 
 deranged ! Are we ever safe from those acci- 
 
 dents which may strike, or those diseases 
 which may invade us 1 How many have been 
 compelled by pain and indisposition to drop an 
 enterprise which they had undertaken, a jour- 
 ney which they had begun ! 
 
 — Are we secure from disappointment with 
 regard to Children 1 The forebodings of the 
 parental mind are fond and flattering : but, 
 oh ! how unanswerable to eager expectation 
 have events often proved ! " This same shall 
 comfort us" has been said of many a child, 
 who has been dismembered or sickly in body, 
 beclouded in understanding, vicious and dis- 
 orderly in life, embarrassed and miserable in 
 circumstances. — The father had looked for- 
 ward and promised himself an entertaining 
 companion ; and behold the care and the ex- 
 pense of fourteen years carried down to the 
 grave ! See Rachel — she has been laying aside 
 the little garments her busy hands had wrought, 
 and putting out of sight the toys which lately 
 charmed the desire of her eyes — and, " weep- 
 ing for her children, refuses to be comforted, 
 because they are not." 
 
 — Are we secure from disappointment with 
 regard to Friendship 1 How many of our 
 connections have dropped us already, and by 
 their painful defections have called upon us 
 to cease from man ! How small is the num- 
 ber of true sterling friends, who will abide 
 the day of trial ! Some of those who are now 
 fawning, would not, if a change of circum- 
 stances occurred, even know us. They leave 
 the garden in winter — there is nothing to ga- 
 ther. The flower which they placed in their 
 bosom — as soon as it has exhaled its perfume, 
 they throw withered into the dirt. Of what 
 use is the scaffolding when the building is 
 finished — it is laid by' out of sight. " My 
 brethren," says the renowned sufferer, "have 
 dealt deceitfully as a brook, and as the stream 
 of brooks they pass away : what time they 
 wax warm, they vanisli ; when it is hot, they 
 are consumed out of their place." 
 
 — Are we secure from disappointment with 
 regard to Property 1 Where can you safely 
 lay up treasure upon earth 1 Water inundates, 
 flames devour, moth and rust corrupt, thieves 
 break through and steal. Riches make to 
 themselves wings and flee away. Appear- 
 ances may be favourable, plans may be well 
 laid, every assistance necessary to success 
 may be procured — but " the race is not to the 
 swift, nor the battle to the strong ; neither 
 yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men 
 of understanding, nor yet favour to men of 
 skill ; but time and chance happeneth to them 
 all." " Money is a defence," and hence it is 
 so anxiously desired, so universally pursued — 
 but how many have fallen from the highest 
 affluence into the depths of indigence, and 
 have had their necessities embittered by the 
 recollection of the plenty which once made 
 their cup to run over ! " Wo to him that 
 coveteth an evil covetousness to his house, 
 
SERMON XXII. 
 
 123 
 
 that he may set his nest on high, that he 
 may be delivered from the power of evil 1" 
 "Though thou exalt thyself as the eagle, and 
 though thou set. thy nest amongst the stars, 
 thence will I bring thee down, saith the Lord." 
 
 Let us conclude by observing — that it 
 would be an abuse of this part of our subject, 
 were you to suppose that we recommend 
 you to cherish everlasting apprehension and 
 gloom. Much of our happiness lies in freedom 
 from suspicion and anxiety. To live with a 
 troubled and desponding mind is as bad as any 
 thing we can actually suffer. Imaginary 
 grief is frequently worse than real. It is 
 displeasing to God when we sour the mercies 
 he gives us to enjoy, by distrust. We may 
 avoid solicitude, and not be guilty of the 
 worldly confidence which we have condemn- 
 ed. But it does require you, 
 
 First, To be moderate in your attachments, 
 and sober in your expectations. The way to 
 escape disappointment, is to keep your hopes 
 humble, and to cultivate such a disposition as 
 David expressed when he said, " Lord, my 
 heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty : 
 neither do I exercise myself in great matters, 
 or in things too high for me. Surely I have 
 behaved and quieted myself as a child that is 
 weaned of his mother : my soul is even as a 
 weaned child." The admonition of the wise 
 man is not designed to embitter the comforts 
 of life, but to remind us of its unavoidable ca- 
 lamities, and to keep us from being surprised 
 and disconcerted when they arrive — "If a 
 man live many years and rejoice in them all ; 
 yet let him remember the days of darkness, for 
 they shall be many : all that cometh is vani- 
 ty." If, in spite of reason, and the uniform 
 deposition of travellers, you will go forth, as- 
 sured that in your journey the weather will be 
 always fair, and the road always smooth — you 
 must be left to the tuition of events. If you 
 will enter the world, expecting to find it a 
 paradise, thorns and briers, and scorpions and 
 drought, will soon convince you that you are 
 in a wilderness. This caution, my young 
 friends, peculiarly belongs to you. Your age 
 is sanguine. You are most liable to be de- 
 ceived by appearances, because you have not 
 found how seldom they accord with reality. 
 Do not form too flattering a picture of human 
 life. Believe the testimony of Scripture. Go 
 sometimes to the house of mourning, rather 
 than to the house of mirth. Listen to those 
 who have gone before you. You only see a 
 little narrow arm of the sea sheltered by the 
 neighbouring hills ; but some have sailed be- 
 yond the reach of your eye, and have seen 
 storms and wrecks. 
 
 Secondly, It calls upon you to seek a better 
 ground of confidence, and to make the Lord 
 your trust. Creatures are broken reeds, but 
 he is the Rock of Ages. They are broken 
 cisterns, but he is the fountain of living wa- 
 ters. " Put not your trust in princes, nor in 
 
 the son of man, in whom there is no help. 
 His breath goeth forth, lie returneth to his 
 earth ; in that very day his thoughts perish." 
 "Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for 
 his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God." 
 Yes; there is something firm and certain. 
 God will not deceive us, cannot disappoint us. 
 His power is almighty, his mercy endureth 
 for ever, his word is "faithfulness and truth. 
 " Therefore will I look unto the Lord, I will 
 wait for the God of my salvation." Having 
 committed all my concerns into his hands, 
 and knowing that He careth for me, I am 
 careful for nothing. Persuaded that He who 
 has the direction of every event will make all 
 things to work together for my good, I feel a 
 peace which passeth all understanding, and 
 rejoice in the language of the Church, " God 
 is our refuge and strength ; a very present 
 help in trouble : therefore will we not fear, 
 though the earth be removed, and though the 
 mountains be carried into the midst of the sea ; 
 though the waters thereof roar and be trou- 
 bled, and the mountains shake with the swell- 
 ing thereof." " There is a river, the streams 
 whereof shall make glad the city of God, the 
 holy place of the tabernacles of the Most 
 High." 
 
 Thirdly, It calls upon you to seek after a pre- 
 paration for all the changing scenes of life. It 
 •is better to depend upon constitution than at- 
 mosphere, and to be equal to any climate ra- 
 ther than confined to one. It is better to de- 
 pend upon appetite than dainties — delicacies 
 are not always to be procured ; and what be- 
 comes of you when they are wanting, if you 
 cannot live upon common food ! Divine grace 
 will preserve the balance of the soul in vary- 
 ing conditions : it will secure you in prospe- 
 rity, and sustain you in the day of adversity. 
 This sanctified Daniel when a minister of 
 state, and soothed him when in the den of li- 
 ons. This enabled Paul to say, "I know both 
 how to be abased, and I know how to abound : 
 every where, and in all things, I am instruct- 
 ed both to be full and to be hungry, both to 
 abound and to sufTer need. I can do all things 
 through Christ who strengthens me." 
 
 Finally, It calls upon you to look beyond 
 this vain and mutable world to a state of solid 
 and unchangeable happiness. Whatever ad- 
 vantages religion affords, by enabling us to 
 endure and to improve the difficulties and 
 troubles of life, it does not hinder us from 
 feeling ourselves in circumstances of trial and 
 imperfection. " We are troubled on every 
 side," if " not distressed ; we are perplexed," 
 if " not in despair ; persecuted," if " not for- 
 saken ; cast down," if " not destroyed." — To 
 die is gain. Death ends our toil and our 
 strife, and brings us the rest that " remains 
 for the people of God." Then shadows will 
 be exchanged for substance. Then we shall 
 embrace our enjoyments without fear of losing 
 I them. Then farewell care and disappoint- 
 
124 
 
 SERMON XXIII. 
 
 ment Our "sun shall no more go down, 
 nor" our " moon withdraw her shining , for 
 God" is our " everlasting light, and the days 
 of" our "mourning" are "ended. 
 
 SERMON XXIII. 
 
 NEUTRALITY IN RELIGION EX- 
 POSED. 
 
 JVo man can serve tivo masters : for either he 
 ■will hate the one, and love the other '; or else 
 he -will hold to the one, and despise the other. 
 Ye cannot serve God and mammon. — Matt, 
 vi. 24. 
 
 There is something in the Scripture suit- 
 ed to every taste except a sinful one. The 
 Bible indeed is so pure — so holy in its Author, 
 its principles, and its design, that it is the ea- 
 siest thing in the world to account for infide- 
 lity and error — they are the natural opposi- 
 tion of men of corrupt minds. But with re- 
 gard to others, every peculiar turn of mind 
 may be indulged, and the same end may be 
 secured by various means. Some are fond of 
 history — and here we have narrations, plac- 
 ing before us striking characters and occur- 
 rences. Some love a series of proof and a 
 process of argumentation — and here we have 
 frequent specimens of close reasoning. Some 
 take pleasure in imagery and comparisons — 
 and here we have a plenitude of parables and 
 metaphors. And some are charmed with pro- 
 verbs and aphorisims — and here we find de- 
 tached sentences, which by their brevity are 
 easily remembered, and by their significancy 
 furnish materials for the mind to unfold and 
 apply. And of all these, perhaps no one is 
 more important and interesting than the pas- 
 sage which I have read. " No man can serve 
 two masters: for either he will hate the one, 
 and love the other ; or else he will hold to the 
 one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve 
 God and mammon." 
 
 One word only requires explanation. — 
 What is mammon? It is commonly supposed 
 to mean only riches ; but, as the Bishop of 
 London has observed in his Lecture upon this 
 Chapter, the original seems more extensive, 
 and leads us to consider it as comprehending 
 every thing capable of engaging the affec- 
 tions, and of gaining the confidence of men of 
 worldly minds. It is a Syriac word, import- 
 ing treasure, gain — Whatever therefore is 
 gain to you, is mammon — whether it be wealth, 
 or power, or fame, or sensual pleasure. What- 
 ever you idolize, whatever you place in the 
 room of God, whatever leads you to oppose 
 his nature and his will concerning your duty 
 and your happiness, according to the design 
 of our Saviour, falls under this denomination. 
 Subtility of interpretation is always, and mi- 
 nuteness of decision is generally to be avoided 
 in expounding the Scripture : words are used . 
 
 , in a popular sense ; and they would become 
 • less useful, if they were rendered less gene- 
 i ral. The force of an impression which would 
 otherwise have been made, has often been di- 
 minished by means of those exceptions, quali- 
 fications, restrictions, distinctions, which 
 have so much abounded in commentaries and 
 sermons, and through which the spirit of the 
 Sacred Writings is suffered to evaporate. 
 This being premised, we proceed to call your 
 serious attention to three things. 
 
 I. No MAN CAN SERVE TWO MASTERS ; YOU 
 CANNOT SERVE GoD AND MAMMON This is 
 
 clearly expressed. 
 
 II. ONE OF THESE YOU WILL UNAVOIDABLY 
 
 serve — This is fully implied. 
 
 III. You ought to serve God — This is 
 fairly inferred. Consider what I say; and 
 the Lord give you understanding in all things. 
 Amen. 
 
 I. "Write the vision and make it plain 
 upon tables, that he may run that readeth 
 it." This order the inspired penmen have 
 obeyed. They have made things clear, in 
 proportion as they are momentous ; and such 
 is the perspicuity with which many of the 
 principles of religion are laid down in the 
 Scripture, that we should deem it impossible 
 for them ever to be misunderstood — did we 
 not know how easy it is to perplex a rule by 
 which we dislike to walk, and remember 
 what a power there is in the passions to per- 
 vert the dictates of the understanding, and to 
 baffle the admonitions of conscience. For 
 instance : What can be more fully, more un- 
 ambiguously expressed than the determina- 
 tion before us 1 " No man can serve two mas- 
 ters : for either he will hate the one, and love 
 the other ; or else he will hold to the one, 
 and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God 
 and mammon." Nevertheless there are many 
 who contrive to elude the force of this max- 
 im, or who seem resolved to make a succes- 
 sion of awful experiments to try the certainty 
 of it. The number of this mixed temporizing 
 race of Christians is constantly increasing; 
 and while they are bringing destruction upon 
 their own souls, they are injuring the cause 
 of the Gospel, and counteracting the labours 
 of faithful ministers ten-fold more than those 
 who make no pretensions to religion. — " They 
 have a name to live, while they are dead." 
 They wear "the form of godliness," while 
 they deny "the power thereof."' They are 
 equally remote from the excesses of the pro- 
 fane and the fervours of the pious. They re- 
 fuse to the passions what would disturb the 
 conscience, and to the conscience what would 
 disturb the passions. Endeavouring to recon- 
 cile an earthly and a heavenly life together, 
 they waver between truth and error, convic- 
 tion and appetite, duty and inclination ; and 
 divide their affections and services between 
 God and the world. Some moments they 
 give to devotion : they pray, they unite with 
 
SERMON XXIII. 
 
 125 
 
 the holy assemblies, they sometimes approach 
 the table of the Lord — When this is done, 
 they have another master to serve : they leave 
 the house of God, and occupy places of dissipa- 
 tion ; they relish the follies, and comply with 
 the manners of a sinful age ; and as the eye 
 follows their career, you see them dropping 
 one distinction after another, they are undis- 
 tinguishingly blended with the crowd. 
 
 Nor are these persons wanting in excuses 
 to palliate, if not to justify their practice. 
 They allege that it renders religion less ob- 
 jectionable ; that it keeps up an intercourse 
 which renders them useful; that — But I dis- 
 dain to enumerate such pleas of worldly- 
 mindedness — they will not abide the day of 
 trial — they are all as tow before the flame — 
 the declaration of our Lord and Saviour con- 
 sumes them. For observe, my brethren, up- 
 on what he lays the stress of his reasoning — 
 it is the impossibility of the case. He does 
 not say, You shall not, You must not, You 
 ought not — but you cannot. " No man can 
 serve two masters — Ye cannot serve God and 
 mammon." 
 
 There are, however, four cases in which 
 you may serve two masters ; but these excep- 
 tions will only render the general rule the, 
 more remarkable, and will also help us to un- 
 derstand it. For, first, you may serve two 
 masters successively. There are some who 
 have lived in various families; and they have 
 served the gentle and the froward, the evil 
 and the good. Christians once served divers 
 lusts and pleasures, and now they serve God ; 
 but they did not serve both at the same time 
 — this was impracticable. " Being then made 
 free from sin, ye became the servants of righ- 
 teousness. For when ye were the servants 
 of sin, ye were free from righteousness." 
 Secondly, you may serve two masters, by 
 serving one of them in reality, and the other 
 in pretence. But while you truly love the 
 world, will God be satisfied with appearances 
 and professions 1 Is he deceived 7 Can any 
 disguise conceal you from his eye 1 Will he 
 not abhor you the more for your hypocrisy ? 
 And will not such a course of dissimulation 
 be a life of meanness, embarrassment, and 
 misery, in which you will offer violence to 
 nature, and perpetually dread the detection of 
 your real character 1 Thirdly, your may serve 
 two masters unequally — While devoted to 
 the one, you may occasionally attend the 
 other : but you cannot be engaged to him al- 
 so; you cannot serve him' constantly; you 
 cannot make his service your business, can- 
 not be entirely at his disposal. But nothing 
 less than this does God require of all those 
 who serve Him. Fourthly, you may serve 
 two masters, when they are on the same side, 
 and differ only in degree. Thus you obey 
 parents and magistrates, and God too ; for, in 
 obeying them, you obey him — he has com- 
 manded it. But it is otherwise, when two 
 11* 
 
 parties hostile to each other require you to es- 
 pouse their jarring interests, and each says, 
 " My son, give me thy heart." Now this is 
 the case with the masters here mentioned. 
 For mammon is not subordinate to God, nor 
 does it enjoin the same things. Their orders 
 are diametrically opposite. The one com- 
 mands you to walk by faith ; the other, to walk 
 by sight — the one, to be proud : the other, to be 
 humble — the one, to cleave to the dust; the 
 other, to have your conversation in heaven — 
 the one to be all anxiety ; the other, to be care- 
 ful for nothing — the one, to be content with 
 such things as you have ; the other, to enlarge 
 your desire as hell — the one, to withhold ; the 
 other, to give, to be ready to distribute, willing 
 to communicate. Now what is to bedone in a 
 case like this 1 If the mind be full, it can hold 
 no more. Human faculties are not infinite. 
 The operations of the soul are limited. We 
 cannot remain in a state of equilibrium be- 
 tween contrary attractions, without preferring 
 one to the other — Hence we always take a 
 part ; and the part chosen becomes the mas- 
 ter of the heart, and obliges us to separate 
 from the rest as much as they oppose each 
 other or interfere. Here, then, my dear 
 hearers, you are furnished with a criterion by 
 which to judge of your state and your charac- 
 ter. The conclusion is obvious and undeni- 
 able — If you love and serve the world, you 
 cannot love and serve God. And the exclu- 
 sion is serious and dreadful — for you are here 
 reminded that worldly attachments, depend- 
 ences, and pursuits, are not only injurious to 
 real religion, but entirely incompatible with 
 it — that they are not some of those inferior 
 mistakes and infirmities which we deplore in 
 good men; but a deadly evil which over- 
 spreads all the powers of the soul, infects all 
 the principles of action, gives the whole life 
 a wrong bias, the whole man a direction to- 
 wards hell. "Wherefore come out from 
 among them, and be ye separate, saith the 
 Lord, and touch not the unclean thing ; and I 
 will receive you." " Love not the world, 
 neither the things of the world ; for if any 
 man love the world, the love of the Fa- 
 ther is not in him." "Ye adulterers and 
 adulteresses, know ye not that the friend- 
 ship of the world is enmity with God 1 Who- 
 soever, therefore, will be a friend of the world 
 is the enemy of God." " No man can serve 
 two masters : for either he will hate the one, 
 and love the other; or else he will hold to the 
 one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve 
 God and mammon." 
 
 II. You cannot serve both; but one of these 
 you will unavoidably serve. The second 
 proposition is as true as the first — It is as im- 
 possible for a man to be without some master, 
 as to serve more masters than one. Man is 
 an active being, and must be employed ; he 
 will always be engaged in the pursuit of 
 something, either by exertion or desire. Man 
 
126 
 
 SERMON XXin. 
 
 is a dependent creature. Like the vine, he | 
 must lean for support; and it* the elm be not • 
 near, he will embrace the bramble. He ; 
 thirsts; and if he has forsaken the Fountain 
 of living waters, he will repair to broken cis- 
 terns, or kneel down to the filthy puddle. A 
 sense of his wants and weaknesses produces an 
 uneasiness, which urges him to seek after as- 
 sistance and relief. Hence, man cannot be 
 without attachment. Not finding in himself 
 the good he desires, he passes forth, and ad- 
 heres to something external: but this object 
 necessarily governs him; for it is the very 
 nature of love to subject us to that which we 
 love : and it fastens us by various ties ; for de- 
 sire and aversion, hope and fear, joy and sorrow, 
 zeal and revenge, are only modes of affection. 
 
 There is nothing of which men are so te- 
 nacious as independence and liberty ; and 
 even when they are destitute of the substance, 
 they glory in the shadow. The Jews are an 
 example. In reply to our Lord, they said, 
 " We are Abraham's seed, and were never in 
 bondage to any man" — What ! Have you for- 
 gotten the land of Egypt? Did you never 
 serve the Philistines, the Moabites, the Am- 
 monites ? Were you not seventy years in 
 Babylon ! — Whose soldiers are these stationed 
 among you ? — Bring me a piece of money — 
 " whose image and superscription is it J" Are 
 you not even now wearing the yoke of Cffisar ? 
 — Yes ; and you are wearing another yoke 
 far more disgraceful than even this, and 
 which enslaves the mind — for " he that com- 
 mitteth sin is the servant of sin." 
 
 And does not this exemplify the folly and 
 delusion of sinners ! They imagine them- 
 selves to be their own masters, especially 
 when they have shaken olf what they deem 
 the prejudices of education and the scruples 
 of superstition. Then they are free indeed ; 
 they live without control ; and, with affected 
 pity, consider Christians as subject to the 
 most humiliating restraints. But what if 
 these advocates for independence should be 
 found slaves themselves, and all their boast- 
 ings of freedom be only great swelling words 
 of vanity ? — " While they promise them li- 
 berty, they themselves are the servants of 
 corruption ; for of whom a man is overcome, 
 of the same is he brought into bondage." 
 "Know ye not, that to whom ye yield your- 
 selves servants to obey, his servants ye are to 
 whom ye obey ; whether of sin unto death, or 
 of obedience unto righteousness V What ! is 
 there no other master than God? Because 
 you refuse allegiance to your lawful sove- 
 reign, does it follow that you are your 
 own? May there not be usurpers? Instead 
 of being under the government of one, may 
 you not be under the tyranny of many, " each 
 seeking his gain from his quarter?" In- 
 stead of paying a regular and reasonable tri- 
 bute, may you not become the victims of ille- 
 
 gal exaction, and the tools of arbitrary power 1 
 — Hear what Shemaiah said to Rehoboam 
 and the princes of Judah — " Ye have forsaken 
 the Lord; therefore have I left you in the 
 hand of Shishak king of Egypt: and they 
 shall be his servants; that they may know 
 my service, and the service of the kingdoms 
 of the countries." To the same purpose is 
 the language of God by Moses to the Israel- 
 ites : " Because thou servedst not the Lord 
 thy God with joyfulness, and with gladness 
 of heart, for the abundance of all things ; 
 therefore shalt thou serve thine enemies, 
 which the Lord shall send against thee, in 
 hunger, and in thirst, and in nakedness, and 
 in want of all things; and he shall put a yoke 
 of iron upon thy neck until he have destroy- 
 ed thee." All this is fulfilled in the unhap- 
 py experience of every transgressor. For his 
 rebellion he is doomed, by a law of inevitable 
 necessity, to serve divers tyrants. Yes: if 
 you are not the subjects of humility, you will 
 be the vassals of pride ; and what a lite will 
 ambition lead you ! If you are not the ser- 
 vants of meekness, you will be the slaves 
 of passion; and is the man to be envied, who 
 is governed by the impulses of such a fury ! 
 §ee a man who has sold himself to covetous- 
 ness ; what African slave ever drudged for 
 such a task-master as he — compelling him to 
 rise early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of 
 sorrows, to assume every form of falsehood, 
 to stoop to every instance of meanness, forbid- 
 ding him the luxury of refreshing the bowels 
 of the poor and of blessing the orphan and the 
 widow, often denying him the accommoda- 
 tions and sometimes the necessaries of life, 
 and — thus forcing him to live in beggary to 
 to die in wealth ! Disclaiming the service of 
 God, you serve the Devil, who employs you 
 in drudgery, and rewards you with damnation 
 — " for the wages of sin is death." Discard- 
 ing the Saviour's yoke, which is easy, and 
 his burden, which is light ;, you wear the 
 galling and heavy chains of vice — and what 
 slavery equals a wicked life? See the sinner 
 impelled along violently, like the swine pos- 
 sessed with demons — He follows a course 
 which he condemns himself for pursuing — he 
 does things, of which, at the very time, he 
 knows he shall repent as soon as he has done 
 them — actions, which he abhors in-others, he 
 is forced to perform himself — when he goes 
 forth, he cannot tell how he shall return ; for 
 this does not depend upon him, but upon cir- 
 cumstances over which he has no power — he 
 may see or hear something, by which im- 
 pressions may be produced which he cannot 
 resist — he may accidentally meet with one of 
 his tyrants, who may say to him, " Do this," 
 and he must do it — his passions and his lusts 
 make him toil at their pleasure — and he goes 
 
 • on executing their orders, though his under- 
 
 • standing blushes, reason remonstrates, con- 
 
SERMON XXIH. 
 
 127 
 
 science upbraids and threatens — lie sees and 
 he approves better things, and follows worse 
 — and this is the man who pretends to be tree ! 
 
 You say, Religion demands of us a succes- 
 sion of services, from which you are exempt- 
 ed. But, O ye votaries of the world, let us 
 examine your claims, and see wherein your 
 pre-eminence appears. — Have you then no 
 services to render ! Think of your privations 
 and sacrifices and submissions — think of the 
 numerous and arbitrary laws you have to 
 obey — the laws of opinion, the laws of cus- 
 tom, the laws of extravagance, the laws of 
 folly. Yes; I sometimes think, if religion 
 were to require of me such duties as the 
 world imposes upon its enslaved followers — if 
 it required me to turn day into night, and de- 
 prived me of seasonable repose — if it requir- 
 ed me to embrace indecent and injurious fa- 
 shions and to expose at once my modesty and 
 my health — if it required me to adopt expen- 
 sive modes of life which devoured my sub- 
 stance, and involved me in pecuniary disgrace 
 — if it required me to spend my evenings 
 from home, and to resign domestic enjoyments 
 to rove from one insipid amusement to ano- 
 ther — if it required me to give up all that is 
 easy and simple and natural, for ceremonies, 
 visits, and crowds, where all is artificial, 
 studied, and forced — if it required me to con- 
 vert my dwelling into the confusion and dis- 
 order of a rout ; to stoop to the absurdity of 
 a masquerade ; to hazard my own life and the 
 life of my fellow creature, because I had re- 
 ceived an offence, perhaps unintentionally 
 given, and allowed me not the choice of refu- 
 sal — Then I should conceive a disgust ; then 
 I should long to emancipate myself from such 
 capricious despotism : I should sigh for liberty 
 — for what liberty could I enjoy while com- 
 pelled to submit to what is unreasonable and 
 foolish, to what is dishonourable and shameful, 
 to what is injurious and ruinous ! But remem- 
 ber, ye followers of the vain world, these are 
 the commands you obey — these are the ser- 
 vices you render. 
 
 Still you tell us — that our Master requires 
 U3 even to deny ourselves ; that this is the 
 grand law of his kingdom ; and without obey- 
 ing it, we cannot be his disciples. But we 
 contend that you are precisely in the same 
 circumstances: we can prove that you also 
 are required to exercise self-denial ; and that 
 this is the chief command you have to comply 
 with in the service of the world. And mark 
 the difference between us. Our Master re- 
 quires us to deny only what is false and vain — 
 yours, what is solid and true. Ours requires 
 us to deny what would only make us disor- 
 derly and miserable — yours, what would ren- 
 der you peaceful and happy. Ours requires 
 us only todeny the voice of passion and appe- 
 tite — yours, the voice of reason and of con- 
 science. Ours requires us to deny the body 
 for the sake of the soul — yours, the soul for 
 
 the sake of the body. Ours requires us to give 
 up nothing but what ho will more than repay 
 — yours, to surrender an interest, for the loss 
 of which you cannot be indemnified in time or 
 eternity. 
 
 Since then it appears — that you cannot 
 serve two masters — and since it is equally 
 certain that you will serve one — we plead for 
 God, and call upon you to serve Him. It is the 
 
 III. — Third division of our subject. Here 
 I feel ready to draw back from my engage- 
 ment : I am shocked to think that it should 
 be found necessary to make a comparison be- 
 tween the ever-blessed God and idols. Has 
 the depravity of the world risen to such a 
 pitch, and are men so exceedingly blinded and 
 infatuated, as to require a preacher to attempt 
 to prove that it is better to serve God than 
 mammon ! — I feel also perplexed as to the 
 proofs I shall adduce ; the case seems too plain 
 to need evidence: and of evidence there is no 
 end. Let us make a selection of two articles, 
 and 
 
 Remind you, first, of his various and un- 
 deniable claims in which he stands peculiar 
 and supreme. There is such a thing as jus- 
 tice ; and it consists in rendering to all their 
 due. Render to God his due — be only just — 
 and you must be religious. All you are and 
 all you have is his : he gave you existence ; 
 and all your capacities of action and of enjoy- 
 ment were not only derived from him, but 
 are continued by him; "for in him we live 
 and move and have our being." There is 
 such a thing as gratitude ; and it consists in 
 endeavouring to make suitable returns for 
 favours received. Endeavour to make suit- 
 able returns to God for the favours you have 
 received from him— be only grateful, and you 
 must be religious. Whose sun warms you ! 
 Whose air do you breathe? Who has fed you 
 all your life long unto this day ? When you 
 were lost, who sent his own Son to seek and 
 to save you ? When you were in the bondage 
 of corruption, who, by a price of infinite value, 
 accomplished your release] Let all your 
 mercies be summoned to appear around you — 
 the blessings of infancy, of youth, of mature 
 age ; the blessings of Providence and of Grace; 
 the blessings which you possess already, and 
 those which, as attainable, you hope to enjoy 
 — and your Preacher has only to come forward 
 and say, " I beseech you therefore, brethren, 
 by the mercies of God, that you present your 
 bodies a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable, 
 which is your reasonable service." So sim- 
 ple are the principles from which the prao 
 tice of religion is deduced! 
 
 Secondly, we would remind you of his de- 
 signs IN EMPLOYING YOU IN HIS SERVICE. In 
 
 these also, who is a God like unto him 1 Why 
 does he require you to serve him? "Can a 
 man be profitable unto God, as he that is wise 
 may be profitable unto himself ! Is it any 
 pleasure to the Almighty thatthou art righ- 
 
128 
 
 SERMON XXIII. 
 
 teous; or gain to the Most High that thou 
 makest thy way perfect !" He does not stand 
 in need of you — hut he knows that you stand 
 in need of him, and that without him you can 
 do nothing 1 . Does he require your service, to 
 display his grandeur, to exercise his authority, 
 to establish his dominion ! Hear his own lan- 
 guage : " O that there was such a heart in 
 them, that they would fear me, and keep all my 
 commandments always — that it might be 
 
 WELL WITH THEM AND WITH THEIR CHILDREN 
 
 forever." Heemploysyou, to invigorate your 
 powers, to dignity your nature, to train you 
 up for endless perfection, and to bestow upon 
 you innumerable advantages under the no- 
 tion of a reward. These advantages may be 
 considered two ways. In the engagements 
 of the master, and in the experience of the 
 servants. These do not always agree. Men, 
 as an allurement, frequently promise what 
 they never perform ; and those who have fol- 
 lowed them have had bitter reason to com- 
 plain of disappointment. But God is faithful ; 
 and as his promises are exceeding great and 
 precious, so are they all yea and amen in 
 Christ Jesus to the glory of" God by us. He 
 spreads before us in his word every attraction 
 to encourage us. " Therefore thus saith the 
 Lord God, Behold, my servants shall eat; but 
 ye shall be hungry : behold, my servants 
 shall drink; but ye shall be thirsty: behold, 
 my servants shall rejoice; but ye shall be 
 ashamed : behold, my servants shall sing for 
 joy of heart ; but ye shall cry for sorrow of 
 heart, and shall howl for vexation of spirit." 
 And has he not realized all this ? Let us con- 
 sult the experience of those who have served 
 him. And observe the fairness of the exam- 
 ples to which we a ppeal. Some of you would 
 be unqualified judges ; you could not make a 
 proper comparison, because you are only ac- 
 quainted with one of the things to be compar- 
 ed. You know what the service of sin is; 
 but you are strangers to the service of the 
 Lord Jesus Christ. But there are persons 
 who have tried both : after serving the world, 
 they have served God. And if it were for- 
 merly better with them than now, what keeps 
 them from going back ! What detains them 
 from the country whence they came out? 
 They have opportunity to return; and are 
 surrounded with the same temptations as 
 others. They have found something more 
 divine and satisfactory : they have tasted of 
 the grapes of Eshcol, and they no longer sigh 
 for the leeks and onions of Egypt. He is 
 rising from his knees, where he has been say- 
 ing, " Thou hast dealt well with thy servant, 
 O Lord." Take him aside, and converse 
 with him. He is able to give a reason of the 
 hope that is in him. Why you often mourn. 
 " But our sorrow shall be turned into joy : our 
 very tears are blessed; and we are never 
 more happy than when we can feel a broken 
 heart and a contrite spirit !" — And the world 
 
 frowns upon you. " But God smiles ; and his 
 favour is life. Heaven is my home : death is 
 become my friend : Providence manages all 
 my affairs; and I am careful for nothing." — 
 And your happiness is all future. "No — I 
 have earnests and foretastes of Heaven. 1 
 feel a peace which passeth all understanding; 
 and sometimes I rejoice with joy unspeakable 
 and full of glory. In his sanctuary I behold 
 his power and his glory. In my closet I find 
 it good to draw near to God. His statutes 
 are my song in the house of my pilgrimage ; 
 and I rejoice in his word as one that findeth 
 great spoil. — Once I thought like you. 1 
 supposed, if I began a religious course, I 
 should never have another happy day — but I 
 never had a happy day before. I have found 
 nothing of the fetters and bondage of which I 
 had heard, and by which I had been disgusted. 
 His service has been perfect freedom ; and 
 none of his commands are grievous. And 
 oh ! could I now lay open my soul ; could I 
 
 make you see as I see, and feel as I feel ! 
 
 O taste and see that the Lord is good ; bless- 
 ed is the man that trusteth in him." All this 
 shews the importance of serving God. But 
 whatever shews the importance of it, shews 
 the wisdom of attending to it. 
 
 Let me then, my dear hearers, call upon 
 you to make a choice. From this hour 
 abandon God and his ways, and following 
 your idols and your lusts, have all that they 
 can give you — or, relinquishing the present 
 evil world, take God for the strength of your 
 soul, and your portion for ever. Which of 
 these will you choose! — I cannot conclude 
 without pressing you to a decision. I have al- 
 ready been classing you. My hope has form- 
 ed one division ; my fear, a second; my con- 
 viction, a third. 
 
 I have been hoping that some of you will 
 retire this evening, and join yourselves to the 
 Lord in a perpetual covenant that shall not 
 be forgotten ; saying, " Lord, I am thine, save 
 me. O Lord, other lords beside thee have 
 had dominion over us, but by thee only will we 
 make mention of thy name." Will none of 
 you realize this pleasing expectation? Will 
 none among you, my younger hearers, verify, 
 the language of prophecy, upon which so 
 many ministers, so many parents have hoped? 
 " One shall say, I am the Lord's ; and ano- 
 ther shall call himself by the name of Jacob ; 
 and another shall subscribe with his hand unto 
 the Lord, and surname himself by the name 
 of Israel." 
 
 — A larger number, I fear, will care for 
 none of these things ; but go forth, saying, 
 with their rebellious predecessors, "I have 
 loved strangers, and after them will I go." 
 Let me give you warning from God. Re- 
 member, that he will assuredly vindicate the 
 cause of his despised authority and goodness : 
 " As for these mine enemies that would not 
 that I should reign over them, bring them 
 
SERMON XXIV. 
 
 129 
 
 forth, and slay them before my face." If you 
 are determined to abandon God, God is deter- 
 mined to abandon you : " But my people 
 would not hearken to my voice ; and Israel 
 would none of me : so I gave them up unto 
 their own hearts' lust, and they walked in 
 their own counsels." And have you consi- 
 dered the awfulness of your condition — " with- 
 out God in the world !" Death will soon 
 snatch you away from your houses and amuse- 
 ments ; and what will you do, if your faith 
 and hope be not in God — when you will have 
 nothing- but God left ! And, even previous to 
 this, an evil day may arrive. Though world- 
 ly things do not satisfy the mind, they divert 
 it ; and though they are a poor substitute for 
 God, they render you less sensible of your 
 need of him. But they are all uncertain : and 
 what becomes of you when they are removed? 
 To whom will you flee for help, and where 
 will you leave your glory ? 
 
 But an observation of the way in which di- 
 vine admonition is commonly rendered use- 
 less convinces me, that the generality of you 
 will not decide with the former, nor positively 
 refuse with the latter. " And as he reasoned 
 of righteousness, temperance, and judgment 
 to come, Felix trembled, and answered, Go 
 thy way for this time; when I have a conve- 
 nient season, I will call for thee." This is 
 your model. — You wish to pause and consider. 
 But we cannot allow this evasion; our com- 
 mission requires an immediate reply: "To- 
 day, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your 
 heart : now is the accepted time, now is the 
 day of salvation." — You wish to pause and 
 consider. But you have no time for hesita- 
 tion; you are dying while you make the pro- 
 posal : " Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for 
 thou knowest not what a day may bring 
 forth." — You wish to pause and consider. 
 But he may take your excuses for a final an- 
 swer, as they are unquestionably a proof of 
 present disinclination, and say, " None of the 
 men that were bidden shall taste of my sup- 
 per." " He is joined to idols; let him alone." 
 — You wish to pause and consider. But the 
 longer you waver, the harder you will find it 
 to decide; objections and difficulties will every 
 day multiply. — You wish to pause and consi- 
 der — but when do you mean to determine ? 
 I low much longer time do you require 1 Some 
 of you have had twenty, forty, sixty years, to 
 weigh things already/and are still undeter- 
 mined. And what is it to decide, that you 
 cannot com° to a conclusion this hour, this 
 moment ! What room is there for comparison ? 
 what possibility is there of embarrassment 1 
 O shame of human nature ! Here are persons 
 requiring additional years to determine — whe- 
 ther hell or heaven is the best portion ; whe- 
 ther the God of glory, or the god of this 
 world, is the best master. " How long halt 
 ye between two opinions ? If the Lord be God, 
 follow him : but if Baal be God, follow him." 
 R 
 
 " Wherefore choose ye this day whom ye will 
 serve" — " But as for me and my house, we 
 will serve the Lord." May God inspire us 
 with this resolution. Amen. 
 
 SERMON XXIV. 
 
 THE FAMILY OF OUR LORD. 
 
 An d he stretched forth his hand toward his dis- 
 ciples, and said, Behold my mother and my 
 brethren ! For -whosoever shall do the -will 
 of my Father -which is in heaven, the same 
 is my brother, and sister, and mother. — Matt, 
 xii. 49, 50. 
 
 I address this assembly in the language of 
 our Saviour to the Pharisees — " What think 
 ye of Christ V And surely a more serious 
 inquiry it is impossible to make. Your opi- 
 nions upon various other subjects are compa- 
 ratively of little consequence — But it is of the 
 highest importance to entertain proper appre- 
 hensions of the person and character, the of- 
 fices and work of Christ. 
 
 There is, however, another question which 
 it is equally necessary to ask — What does 
 Christ think of you ! What you are in the 
 sentiment of your fellow-creatures signifies 
 little. It is a light thing to be judged of 
 man's judgment. Your happiness does not 
 depend upon him : he may be deceived in his 
 conclusion — He that judgeth you is the Lord : 
 his decision is infallible, and his sentence re- 
 gulates your doom. Does He view you this 
 evening as enemies or friends ! As strangers 
 or relations? — Is it possible to determine 
 this ! It is not only possible, but easy. Ob- 
 serve what he did, and remember what he 
 said, in the days of his flesh. " And he 
 stretched forth his hand toward his disciples, 
 and said, Behold my mother and my brethren ! 
 For whosoever shall do the will of my Father 
 which is in heaven, the same is my brother, 
 and sister, and mother." 
 
 Our Saviour preached in various places. 
 He was now in a private house — and is said 
 to be " talking to the people." It marks the 
 ease, the simplicity, the familiarity with 
 which he spake. When a preacher can ex- 
 emplify this mode of address, without sink- 
 ing, he is peculiarly pleasing to his hearers, 
 and often most successful in the force and 
 sublimity of his thoughts. "While he yet 
 talked to the people, behold, his mother and 
 his brethren stood without, desiring to speak 
 with him." — What was the design of his 
 friends it is impossible to determine. But 
 they had something interesting to communi- 
 cate, and could not approach him for the in- 
 tervening, multitude. The people therefore 
 conveyed along the notice of his relations from 
 one to another till it reached the person who 
 stood by him — "Then one said unto him, Be- 
 
130 
 
 SERMON XXIV. 
 
 hold, thy mother and brethren stand without, 
 desiring to speak with thee." Our blessed 
 Lord was despised and rejected of men ; but 
 there were some who knew his worth, and lov- 
 ed and honoured him — and at hearing of his 
 mother and his brethren, they were ready to 
 exclaim, O happy brethren ! to have such a 
 brother! O happy mother! to have such a 
 son ! — Our Saviour was not so confined to his 
 subject as to refuse a new idea suggested 
 by the occasion ; therefore, knowing their 
 thoughts, he tells them of another connection 
 with himself: from his family according to 
 the flesh, he leads them to his spiritual kin- 
 dred ; and from a union with him, which was 
 temporal, and confined to few, he leads them 
 to one which was everlasting, and embraced 
 all good men. " But he answered and said 
 unto him that told him, Who is my mother? 
 and who are my brethren 1 — And he stretch- 
 ed FORTH HIS HAND TOWARD HIS DISCIPLES, 
 AND SAID, BEHOLD MY MOTHER AND MY BRE- 
 THREN ! FOR WHOSOEVER SHALL DO THE WILL 
 OF MY FATHER WHICH IS IN HEAVEN, THE 
 SAME IS MY BROTHER, AND SISTER, AND MO- 
 THER." 
 
 Whence we observe, that obedience to 
 
 THE DIVINE WILL IS AN EVIDENCE OF OUR BE- 
 ING related to Jesus Christ. Our Lord 
 here gives us the character and the privilege 
 of his disciples. 
 
 I. Their Character — they do the will of 
 his Father. 
 
 II. Their Privilege — they are his brother, 
 his sister, his mother. " Remember me, O 
 Lord, with the favour that thou bearest unto 
 thy people: O visit me with thy salvation ; 
 that I may see the good of thy chosen, that I 
 may rejoice in the gladness of thy nation, that 
 I may glory with thine inheritance." 
 
 I. We have the Character of his disciples. 
 He describes them as doing the will of his 
 Father which is in heaven. All obey — 
 But some do the will of the devil ; some do 
 the will of man; some do their own will; 
 and some do the will of God. 
 
 — Some do the will of the devil. This is a 
 dreadful charge ; but it is fully supported by 
 the address of our Saviour to the Jews — "Ye 
 are of your father the devil, and the lusts of 
 your father ye will do." And what is all sin, 
 but " the work of the devil 1" " For the devil 
 sinneth from the beginning." He, therefore, 
 who lives in the practice of sin, co-operates 
 with him, resembles him, strives to please 
 him, fulfils his wishes. The devil loves pride, 
 and the sinner cherishes it ; he takes pleasure 
 in revenge, and the sinner indulges it ; his 
 empire is maintained by iniquity, and the sin- 
 ner commits it. 
 
 — Some do the will of men. They are en- 
 tirely governed by others ; they receive the 
 law from the opinions, maxims, and manners 
 of their companions, superiors, relations ; from 
 the conversation received by tradition from 
 
 their fathers ; from the example of the mul- 
 titude. And by no better authorities than 
 these are many influenced, even in the con- 
 cerns of religion! But "we ought to obey 
 God rather than men;" and " to live the rest 
 of our time in the flesh, not to the lusts of 
 men, but to the will of God." 
 
 — Some do their own will. They are as 
 regardless of the authority of God, as if they 
 were persuaded that his being and perfec- 
 tions were a fable : they live without him in 
 the world ; never asking, when they engage 
 in any course of action, whether it will please 
 or offend him, whether he has forbidden or 
 enjoined it! They follow only the bias of 
 their own inclination ; and this being, since 
 the Fall, depraved and irregular, carries them 
 widely astray from their duty and happiness. 
 For it is as dangerous as it is criminal to obey 
 such a guide. Hence to be abandoned to its 
 influence is spoken of as the greatest curse 
 — " So I gave them up unto their own hearts' 
 lust : and they walked in their own counsels." 
 It has been said of children, that they are un- 
 done if they have their own will ; and the 
 reason is, because they are not wise enough to 
 choose the good, and refuse the evil. But 
 this is much more true of man : if he has his 
 own will, he will be sure to ruin himself ; for 
 a sinner is much more likely to make a fool- 
 ish choice than a child ; and he who wants 
 grace, has less understanding than he who 
 wants years. 
 
 But the Christian makes the will of God 
 the grand, the only rule of his life ; and every 
 consideration induces him to say, "Not my 
 will, but thine be done." His authority over 
 us is supreme, and his relations to us are nu- 
 merous. He is our Father, and we owe him 
 honour ; our Master, and we owe him fear ; 
 our Benefactor, and we owe him gratitude ; 
 our God, and we owe him obedience, devotion 
 — all we are, and all we have ! Nor does our 
 obligation spring only from his dominion over 
 us, and his claims to us, but from the very na- 
 ture of his will, which is wise, and righteous, 
 and good. 
 
 That we may not be ignorant of his will, he 
 has been pleased to reveal it. This revela- 
 tion is contained in the Scriptures of Truth. 
 Opening these, we find all needful informa- 
 tion : they are a lamp unto our feet, and a 
 light unto our paths. They contain general 
 principles and particular rules. There are de- 
 scribed the duties we owe to ourselves, to our 
 fellow creatures, and to God: the duties 
 which spring from the various connections 
 and conditions of life; the duties of kings 
 and of servants ; the duties of prosperity and 
 of adversity. Viewing us as sinners, they shew 
 unto us the way of salvation, and preach re- 
 pentance towards God and faith towards our 
 Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 The man therefore that would do the will 
 of God walks by this rule. He repairs to the 
 
SERMON XXIV. 
 
 131 
 
 Scripture — not for advice, but law. He en- 
 ters the sanctuary of revelation, and bowing 
 before the lively oracles of God, he cries, 
 "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do!" 
 " Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth." For 
 you will observe that his concern with the 
 will of God lies not in knowing-, but in do- 
 ing it. And indeed if this be not in our de- 
 sire and design, when we search for the will 
 of God, we are not likely to be honest in our 
 investigations, or successful in our attempts. 
 For " he that doth his will, shall know of the 
 doctrine whether it be of God; and we shall 
 know, if we follow on to know the Lord." — 
 But allowing it to be possihle to obtain the 
 clearest knowledge, unaccompanied with obe- 
 dience, it would be useless — for " if ye know 
 these things, happy are ye if ye do them" — 
 yea, it would be even injurious, by enhancing 
 our sin and aggravating our condemnation — 
 for " to him that knoweth to do good and doth 
 it not, to him it is sin." " And that servant 
 which knew his Lord's will, and prepared 
 not himself, neither did according to his will, 
 shall be beaten with many stripes. For unto 
 whomsoever much is given, of him shall much 
 be required ; and to whom men have commit- 
 ted much, of him will they ask the more." 
 
 To be a Christian then, you must act, and live 
 — and act and live as God would have you : 
 you must do the will of our Father which is 
 in heaven. By two things you may know 
 whether your obedience be such as will class 
 you in the number of our Lord's disciples. 
 For, first, their obedience is affectionate, 
 arising from a desire to please and glorify 
 God. Hence the declaration of our Saviour, 
 " I call you not servants, but friends." This 
 was not to release them from an obligation to 
 obedience, but to purify and elevate the prin- 
 ciple of it. And his own language is, in a 
 subordinate degree, the experience of all his 
 followers — " I delight to do thy will, O God ; 
 yea, thy law is within my heart:" " My meat 
 is to do the will of him that sent me, and to 
 finish his work." This is every thing, in the 
 view of God. He would have us, in his ser- 
 vice, to be liberal and generous : he upholds 
 us by " his free Spirit." He values not the 
 forced submission of the slave : he disdains 
 those actions, in the performance of which 
 the will revolts against the obligation. His 
 demand is, " My son, give me thy heart :" 
 and when this is given, nothing else can he 
 withhold : then the eyes are open to see, the 
 ears to hear, the lips to praise, the hands to 
 communicate; and the man "presents his bo- 
 dy a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to 
 God, which is his reasonable service." 
 
 For, secondly, their obedience is impartial. 
 I speak here of their aim and their disposi- 
 tion. With regard to these, they have no re- 
 serve, no objections, no exceptions. Their 
 concern extends to every thing, whether 
 great or little, whether easy or difficult, whe- 
 
 ther pleasing or repulsive : they esteem all 
 his commandments concerning all things to 
 be right, and they hate every false way. The 
 necessity of this will readily appear. " For 
 whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet 
 offend in one point, he is guilty of all." The 
 reasoning by which this is established is solid : 
 for if a man voluntarily transgress one of the 
 commands of God, why does he observe the 
 rest? — Not from a principle of obedience; 
 for this would lead him to observe the com- 
 mand he transgresses, as well as those he ob- 
 serves — seeing they issue from the same au- 
 thority, and are enforced by the same motives : 
 " for he that said, Do not commit adultery, 
 said also, Do not kill : now if thou commit 
 no adultery, yet if thou kill, thou art become 
 a transgressor of the law" — He therefore 
 obeys because the injunction happens to fall 
 in with his humour, or reputation, or advan- 
 tage. But if doing what we like, and refus- 
 ing what we do not like, be obedience — it is 
 obedience to our own will, and not to the will 
 of God ; and by such a submission we despise 
 God in reality, while we profess to serve 
 him : we exclude his authority, and establish 
 our own pleasure as the governing principle 
 of our lives. This therefore annihilates the 
 system of composition, and all endeavours to 
 balance virtues against vices, and to atone for 
 the indulgence of sin by the performance of 
 duty. For unless you regard the will of God 
 universally, whatever you do, springs not 
 from a principle of religion, but from some 
 other source — for if you performed any one du- 
 ty because God had commanded it, you would 
 most certainly practise every other for the 
 same reason ; and if you avoided any one sin 
 because God had forbidden it, you would un- 
 questionably forsake every other on the same 
 ground. It is in vain for you therefore to plead 
 that you avoid that which is evil, unless you 
 cleave to that which is good. It is in vain 
 for you to visit the fatherless and widows in 
 their affliction, if you do not keep yourselves 
 unspotted from the world. It is in vain for 
 you to be faithful to your engagements with 
 your fellow-creatures, if you are strangers to 
 devotion — this is to be moral, without piety : or 
 to pray and hear the word of God, and not pro- 
 vide things honest in the sight of all men — 
 this is to be pious, without morality. It is in 
 vain for you to assemble together in public, 
 if you never enter your closets; or to be 
 saints in the house of God, if you are sinners 
 in your own. It is in vain for you to listen 
 to the Gospel, while it teaches you doctrines 
 of acknowledged importance, if you do not 
 learn by it to deny all ungodliness and world- 
 ly lusts, and to live soberly, righteously, and 
 godly in the present world. In all these in- 
 stances in which you appear to conform to the 
 will of God, there is not one act of true obe- 
 dience ; for true obedience consults the will 
 of God, and this enjoins an attention to the 
 
132 
 
 SERMON XXIV. 
 
 things you neglect, as much as to those which 
 from other considerations you regard. — And 
 thus having described the character of his dis- 
 ciples, let us, 
 
 II. Survey their Privilege. Our Saviour 
 considers them as his relations ; regards them 
 as his kindred — they form one family with 
 himself. " He stretched forth his hand toward 
 his disciples, and said, Behold my mother and 
 my brethren ! for wliosoever shall do the 
 will of my Father which is in heaven, the 
 same is my brother, and sister, and mo- 
 ther." As such I view them, as such I will 
 behave towards them : they shall enjoy every 
 advantage which can flow from connections 
 so intimate. For our Lord does not speak 
 ceremoniously : his words are true and faith- 
 ful. Let us see what we can find, to embody 
 the meaning of his expressions. 
 
 As soon as we hear him claiming his dis- 
 ciples as his kindred, we look, First, for fami- 
 ly-likeness — and we have it. " Whom he 
 did foreknow, them he also did predestinate 
 to be conformed to the image of his Son, that 
 he might be the first-born among many bre- 
 thren." " The first man is of the earth, earthy ; 
 the second man is the Lord from heaven. As 
 is the earthy, such are they also that are ear- 
 thy ; and as is the heavenly, such are they al- 
 so that are heavenly. And as we have borne 
 the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the 
 image of the heavenly." The resemblance, 
 indeed, is not complete in this world, but it is 
 real : it is sufficient to shew that they have 
 a common origin. One end governs them ; 
 their inclinations harmonize ; the mind which 
 was in him is also in them ; and as he was, 
 60 are they also in the world, — meek and 
 lowly, tender and compassionate, patient and 
 forgiving, active and zealous. And the like- 
 ness is incessantly growing, and becoming 
 more and more visible ; so that, " beholding 
 as in a glass the glory of the Lord, they are 
 changed into the same image, from glory to 
 glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord/' And 
 by-and-by it will be perfect and entire, lack- 
 ing nothing. " When he shall appear, we 
 shall be like him, for we shall see him as he 
 is." The likeness will he extended to the 
 whole man : he shall change this vile body, 
 that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious 
 body, according to the mighty working where- 
 by he is able even to subdue all things unto 
 himself." 
 
 By claiming them as his kindred, he, Se- 
 condly, confers honour upon them. It is al- 
 ways glorious to belong to persons of illus- 
 trious endowments, and who are the admira- 
 tion of the age. It is in our favour to have 
 it known that we are in the number of their 
 friends, and are prized by them; it shews 
 their opinion of us, and it is supposed that 
 their esteem will not be wasted upon worth- 
 lessness. Their own connections have the 
 greatest opportunities of improvement by 
 
 them ; and often gratuitously obtain credit for 
 qualities which they never possess. By re- 
 lative union we seem to have a right to appro- 
 priate some of their talents and virtues : some 
 of their lustre is unavoidably reflected upon 
 those who stand near these polished bodies. 
 Persons have been anxious to go even far 
 back, to claim relation to some extraordinary 
 characters. How would some of you feel, to 
 be acknowledged as the kindred of the king, 
 who is called the fountain of honour 1 This 
 was the glory of James and Joses, and Simeon, 
 and Judas, who were the brethren of our Lord. 
 This was the honour vouchsafed to Mary his 
 mother, and for which all generations shall 
 call her blessed — Think of being the mother 
 of One who was the image of the invisible 
 God, the first-born of every creature, whom 
 the winds and seas obeyed, whom all the an- 
 gels in heaven are commanded to worship, 
 the deliverer of millions from the disgrace of 
 sin and the wrath to come — No wonder a cer- 
 tain woman, while hearing him, unable to 
 suppress her emotions, " lifted up her voice, 
 and said unto him, Blessed is the womb that 
 bare thee, and the paps which thou hast 
 sucked." — " But he said, Yea, rather, blessed 
 are they that hear the word of God and keep 
 it." Does he then design to exclude his own 
 relations from spiritual affinity with him 1 Or 
 does he discountenance natural affection and 
 duty ? Far from it — But he would intimate 
 that we need not envy Mary ; we ourselves 
 may become his kindred in a nobler sense ; 
 " such honour have all the saints" — " Behold 
 my mother and my brethren ! for whosoever 
 shall do the will of my Father which is in 
 heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, 
 and mother." 
 
 Thirdly, If they are his relations, he will 
 love them. What would you think of a man 
 who had no regard for a brother, a sister ? 
 Where should we think of looking for affec- 
 tion, if not among those who are attached by 
 ties of nature, by habits of early intercourse, 
 by mutual participations of every youthful 
 enjoyment, by the reciprocal performance of 
 a thousand tender and endearing offices ! But 
 conceive of whatever is attractive and binding 
 in the fond image of a mother; one, who 
 after nameless pains and perils gave thee 
 birth, nursed thee on her knees, fed thee 
 at her breast, and through sleepless nights 
 and anxious days watched over thy tender 
 progress — Bring before your mind a man, all 
 genius and sensibility, viewing the picture of 
 a mother, — 
 
 " Faithful remembrancer of one so dear,"— 
 recalling maternal smiles, and the dress in 
 which with blessings she dismissed him to 
 school — forgetting a thousand otherthings, but 
 remembering her "nightly visits," her " morn- 
 ing bounties," her " constant flow of love 
 tha t knew no fall !" — But no mother was ever 
 so dear to an admiring child, as his disciples 
 
SERMON XXIV. 
 
 133 
 
 are to the Saviour. Every thing is defective 
 in holding forth his love ; never was love so 
 tender, never was love so tried ; it is stronger 
 than death : it passeth knowledge. — See it 
 when he was upon earth. His little family 
 with which he was surrounded was a fair 
 specimen of his people in all ages. How 
 kindly he bore with their infirmities! with 
 what gentleness he reproved them ! with what 
 eagerness lie encouraged them ! with what 
 freedom he unbosomed himself to them ! — 
 1 And loving his own who were in the world, 
 he loved them unto the end" — and gave proof 
 of it by washing their feet, and then dying for 
 them — by which he proclaimed that he con- 
 sidered nothing too low for him to do, no- 
 thing too painful for him to surfer for their 
 sakes. 
 
 Fourthly, Since he declares them to be his re- 
 lations, he will provide for them. " If any pro- 
 vide not for his own, and especially for those of 
 his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is 
 worse than an infidel." And will he incur a 
 reproach which he so severely condemns] It 
 was well for the patriarch and his sons, in the 
 famine which raged all over the country, that 
 they had one so nearly allied to them, who 
 reigned over the land of Egypt, and had the 
 command of its resources. " Then sent Jo- 
 seph, and called his father Jacob to him and 
 all his kindred, threescore and fifteen souls," 
 and the land of Goshen yielded them supplies. 
 Christians, you have a relation who is Lord 
 of all: "the earth is his, and the fulness 
 thereof." See those who rise in the state : 
 they soon draw their connections after them. 
 And many evils may arise from this among 
 men. Sinecures may be multiplied, places 
 may be formed in order to be filled, and the 
 state may be burdened to maintain the friends 
 of those who are in power — while offices may 
 be disposed of, not according to qualifica- 
 tion, but affinity. But Jesus Christ injures 
 none by the elevation of his kindred ; and he 
 prepares them all for the stations they occupy. 
 — And surely, if they are not all exalted, he 
 will suffer none of them to famish. " O fear 
 the Lord, ye his saints ; for there is no want 
 to them that fear him. The lions do lack and 
 suffer hunger, but they that seek the Lord 
 shall not want any good thing." You may 
 rejoice in all the glory and empire to which 
 he is advanced — you are interested in it — it 
 is for you. " He is made head over all things 
 unto his body, the Church." " He has pow- 
 er given him over all flesh, that he should 
 give eternal life to as many as the Father 
 hath given him." And not satisfied with his 
 own personal dignity, he wishes his friends 
 to sit with him upon his throne; and this is 
 his language, "Father, I will that those 
 which thou hast given me be with me where 
 I am, to behold my glory." " And the glory 
 which thou gavest me I have given them ; that 
 they may be one, even as we are one." 
 
 12 
 
 Again : Since 1 he regards them as his bre- 
 thren, his sisters, his mother, he will keep up 
 an intercourse with them. He will corres- 
 pond with them by means of his word ; and 
 many a precious epistle will they receive 
 from him, unfolding the sentiments of his 
 heart, and telling them where he now is, 
 and what he is preparing for them. He 
 will also come to see them : he will peculiar- 
 ly visit them in trouble ; he is a " Friend 
 born for adversity." " And better is a neigh- 
 bour that is near, than a brother that is far 
 off." " When thou passest through the wa- 
 ters, I will be with thee; and through the 
 floods, they shall not overflow thee: when 
 thou passest through the fire, thou shalt not 
 be burned, neither shall the flames kindle up- 
 on thee." For, 
 
 Finally, he will defend them. When Mo- 
 ses went forth and " saw one of his brethren 
 suffer wrong, he defended him, and avenged 
 him that was oppressed, and smote the Egyp- 
 tian." We see how Esther exerted herself 
 to preserve from the malice of Haman her na- 
 tion and her uncle's house — " How can I en- 
 dure to see the destruction of my kindred !** 
 And will the Saviour be an unconcerned spec- 
 tator of the dangers of his people ? Let their 
 enemies beware. In opposing them, they 
 persecute him : he that toucheth them, touch- 
 eth the apple of his eye. No weapon formed 
 against them shall prosper. Their Redeemer 
 is mighty; and he will plead their cause. 
 " Happy art thou, O Israel : who is like unto 
 thee, O people saved by the Lord, the shield ot 
 thy help, and who is the sword of thine excel- 
 lency ! and thine enemies shall be found li- 
 ars unto thee, and thou shalt tread upon their 
 high places." 
 
 From the explanation of the words which 
 has been given, we derive four interesting re- 
 flections : with which we shall conclude. 
 
 The First leads us to admire the grace 
 and condescension of our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 When we look into the world, we find those 
 of rank and consequence detaching them- 
 selves as much as possible from those below 
 them : they are ashamed to be too familiar 
 with their inferiors, though the inferiority 
 consists in things which possess very little, if 
 any, real and intrinsical excellency. Why 
 should a man think me beneath him, because 
 he has a greater abundance of " thick clay V 
 Is wealth dignity 1 "Silver and gold have 1 
 none," says Peter — So then a man may be an 
 inspired apostle and able to work miracles, 
 and be poor. "Foxes have holes, and the 
 birds of the air have nests ; while the Son of 
 man hath not where to lay his head," says 
 our Saviour — A person therefore may be the 
 brightness of the Father's glory, and the ex- 
 press image of his person ; and be destitute of 
 worldly possessions. Why should a man 
 swell, as he passes by me, because he wears 
 a title 1 . 
 
134 
 
 SERMON XXIV. 
 
 " Pigmies are pigmies still, though perch'd on Alps I 
 •' And pyramids are pyramids in vales." 
 
 Take a prince : he has only five senses ; he 
 is made of dust, and is returning to dust 
 again, and in that very day his thoughts pe- 
 rish. See those who, springing from obscu- 
 rity, hav.e soared high in worldly success : 
 how unwilling are they to be found in com- 
 pany with their kindred who remain in indi- 
 gence ! how eager are they to conceal the re- 
 lation ! But here is a subject of wonder, which 
 may well lead us to exclaim, " Lord, what is 
 man, that thou art mindful of him ; or the son 
 of man, that thou visitest him V See Him 
 that has all power in heaven and in earth, the 
 King of kings and Lord of lords, stooping 
 from his glorious majesty, looking to him that 
 is poor, searching for his connections who 
 dwell in houses of clay, and desirous of pub- 
 lishing the relation — See him " stretching 
 forth his hand toward his disciples," and say- 
 ing, " Behold my mother and my brethren ! 
 For whosoever shall do the will of" my Father 
 which is in heaven, the same is my brother, 
 and sister, and mother." 
 
 The Second remark leads us to contemplate 
 the indemnities and advantages of religion. 
 It is readily acknowledged, that in following 
 the Son of God, we must deny ourselves and 
 take up our cross: a succession of painful 
 services will be required of us; various sacri- 
 fices are indispensable. — But " verily there 
 is a reward for the righteous." " Godliness 
 is profitable unto all things ; having promise 
 of the life that now is, and of that which is to 
 come." " Verily I say unto you, There is 
 no man that hath left house, or parents, or 
 brethren, or wife, or children, for the kingdom 
 of God's sake, who shall not receive manifold 
 more in this present time, and in the world to 
 come life everlasting." — It is no easy thing to 
 pursue the will of God inflexibly to the end : 
 the performance of it, in many cases, will de- 
 prive us of friends, create us enemies, and 
 draw upon us reproach. But it will never 
 suffer us to repent of our engagement : it re- 
 quires of us nothing mean; it withholds from 
 us nothing glorious. — Is divine audience a 
 privilege 1 This is connected with obedience. 
 " God heareth not sinners; but if a man be a 
 worshipper of God and doth his will, him he 
 heareth." Is an assurance of immortality a 
 privilege 1 This is connected with obedience. 
 "The world passeth away, and the lusts 
 thereof ; but he that doeth the will of God, 
 abideth for ever." — Is a union with the fami- 
 ly of Jesus Christ a privilege ? This is con- 
 nected with obedience. " Behold my mother 
 and my brethren ! For whosoever shall do 
 the will of my Father which is in heaven, 
 the same is my brother, and sister, and mo- 
 ther." 
 
 The Third remark leads us to observe the 
 holiness of the Gospel. Of this we are per- 
 petually reminded. It is insured by its pro- ! 
 
 mises as well as by its commands, by its pri- 
 vileges as well as by its duties. Its blessings, 
 however free, are only to be enjoyed in a 
 course of obedience. The family of Jesus is 
 like heaven: "the unrighteous are exclud- 
 ed. "This is the law of the house: upon 
 the top of the mountain the whole limit 
 thereof round about shall be most holy. Be- 
 hold this is the law of the house." When he 
 was upon earth he did not seek to establish 
 an indiscriminate empire, or to draw a large 
 heterogeneous mass after him : his fan was in 
 his hand : by the application of various tests, 
 he selected those who followed him from prin- 
 ciple and inclination, and drove back the 
 cowardly, the mercenary, the false-hearted. 
 What ! can the brethren of Jesus Christ be 
 earthly, sensual, devilish] "He that is joined 
 to the Lord is of one spirit." And " if any 
 man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none 
 of his." And therefore they who discharge 
 you from obedience, and promise you securi- 
 ty, belie every word of the Bible, and oppose 
 the very design of religion, which is, by 
 sanctification, to assimilate man to the image 
 of God. If therefore you value the connec- 
 tion, and are desirous of entering this family, 
 remember, there is only one way of access to 
 it. Do not imagine you can elude the deter- 
 mination of our Saviour, and enjoy the privi- 
 lege without the character of his disciples. 
 But if this be the only way of admission, it 
 stands open to all. Did your alliance depend 
 upon genius, literature, affluence, or office, 
 many of you must despair. But his family is 
 not of this world. From the hope of the Gos- 
 pel none are excluded, but those who wicked- 
 ly exclude themselves. — " Therefore, as He 
 who hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in 
 all manner of conversation :" and — pray, with 
 David, " Teach me to do thy will, for thou 
 art my God ; thy Spirit is good ; lead me in- 
 to the land of uprightness" — and then you 
 may be assured of your inclusion, whatever be 
 your talents, whatever be your circumstances. 
 " For whosoever shall do the will of my Fa- 
 ther which is in heaven, the same is my bro- 
 ther, and sister, and mother." 
 
 The Fourth reflection leads us to enforce 
 upon Christians the duty derived from their al- 
 liance. Remember that you are " no more 
 strangers and foreigners, but fellow-citizens 
 with the saints, and of the household of 
 God." Walk worthy of the vocation where- 
 with you are called. Demean yourselves as 
 the relations of the Lord of life and glory. — 
 Let brotherly love continue. Let there be 
 no strife between you and your fellow- 
 Christians, for you are brethren. Do not en- 
 vy the world; it is a reproach to your family; 
 you are placed in a higher order than they ; 
 you have better titles, honours, riches, plea- 
 sures — Rejoice and glory in the connection : 
 under a sense of your unworthiness, let the 
 thought of it revive you ; under the reproach 
 
SERMON XXV. 
 
 135 
 
 of the world, let the thought of it animate you 
 — let them vilify, let them cast out your 
 name as evil ; He is yours, and you are his, 
 and you are precious in his sight. — And, final- 
 ly, let it reconcile you to death ; cherish the 
 pleasing, the familiar notion of it which the 
 words of your Lord supply — It is only going 
 home, and — Home 
 
 " la the lov'd retreat of peace and plenty ; 
 "Where, supporting anil supported, 
 " Polish'd friends and dear relations 
 " Meet and mingle into bliss." 
 
 Such is an earthly residence. What is hea- 
 ven t What will our Father's house be, where 
 all the dear members of the family will be 
 assembled together ? Why do you wish to be 
 detained from home? — How unnatural to long 
 to be always strangers and pilgrims upon 
 earth! How unaccountable is the aversion 
 you express to a messenger, which comes on- 
 ly " to gather you unto your own people !" If 
 persons loved not to travel, surely one thing 
 would reconcile them to it — the prospect of 
 home ; especially if their dearest friend was 
 gone before, and had promised to be there to 
 receive them. And if the thought of leaving 
 some few behind pained them, they would be 
 relieved from much of the distress, if they 
 knew that these friends would soon, very soon 
 follow, and that probably they may pass upon 
 the road the vehicle destined to bring them. 
 
 Christians ! what you have found most 
 
 like home below has been the sanctuary. 
 There you held communion with your hea- 
 venly Father, and embraced your friends and 
 companions in his presence — and for " their 
 sakes" you said, " Peace be within thee." 
 There you longed to appear, and you found it 
 good to be there. But as the blessedness 
 was imperfect, so it was transient. You 
 blended with few, and soon separated, to mix 
 with others very differently minded. But 
 when you ascend, and enter your Father's 
 house above, you will never more go out; 
 you will join the general assembly — and " be 
 for ever with the Lord." " Wherefore com- 
 fort one another with these words." 
 
 SERMON XXV* 
 
 THE SAVIOUR HONOURED IN HIS 
 PEOPLE: 
 
 (A SERMON PREACHED AT ST. IVES. ON THE 
 8TH OF OCTOBER, 1S12, BEFORE THE BED- 
 FORD UNION.) 
 
 lam glorified in them. — John xvii. 10. 
 
 Who in this congregation lives without 
 prayer 1 — 
 
 This is a question which it is impossible 
 for your preacher to determine. But, in so 
 
 * Advertisement: — The Author of this Sermon is 
 not a member of the Association before whom it was 
 delivered. But his coalition is prevented by distance 
 only. Were he contiguously situated, he should esteem 
 co operation his duty and his privilege : for nothing 
 
 large an assembly, there are probably some, 
 if not many of this unhappy description : and 
 if he knew where you were sitting, he would 
 look towards you, rot with anger, but with 
 pity, and say — " My dear hearers. You may 
 be respectable in your character ; you may 
 be caressed by your connections ; you may 
 be prosperous in your secular concerns — but 
 you are living without God in the world; you 
 are strangers to your duty, your honour, your 
 happiness ; you are wholly unlike Him whom 
 as Christians we profess to resemble, and 
 who is perpetually calling upon us to follow 
 his example." 
 
 — If you can live without prayer, He did 
 not. " In the days of his flesh he offered up 
 prayers and supplications, with strong crying 
 and tears, unto him that was able to save him 
 from death, and was heard in that he feared." 
 
 In the sacred history we often read of his 
 praying : but the Holy Ghost has more fully 
 recorded and signalized the prayer contained 
 in the chapter before us. It was delirered 
 in the open air just as he was going to suffer. 
 He had left the communion chamber ; and 
 was approaching the garden of Gethsemane. 
 He paused near Cedron. The hum of the ad- 
 joining metropolis was diminished. It was to- 
 wards midnight The moon was walking in 
 brightness ; it was at full. He was now to 
 take an affectionate farewell of his immediate 
 disciples, who stood around him weeping. He 
 considered them as the depositaries of his 
 truth, and the representatives of his Church in 
 all ages ; "and lifting up his eyes to heaven," 
 he commends them to the blessing of his Fa- 
 can be more consistent with his convictions, than the 
 importance of the object ; or more congenial to his feel- 
 ings, than the liberality of the plan by which this union 
 is distinguished. Hence, being invited to preach at one 
 of its meetings, he most readily complied. 
 
 But he acknowledges he did not consent to publish so 
 willingly, notwithstanding the earnest and unanimous 
 request of his Christian friends, and his brethren in the 
 ministry. He was aware of some considerable differ- 
 ence between the claims of a sermon preached and a 
 sermon published. In the former, a freedom occasion- 
 ally bordering on colloquial, may be readily allow- 
 ed, and even applauded : w hile the same commenda- 
 tion, or even apology, will not be conceded in the lat- 
 ter. 
 
 It is a very desirable, but not a very easy thing to give 
 the effect of novelty to well-known and familiar truth. 
 Some little sacrifices of refinement, even fastidious 
 criticism would surely tolerate, to excite in the mass of 
 hearers that interest w hich will secure atte ntion and 
 aid recollection. What by its dulness composes the 
 mind; what by its smoothness slides off from it ; what 
 by its subtilty evaporates in the mere act of hearing, 
 will do little good. Something must strike, and pene- 
 trate, and remain : something must be taken away, 
 which the individual will think of when alone, and 
 talk of when in company. The trords of the mise, says 
 Solomon, are as goads, and as nails fastened by themas- 
 ters of asscmb/ies. Nothing is more to be guarded against 
 than a tame unimpressive correctness, that will sub- 
 ject a preacher to the reflection of Quimilian, "His 
 greatest excellency is — that he has no fault ; and his 
 greatest fault is — that he has no excellency." 
 
 It was the wish of those, who by their candid impor- 
 tunity have rendered themselves responsible to the 
 public for this publication, that the discourse should re- 
 tain the boldness and vivacity of popular and free ad* 
 dress, and be presented as it was delivered. This the 
 author has been enabled to do perfectly, as t lie 9ermon 
 was secured in short hand. 
 
136 
 
 SERMON XXV. 
 
 ther and our Father, his God and our God. 
 And behold the principal argument on which 
 his intercession rests. " All mine are thine, 
 and thine are mine, and I am glorified in 
 them. Whatever is done for my people is 
 done for me. It will advance my honour. 
 
 I AM GLORIFIED IN THEM." 
 
 Let us endeavour to exemplify the truth of 
 this sentiment, and shew, in six ways, how 
 Christ is glorified in christians. 
 
 1. He is glorified in them by the deriva- 
 tion OF ALL THEIR EXCELLENCES FROM HIM. 
 
 What a change do we annually witness in 
 nature! After a few months of wintry drea- 
 riness and desolation, the enlivening spring 
 returns. The ground is decked in green. 
 The flowers appear on the earth. The trees 
 assume their foliage. The leaves guard the 
 buds; the blossoms are succeeded by fruit; 
 and the fruit swells, colours, and matures 
 against the perfect day. All this is owing to 
 the influence of the sun; and — the sun is 
 glorified in our fields and gardens. An ar- 
 chitect rears an edifice. It is admired for its 
 beauty, or its grandeur, by all who inspect it. 
 But the praise belongs to the builder, not to 
 the building ; and — the workman is glorified 
 in the work. A benefactor takes a youth in 
 all the rudeness of ignorance. He awakens 
 and cultivates his powers. He adorns him 
 with science ; he forms him into character ; 
 and sends him forth to serve his generation ; 
 and — the tutor is glorified in the pupil. The 
 Saviour of sinners is the maker of all things; 
 " all things were made by him, and without 
 him was not any thing made that was made." 
 And he is glorified in all. Impressions of his 
 power, wisdom, and goodness are left, upon 
 the largest and the least : " All his works 
 praise him." And is he less glorified in the 
 new creation than in the old] Has he not 
 said, " Behold, I create new heavens and a 
 new earth ; and the former shall not be re- 
 membered nor come into mind." If believ- 
 ers were once darkness, and he opened the 
 eyes of their understanding: if they were 
 once in the bondage of corruption, and he 
 made them free : if they were once degraded 
 and perishing in all the ruins of the Fall, and 
 he made them an eternal excellency, the joy 
 of many generations — it undeniably follows 
 that he is glorified in them. Hence it is said, 
 " This people have I formed for myself ; they 
 shall shew forth my praise. They shall be 
 called trees of righteousness, the planting of 
 the Lord, that he may be glorified. I will 
 place salvation in Jacob for Israel my glory." 
 
 All the subjects of divine grace are made 
 sensible of this truth. In his name they re- 
 joice. In his righteousness they are exalted 
 They know that by his stripes they are heal 
 ed. They know that from his fulness they 
 receive, and grace for grace. And as Joab, 
 when Rabbah was ready to fall, sends to Da- 
 vid his sovereign to assume the honour, " lest," 
 
 says he, " the city be taken and be called af- 
 ter my name ;" so the Christian is concerned 
 that his Lord and Saviour should wear the 
 glory of all his attainments and achievements. 
 "If I have performed a duty properly, he en- 
 abled me to discharge it. If I have borne a 
 trial becomingly, he enabled me to endure it 
 If 1 have vanquished an enemy, he enabled 
 me to overcome. We are more than conquer- 
 ors through 'him that loved us.' Not unto 
 us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name 
 give glory, for thy mercy and for thy truth's 
 sake. Unto him that loved us, and washed 
 us from our sins in his own blood, and hath 
 made us kings and priests unto God and his 
 Father, be glory and dominion for ever and 
 ever, Amen." 
 
 Here it may be proper to observe, that 
 as Christians, you should never deny what he 
 has done for your souls. Though you ought 
 to be humble, you equally ought to be thank- 
 ful : but you cannot thank him for a blessing 
 he has never conferred, or a work he has ne- 
 ver accomplished. And why should you be 
 unwilling to acknowledge it ! If you can say, 
 Whereas I was once blind, I now see : and 
 whereas I was once dead in trespasses and 
 sins, I am now walking in newness of life — 
 you are not praising the subject, but the au- 
 thor : and he is glorified in you. 
 
 II. He is glorified in their holy walk. 
 Dr. Watts has well observed — 
 
 "Thus shall we best proclaim abroad 
 The honours of our Saviour God, 
 When the salvation reigns within. 
 And grace subdues the power of sin." 
 
 These lines refer to the address of Paul to 
 Titus : " Exhort servants to be obedient unto 
 their own masters, and to please them well 
 in all things : not answering again ; not pur- 
 loining, but shewing all good fidelity ; that 
 they may adorn the doctrine of God our Sa- 
 viour in all things." I wish you to notice this 
 address the more, because of the character 
 adduced. It is observable that in the illustra- 
 tion of his subject, the Apostle does not bring 
 forward a prince, or a nobleman. He does 
 not mention even a master — but a servant. 
 How easily and commonly men deceive them- 
 selves ! How many are ready to imagine, that 
 they should do wonders if they were placed 
 in higher stations, or were possessed of great- 
 er talents ! They forget, that he who is not 
 faithful in little, will never be faithful in 
 much — that every individual, however situat- 
 ed or endowed, has some influence — that even 
 a servant may roll away reproach, and re- 
 commend the Gospel by its amiable and mo- 
 ral operation in social life — even a servant 
 may adorn the doctrine of a God our Saviour 
 
 IN ALL THINGS. 
 
 Upon the same principle speaks the apostle 
 Peter. He supposes a case by no means an 
 unusual one. The wife is called by divine 
 grace, while the husband remains unconvert- 
 ed. She naturally feels a concern for his 
 
SERMON XXV. 
 
 137 
 
 salvation. Her first endeavour is to bring 
 him under those instructions which have 
 proved useful to herself. But he refuses to 
 hear. He will not "obey the word." Is there 
 then no other moral expedient] Says the 
 Apostle, you may " win him without the 
 word," while he beholds "your chaste con- 
 versation coupled with fear," and sees that 
 you are less attentive to the decoration of 
 your person than to the cultivation of Chris- 
 tian tempers, and especially that " ornament 
 of a meek and quiet spirit, which in the sight 
 of God is of great price." 
 
 Let us not hastily pass over this part of our 
 subject. Professors of religion ! Be harmless 
 and blameless, the sons of God, without re- 
 buke, in the midst of a wicked and perverse 
 nation, among whom ye shine as lights in the 
 world, holding forth the word of life. The 
 eyes of many are upon you. They are anx- 
 ious to find something, not to remove their 
 unhappy prejudices, but to confirm them. 
 They judge of your religion, by you. This 
 is indeed wrong — but so it is. You appeal to 
 the Scripture ; but they appeal to you : and 
 the only estimate they form, will be taken 
 from the representations you give, and the 
 impressions you make. And should not these 
 representations be accurate 1 Should not 
 these impressions be favourable 1 Should not 
 the picture do some justice to the features of 
 the original it is intended to hold forth and 
 make known ! 
 
 You well know that the doctrines we preach 
 are often supposed to lead to licentiousness, 
 or at least that they are not very friendly to 
 holiness and good works. If the supposition 
 was true, we should deserve, for inculcating 
 them, all the reprobation we sometimes meet 
 with. But we affirm it is not true. We 
 contend from Sabbath to Sabbath that these 
 are doctrines " according to godliness." Yet 
 after all — we must come to you for our most 
 striking proofs. " Ye are our epistles, known 
 and read of all men." When we can address 
 such cavillers and say — " Come with us, and 
 you shall see these principles in practice. 
 Behold these advocates for evangelical truth. 
 See how humble they are under applause. 
 See how forgiving they are under provoca- 
 tion. See, when riches increase, how little 
 they set their hearts upon them. Enter their 
 shops and warehouses — see what justice and 
 fairness distinguish all their dealings. Enter 
 their houses — see what cleanliness, decency, 
 order, and harmony prevail there. See how 
 the wife reverences her husband ; and see 
 how the husband loves his wife even as him- 
 self. See how the parents provoke not their 
 children to wrath, but train them up in the 
 nurture and admonition of the Lord ; and see 
 how the children obey their parents in all 
 things. See how masters give unto their 
 own servants that which is just and equal, 
 knowing that they also have a Master in hea- 
 S 12* 
 
 ven ; and see how servants obey, in all things, 
 their masters according to the flesh, not with 
 eye service, as men-pleasers, but in single- 
 ness of heart, fearing God" — when we can 
 appeal to facts like these, we put to silence 
 the ignorance of foolish men. Our hearts are 
 encouraged, and our hands are strengthened. 
 We live, if ye stand fast, in the Lord: and 
 Jesus Christ looking down from heaven says, 
 I am glorified in them. 
 
 What then are we to think — excuse the 
 association of terms — of these religious trans- 
 gressors, whose tempers and conduct are al- 
 ways at variance with their pretensions] 
 " One sinner destroyeth much good." An 
 unholy professor of religion is a judgment up- 
 on the place in which he lives. If I had such 
 characters now to address, I would say — " By 
 your means the way of truth is evil spoken 
 of, and the worthy name blasphemed by which 
 you are called. You perplex the weak, and 
 you distress the strong. You strike your 
 preachers dumb. You justify and harden the 
 wicked in their iniquity. You lead many to 
 think that all religion is but a system of hy- 
 pocrisy. The destruction of thousands will 
 lie at your door. They would long ago have 
 attended the Gospel, but they saw that you 
 were not the better for your boasted doctrines 
 and privileges. Your servants and children 
 see in you the same pride and passions as in 
 others ; and witness the mixture of family 
 prayers and quarrels. Your neighbours see 
 that you are as hard-hearted and as close- 
 handed as any around you ; and that while 
 you are talking of another world you are 
 keeping a keen look-out after this. O that 
 we could exclude you from our assemblies — 
 or, as God may give you repentance, O that 
 you had invisible bodies, and could enter and 
 withdraw unseen, that no one might ever 
 imagine you had the least connection with us." 
 
 III. He is glorified in them, by the cheer- 
 fulness OF THEIR LIVES. 
 
 All men seek happiness; and if they per- 
 ceive that you find what they seek after in 
 vain; though they turn from pleasure to 
 wealth, from wealth to fame, from fame to 
 friendship, from friendship to science — this is 
 likely to awaken their attention, to conciliate 
 their regard, and to induce them to take hold 
 of the skirt of him that is a Jew, saying, we 
 will go with you, for we have heard that God 
 is with you. 
 
 It is commonly supposed that religion is a 
 mopish and melancholy thing ; that it pre- 
 scribes a constant course of restraints ; that it 
 requires us to walk in a way which, though 
 it may end in everlasting life, is full of 
 thorns and briers, and scorpions. Such a pros- 
 pect must naturally and unavoidably terrify 
 and disgust. And hence this prejudice will be 
 found to be as injurious as it is common. For 
 present feelings are the most powerful. The 
 constitution of man is such, that he must 
 
13S 
 
 SERMON XXV. 
 
 have present gratification. He is thirsty, 
 and must drink ; and if there be no fountain 
 near, he will kneel down to the puddle. 
 Now, would you confirm a prejudice so ge- 
 neral and so fatal as this, by long demure 
 faces ; by sighs and groans as if you were al- 
 ways at a funeral ; by your insensibility to 
 the beauties of nature, and indifference to the 
 bounties of Providence ; by indulging those 
 peevish, fretful tempers which make you "a 
 continual dropping in a rainy day;" by your 
 sinking in the day of adversity, and drawing 
 upon yourself the reflection of Eliphaz, "Be- 
 hold, thou hast instructed many, and thou hast 
 strengthened the weak hands ; thy words have 
 upholden him that was falling, and thou hast 
 strengthened the feeble knees — but now it is 
 come upon thee, and thou faintest ; it touch- 
 eth thee, and thou art troubled. Is not this 
 thy fear, thy confidence, thy hope, and the 
 uprightness of thy way V Would you lead 
 people to think that your Master is a tyrant, 
 and his service bondage 1 Would you appear 
 to be less happy in serving the Lord than in 
 serving sin '! Would you shew that in ex- 
 changing the world for the Church you pass- 
 ed from liberty into a dungeon, and left a 
 fruitful field for a barren land, or a wilder- 
 ness of drought ! It must needs be that offences 
 come ; but woe to that man by whom the of- 
 fence cometh ! Be alive, my brethren, to your 
 duty, if not to your privileges; and render 
 your religion as attractive as it is important ! 
 
 I go back to the primitive Christians — They 
 learned in whatsoever state they were there- 
 with to be content. In every thing they gave 
 thanks. If sorrowful, they were always re- 
 joicing. They did not think it necessary to 
 wade through a sea of soul trouble to author- 
 ize them to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 They did not suffer a sense of their unworthi- 
 ness and imperfections, though it kept them 
 humble, to make them miserable or to deprive 
 them of hope. They did not torment them- 
 selves about futurity, but cast all their care on 
 One who cared for them. They did not view 
 death as the king of terrors, but as their deliver- 
 er and their friend. The day of judgment did 
 not keep them aghast ; they waited for it, and 
 loved his appearing. Here I see every thing 
 as it ought to be. After this I turn to modern 
 professors, and here I behold a difference 
 which can only be accounted for on one of 
 these two principles : either that Christianity 
 is changed since ; or, that we do not under- 
 stand it, and receive it aright. The former 
 solution is inadmissible. Jesus Christ is the 
 same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. There 
 is the same efficacy in his blood. There is the 
 same power in his arm. There is the same 
 love in his heart. The promises are the same, 
 The throne of grace is the same. Heaven is 
 the same. Providence is the same. No, 
 Christians; the difference is to be sought, not 
 in your system, but in yourselves. Serious- 
 
 ly therefore examine your experience. Pray 
 that you may know what is the hope of your 
 calling, and what is the glory of the riches of 
 his inheritance in the saints. Be concerned 
 to face a reproaching world, and with bold- 
 ness to tell them, 
 
 " The men of grace have found 
 
 " Glory begun below, 
 " And heavenly fruits on earthly groand 
 " From faith and hope will grow.". 
 
 Shew that no danger can terrify you ; that 
 no loss can impoverish you. Shew that if the 
 reed fails, the rock remains ; if the cistern be 
 dried up, the fountain of living water flows on. 
 Say, with the Church, " Although the fig tree 
 shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the 
 vine ; the labour of the olive shall fail, and 
 the fields shall yield no meat ; the flock shall 
 be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no 
 herd in the stalls : yet I will rejoice in the 
 Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation. 
 Rejoice in the Lord always ; and again I say, 
 rejoice." 
 
 IV. He is glorified in them by their rea- 
 diness TO SUFFER FOR HIS SAKE. 
 
 It was to the honour of Rachel that Jacob 
 served for her seven years, and that his regard 
 was sufficient to turn the toil into pleasure. 
 It always tends to the praise of an individual, 
 when those who best know him, are ready to 
 make any sacrifices or to endure any hardships 
 in his service. The strength of wise attach- 
 ment implies great excellency. The impres- 
 sions made by character are always the most 
 deep and wonderful. Scarcely for a righteous 
 man will one die, yet peradventure for a good 
 man some would even dare to die. It is easy 
 to apply this to the subject before us. It re- 
 flects cpmparatively but little honour upon 
 the Redeemer to follow him when all is peace- 
 ful and inviting : but when we are called to 
 deny ourselves and take up our cross ; to go 
 forth to him without the camp, bearing his re- 
 proach ; to regard father and mother, and wife 
 and children, as nothing when valued against 
 him : to leave all, and lose all, for his sake — 
 Then a Christian has an opportunity to evince 
 the sincerity and fervency of his love to the 
 Lord Jesus ; and to say practically — and peo- 
 ple will believe him — " He is so glorious in 
 himself, he is so dear to my affections, he is 
 so essential to every particle of my happiness, 
 that, whatever be the consequence, I cannot 
 return from following after him." 
 
 What did Peter and John when they were 
 dismissed with ignominy from the council 7 
 They went away " rejoicing that they were 
 counted worthy to suffer shame for his name." 
 Hear Paul's account of his sufferings. " In 
 labours more abundant, in stripes above mea- 
 sure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft. 
 Of the Jews five times received I forty stripes 
 save one. Thrice was I beaten with rods, 
 once was I stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck, 
 a night and a day I have been in the deep ; 
 in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in 
 
SERMON XXV. 
 
 139 
 
 perils of robbers, in perils by mine own coun- 
 trymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in 
 the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils 
 in the sea, in perils among' false brethren ; in 
 weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, 
 in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold 
 and nakedness." Ah, Paul, thy religion costs 
 thee dear ! And dost thou not repent of thy 
 engagement to a Master, whose service — 
 month after month — year after year, is but a 
 succession of privations and trials ? — Repent ! 
 — " I take pleasure in infirmities, in re- 
 proaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in 
 distresses, for Christ's sake. The love of 
 Christ constraineth us, because we thus judge, 
 that if one died for all, then were all dead, and 
 that he died for all, that they which live 
 should not henceforth live unto themselves, 
 but to him that died for them and rose again." 
 
 Love — Love is strong as death ; many wa- 
 ters cannot quench love, neither can the floods 
 drown it. You do not so strikingly see the 
 amazing vigour of this principle in religion, 
 because Christians are not called in our day 
 to pass through the same scenes as they were 
 in the beginning of the Gospel. Otherwise 
 you would witness it. The principle is the 
 same in every age. It has been exemplified 
 long since the apostolical era. Persecution 
 has formerly reigned and ravaged in our own 
 country. Many suffered and died privately, 
 a spectacle to angels, though not to men. But 
 we have a large Book of Martyrs. — I enter 
 the prisons, and survey the victims. Here I 
 see the old, of whom it is said, " They shall 
 be afraid of that which is high, and fear shall 
 be in the way, and the grasshopper shall be a 
 burden." Here I see females, distinguished 
 by the delicacy and timorousness of their sex. 
 Here I see children, tender and impressible 
 — But all are heroes. What makes them so 1 
 They are offered promotion, liberty, and life. 
 But none of these things move them. They 
 are told of tortures ; they are led forth, and 
 pointed to the stake — and they embrace it, 
 crying, " None but Christ ; none but Christ." 
 How is He glorified here ! — We ourselves 
 have frequently seen a little of this principle 
 even in our own day. We have seen the 
 young man resolved to follow his religious 
 convictions though mocked of his neighbours, 
 lampooned by his companions, and threatened 
 by his superiors. We have seen the servant 
 resigning her place : we have seen the work- 
 man foregoing his labour and seeking employ- 
 ment, rather than give up an apprehended 
 duty. We have seen the daughter, regard- 
 less of entreaties and tears — even a mother's 
 entreaties and tears — the most trying and ter- 
 rible of all persecutions to an ingenuous and 
 filial mind — rather than renounce the com- 
 munion of saints, and turn her back on the 
 " glorious Gospel of the blessed God." The 
 disposition which carries persons so far, 
 would , if events required it, carry them further; 
 
 carry them to any length. They have the spi- 
 rit of martyrs, and says Christ, 1 am glorified 
 in them. 
 
 V. He is glorified in their profession op 
 
 his NAME. 
 
 If it were only necessary to be a Christian, 
 there never would have been a martyr — he 
 could have hid his religion in his heart. Da- 
 niel might have prayed without the place and 
 the posture he chose ; and have escaped the 
 lions' den. But if we examine the Scripture, 
 we shall find that an obligation lies upon us 
 not only to be Christians, but to appear such ; 
 not only to believe with the heart, but to con- 
 fess with the tongue ; not only to hold fast the 
 reality, but the profession of our faith without 
 wavering. It is asked, "Who will rise up 
 for me against the evil doers'! Who will 
 stand up for me against the workers of ini- 
 quity 1" It is said, " They that are in dark- 
 ness shall shew themselves. They are en- 
 lightened for this very purpose : " Arise, 
 shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of 
 the Lord is risen upon thee." A Christian is 
 compared to a candle : and our Saviour tells 
 us, " a man does not light a candle to put it 
 under a bushel, but on a candlestick, that it 
 may give light to all that are in the house ;" 
 and adds, " Let your light so shine before 
 men, that they may see your good works, 
 and glorify your Father which is in heaven." 
 — So little countenance does the Scripture 
 give to the practice of those who renounce 
 business, detach themselves from the com- 
 munity, run into the cells of solitude, and bu- 
 ry their religion alive. 
 
 A profession of godliness not only requires 
 that you should live in civil society, but also 
 that you should join yourselves to some body 
 of Christians, according to the order of the 
 Gospel. If all were likeminded with some, 
 there would be no such thing as a church- 
 state any where to be maintained. They 
 never became members of a society. They 
 live unconnectedly. Excuse the roughness of 
 the comparison — they may be considered as a 
 kind of gipsies in religion. — They have no 
 spiritual home — They wander from place to 
 place — Pilfering as they go — Eluding all pa- 
 rochial offices — Declining all the king's taxes 
 — And never contributing to the support of 
 any of the advantages they enjoy. — Whereas 
 Christians are called " fellow citizens with 
 the saints." They belong to a holy state of 
 laws and immunities. They join in commu- 
 nion as to the privileges of religion ; in co- 
 operation as to its duties ; in sympathy as to 
 its conditions. To vary the image — as the 
 pupils of Christ, they enter his school ; as the 
 soldiers of Christ, they enter his army. 
 Stragglers can do little — they are liable to be 
 cut off It is not the will of the Commander- 
 in-Chief that we should fight alone — he calls 
 us to be embodied ; and when we,are enrolled 
 and stationed — it is not his pleasure that we 
 
110 
 
 SERMON XXV. 
 
 should run from one corps to another, accord- 
 ing to our humour, but abide with God in our 
 own rank and place. 
 
 This profession also includes our bearing-, 
 as we have opportunity, a verbal testimony in 
 favour of religion. " Ye are my witnesses," 
 says God : and woe to us — for we are subpoe- 
 naed — if, when we are called upon to depose, 
 we are either absent or silent. Some persons 
 are godly with the godly, but temporize in 
 the presence of the wicked and the worldly. 
 When they hear the truth of Christ denied, 
 his ways misrepresented, his people vililied, 
 they sit " as men in whose mouth there is no 
 reproof." Is this to act the part of a good sub- 
 ject, or of a traitor 1 " He that is not for me is 
 against me, and he that gatherethnotwithme 
 scattereth abroad." If you are ashamed of 
 the Redeemer's interest, abandon it at once : 
 but if you believe it to be, what it really is, 
 infinitely important and excellent, never 
 shrink from an avowal of it in whatever cir- 
 cumstances or company you are found. 
 
 We know that wisdom is profitable to di- 
 rect. Every thing is beautiful in its season. 
 A word fitly spoken how good is it ! But we 
 are often more in danger of erring on the side 
 of caution and prudence than on the side of 
 forwardness and zeal ; and to avoid rashness, 
 many go and shelter themselves under the 
 chilling influence of fear and shame. 
 
 There is one case in which it is hardly 
 possible to err. It is when you are invited 
 by people to places, and parties, and practices, 
 which your principles lead you to condemn. 
 When this occurs, you have an opportunity, 
 
 FURNISHED BY THEMSELVES, of Stating the 
 
 grounds of your conduct, and the reasons of 
 your refusal. They cannot surely be offend- 
 ed at the delivery of your creed, when they 
 themselves call for your sentiments. But, 
 alas ! there are many who, instead of seizing 
 such fine opportunities to testify, are not 
 only speechless, but — even yield and conform. 
 They are" overcome of evil" instead of " over- 
 coming evil with good." 
 
 VI. He is glorified in them by their ex- 
 ertions to promote his cause. 
 
 The cause of Christ is very extensive. It 
 takes in every thing that is true and righteous, 
 and good and noble, in the whole universe. 
 But we particularly refer to the cause of pure 
 and undefiled religion. This is advanced by 
 establishing schools, building places of wor- 
 ship, the diffusing of the Scriptures, the send- 
 ing forth of missionaries, the supporting of 
 ministers; by instructing the ignorant and 
 reclaiming the vicious; teaching transgressors 
 his ways, and converting sinners unto God. 
 
 In doing all this, Christ is glorified. He 
 condescends to consider you as workers to- 
 gether with him. He gives you his own 
 names : and what he is called efficiently, you 
 are allowed to be called instrumentally. 
 "Brethren," says the apostle James, "if any 
 
 of you do err from the truth, and cne convert 
 him; let him know, that he which converteth 
 the sinner from the error of his way shall 
 save a soul from death, and shall hide a mul- 
 titude of sins. What! Can you convert] 
 Can you save] Can you pardon? — It can 
 intend only that you may be the means of do- 
 ing it. But even this is an infinite honour 
 conferred upon you ; and the inspired writer 
 knowing the disposition of Christians, makes 
 the work its own reward. And if there was 
 only a probability ; if there was only a possi- 
 bility of success but in one instance, it ought 
 to be enough — and if we were in a proper state 
 of mind, it would be enough — to lead us to call 
 into action all resources, and to exert all our 
 influences through life to attain it ! 
 
 " Pleasure and praise run through God's host, 
 
 " To see a sinner turn : 
 " Thou, Patan, hast a captive lost, 
 
 " And Christ a subject born." 
 
 And can you do nothing to glorify the Re- 
 deemer] Are you a parent ? Cannot you re- 
 commend him to your children ? Are you a 
 master ] Cannot you preach him to your ser- 
 vants] Are you the head of a family ? Cannot 
 you say, with Joshua, " As for me and my 
 house, we' will serve the Lord ?" Are you a 
 neighbour ? Cannot you invite your acquaint- 
 ances to come and hear the word of life ? Are 
 you a tradesman ? Cannot you fulfil the prophe- 
 cy ; " Her merchandize and her hire shall be 
 holiness to the Lord ; it shall not be treasured 
 nor laid up ; for her merchandize shall be for 
 them that dwell before the Lord, to eat suffi- 
 ciently, and for durable clothing." Are you 
 rich ] Cannot you " honour the Lord with 
 your substance and with the first-fruits of 
 your increase]" Indeed there is nothing by 
 which you may be so useful in the cause of 
 Christ as property, since it enables you to em- 
 ploy every kind of instrumentality. 
 
 Every one, therefore, may do something; 
 and all may do much more than fear or sloth 
 will allow them to imagine. This being ad- 
 mitted, it is hoped that no one will suffer his 
 exertions to be chilled by the misapplication 
 of an acknowledged truth. " The Lord has 
 promised to carry on his own cause. He is 
 able to do it : and he will do it" — He will — 
 But he works by means ; these means display 
 his wisdom as well as his power; and those 
 who love his Name will desire to become in- 
 struments in his hand. 
 
 It is needless to remark how forcibly this 
 subject bears upon the Union which you have 
 so nobly established and maintained ; and the 
 success of which, if it has not been answerable 
 to your wishes, has been sufficient to encou- 
 rageyour hopes and reward your exertions. 
 
 Temporal beneficence is not to be under- 
 valued. While we are in this vale of tears 
 we shall be perpetually called to the exercise 
 of it, Who is not ready to bless the man 
 who feeds the hungry, and clothes the naked, 
 and heals the sick] 
 
SERMON XXV. 
 
 141 
 
 But, after all, charity is to be estimated by 
 the capacity of its subject, and the grandeur 
 and the duration of its object. 
 
 No zeal therefore can equal that which re- 
 gards the salvation of the soul. Men are pe- 
 rishing for lack of knowledge. The Gospel 
 is the only remedy. There is no alternative 
 between our belief of the truth of the Gospel 
 and the importance of it; between our be- 
 lief of its importance and our owning an ob- 
 ligation to receive it ourselves and extend it 
 to others. 
 
 How consistently therefore, my United 
 Brethren, are you engaged while attempt- 
 ing to diffuse it ! And this is your aim — your 
 only aim. Your object is not to make prose- 
 lytes, but converts. What bigots magnify, 
 you overlook. While you hold your convic- 
 tions upon subordinate subjects, your conduct 
 asks, " What is the chaff to the wheat V 
 You consider every thing as trifling, compar- 
 ed with the everlasting salvation of the souls 
 of men. You practically acknowledge that 
 the " kingdom of God is not meat and drink, 
 but righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy 
 Ghost :" that " in Christ Jesus neither cir- 
 cumcision availeth any thing, nor uncircum- 
 cision, but a new creature." 
 
 — " And as many as walk by this rule, 
 peace be on them, and mercy, and upon the 
 Israel of God." May your zeal provoke num- 
 bers more ; and still discovering the same spi- 
 rit, and minding the same thing, may you at 
 last obtain the approving sentence, Thou 
 
 HAST LABOURED AND HAST NOT FAINTED. Let 
 
 me therefore conclude by observing — 
 
 First, That Christians ought not to think 
 meanly of themselves. This remark is liable 
 to abuse, and needs explanation. It does not 
 stand opposed to humbleness of mind, but 
 to thoughtlessness and levity. There is a 
 personal self-valuation which is censurable ; 
 but there is a relative self-valuation that is 
 not only allowable but commendable. For in- 
 stance. A mother ought not to feel an in- 
 difference to herself : she ought to know that 
 her life is of importance to her little rising 
 charge. For who can fill her place 1 Who 
 can feel for an infant like her who bore it? — 
 And this consciousness, instead of inflaming 
 her pride, will be a source of gratitude, self- 
 preservation, and duty. A minister may be 
 humble and heavenly-minded, and long to de- 
 part to be with Christ, which is far better; 
 but when he looks around upon his people, 
 he may feel that his labours are desirable, 
 and say, To abide in the flesh is more need- 
 ful for you. But there is no relation so mo- 
 mentous as that which subsists between 
 Christ and Christians. And if He be disgrac- 
 ed or glorified in us — Oh ! how we ought to 
 feel the value of our character, the sacred- 
 ness of our condition, the awfulnessof our de- 
 
 stination, the necessity of self-attention, of vi- 
 gilance, and of prayer ! 
 
 Secondly. If He is glorified in us, let us be 
 his servants, attending continually upon this 
 very thing. Let it be the grand and pleasing 
 business of our lives. O my dear brethren in 
 the ministry, and my Christian friends, let us 
 mourn over the little honour we have brought 
 to our Lord and Saviour. Let his fame be 
 dear to our hearts. Let us not be satisfied 
 with the thought that we have not disgraced 
 him — though this is a mercy — but let us be 
 concerned to honour him — to honour him in 
 all our words and works, in our conversation 
 and conduct, in our bodies and spirits. 
 
 Need I say how much He deserves it 1 You 
 know what he is. You know what he has 
 done. You know what he is doing. You 
 know his promises. You know his sufferings. 
 See him, who was rich, for yoursakes becom- 
 ing poor. See him a man of sorrows and ac- 
 quainted with grief. See him in the man- 
 ger ; in the garden ; on the cross. 
 
 41 See, from his head, his hands, his feet, 
 
 11 Sorrow and love flow mingled down ; 
 " Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, 
 
 " Or thorns compose so rich a crown ? 
 — "Were the whole realm of nature mine, 
 
 " That were a present far too small ; 
 " Love so amazing, so divine, 
 
 " Demands my soul, my life, my all." 
 
 Thirdly. If Christ is glorified in his people 
 here, how will he be glorified in them here- 
 after ! In the vastness of their number; in 
 the completeness of their deliverance ; in the 
 grandeur of their elevation ; in the beauty of 
 their residence ; in the eternity of their joys 
 — "Then shall he come to be glorified in his 
 saints, and to be admired in all them that 
 believe, in that day." 
 
 Fourthly. Let the wicked remember that 
 Christ will be glorified in them. He will dis- 
 play his wisdom and power in making them 
 instruments to accomplish his providential 
 purposes ; in turning their designs and actions 
 from their natural currents into secret chan- 
 nels prepared to receive them, and in which 
 they will flow into the fulness of him that 
 filleth all in all. The wrath of man shall 
 praise him, and the remainder of wrath will 
 he restrain. Nebuchadnezzar is called his 
 servant as well as Moses. 
 
 He will glorify his truth and his righteous- 
 ness in punishing them. 
 
 Either in a way of mercy or in a way of 
 justice, he has sworn by himself, the word is 
 gone out of his mouth, that to him every knee 
 shall bow and every tongue confess. 
 
 " Acquaint now thyself with him, and be 
 at peace ; thereby good shall come unto thee. 
 Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish 
 from the way, when his wrath is kindled but 
 a little. Blessed are all they that put their 
 trust in him." Amen. 
 
142 
 
 SERMON XXVI. 
 
 SER3ION XXVI.* 
 
 THE VALUE OF LIFE. 
 
 A SERMON DELIVERED MAY 8TH, 1803, BEFORE 
 THE CORRESPONDING BOARD IN LONDON OF 
 THE SOCIETY IN SCOTLAND (INCORPORATED 
 BY ROYAL CHARTER) FOR THE PROPAGA- 
 TION OF CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE IN THE 
 HIGHLANDS AND ISLANDS. 
 
 Skill for ski?i, yea, all that a man hath -will he 
 give for his life. — Job ii. 4. 
 
 — And what is Life! "A vapour, that ap- 
 peareth for a little time, and then vanisheth 
 away" — "a flower of the field" — "a flood" 
 — "a sleep" — "a dream" — "a tale" — "no- 
 thing" — "surely, every man, at his best es- 
 tate, is altogether vanity." 
 
 What is Life 1 Toil and care — perplexity 
 and embarrassment — a succession of sighs and 
 tears, of regrets and disgusts — a theatre of 
 tragedies — a hospital of diseases — a wilder- 
 ness of thorns and briers — " a dry and thirsty 
 land where no water is." "Man, that is 
 born of a woman, is of few days and full of 
 trouble." Such is the estimate of Human 
 Life ! It is equally distinguished by brevity 
 and calamity. But, my brethren, the one 
 serves to qualify and relieve the other ; and 
 since our days are so evil, it is well they are 
 so few — 
 
 — " They'll waft us sooner o'er 
 " Tins life's tempestuous sea 
 
 "Soon shall we reach the peaceful shore 
 " Of bless'd eternity." 
 
 " Wherefore is light given to a man that is 
 in misery, and life unto the bitter in soul ? 
 Who long for death, and it cometh not, and 
 dig for it more than for hid treasure 1 who 
 rejoice exceedingly and are glad when they 
 can find the gravel There the wicked cease 
 from troubling, and there the weary are at 
 rest. There the prisoners rest together ; they 
 hear not the voice of the oppressors; the 
 small and great are there, and the servant is 
 free from his master." What man is he who 
 would immortalize evil, and extend a life, 
 wisely and kindly reduced to a span, to ages — 
 
 — "To .ages in a world of pain, 
 
 " To ages where he goes, 
 " Gall'd by affliction's heavy chain, 
 
 " And hopeless of repose ? 
 " Whence lias this world its magic pow'r? 
 
 " Why deem we death a foe? 
 "Recoil from weary life's best hour, 
 
 " And court a longer woe ?" 
 
 Nevertheless life has always been considered 
 the most valuable treasure, the most enviable 
 
 * Note:— London, May 18, 1803. At the Annual Ge- 
 neral Meeting of tile Corresponding Board irf London 
 of the Society in Scotland for Propogating Christian 
 Knowledge in the Highlands and Islands; His Grace 
 the Duke of A-iholl in the Chair ; Resolved unani- 
 mously, That the Thanks of this Board be given to 
 the Rev. William Jay, for his Sermon preached before 
 them, on the 8th instant, at Surry Chapel; and that 
 he be requested to permit the same to be printed, for 
 the use of the Society. THOMAS RUTLEDGE, Se- 
 cretary, pro tempore. 
 
 prize. The love of it is unquestionably the 
 most, vigorous principle in our nature. It is in- 
 terwoven with our very frame. We feel it be- 
 fore we can appreciate the worth of the pos- 
 session, or estimate the evil of the loss. As 
 we grow up, to this supreme passion every 
 other inclination pays homage. Age does not 
 diminish it: misery does not extinguish it: 
 no sacrifice is too dear to purchase the continu- 
 ance of it. Esther thinks nothing of the hor- 
 rors of slavery compared with death : " Let my 
 life be given me at my petition, and my peo- 
 ple's at my request ; for we are sold, I and my 
 people, to be slain and to perish : but if we had 
 been sold for bond-men and bond-women, I 
 had held my tongue." No sooner had Sa- 
 muel said, " To-morrow shalt thou and thy 
 sons be with me," than Saul " fell straight- 
 way all along on the earth, and was sore afraid, 
 and there was no strength in him." The king 
 of Syria sends messengers to the king of Is- 
 rael with ropes on their necks ; and this is 
 their supplication — "Thy servant Benhadad 
 saith, I pray thee, let me live." To preserve 
 life, Esau sells his birthright. — " Skin for skin, 
 vea, all that a man hath will he give for his 
 life." 
 
 My brethren, this adherence to life we have 
 undertaken to justify; and we are going to 
 prove, that there is nothing in it unworthy of 
 the philosopher or the Christian, the man of 
 reason or the man of faith. But in order to 
 this, it will be necessary to give you proper 
 views of life, that we may purify and ennoble 
 the principle of you attachment ; and lead you 
 in future to love life, not from a blind animal 
 impulse, but from rational and religious con- 
 viction. Our plan will consist of two parts. 
 In the first, we shall endeavour to establish 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE OF HUMAN LIFE. 
 
 In the second, we shall explain the use to 
 
 WHICH THE BELIEF OF IT SHOULD BE APPLIED. 
 
 These reflections are completely in unison 
 with the call of Providence which has assem- 
 bled us together ; and will, we hope, fully 
 prepare your minds for an attention to a case 
 which we shall humbly but earnestly recom- 
 mend to your well-known liberality. 
 
 I. In proof of the importance of human 
 life, let us first appeal to authority. Hear 
 Solomon. " To him that is joined to all the 
 living there is hope ; for even a living dog is 
 better than a dead lion." What says David 1 
 " Let my soul live, and it shall praise thee. 
 O spare me a little, that I may recover 
 strength before I go hence and be no more. 
 Return, O Lord, deliver my soul : 0 save 
 me, for thy mercies' sake. For in death 
 there is no remembrance of thee : in the grave 
 who shall give thee thanks V How does God 
 threaten Eli 1 " There shall not be an old man 
 in his house." How does He encourage 
 Baruch 1 " Behold, I will bring evil upon all 
 flesh; but thy life will I give unto thee for a 
 prey, in all places whither thou goest." He 
 
SERMON XXVI. 
 
 143 
 
 speaks of it as a peculiar privilege, and pro- 
 poses it as a motive to obedience : " For by 
 me thy days shall be multiplied, and the years 
 of thy life shall be increased." Lest we 
 should suppose that no regard is paid to this 
 consideration under the Gospel, the apostle 
 Paul values a duty because of this recom- 
 mendation : " Honour thy father and thy mo- 
 ther ; which is the first commandment with 
 promise ; that it may be well with thee, and 
 that thou mayest live long on the earth." To 
 which we may add, that the apostle Peter 
 makes no scruple to borrow similar language 
 from the Psalms : " What man is he that de- 
 sireth life and loveth many days, that he may 
 see good ! Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy 
 lips from speaking guile. Depart from evil, 
 and do good ; seek peace and pursue it. For 
 the eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, 
 and his ears are open unto their cry. The 
 face of the Lord is against them that do evil, 
 to cut off the remembrance of them from the 
 earth." 
 
 Let us, secondly, contemplate human life 
 as the work op God. Why do you value 
 that picture ! It is Raphael's. Why deplore 
 the destruction of that building'! The noble- 
 ness of the structure, the years consumed in 
 the progress, the hands employed in the exe- 
 cution? Why preserve that instrument] It 
 is singular and curious in the contrivance; it 
 is capable of diversified application and use ; 
 it is irreparable when destroyed. " Marvel- 
 lous are thy works, Lord God Almighty !" 
 But in this lower world the chief is thy crea- 
 ture Man. "Thou hast made him a little 
 lower than the angels, and hast crowned him 
 with glory and honour. Thou madest him to 
 have dominion over the works of thy hands ; 
 thou hast put all things under his feet." 
 And all is under the influence of his power 
 or his skill. See the animal tribes. He 
 checks them, subdues them to his own pur- 
 poses, converts them to his own advantage. 
 See the material world. This is under his 
 control, and asks the culture of his hand. 
 Where he never treads, nature is barren, and 
 waste, and wild ; but when he comes, mea- 
 dows are well watered, the little hills rejoice 
 on every side, the valleys also are covered 
 over with corn, the wilderness and the solita- 
 ry place are made glad for him, and the de- 
 sert rejoices and blossoms as the rose. 
 
 Every thing justifies the supremacy he 
 possesses. His very form is peculiar. What 
 majesty is there in his countenance ! What 
 expression in his features ! What penetration, 
 what eloquence, in his looks ! Material bodies 
 are governed by the laws of mechanism, and 
 animal by those of instinct — but he, possessed 
 of greater liberty, takes a more extensive 
 range, and is capable of a thousand varieties 
 of operation. Beasts and birds are no wiser 
 now than they were before the Flood. In a 
 few weeks or months they reach all the per- 
 
 fection of which they are susceptible — but we 
 never know what man may be ; his possibility 
 of improvement is endless. He steps forth 
 from nothing, and develops successively new 
 powers as he proceeds: when he ceases to in- 
 crease in stature he continues to grow in 
 wisdom, and never seems to approach the 
 manhood of mind. He is wearied ; he re- 
 clines his head on the lap of insensibility, and 
 sleep seals up all his senses : you touch him, 
 and he springs up, and crosses the boundless 
 ocean — numbers the stars — calculates to a se- 
 cond the position and appearances of the hea- 
 venly bodies — looks backward and sees what 
 was done six thousand years ago — plunges 
 into futurity, and views the sun turned into 
 darkness and the moon into blood — surveys 
 himself, and finds an infinity of observations 
 in his memory and of ideas in his imagination, 
 and of purposes in his mind — an intellectual 
 kingdom all his own. 
 
 And whence is all this? He is fearfully 
 and wonderfully made. There is a spirit in 
 man, and the inspiration of the Almighty 
 giveth him understanding. In his mysterious 
 composition intelligence is blended with clay : 
 he is in alliance with worms, and a partaker 
 of the Divine nature. He is capable of know- 
 ing, and serving, and enjoying his Creator ; 
 he has reason and conscience ; he is suscep- 
 tible of vice and virtue, of morality and reli- 
 gion. This gives him his peculiarity and 
 pre-eminence : this raises him above the 
 beasts that perish; this is the foundation of 
 the sacred fence which guards our life : 
 " Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall 
 his blood be shed ; for in the image of God 
 made he man." 
 
 This brings us to a third view of the im- 
 portance of human life — It has an intimate, 
 unavoidable, inseparable connexion with an- 
 other WORLD, AND AFFORDS US THE ONLY 
 
 opportunity of acquirino good. If we con- 
 fine all our attention to the present momenta- 
 ry state of man, he will appear a perplexing 
 trifle. He is referred to no end equal to his 
 character ; no result vindicates the expense of 
 the materials employed; he has powers and 
 capacities far above his situation; he has wants 
 and wishes, which nothing within his reach 
 can relieve and satisfy. If he possess great 
 privileges, the more pitiable is his condition ; 
 the more has he to lose ; the more lamentable 
 is his fall — he falls like a king, and we feel 
 the more, even for the grandeur of which he 
 is despoiled. He is great in vain. He as- 
 sumes consequence, raises expectation, and 
 rots ! — and as we hide his shame among pu- 
 trefaction and corruption, we look up, and 
 say, "Lord, wherefore hast thou made all 
 men in vain 
 
 But as soon as he is seen in connection 
 with another state of being, he is rescued at 
 once from perplexity and insignificance. As 
 soon as we seize this point of vision, all is in- 
 
144 
 
 SERMON XXVI, 
 
 telligible ; his faculties and his desires are ex- 
 plained ; nothing' is disproportionate, nothing' is 
 useless, nothing is mean. As soon as we per- 
 ceive that the present is only introductory to 
 the future, and draws after it endless conse- 
 quences, all is momentous; all is tremen- 
 dously grand ! Here you may feel greatness 
 without danger of pride. Here you are call- 
 ed upon to reverence yourselves. Immorta- 
 lity, — what a prerogative ! Eternity, — what 
 a destiny! A preparation for it, — what a call- 
 ing! What resolution should it inspire ! What 
 energy should it infuse ! What caution, what 
 vigilance should it produce ! 
 
 The importance of a thing is not to be judg- 
 ed of by the magnitude of its appearance, or 
 the shortness of its continuance — but by the 
 grandeur, and variety, and permanency of its 
 effects. Why is a foundation so important .' 
 It is low and hidden — but it sustains the 
 whole fabric, and its weakness or strength 
 determines the danger or solidity of the build- 
 ing. Why is spring so important] Its love- 
 liness is transitory and fading — but the glory 
 of summer, the plenty of autumn, the re- 
 sources of winter, depend upon it. Why is 
 youth so important? The season is soon over 
 — but its influences are durable, and give a 
 character to our remaining years. A single 
 day has opened a source of joy or of sorrow, 
 which has continued its streams through life. 
 In one hour a man has incurred a disgrace, 
 which time could never wipe off But no- 
 thing can equal the importance of the present 
 life, as a state of probation, according to which 
 our future and unchangeable happiness or 
 misery will be decided. For, upon this prin- 
 ciple, none of your actions can be indifferent. 
 They are filling the books which will be 
 opened to judge you. They are regulating 
 the sentence by which you are to be 'absolv- 
 ed or condemned. You are living as saints 
 or sinners for a million of ages hence. And 
 can you be too attentive, too accurate, when 
 you are thinking, speaking, enjoying, suffer- 
 ing, living — for eternity ! In other cases, you 
 look forward and weigh the result of things. 
 You are determined to shun or pursue them, 
 not by their present aspects, but by their fu- 
 ture effects ; you inquire what influence they 
 will have upon your property, your health, 
 your reputation, your family. But these con- 
 sequences are al ways temporal, and sometimes 
 reversible — while here they are everlasting 
 and unalterable. 
 
 I beseech you, my dear hearers, to reflect 
 upon this, and to consider, that as is your way, 
 such will be your end. Never forget the lan- 
 guage of the apostle, " Whatsoever a man 
 soweth, that shall he also reap: he that sow- 
 eth to the flesh, shall of the flesh reap corrup- 
 tion ; but he that soweth to the Spirit, shall 
 of the Spirit reap life everlasting. Observe 
 this image. It shews you that your present 
 conduct and your future state have the same 
 
 relation to each other, as aeed-time and har- 
 vest. In nature, no one sows one kind of 
 grain, and looks for another ; he knows that 
 every seed rises with its own body. But, 
 alas! how many are there chargeable with 
 this folly in religion ! For what are your pur- 
 suits in this world, that you should suppose 
 them likely to be crowned with glory, honour, 
 and immortality, in another? What resem- 
 blance, what suitableness, what relation is 
 there between them ! A Christian hopes to 
 enjoy God hereafter, and he is seeking him 
 here. The song which he wishes to sing in 
 heaven, he is learning upon earth. He is ad- 
 vancing to a state of unmixed friendship — and 
 he is dwelling in love; to a state of union and 
 harmony among good men of every name — 
 and he is rising above these differences, and 
 calling them brethren ; to a state where dis- 
 tinctions which are now necessary will be 
 done away — And he is valuing men, not ac- 
 cording to their wealth, but their character. 
 Now here we see earnests, tendencies, begin- 
 nings — This is the dawn breaking into day, 
 the child bespeaking the man, the grain con- 
 taining the principles and pledges of the whole 
 crop. 
 
 The importance of an opportunity is to be 
 determined by the greatness of the prize 
 which is to be secured or lost. If there be a 
 season for ob taming the salvation of the soul, 
 it will be as superior to every other opportu- 
 nity as the salvation of the soul surpasses 
 every secular claim. Such is life. " Now 
 is the accepted time, now is the day of sal- 
 vation." The Gospel is a sovereign remedy ; 
 it reveals and offers blessings answerable to 
 all our wants — but they are attainable only 
 in life. Are you guilty ? There is forgive- 
 ness and reconciliation — But "agree with 
 thine adversary quickly, whilst thou art in the 
 way with him ; lest at any time the adversary 
 deliver thee to the judge, and the judge de- 
 liver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into 
 prison : verily I say unto thee, thou shalt by 
 no means come out thence till thou hast paid 
 the uttermost farthing." Are you needy ] 
 The Saviour of sinners has enough and to 
 spare — but " seek ye the Lord while he may 
 be found, call ye upon him while he is near." 
 — " Strive to enter in at the strait gate : for 
 many, I say unto you, will seek to enter in, 
 and shall not be able. When once the mas- 
 ter of the house hath risen up, and hath shut 
 to the door, and ye begin to stand without, 
 and knock at the door, saying, Lord, Lord, 
 open unto us ; he shall answer and say unto 
 you, I know you not whence you are." — " He 
 that is unjust, let him be unjust still ; and he 
 that is filthy, let him be filthy still; and he 
 that is righteous, let him be righteous still ; 
 and he that is holy, let him be holy still." 
 
 Let us take a fourth view of the importance 
 of human life, by considering it in relation 
 
 TO OUR FELLOW-CREATURES AND AS AFFORDING 
 
SERMON XXVI. 
 
 145 
 
 US THE ONLY OPPORTUNITY OF DOINO GOOD. 
 
 The means of the temporal and spiritual wel- 
 fare of mankind are not poured down imme- 
 diately from heaven. God divides the honour 
 with us. He gives, and we convey : he is 
 the source, and we are the medium. It is by 
 human instrumentality that he maintains the 
 cause of the Gospel, speaks comfort to the 
 afflicted, gives bread to the hungry and know- 
 ledge to the ignorant. This renders our situa- 
 tion highly interesting. 
 
 Some are indeed of more importance in so- 
 ciety than others. How much is bound up in 
 the lives of some individuals ! Remove that 
 husband, and two tender relations commence : 
 the widow descends from the seat of ease to 
 the toil of labour : the fatherless lose the 
 caresses of the neighbourhood — feel the lan- 
 guage of austerity — are dispersed abroad — op- 
 pressed by injustice — seduced by error and 
 vice. Remove that minister, and the congre- 
 gation vanishes, the church is dissolved. 
 When Josiah died, a nation mourned. Indi- 
 vidual influence is wonderful. But no one is 
 wholly useless ; at least no one ought to be 
 so. The man condemned in the parable was 
 the possessor of one talent only. There is 
 wisdom in the selection of this circumstance. 
 Had the man with two or with five talents 
 been punished, some of you would have escap- 
 ed — " Well, I never filled such an office ; I 
 never owned such abilities; I never com- 
 manded such property." But since the ex- 
 ample is taken from common life, who can 
 be safe, if found unprofitable 1 Who can be 
 excused for not doing a little, because he is 
 incapable of doing much 1 You need not be 
 an extraordinary character in order to be use- 
 ful. There are opportunities of doing good in 
 every calling of life : there is no condition in 
 which a human being can be placed, which 
 allows him no scope for moral agency ; good- 
 ness is infinitely diversified in its exercise. 
 We are always in view of some witnesses: 
 some dependents are always leaning upon us. 
 Some, when they die, are missed more than 
 others ; but who is not missed at all ! — " Then 
 Peter arose and went with them. When he 
 was come, they brought him into an upper 
 chamber : and all the widows stood by him, 
 weeping, and shewing the coats and gar- 
 ments which Dorcas made while she was with 
 them." You may contribute materially to the 
 comfort of a fellow-creature ; be the means 
 of his thanksgivings to God ; gain his prayers 
 while you are living, and his tears when you 
 are dead ; and draw down many a blessing 
 upon your memory and your offspring — by a 
 small pittance of weekly aid. You may give 
 a child understanding, improve his condition 
 through life, and lay open to his view the un- 
 searchable riches of the Scripture — by teach- 
 ing him to read. By impressing a person with 
 religion, you are profitable unto all things, 
 helping him to the promise of the life that now 
 T 13 
 
 is, and of that whicn is to come — And this 
 may be done by seasonable admonition, or by 
 the silent eloquence of a holy example. 
 
 But remember that all your usefulness at- 
 taches only to life. Here alone you can serve 
 your generation according to the will of God, by 
 promoting the wisdom, the virtue, and the hap- 
 piness of your fellow-creatures. This is the un- 
 speakable advantage ofyour present state — this 
 is a privilege which heaven does not afford. 
 Yes, my brethren, there are various kinds of 
 influence and of honour, which you must now 
 acquire, or you will never possess. 
 
 Would you exercise patience 1 This is 
 your only opportunity. In heaven there are 
 no trials. There you cannot be seen compos- 
 ed under affliction ; there you cannot be heard 
 to say, " It is the Lord, let him do what seem- 
 eth him good." 
 
 Would you exercise self-denial? This is 
 your only opportunity. In heaven there are 
 no temptations to resist, no corrupt inclina- 
 tions to mortify, no sensual appetites to control. 
 
 Would you exercise Christian courage 7 
 This is your only opportunity. Here alone 
 can you be a good soldier of Jesus Christ ; 
 profess truth in the face of opposition ; and 
 suffer persecution rather than sacrifice con- 
 science. 
 
 Would you exercise Christian candour and 
 forbearance 1 This is your only opportunity. 
 Here alone you can prove whether you can 
 love those who differ from you in opinion ; 
 whether you can bear with the mistakes and 
 infirmities of your brethren ; whether you can 
 pass by a transgression ; whether you can do 
 good to them that hate you. 
 
 Would you exercise beneficence — that be- 
 neficence which gives you such a resemblance 
 to the Saviour, and which the Judge will so 
 honourably mention in the great (lay 1 This 
 is your only opportunity. The poor will not 
 be always with you. Here alone you can re- 
 lieve the needy, sympathize with the misera- 
 ble, refresh the bowels of the saints, visit the 
 fatherless and the widows in their affliction. 
 Here alone you can become Howards and 
 Thorntons. There are no almoners to em- 
 ploy, no prisons to explore, in the world above. 
 Had these illustrious names passed through 
 life like too many even among Christians; 
 they could never have obtained the renown 
 which will now follow them througli eter- 
 nity. 
 
 Would you discover zeal in the cause of 
 your Lord and Master 1 This is your only 
 opportunity. Here alone you can recom- 
 mend a Saviour, and tell of his love to sin- 
 ners; here alone you can " teach transgress- 
 ors his ways," and " save a soul from death." 
 If therefore you wish to do good ; begin — em- 
 ploy this influence ; secure this hour — suffer 
 this opportunity to elapse, and regret is vain; 
 your loss is irrecoverable. 
 
 II. Such is the importance of human life 
 
146 
 
 SERMON XXVI. 
 
 — if we appeal to the testimony of Scripture 
 — if we consider it as the workmanship of 
 God — if we view it in relation to eternity 
 — and in connexion with our fellow-creatures ; 
 as the only season of getting- good and doing 
 good. And is this a curious speculation ! 
 Nothing is more instructive and edifying. 
 Let us specify some of those useful infer- 
 ences which flow from the belief of it- 
 First. If life be so valuable, we should de- 
 plore the destruction of it. When an 
 earthquake swallows up a city ; when a ves- 
 sel sinks and buries eight hundred souls in 
 one watery grave ; when a house is destroy- 
 ed, and several individuals are consumed in 
 the flames ; when an individual is murdered 
 in our neighbourhood — we are impressed 
 with the relation — but we think less of the 
 ravages of war, and therefore do not grieve 
 as we ought over the unhappy tendencies 
 there are in nations to wage it. But what 
 makes such desolations in the earth as this 
 evil ! We pass by the ruins of buildings, and 
 gardens, and fields — we overlook the suffer- 
 ings of the brute creation, especially of the 
 generous horse — and think only of men — of 
 the numbers who are dismembered and made 
 useless — of the numbers killed immediately 
 in action — of the numbers which perish of 
 their wounds, and by exposure, disease, pri- 
 vations, hardships. War has sometimes oc- 
 casioned famine, and a famine has been fol- 
 lowed with pestilence. There is no way to 
 affect the mind properly with this subject, 
 but by thinking of the value of Human Life. 
 But is it possible to estimate a single life ; 
 to consider the difficulty and expense of rear- 
 ing it ; to think how variously it is connected 
 with others; to how many it is either dear or 
 needful ; to remember what it is to the indi- 
 vidual himself, his only hour — and not enter 
 into the feelings of the prophet, " My bowels, 
 my bowels ! I am pained at my very heart : my 
 heart maketh a noise in me. I cannot hold 
 my peace, because thou hast heard, O my 
 soul, the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of 
 war." Who does not tremble ; who does not 
 weep ; and who does not pray for the period, 
 " when He shall judge among the nations, 
 and shall rebuke many people: and they 
 shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and 
 their spears into pruning-hooks : nation shall 
 not lift up sword against nation, neither shall 
 they learn war any more." " They shall not 
 hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain ; 
 for the earth shall be full of the knowledge 
 of the Lord, as the waters cover the seas." 
 For the prevailing influence of Christianity 
 can alone accomplish this desirable purpose 
 — not visionary schemes of philosophy, or 
 new theories and modifications of civil policy, 
 under which the depraved passions of human 
 nature remain the same, and from which 
 come wars and fightings among us. 
 
 Secondly. If human life be so precious, 
 
 you should not expose it to injury and ha- 
 zard. I know that there is no cure for mortali- 
 ty — but a physician of no common reputation 
 has told us, that not one in a thousand dies 
 a natural death : and a higher authority has 
 declared, that the wicked shall not live out 
 half their days. In many ways persons may 
 be chargeable with suicide besides swallow- 
 ing poison, acting the madman in a duel, or 
 playing the fool in a balloon. Life may be 
 taken away slowly as well as suddenly, by 
 negligence as well as by violence. What 
 think you of the man who indulges himself 
 in the excesses of intemperance, w hich breed 
 and nourish all manner of diseases 1 What 
 think you of the man who harbours evil pas- 
 sions, and suffers anger to burn him, envy to 
 gnaw him, anxiety to corrode him 1 What 
 think you of the man who by pursuing too 
 much business oppresses nature, injures his 
 faculties, deprives himself of rest and relax- 
 ation, and ease ! — He forgets that " the life is 
 more than meat, and the body than raiment." 
 What think you of those who, to amass mo- 
 ney, will deny themselves the conveniences 
 and necessaries of life ! What think you of 
 those martyrs of vanity, who to appear in the 
 fashion will avail themselves of modes of ap- 
 parel, I will not say incompatible with de- 
 cency, but hazardous to health ! What think 
 you of those who carelessly or presumptuous- 
 ly disregard the beginnings of disorder, and 
 suffer that which might be easily checked at 
 first, to become inveterate and fatal I " A lit- 
 tle cold," says an original writer, " is a little 
 death; a little more chills us to clay, and 
 fits us for the damps of the grave." Wha" 
 think you of those who lie long and late in 
 bed ; relaxing the fibres, unstringing the 
 nerves, evaporating the animal spirits till 
 they start from their own shadow ? We would 
 not have you finical and delicate — But a pro- 
 per regard to health is a duty enforced by the 
 most awful considerations. 
 
 Thirdly. If life be so worthy of our regard, 
 we should be thankful for the continu- 
 ance of it. And where is the person who 
 is not called to adore the Preserver of men 1 
 To how many accidents are we exposed ! 
 How many seeds of corruption are lodged in 
 our bodies, which ripened by a change in the 
 air may prove malignant, and bring forth fruit 
 unto death! How delicate is the human 
 frame ! We are crushed before the moth. 
 How exquisitely fine, and how easily destroy- 
 ed is the system of the brain, upon which the 
 exercise of reason depends ! How soon may 
 the eye be injured, through which so much of 
 our pleasure passes ! 
 
 " Our life contains a thousand springs, 
 
 " And dies if one be gone ; 
 "Strange that a harp of thousand strings 
 
 " Should keep in tune so long '" 
 
 And has thine? Have thy limbs, thy senses, 
 thy faculties been secured! Have you seen 
 
SERMON XXVI. 
 
 147 
 
 many who were younger, and stronger, and 
 more likely to live than yourselves, cut oft'] 
 Have some of you, when led down to the mouth 
 of the grave yourselves, been recalled 1 — Say, 
 Lord ! for what purpose am I spared ? Shall 
 it be to fill up the measure of my iniquities; 
 or by patient continuance in well-doing to 
 seek for glory, honour, and immortality 1 " The 
 living, the living, he shall praise thee, as I do 
 this day : the father to the children shall make 
 known thy truth." 
 
 Fourthly. If life be of so much consequence, 
 Christians, however well assured of heaven, 
 
 SHOULD NOT BE IMPATIENT FOR DEATH. Elijah 
 
 and Jonah prayed to have their lives taken 
 from them ; supposing it was better for them 
 to die than to live — but they were both blam- 
 ed for it. " For none of us liveth to himself, 
 and no man dieth to himself ; for whether we 
 live, we live unto the Lord ; and whether we 
 die, we die unto the Lord : whether we live 
 therefore or die, we are the Lord's." " All 
 the days of" our " appointed time we must 
 wait till" our " change comes." We are en- 
 listed into the service of Divine Providence, 
 and if we attempt to withdraw before we are 
 honourably discharged, we are no better than 
 deserters. The best frame you can be in, is 
 to be ready to go, but willing to stay if the 
 Lord has any work for you to do, any trials 
 for you to bear. And instead of complaining, 
 you should acquiesce in the will of God, who 
 knows what is best for you, and be even 
 thankful that by prolonging your continuance 
 here, he gives additional opportunities to ex- 
 ercise your grace, to extend your usefulness, 
 and to add fresh jewels to your crown. 
 Fifthly. If life be so momentous, we may 
 
 CONGRATULATE THE PIOUS YOUTH. He loses 
 
 little of this blessing ; he early begins to use 
 the talent: while others sleep he is awake, 
 and has the advantage in the way everlasting, 
 of time and vigour to advance from strength 
 to strength and from glory to glory. Should 
 he die before age has snowed upon his head, 
 he will not have lived in vain ; for the esti- 
 mate of life is to be taken from action, and 
 not from years. Should his days be prolonged, 
 his hoary head will be a crown of glory, be- 
 cause it will be found in the way of righteous- 
 ness ; and he will come to the grave like a 
 shock of corn fully ripe in his seasom — But, 
 oh ! how dismal is the state of an old sinner ! 
 He looks back, and sees only barrenness or 
 crimes ; he is going to resign into the hands 
 of his Creator and his Judge a life, every part 
 of which he has neglected, or abused. In- 
 stead of laying up treasure in heaven, he has 
 been treasuring up wrath against the day of 
 wrath ; and instead of doing good, he has been 
 doing evil ; instead of being a blessing, he 
 has proved a curse to mankind ; — and instead 
 of being received into everlasting habitations 
 by those he has made his friends, he will en- 
 ter hell among the execrations of those whose 
 
 minds he poisoned, and whose manners he 
 depraved. 
 
 Finally. If life be so important, let it not 
 
 BE A PRICE IN THE HAND OF FOOLS Leam to 
 
 improve it. — And here, my brethren, suffer 
 the word of exhortation. Perhaps you may 
 be surprised to hear me dissuade you — from 
 living a diabolical life. But what does the 
 devil ! He "sinneth from the beginning." 
 By sowing the seeds of error, by spreading 
 snares for the heedless, by laying stumbling- 
 blocks for the blind, by introducing misery 
 into families and communities — you resemble 
 him, and are workers together with the enemy 
 of God and man. 
 
 Do not live a mere animal life. If you 
 suppose that life was given you only to make 
 provision for the flesh, only to pursue what- 
 ever flatters the senses and appetites ; if you 
 suppose that your Creator had no higher aim 
 in making you what you are than the sublime 
 purposes of sleep and digestion — associate 
 with your brethren in the field, and say, as 
 you join them, " Let us eat and drink, for to- 
 morrow we die." 
 
 Do not live a worldly life, or think that 
 the design of God in placing you here is an- 
 swered by a succession of trifles, ceremonies, 
 and dissipations ; by gaining a ribbon, by 
 amassing a fortune, or acquiring an estate. 
 
 Do not live an idle life. Rouse up all thy 
 powers, call forth all thy diligence. Let life 
 be a school of wisdom, a field of action, a ca- 
 reer of usefulness and glory. " Be not sloth- 
 ful, but followers of them who through faith 
 and patience now inherit the promises. Imi- 
 tate, above all, the example of Him who lived 
 in every action, — who went about doing good. 
 And remember that he came not only that we 
 might have life, but that we might have it 
 more abundantly. From him are to be derived 
 principles and motives and assistances the 
 most influential — His doctrines, his commands, 
 his promises are all enlivening : while the Spi- 
 rit he gives frees us from every low sentiment, 
 elevates the mind, expands the affections, invi- 
 gorates every power, and raising the soul above 
 every thing visible and earthly, and recruits it 
 with eternal life. Of thy precious time prosti- 
 tute none, waste none. Some who would not 
 think of throwing away life at once, make no 
 scruple to do it piecemeal : they can sacrifice 
 the smaller portions of time without remorse. 
 But never live a week in vain ; have some- 
 thing in the close of it for the reviewing eye 
 to fix upon, something for God, for your fel- 
 low-creatures, for yourselves. Prize every 
 day. Value every hour ; mark it with 
 something worthy of reflection : if you can- 
 not stop your moments, send them off' laden 
 with all the fruits of righteousness, which are 
 by Jesus Christ to the glory and praise of 
 God. Live by rule ; fix your end, derived in 
 the presence of God from the grand purposes 
 of life ; render every thing conducive to it. 
 
148 
 
 SERMON XXVI. 
 
 Thus you will live like men ; thus you will 
 live like Christians ; thus you will live like the 
 heirs of immortality ; thus you will live "the 
 life of God." 
 
 But it becomes you to live thus immediate- 
 ly. " Whatsoever thy hand tindeth to do, 
 do it with thy might ; for there is no work, 
 nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in 
 the grave whither thou goest." Your season 
 elapsed, can never be recalled. When a few 
 years are come, you will go the way whence 
 you shall not return — No, you will not return 
 to hear calls of repentance and offers of mercy : 
 no, you will not return to employ means, and 
 to improve opportunities of usefulness. Your 
 friend sleeps, and you go and awake him ; he 
 dies, and you call him in vain. You go and 
 produce verdure on his grave, but all within 
 is rottenness. The tree despoiled of its hon- 
 our by winter, spring will re-adorn. " There is 
 hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will 
 sprout again, and that the tender branch there- 
 of will not cease; though the root thereof 
 wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof 
 die in the ground, yet through the scent of 
 water it will bud, and bring forth boughs like 
 a plant: but man dieth and wasteth away; 
 yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is 
 he 1 As the waters fail from the sea, and the 
 flood decayeth and drieth up : so man lieth 
 down, and riseth not till the heavens be no 
 more ; they shall not awake, nor be raised out 
 of their sleep." And this season is rapidly 
 hastening to a close : you are perpetually re- 
 minded of it. Every day you see man going 
 to his long home, and the mourners going 
 about the streets. Your connexions die. 
 " The fathers, where are they t and the pro- 
 phets, do they live for ever !'? Even this In- 
 stitution, since the annual assembly, has been 
 deprived of the distinguished Secretary of the 
 Corresponding Board* — and I mention this the 
 more freely, as, dying in our neighbourhood, 
 I saw him a few days only before his depart- 
 ure ; and the last subject of our conversation 
 was the business in which we are now en- 
 gaged. Nothing lay nearer his heart than 
 the prosperity of this establishment, and his ta- 
 lents have been often employed in recommend- 
 ing it — And who could recommend like him ? 
 But the voice which made you thrill; the 
 imagination which was equally capable of 
 beauty and grandeur ; those powers of com- 
 bination and expansion ; those faculties which 
 could so justly discriminate, so distinctly de- 
 lineate, so richly embellish, so deeply impress 
 — are all silent in the grave ! And we are fol- 
 lowing — " Perhaps this is the last year, the 
 last month, the last week in which I can glo- 
 rify my Redeemer, and be serviceable to those 
 around me. What then have I done] What 
 am I doing ? What can I do 1 Does my fami- 
 ly claim my attention ? Do children depend 
 
 upon me for instruction 1 Do neighbours re- 
 quire kind offices of relief! Does my country 
 demand my exertions ? Can I aid in establish- 
 ing seminaries, in maintaining the worship of 
 God, in spreading the Gospel 1 — Hinder me 
 not. I must work the work of Him that sent 
 me while it is day ; the night cometh where- 
 in no man can work." 
 
 If this be your sentiment and language, I 
 need not be afraid to bring forward a case 
 which in general terms I have already an- 
 nounced, but of which it will be necessary to 
 give you more particular information. It 
 can hardly be expected, however, that in the 
 close of a sermon we should furnish you with 
 a minute statement of things appertaining to 
 a Charity so long established, so comprehen- 
 sive in its plan, and so successful in its efforts. 
 This is the less needful, as an account is al- 
 ways annexed to the annual sermon. 
 
 The Society in Scotland for the Pro- 
 pagation of Christian Knowledge has 
 struck its influence across the Atlantic, and 
 North America has been blessed with its mis- 
 sionaries, of which the celebrated Brainerd 
 was one. But the principal sphere of its ac- 
 tivity are parts of its own country. No situa- 
 tion could have required it more. In the 
 lower parts of Scotland, the poor are generally 
 superior to the peasantry in any other country 
 both as to education and morality. But it was 
 far otherwise with the more northern districts 
 — the Highlands and Islands. There the in- 
 habitants were found in a state of total igno- 
 rance, barbarism, and superstition. Their 
 situation was remote — and not easily approach- 
 ed for mountains, rivers, arms of the sea, a 
 stormy ocean. They had no books — and few 
 of them could read. Their language* was 
 unintelligible to the rest of their countrymen. 
 The feudal dominion under which they lived 
 was unfavourable to the increase of know- 
 ledge. They were indeed divided into pa- 
 rishes ; but some of these were forty and even 
 sixty miles in extent, with only one church 
 and one school. From these the majority of 
 the inhabitants could derive no advantage. 
 The fewness of the Protestant Clergy and 
 the scarcity of Protestant instruction could not 
 expel the mischief of Popery ; Popery there- 
 fore prevailed. 
 
 The Society, formed originally for the re- 
 formation of manners, soon turned their eye 
 towards these dreary regions, and determined 
 to employ their influence to teach the igno- 
 rant, to civilize the rude, to evangelize the 
 heathen, and to emancipate the superstitious — 
 among those who were not only connected 
 with them as partakers of human nature, but 
 as fellow-citizens and members of the same 
 empire. The way by which they wished to 
 penerate was — by establishing and endowing 
 schools — by employing catechists and mis- 
 
 Rev. Henry Hunter, D. D. 
 
 *A dialect of the ancient Celtic. 
 
SERMON XXVI. 
 
 149 
 
 sionaries — and by distributing 1 the Holy Scrip- 
 tures. The effect has been answerable to the 
 excellency of the design. — Compare now the 
 inhabitants with the Irish, derived from the 
 the same stock, originally speaking the same 
 language, distinguished by the same manners 
 and arms. We have lately seen in the lat- 
 ter the dreadful effects of ignorant and cruel 
 bigotry — while the former have appeared 
 peaceful citizens, loyal subjects, able defend- 
 ers of their country. Compare their present 
 condition and character with their former ha- 
 bits and circumstances. They were bands of 
 robbers, following the war-hoop of any chief- 
 tain, often invading their southern neighbours 
 — and it is not a century ago, since by their ir- 
 ruption they spread alarm even to the very 
 metropolis. Now, good order, decency, indus- 
 try, comfortable subsistence, and "the influ- 
 ence of a mild and enlightened religion," are 
 everywhere visible ; and through any of these 
 parts a person may travel, unarmed and in the 
 night, with perfect safety. Now — it is not 
 pretended that this happy amelioration has been 
 solely accomplished by this institution — but 
 this lias from the beginning been the aim, and 
 in no common degree the effect of its opera- 
 tions. The number of those who from the ori- 
 gin of it have been blessed by this noble Chari- 
 ty, both in their temporal and spiritual circum- 
 stances, would appear incredible. It has now 
 above three hundred teachers, and nearly 
 sixty thousand persons are daily deriving in- 
 struction from it. Though the resources of 
 the institution be great, and every thing be 
 managed with singular ceconomy, the expen- 
 diture equals the receipts. The Society is 
 even compelled to limit its efforts, and some- 
 times obliged to refuse petitions. I have 
 an additional circumstance to mention. The 
 Society has undertaken to publish a new edi- 
 tion of the Old Testament in Gaelic. The 
 object is of desirable importance — this lan- 
 guage is spoken by more than three hundred 
 thousand of your fellow-subjects — and who 
 would not wish them to have the Word of 
 God in their native tongue — who would not 
 lament that any should be willing to read the 
 Scriptures, and not have the Scriptures to 
 read? At length this great work is complet-. 
 
 ed, and the translation of the whole Bible is 
 furnished to the inhabitants. The expense 
 has been above three thousand pounds. 
 Hence the Society requires extraordinary 
 aid, and looks forward this year with higher 
 expectations than usual to the London Collec- 
 tion ; and shall they be disappointed? 
 
 My brethren, it is a smal 1 sacrifice we de- 
 mand of you. You are not called to weari- 
 some journeys, laborious exertions, self-deny- 
 ing services — the trying part of the work is 
 disinterestedly executed by others. — And with 
 regard to you, we only crave a little of your 
 abundance. I know you have it in the power 
 of your hand. — If you say, claims of this kind 
 are perpetually renewed — remember how 
 much you owe to religion ; how much it has 
 saved you in cutting off expensive vices and 
 amusements — and in making you industrious 
 and frugal and liberal — for giving is the way 
 to thriving. Besides, your property was gi- 
 ven you for this very purpose, and a time is 
 hastening on when the design and the appli- 
 cation of your wealth will be compared to- 
 gether — may you be enabled to give up your 
 account with joy, and not with grief. 
 
 But you will not be backward to do good 
 and to communicate. I have a full confidence 
 of success, derived not from the abilities of 
 the speaker, but the dispositions of the hear- 
 ers. I know many in this large assembly; 
 and I know that they cannot be unmoved at 
 the prospect of usefulness ; they cannot be in- 
 different to the welfare of the rising genera- 
 tion ; they cannot be unconcerned for the 
 safety and prosperity of their beloved country ; 
 they cannot be insensible to the progress of 
 that Kingdom, which is righteousness and 
 peace and joy in the Holy Ghost. — They have 
 tasted that the Lord is gracious themselves, 
 and wish others to partake of the same bless- 
 edness. They have been called out of dark- 
 ness into marvellous light — and are now de- 
 termined to shew forth the praises of their De- 
 liverer. — " His Name shall endure for ever ; 
 his Name shall be continued as long as the sun ; 
 and men shall be blessed in him ; all nations 
 shall call him blessed. And blessed be his glo- 
 rious Name for ever ; and let the whole earth 
 be filled with his glory ; Amen and Amen. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 13* 
 
MISCELLANIES: 
 
 COMPRISING 
 
 SERMONS, DISCOURSES, ESSAYS, 
 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Memoirs of the late Reverend Comeliua Winter.. 5 
 Part t 
 
 His own Account of himself 9 
 
 Part II. 
 
 Chap. I. His Life continued 54 
 
 Cuap. II. His Sickness and Death. 58 
 
 Chap. III. Views of his Character. - 62 
 
 Chap. IV. General Remarks 88 
 
 Part III. 
 
 Chap. I. Extracts from his Diary 93 
 
 Chap. II. A Selection of his Letters 97 
 
 Slemoirs of the late Rev. John Clark 113 
 
 Preface to the Life of Mrs. Savage 154 
 
 Prayer for the Success of the Gospel : A Sermon. . 158 
 
 The Mutual Duties of Husbands and Wives: A 
 Sermon 166 
 
 Reflections on Victory : A Sermon 177 
 
 An Essay on Marriage, or, The Duty of Christians 
 to marry religiously 185 
 
 Page 
 
 An Address delivered at the Interment of the Rev. 
 
 William Humphryes, of Hammersmith 195 
 
 The Jubilee : A Sermon 198 
 
 The Minister's Request: A Discourse 205 
 
 Consolation in Death: A Sermon 213 
 
 The Loss of Connexions deplored and improved : 
 A Sermon '■ 224 
 
 The Importance of an Evangelical Ministry: A 
 Sermon 234 
 
 The Hand of God in Afflictions: A Sermon 243 
 
 An Attempt to regulate the Claims of the Chris- 
 tian Ministry: A Sermon 252 
 
 Anxiety directed : A Sermon 263 
 
 Friendship in Death: A Discourse 274 
 
 A Charge, intended to have been addressed to the 
 Wife of a Minister, at the Ordination of her 
 Husband 285 
 
 The Wife's Advocate: A Sermon 302 
 
 3 
 
MEMOIRS 
 
 OF THE I/ATE 
 
 REV. CORNELIUS WINTER. 
 
 TO THE NUMEROUS FRIENDS OF THE REV. CORNELIUS WINTER, IN 
 GENERAL; AND TO JOHN LEE, ESQUIRE, IN PARTICULAR, 
 
 As one whose regard for the deceased was only equalled by the regard 
 of the deceased for him: this Narrative is respectfully dedicated by 
 
 The Editor. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Before a work professedly biographical can be righteously justified or condemned, two 
 things should be fairly examined. First — What advantages are derived from the lives of 
 particular individuals ] Secondly — What characters are the most proper subjects for de- 
 lineation t 
 
 The former of these questions it is easy to answer. Biography has always been highly 
 extolled. It has frequently been compared with other kinds of composition, and pronounced 
 peculiarly entertaining and instructive. The utility of it has been even ranked above the 
 advantages resulting from general history. 
 
 Let us attend to this preference, and see whether it be not founded in reason and truth. 
 — The aim of all history should be to describe and exhibit persons impartially as they are, 
 that goodness may excite admiration, and vice abhorrence. Upon this principle, individual 
 representations are obviously superior to general and aggregate. When the attention is at- 
 tracted and confined to one particular object, the view is more distinct, and the impression is 
 more forcible. Expansion and division weaken. Multiplicity and variety distract. This 
 may be judged of, says a masterly writer, by the feelings and operations of the mind in the 
 contemplation of other things. — " When from the summit of some lofty mountain, we survey 
 the wide extended landscape ; though highly delighted, we feel ourselves bewildered and 
 overwhelmed by the profusion and diversity of beauties which nature spreads around us. 
 But when we enter the detail of nature : when we attend the footsteps of a friend through 
 some favoured, beautiful spot, which the eye and the mind take in at once ; feeling ourselves 
 at ease, with undivided, undistracted attention we contemplate the whole, we examine and 
 arrange the parts ; the imagination is indeed less expanded, but the heart is more gratified ; 
 our pleasure is less violent and tumultuous, but it is more intense, more complete, and con- 
 tinues much longer ; what is lost in respect of sublimity, is gained in perspicuity, force, and 
 duration." Again. "It is highly gratifying to find ourselves in the midst of a public 
 assembly of agreeable people of botli sexes, and to partake of the general cheerfulness and 
 benevolence. But what are the cheerfulness and benevolence of a public assembly, compared 
 to the endearments of friendship, and the meltings of love 1 To enjoy these, we must retire 
 from the crowd, and have recourse to the individual. In like manner, whatever satisfaction 
 and improvement may be derived from general histories of mankind, which we would not 
 be thought by any means to depreciate ; yet the history of particular persons, if executed 
 with fidelity and skill, while it exercises the judgment less severely, so it fixes down the 
 attention more closely, and makes its way more directly and more forcibly to the heart." 
 
 To this quotation, the beauty of which will more than atone for the length, we may add, 
 that biography is the most eagerly read of all kinds of narrative productions, and the most 
 easily applied to the various purposes of life. 
 
 1* 5 
 
w 
 
 6 PREFACE. 
 
 But it is less necessary to enlarge upon the advantages of this species of writing, than to 
 ascertain what are the most proper subjects to bring under review. 
 
 — They are by no means persons raised to the highest elevations, or distinguished by the 
 most extraordinary achievements. For, not to observe that such characters are rarely re- 
 markable for goodness and worth, it is easy to see, that they fall not within the reach of 
 common imitation — that they exhibit nothing that leads to self-reflection — nothing that occa- 
 sions moral comparison — nothing to reprove, to stimulate, to encourage in the course we 
 pursue : they seem to belong to a state with which we have nothing to do : and therefore, 
 though they excite curiosity, and furnish materials for conversation, they do not govern our 
 manners, or regulate our practice. How few are placed in situations in which they are 
 likely to grow wiser, by the errors of a statesman, or the mistakes of -a general! "Life," 
 says Johnson, " derives its comforts or wretchedness from the management of these things, 
 which nothing but their frequency makes considerable, and which can have no place in the 
 relations ofthose, who never descend below the consultations of senates, and the motions of 
 armies." 
 
 " It is not," says the same author, " improper to take advantage of prejudice, and to gain 
 attention by a celebrated name ; but the business of the biographer is often to pass slightly 
 over those performances and incidents which promote vulgar greatness, to lead the thoughts 
 into domestic privacies, and to display the minute detail of daily life, where external ap- 
 pendages are cast aside, and men excel each other only by prudence and by virtue. There 
 are many invisible circumstances which, whether we read as inquirers after natural or moral 
 knowledge, are more important than public occurrences. Thus the story of Melancthon 
 affords a striking lecture on the value of time, by informing us that when he had an ap- 
 pointment, he expected not only the hour, but the minute to be fixed, that the day might not 
 run out in the idleness of suspense. And all the plans and enterprises of De Witt, are now 
 of less importance to the world, than the part of his personal character which represents 
 him as careful of health, and negligent of life. In the estimation of uncorrupt reason, what 
 is of most use is of most value. Between falsehood and useless truth there is little difference. 
 As gold which he cannot spend, will make no man rich, so knowledge which he cannot 
 apply, will make no man wise." 
 
 Neither are eccentric characters the best suited to instruct and impress. These can be 
 easily made to awaken notice, and therefore their lives are often written and greedily read : 
 but as the former subject cannot be imitated, so these ought not. Eccentricity is sometimes 
 found connected with genius, but it does not coalesce with true wisdom. Hence men of 
 the first order of intellect have never betrayed it ; and hence also men of secondary talents 
 drop it as they grow wiser ; and are satisfied to found their consequence on real and solid 
 excellency, not on peculiarity and extravagance. They are content to awaken regard, and 
 obtain applause by the rectitude and gracefulness of their going, rather than to make pas- 
 sengers stare and laugh by leaping over the wall, or tumbling along the road. True great- 
 ness is serious : trifling is beneath its dignity. We are more indebted to the regular, sober, 
 constant course of the sun, than to the glare of the comet: the one indeed, occupies our 
 papers, but the other enriches our fields and gardens ; we gaze at the strangeness of the 
 one, but we live by the influence of the other. 
 
 For the purposes of biography, those lives are the most eligible that are the most imitable ; 
 and these are derived from characters that belong to our own community, that are found in 
 the same relations and conditions with ourselves ; whose circumstances make us feel for the 
 time the emotions which would be excited by the same good or evil happening to ourselves ; 
 whose attainments, while they resulted from the Divine blessing, appear not to have been 
 preternatural, but were made under no greater advantages than our own ; whose progress 
 was not less owing to the stroke of the oar, than the favourableness of the wind ; whose 
 excellences while they do not discourage us by their perfection, animate us by their degree ; 
 whose success teaches us, not how to be great, but how to be good and happy ; whose piety 
 is not fluctuating, but steady ; not visionary, but producing a beautiful correspondence to all 
 the claims of the stations in which they are placed. 
 
 Those lives are worthy of remark that exhibit a sameness of principle in diversified circum- 
 stances. For the changing scenes through which a man passes, renders his history at once 
 more interesting and more profitable : they revolve his character, and we behold it succes- 
 sively in every point of light. 
 
 A life is deserving of regard that has filled various offices and relations, and has been ex- 
 emplary in each of them. They that were connected with him, and those who were under 
 his care, will be likely to remember his instructions and example ; while he serves as a mo- 
 del for others who are called to move in the same direction with himself. 
 
 Our great moralist admires a life in which a man is his own biographer. " Those rela- 
 tions are commonly of most value in which the writer tells his own story. He that recounts 
 the life of another, commonly dwells most upon conspicuous events, lessens the familiarity 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 7 
 
 of his talc to increase its dignity, shows his favourite at a distance, decorated and magnified 
 like the ancient actors in their tragic dress, and endeavours to hide the man, that he may 
 produce a hero. But if it be true which was said by a French prince, that no man was a 
 hero to the servants of his chamber ; it is equally true, that every man is yet less a hero to 
 himself He that is most elevated above the crowd by the importance of his employment, 
 or the reputation of his genius, feels himself affected by fame or business, but as they in- 
 fluence his domestic life. The high and low, as they have the same faculties and the same 
 senses, have no less similitude in their pains and pleasures. The sensations are the same in 
 all, though produced by different occasions. The prince feels the same pain when an in- 
 vader seizes a province, as the farmer when a thief drives away his cow. Men thus equal 
 in themselves, will appear equal in honest and impartial biography ; and those whom fortune 
 or nature place at the greatest distance, may afford instruction to each other. 
 
 " The writer oNiis own life has at least the first qualification of an historian, the know- 
 ledge of the truth ; and though it may be plausibly objected, that his temptations to disguise 
 it, are equal to his opportunities of knowing it, yet I cannot but think that impartiality may be 
 expected with equal confidence from him that relates the passages of his own life, as from 
 him that delivers the tratisactions of another. He that sits down calmly and voluntarily to 
 review his life for the admonition of posterity, or to amuse himself, and leaves this account 
 unpublished, may be commonly presumed to tell truth, since falsehood cannot appease his 
 own mind, and fame will not be heard beneath the tomb. 
 
 If these considerations are allowed, I am fully justified in having wished to send forth the 
 following account of the Rev. Cornelius Winter. It was principally written by himself. He 
 has moved in a variety of relative situations. His life, though it has not made so much noise 
 in the world as the progress of some others, has been in no small degree diversified and 
 eventful ; and the whole has been in a liigh degree, holy, benevolent, and useful. 
 
 It has indeed been supposed, that the delineation of very eminent examples may be inju- 
 rious to persons of weak and tender minds ; and that the sight of superiority so great, will 
 discourage from efforts at imitation. Three things will fully answer such an objection as 
 this. First. — Though persons of inferior attainments ought to be encouraged, they ought 
 not to be flattered. We must not turn the cordials of the Gospel into opiates ; nor lull into 
 satisfaction with themselves, those who ought to be roused to advance and excel. Secondly. 
 — It is well to have a good copy, however imperfect the writing may be. A pattern ought to 
 be something above us ; something that will remind us of deficiency, and animate us to 
 diligence. Thirdly. — The sources of excellency lie open to us. If the attainments of those 
 we commemorate were self-derived, and we were required to follow them in our own 
 strength, we might indeed feel discouraged at the contemplation. But if their faith, and 
 hope, and love, and usefulness, were the production of God's own Spirit — if the residue of 
 this Spirit is with him — and he has said, " Ask and it shall be given you, seek and ye shall 
 find" — none need despair. By the grace of God they were what they were : and the grace 
 that was sufficient for them is equally so for us. We should therefore be strong in the 
 grace that is in Christ Jesus. 
 
 But some may imagine we have spoken too highly of the venerable subject of the follow- 
 ing pages. And it must be acknowledged that the manner in which works of biography 
 have been frequently executed, has rendered a suspicion of this kind too natural. So often 
 has the writer been the eulogist instead of the historian, that the mind becomes sceptical, 
 and takes it for granted that if fable be not mixed with fact, reality is embellished by de- 
 scription, and magnified by the fondness of admiration. There is also peculiar danger that a 
 biographer will be warped into partiality and exaggeration, if he feels very powerfully the 
 sentiments of esteem and gratitude. I hope my readers will do me the justice to believe — 
 that I sat down to this work under a persuasion of the truth of these remarks, and aware of 
 the danger in which my feelings placed me. I have endeavoured to keep myself under the 
 eye of God — and though I know not whether there has been a wakeful hour since his death, 
 in which I have not thought of the deceased, or that I have written a page concerning him 
 without tears — for tears have been my meat.* — I am confident nothing has been advanced 
 in the representation that equals the original. 
 
 Indeed in commendation of this servant of God, this benefactor of man, I am in no hazard 
 of contradiction from those who knew him : for perhaps seldom, if ever, was there such a 
 harmony of sentiment concerning any individual before. " That good man" was the manner 
 in which he was always introduced, and the preface to every thing that was said of him. 
 
 The work ought to have been better : and probably would have been, if more time had 
 been allowed by the importunity of friendship; but I have done what I could in a very few 
 
 * " When Heaven would set our spirits free, 
 And earth's enchantment end, 
 It takes the most effectual means, 
 And robs us of a friend." Young. 
 
8 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 weeks of frequent interruption and indisposition. The toil of examining; an immense num- 
 ber of letters received and written by the deceased, and the perplexity of selecting extracts, 
 and inserting them in their proper place, have not been without fatigue. But I have labour- 
 ed with pleasure, and rejoice in the enterprise, from a persuasion that what I have written 
 from the warmest affection, and the highest regard will at the same time be ratified by a 
 large proportion of the public voice ; and that I am doing good to others while I have an 
 opportunity to indulge my own feelings, and to acknowledge the obligations to my dear 
 and honoured friend and benefactor, which I shall never be able to discharge. To him I 
 owe all my respectability in life, and all my opportunities of public usefulness. Though not 
 a child by birth, I have been one by adoption; and close this Preface by a line borrowed 
 from Homer, which our admired Cowper, with some little variation, inscribed on a bust of 
 his Grecian favourite : 
 
 11 liff T£ -!TXTfV\ Ui TTXtSt^ XSC» 85T0TJ, XlJffC-jUotl SCUTS." 
 
 Ii)v'd as his son, in him I early found, 
 A father, such as I will ne'er forget. 
 
 WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 Bath, April 1, 1808. 
 
 I 
 
MEMOIRS, &c 
 
 PART I. 
 
 HIS OWN ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF. 
 
 The following letters were all sent in the 
 year one thousand seven hundred and ninety- 
 nine. This is the only date they bear. The 
 Editor deemed it proper to omit a few very 
 minute passages into which the writer had 
 dropped, perhaps from his not suspecting, or 
 his not remembering, that they were to meet 
 the public eye. Some who were unacquaint- 
 ed with the deceased may think that more 
 ought to have been suppressed : but they who 
 knew him will readily and gladly indulge 
 him in a little amplitude and particularity, 
 while relating his own story, to one who 
 would naturally feel interested in the detail 
 of the whole. 
 
 LETTER L 
 My very dear friend, — You have taken 
 frequent occasion to testify your disposition 
 to preserve our long established friendship. 
 It commenced by the good providence of 
 God ; it has hitherto been preserved inviolate ; 
 it has been attended with reciprocal advan- 
 tages ; it has given you the claims of a son, 
 and produced in me the tender sensibility of 
 a parent, never offended, but always made 
 happy by a consistent, uniform, and endear- 
 ing conduct. I have no secret that I would 
 wish to conceal from you ; there is no instance 
 in which I can oblige you, but I am ready to 
 attend to it. You have requested to see my 
 life extended to this period, drawn out by my 
 own hand ; and I have only waited for a fair 
 opportunity to gratify you. Use as you 
 please what I communicate. I am too in- 
 considerable to attract the attention of the 
 public. Every man is a history to himself. 
 I review my own life with humiliation and 
 self-abhorrence for sins, in my younger years, 
 committed against the Lord; but my humilia- 
 tion is not limited to that period. I would 
 wish it to be, in part, the closing act of my 
 days. I have obtained mercy, and gratitude 
 is highly due to the God of my life. I have 
 been the subject of his providential goodness; 
 hitherto has the Lord helped me. Select 
 friends, as well as yourself, may be enter- 
 tained by the recital of the divine conduct, 
 and if any may be excited by it under similar 
 circumstances, either in youth or riper years, 
 
 to trust in the Lord, I shall esteem the end 
 of its being communicated answered. — I am, 
 with more affection than words can express, 
 ever yours, CORNELIUS WINTER. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 My very dear friend, — In looking to the 
 rock from whence I was hewn, and to the 
 hole of the pit from whence I was digged, I 
 have an effectual antidote against pride ; in 
 the mention of them I feel no mortifica- 
 tion. 
 
 Gray's-inn-lane, in the parish of St. An- 
 drew, Holborn, was the place of my nativity. 
 I was born the ninth and last child of John 
 and Catherine Winter, on the ninth of Octo- 
 ber, in the year one thousand seven hundred 
 and forty-two, and was baptized on the six- 
 teenth day of the same month, in the parish 
 church. 
 
 I am very unacquainted with the history 
 of my family, but from what I have heard of 
 the place of my father's birth, which was in 
 or near Nottingham, and his being educated 
 a Dissenter, I am inclined to conceive my 
 descent is from Dr. Winter, mentioned in 
 Palmer's Non-conformist's Memorial. How- 
 ever, this can be but conjecture, and would 
 be of little consequence could it be ascer- 
 tained. 
 
 I know my mother was a native of Guild- 
 ford, in Surry. Her immediate descent was 
 humble. She was the second wife of my fa- 
 ther. He was by trade a shoemaker, in very 
 moderate circumstances; he was elected, in 
 the latter part of his life, head porter of 
 Gray's-inn, a situation worth sixty pounds 
 per annum. He died of a consumption when 
 I was nine months old. I remember to have 
 heard it remarked, when I was a child, that 
 on his death bed, he much lamented that he 
 had not felt himself affectionately disposed 
 towards me. But it may be easily account- 
 ed for, from my being too young to have any 
 thing attractive, and from the petulance and 
 decay of spirits, not uncommon to persons in 
 that disorder. 
 
 My mother survived him seven years, in a 
 declining state, which also terminated in a 
 consumption. She was not wanting in her 
 affection to me ; but I was nursed and reared 
 principally by her sister, who was sheltered 
 both by my father, and herself, from one of 
 
10 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 the most cruel husbands that ever disgraced 
 human nature; and she had the greatest share 
 of my affection. This foster parent was re- 
 moved from the family by necessity, previous 
 to my mother's decease. My brother, at the 
 time of my mother's death, about twenty- 
 three years of age, and my sister about seven- 
 teen, with myself, were the only survivors 
 of the nine children. My brother, who had 
 served seven years apprenticeship to a watch- 
 maker, soon fell a sacrifice to youthful lusts. 
 I had been encouraged to hope for support 
 from him, but in consequence of his bad con- 
 duct, he enlisted in the East India service, 
 and died abroad. My sister designed to exert 
 herself for me, and had she been as prudent 
 as she was capable, might have supported me 
 till the usual period in which lads are ap- 
 prenticed ; but she had many attractions, and 
 fell into ensnaring company. A few years 
 she was the dupe to vice, but afterwards re- 
 formed ; and I have reason to conclude was 
 effectually awakened and savingly converted 
 by Mr. Romaine's ministry, and died under 
 the influence of divine grace. 
 
 After the death of my mother, I was suffer- 
 ed to wander the streets, and spend my time 
 in idleness and childish dissipation. Soon 
 after I was turned of eight years, I was ad- 
 mitted into the charity school of St. Andrew, 
 Holborn, and thought it a high honour con- 
 ferred upon me. I felt it an affliction to be 
 deprived of schooling, and frequently found 
 time hang heavy till I gained the privilege. 
 When returning from school, I found myself 
 excluded our apartments; I was often in 
 want of food, and at a loss for many hours to 
 know what was become of my sister. By 
 degrees I missed pieces of furniture, and per- 
 ceived affairs going on seriously bad. My 
 mother had the care of several sets of cham- 
 bers in Gray's-inn ever since I could remem- 
 ber, which, in conjunction with the business 
 of a laundress, was the means of our subsist- 
 ence ; my sister was very ingenious with her 
 needle and her pen, and conducted the whole 
 business with great credit, during the period 
 wherein my mother lay helpless. Previous 
 to that time, she was her right hand, and was 
 encouraged to go on with the business after 
 her decease; but she had formed a tender 
 connexion which was never consummated; 
 and having been drawn into dissipation, mat- 
 ters became daily embarrassed. 
 
 She took occasion one day to inform me 
 the furniture would be sold, that she must 
 go to service, and that I must go to the work- 
 house. She was not deficient in affection. I 
 dearly loved her, and I hoped the event 
 would turn out for good. I do not recollect 
 finding myself reluctant to my fate. It was 
 a peculiar pleasure to me to be informed I 
 should be continued in the school. 
 
 I was introduced into a ward of thirty 
 boys. Many inconveniences it may be sup- 
 
 posed I felt* but with all I can recollec* 
 that I was at the same time impressed with 
 a sense of many mercies, and became soon 
 familiarized to this situation. 
 
 This part of my history includes about 
 two years. When I look back as far as I 
 can remember, I can recollect many circum- 
 stances which are not sufficiently interest- 
 ing to insert here; one however I cannot 
 omit, namely, the frequent and deep impres- 
 sions made upon my mind by religion. I 
 have been informed by some who knew me 
 before I knew myself, that it was hardly pos- 
 sible to keep me in the house after Gray's- 
 inn chapel bell struck out, to summon people 
 to the daily prayers at eleven in the morn- 
 ing and five in the evening. I well remem- 
 ber its powerful attraction, and also the first 
 time wherein, after very earnest entreaty, I 
 was intrusted to go by myself to St. An- 
 drew's church. I can recollect the pious 
 frame of my mind, the energy with which I 
 could repeat prayers, and according to my 
 ability read, and heard the Scriptures read. 
 A very serious walk round Gray's-inn, with 
 some of my companions on a sabbath day even- 
 ing, and our conversation upon the greatness 
 and goodness of God, excited by the serenity of 
 the element, frequently occurs to my mind. I 
 attended funerals till I could repeat the bu- 
 rial service by rote. In the time in which 
 I was denied the privilege of school, I fre- 
 quently went to St. Andrew's church, at 
 the hour of prayer, and recollect perfectly 
 the first time, that the twenty-first chapter 
 of St. Luke, being read by the minister in 
 
 * Of these the author has noticed several instances, 
 such as crowding together a great number of boys into 
 one bed, allowing them insufficient food, disregarding 
 their cleanliness, neglecting their health, &c. These 
 the editor has suppressed above, and would not have 
 remarked them here, but for the sake of lamenting — 
 that the design of charitable institutions should so often 
 be subverted wholly or partially, through the avarice 
 or inattention of hirelings. This might, in some mea- 
 sure at least, be prevented, if proper persons would un- 
 dertake to inspect them. The editor remembers, when 
 in Dublin, to have met with a gentleman who had re- 
 tired from business, and lived on a small independ- 
 ence, who devoted himself entirely to this object. He 
 investigated all the benevolent establishments in the 
 city, and having ascertained the design of them, and 
 the advantages the beneficiaries were authorized, to 
 expect from them, he published the account to enable 
 any of the inhabitants to judge whether justice was 
 done them; and visited them weekly in rotation him- 
 self. How many ways are there of doing good, even 
 where persons have it not in their power to afford pe- 
 cuniary assistance! How desirable is it to deserve the 
 eulogium pronounced on Mary, " She hath done what 
 she could !" 
 
 As to the condition itself in which Mr. W. frankly 
 acknowledges himself to have been found, it must prove 
 very unacceptable and offensive to all those who wor- 
 ship "the god of this world," and can think of no- 
 thing worthy attention separable from guineas and 
 ribbons. Were it not for the remoteness of the scene, 
 how much more scandalized must they be when they 
 hear our apostles saying, " even to this hour we both 
 hunger and thirst, and 'are naked and buffeted, and 
 have no certain dwelling place:" and to read of the 
 mother of our Saviour, that " She brought forth her 
 first-born son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes 
 and laid him in a manger, because there was no room 
 for him in the inn?" 
 
HIS OWN ACCOUNT. 
 
 11 
 
 the desk, made a deep impression upon me. 
 Indeed the Scriptures I am now most con- 
 versant with are those I have heard read in 
 the desk, or recited as texts from the pulpit, 
 through a succession of sixteen or eighteen 
 years. I enjoyed going to church on the 
 saints days and on the sabbath days, and, 
 with a few exceptions, which were always 
 accompanied with remorse, devoutly joined 
 in the prayers and psalmody of the church, 
 and of the school. My mind at times has 
 been so elevated that I believe I could have 
 received the summons of death with joy. 
 
 I am inclined to think these frames may 
 be attributed to the work of the Spirit of 
 God, which, though early begun, was fre- 
 quently interrupted by sinful propensities, 
 and practices which, as the result of tempt- 
 ation, I fell into ; the recollection of which 
 gives me pain, and constrains me to pray ; 
 " O remember not against me former iniqui- 
 ties ; remember not the sins of my youth." I 
 frequently feel the most powerful distress 
 for them now, at the age of fifty-seven, and 
 if 1 could, would make retribution. I must, 
 and blessed be God I may be a debtor to the 
 blood of Jesus. I never did any thing in- 
 consistent with the strict rule of morality 
 without feeling the smart of conscience. 
 
 An innocent forgetfulness became the inlet 
 of a sad temptation, in compliance with which 
 I was too successful a practitioner in sin. As 
 the solicitation occurred, I many times laid 
 myself under a curse, that I would commit 
 the sin no more. But nothing short of con- 
 verting grace could break the snare. One 
 day I fell by the temptation. I had been 
 in high expectation of hearing a favourite 
 preacher on the following Sunday. When 
 the Sunday came, I hesitated much, whether, 
 with so much guilt upon me, I should go to 
 church. I did go, but got sorely wounded by 
 considering the impropriety of the religious 
 act of that day, with my sinful conduct in 
 the course of the week. 
 
 I found out a relation who was dying in a 
 consumption. He was the son of the widow 
 of my father's brother. He encouraged me, 
 when I had liberty, to visit him. In death 
 he recommended me to his brother's notice, 
 who had been indebted to my father for put- 
 ting him apprentice. This was Mr. Winter, 
 water-gilder, in Bunhill-row, of whom I had 
 not any knowledge. I found he had a design 
 to take me from the workhouse. I wish I 
 could represent his design in a pleasing 
 light. He appeared disposed to let me go to 
 the charity-school for the advantage of edu- 
 cation, but instantly as he took me, I was 
 dismissed by the trustees. I heard it was to 
 be my fate ; but hoped the report was false, 
 especially as the committee-day passed in 
 which the business of the school was attend- 
 ed to, and the scholars were reviewed, with- 
 out any notice being taken of it. I went as 
 
 usual, the next morning, at the exact time, 
 for I never was late, nor ever incurred dis- 
 pleasure by an hour's absence unavoidably. 
 After the usual exercise of prayer, the head 
 master surlily came up to me, and demanded 
 if my Sunday's clothes were in their place 
 (they were taken home on the Saturday and 
 returned on the Monday by the law of the 
 school.) On being answered in the affirm- 
 ative, he told me I must go away, that I was 
 no longer of that school. It is not to be de- 
 scribed what I felt. I returned to my new 
 home, broken-hearted. As Mr. Winter per- 
 mitted me to apply for re-admission, I am in- 
 clined to think it was not his design to pre- 
 vent me the advantage of the schooling, at 
 least for a time. The month was a very 
 gloomy one. On the Sunday I betook my- 
 self to the church, longing to be in my seat; 
 like an outcast I placed myself after church, 
 at the school door, and was pierced to the 
 heart by seeing the procession of the scholars, 
 without permission to join them. On the 
 committee-day I presented my petition for 
 re-admission, begged access into the room, 
 kneeled upon my knees, and with crying and 
 tears entreated for God's sake the learning 
 of the school might be granted to me ; but 
 nothing was said to rne ; on the other hand, 
 a haughty clergyman dressed in his full suit 
 of robes, ordered me instantly to be taken 
 out. 
 
 I had not been two years in the school ; 
 and three severe fits of sickness, the saints 
 days, and Christmas, Easter, and Whitsun- 
 tide holidays, made a considerable reduction 
 from that time, and no very great attention 
 was paid to improvement; so that I had 
 merely learned to write when my schooling 
 closed, without being set to put three figures 
 together, or to learn one line in any of the 
 tables. 
 
 I now became the errand boy, and was de- 
 voted to what employ I was capable of in the 
 workshop, and occasionally in the kitchen, 
 and other domestic services from six in the 
 morning till eight in the evening, or later, as 
 occasion served. This was my situation till 
 I was one and twenty years of age. Mr. 
 Winter was a man of very irritable, severe 
 temper, unhappy in his marriage, and given 
 exceedingly to drinking. Whatever ruffled 
 his temper I was the victim upon whom he 
 vented his rage. By his severity my spirits 
 were soon broken, and I became so enervated 
 that the step of his foot up stairs, and the 
 sight of him commonly threw me into a tre- 
 mor. Upon the slightest occasion he would 
 beat me unmercifully. He never was at a 
 loss for a weapon: iron was the same as 
 wood; consequences were not regarded. I 
 review the scene and shudder. I sometimes 
 wonder that I have my faculties. To this 
 very time I frequently dream I am with him 
 under his displeasure, and feel uneasiness. 
 
12 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 During the period of twelve years, I often 
 thought it were better to die than to live, and 
 in some parts of that time was ready to say, 
 I choose strangling rather than life. Had I, 
 in the former years been a partaker of grace, 
 I should have thought I endured, as seeing 
 him who is invisible; but as this was not the 
 case, I sometimes wonder, on reflection, that 
 I did not elope from him, and submit to any 
 thing rather than such perpetual torture of 
 body and mind. It was a very abject situa- 
 tion ; I had nothing to encourage me. Over- 
 burdened one day with the severity of my 
 usage, I made an effort to get work, and w as 
 determined to disengage myself from my 
 hard task-master. This I could legally have 
 done as he had not bound me to him. He 
 was informed of it and was alarmed. He 
 came up in the shop one morning in an unu- 
 sual good humour, directed his discourse to 
 me, applauded my work, asked me if I had 
 heard the news of young men not appren- 
 ticed being liable to be forced into the king's 
 service, and, as it was the time of war, said 
 he had no method of screening me, but 
 by binding me to him. Perceiving that he 
 was imposing upon me, and suspecting he 
 had a design of an unworthy nature, espe- 
 cially as he kept me back in my improve- 
 ment, and had till then refused to bind me, I 
 resisted his motion. He then unmasked, 
 flew into a passion, informed me that he had 
 heard I had applied for business, and threat- 
 ened to demand recompense for my subsist- 
 ence for the time I had been with him. I 
 was persuaded into submission. The inden- 
 ture was antedated, and I continued to wear 
 the galling chain for four years longer. 
 
 I was not my own guide. I could not help 
 myself without risking difficulties, which 
 might have been equal to those I underwent 
 with him. I doubtless had my faults. Many 
 I recollect, and, under the review of them, 
 am humbled before God ; but those he might 
 charge me with, did not merit that indiscreet 
 severity he exercised upon me. I shall in 
 the course of this memoir have occasion to 
 mention him again. I bless God I was not 
 suffered to precipitate myself into ruin, but 
 was enabled patiently to endure; and as I 
 subscribe to his wisdom in permitting events 
 thus to occur, I have to recollect with grati- 
 tude his kindness towards me afterwards. 
 He has instructed me and taught me. He 
 has been a father unto me, and shall receive 
 praise from me. I will relieve your atten- 
 tion, and at present subscribe myself, my 
 very dear friend, yours, affectionately, &c. 
 
 LETTER III. 
 My very dear friend, — In the former 
 letter I mentioned that I can recollect my 
 mind being often in a very pious frame; I 
 will here cite a fresh instance. By being 
 
 brought to Mr. Winter, I became an inhabit- 
 ant of the parish of St. Luke, Old-street. On 
 Saturday, I frequently anticipated the plea- 
 sures of the day ensuing, not merely as a 
 day of leisure, but of devotion ; and usually 
 attended St Luke's church, morning and af- 
 ternoon, and thought it an additional pleasure 
 to have opportunity to attend a monthly 
 evening lecture at Cripplegate. A charity 
 sermon was of great importance to me, as it 
 afforded me an opportunity to hear a new 
 preacher ; and I almost envied the boys the 
 privilege of the charity — judge you how I 
 must feel when a bishop preached. My 
 situation sometimes confined me at home on 
 a Sunday afternoon, when I engaged my at- 
 tention to the Bible. I remember to have 
 fatigued myself once exceedingly in writing 
 out the first chapter of the second book of 
 Kings. But it stuck by me. O that I had 
 habituated myself more to that employ ! I 
 had all this time common and very strong 
 prejudices against the Methodists and Dis- 
 senters. When my clothes were disgrace- 
 fully bad, which was sometimes the case, I 
 absconded from my own church, and occasion- 
 ally wandered into a meeting-house. I at 
 last got to hear Mr. Whitefield two or three 
 times, and was particularly struck by his ap- 
 pearance and dress. Though at the distance 
 of sixty feet, and the congregation very 
 crowded, I one Sunday evening thought he 
 spoke particularly to me, and the imagination 
 had a powerful effect upon me. 
 
 I believe it was the Christmas previous to . 
 this, while at a card table I was taking some 
 undue liberty with Mr. Whitefield's ministry, 
 in the way of burlesque ; a Scotch woman 
 who was sitting by, but not in the party, very 
 smartly reproved me, desired I would take an 
 opportunity to read and pray over the eighth 
 chapter of the epistle to the Romans, till I 
 understood it ; and added she was persuaded 
 I should no longer despise Mr. Whitefield's 
 ministry. I never can forget the remorse I 
 felt from the reproof; and the advice, after I 
 was awakened, produced a peculiar attention 
 to the scripture recommended to my atten- 
 tion. 
 
 In the year 1755, 1 had occasion to make a 
 purchase of a box, of which I was informed, 
 a poor woman wanted to dispose. She after- 
 wards informed me, there was something in 
 my appearance that engaged her attention. 
 She desired I would pay her a visit. I was 
 ready to receive her invitation, and drank tea 
 with her the next Sunday. Like one truly 
 taught of God, and desirous of communicating 
 what she knew of him, she entered upon re- 
 ligious subjects. She asked me if I had ever 
 heard Mr. Whitefield ; I replied, I had once 
 or twice, and had no objection to him, for I 
 perceived she knew not how to speak affec- 
 tionately enough of him. But I said I could 
 not be reconciled to his lay preachers ; and I 
 
HIS OWN 
 
 urged the common objection against them. I 
 began to speak in high terms of my favourite 
 preachers at church, and as she proposed my 
 going with her to hear Mr. Whitefield, I 
 urged her to go with me to hear those I had 
 mentioned. 
 
 She was soon tired of my fare, and told me 
 my favourite preachers could not give her 
 what she wanted. It was by first going with 
 her to the Tabernacle, that I was more pecu- 
 liarly struck with the largeness of the con- 
 gregation — the solemnity that sat upon it — 
 the melody of the singing — Mr. Whitefield's 
 striking appearance, and his earnestness in 
 preaching. From this time, prejudice had no 
 more place in my breast. Mr. Whitefield be- 
 came increasingly dear to me, and I em- 
 braced all opportunities to hear him. Yet I 
 had no knowledge of the evil of sin, and the 
 depravity of my nature. On the 9th of April, 
 1760, being the Wednesday in the Easter- 
 week, and the close of the holidays, as I was 
 playing at cards with my fellow-servants ; re- 
 collecting I might that evening hear Mr. 
 Whitefield, I broke off in the midst of the 
 game, which much discomposed and enraged 
 my companions, who suspected where I was 
 going. It was a night much to be remem- 
 bered. I have reason to hope the scales of 
 ignorance then fell from my eyes, a sense of 
 my misery opened gradually to me, and I 
 diligently inquired what I should do to be 
 saved. I never more, however, played a game 
 at cards. The text I well remember, was 
 1 Cor. xv. 51, 52. The introduction to the 
 sermon, " Come, my brethren, we have from 
 Sunday till yesterday been meditating upon 
 the resurrection of our Lord, it is now time 
 that we should think about our own." Could 
 I recite the whole sermon, and it should read 
 acceptably, it would want the energy, viva 
 voce, which was so very peculiar to the 
 preacher, that a resemblance is no where to 
 be found. But it was God in the preacher 
 that made the word efficacious; to him be 
 the glory. It is a mercy he is not confined 
 to the abilities of men whose talents are su- 
 perior to those of their brethren. Much good 
 was at that time doing by the instrumentality 
 of men whose gifts were very inconsidera- 
 ble ; and the Lord could have wrought upon 
 my soul by an inferior preacher. The state 
 of things at the Tabernacle and Tottenham- 
 court chapel, then differed from what it is at 
 the present day, in this, that the supplies 
 were not very considerable, Mr. Kinsman 
 excepted. Hence there was a very great dis- 
 proportion in the congregation ; yet conver- 
 sions were very frequent, by means of the 
 substitutes provided by Mr. Whitefield in his 
 absence, notwithstanding the inferiority of 
 their gifts to his own. It is " not by might 
 nor by power," which is hut to say, it is not 
 by human eloquence, but by the Spirit of the 
 Lord, that work is wrought upon the soul 
 
 2 
 
 ACCOUNT. 13 
 
 which is essential to salvation. That the 
 Lord may go on to honour your gifts, and that 
 you may ever give him the glory of that good 
 work he performs by you, is the prayer of, 
 my dear friend, yours, &c. 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 My very dear friend, — In compliance 
 with your request, my own history must be 
 entwined with the history of others. I keep in 
 mind the remark you made to me in a late 
 conversation, namely, that it was the opinion 
 of some that there had not been sufficient no- 
 tice taken of Mr. Whitefield as a preacher, 
 and that you wished I would endeavour to 
 exhibit him more particularly in that view. 
 I doubt I shall fail in the attempt; though 
 my close connexion with his person as a pri- 
 vate humble friend, as well as the attention 
 I paid to his ministry, may be supposed to 
 give me an advantage in writing upon this 
 head. 
 
 The time he set apart for preparations for 
 the pulpit, during my connexion with him, 
 was not to be distinguished from the time he 
 appropriated to other business. If he wanted 
 to write a pamphlet upon any occasion, he 
 was closeted ; nor would he allow access to 
 him, but on an emergency, while he was en- 
 gaged in the work. But I never knew him 
 engaged in the composition of a sermon until 
 he was on board ship, when he employed 
 himself partly in the composition of sermons, 
 and reading very attentively the history of 
 England written by different authors. He 
 had formed a design of writing the history of 
 Methodism, but never entered upon it. He 
 was never more in retirement on a Saturday 
 than on another day ; nor sequestered at any 
 particular time for a period longer than he 
 used for his ordinary devotions. I never met 
 with any thing like the form of a skeleton of 
 a sermon among his papers, with which 1 
 was permitted to be very familiar, nor did he 
 ever give me any idea of the importance of 
 being habituated to the planning of a sermon. 
 It is not injustice to his great character to 
 say, I believe he knew nothing about such a 
 kind of exercise. 
 
 Usually for an hour or two before he en- 
 tered the pulpit, he claimed retirement ; and 
 on a sabbath day morning more particularly, 
 he was accustomed to have Clarke's Bible, 
 Matthew Henry's Comment, and Cruden's 
 Concordance within his reach : his frame at 
 that time was more than ordinarily devo- 
 tional ; I say more than ordinarily, because, 
 though there was a vast vein of pleasantry 
 usually in him, the intervals of conversation 
 evidently appeared to be filled up with pri- 
 vate ejaculation connected with praise. His 
 rest was much interrupted, and his thoughts 
 were much engaged with God in the night. 
 
14 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 He has often said at the close of his very 
 warm address, " This sermon I got when 
 most of you who now hear me were fast 
 asleep." He made very minute observations, 
 and was much disposed to be conversant with 
 life, from the lowest mechanic to the first 
 characters in the land. He let nothing es- 
 cape him, but turned all into gold that ad- 
 mitted of improvement ; and, in one way or 
 another, the occurrence of the week or the 
 day furnished him with matter for the pul- 
 pit. — A specimen — when an extraordinary 
 trial was going forwards, he would be pre- 
 sent; and on observing the formality of the 
 judge putting on his black cap to pronounce 
 sentence, I have known him avail himself of 
 it in the close of a sermon ; with his eyes full 
 of tears, and his heart almost too big to ad- 
 mit of speech, dropping into a momentary 
 pause — " I am going now to put on my con- 
 demning cap: sinner, I must do it; I must 
 pronounce sentence upon you — " and then 
 in a tremendous strain of eloquence, recite 
 our Lord's words, " Go ye cursed," not with- 
 out a very powerful description of the nature 
 of the curse. I again observe, that it would 
 be only by hearing him, and by beholding his 
 attitude and his tears, that a person could 
 well conceive of the effect; for it was impos- 
 sible but that solemnity must surround him, 
 who, under God, became the means of making 
 all solemn. 
 
 He had a most peculiar art of speaking 
 personally to you, in a congregation of four 
 thousand people, when no one would suspect 
 his object. If I instance it in an effect upon 
 the servant of the house, I presume it is not 
 unsuitable. She had been remiss in her duty 
 in the morning of the day. In the evening, 
 before the family retired to rest, I found her 
 under great dejection, the reason of which I 
 did not apprehend ; for it did not strike me, 
 that in exemplifying a conduct inconsistent 
 with the Christian's professed fidelity to his 
 blessed Redeemer, he was drawing it from 
 remissness of duty in a living character; but 
 she felt it so sensibly as to be greatly dis- 
 tressed by it, until he relieved her mind by 
 his usually amiable deportment. The next 
 day, being about to leave town, he called out 
 to her " Farewell ;" she did not make her 
 appearance, which he remarked to a female 
 friend at dinner, who replied, " Sir, you have 
 exceedingly wounded poor Betty," which ex- 
 cited in him a hearty laugh; and when I 
 shut the coach-door upon him, he said, " Be 
 sure to remember me to Betty ; tell her the 
 account is settled, and that I have nothing 
 more against her." 
 
 The famous comedian, Shuter, who had a 
 great partiality for Mr. Whitefield, showed 
 him friendship, and often attended his minis- 
 try. At one period of his popularity he was 
 acting in a drama under the character of 
 
 C. WINTER. 
 
 Ramble. During the run of the performance 
 he attended service on sabbath morning at 
 Tottenham-court chapel, and was seated in 
 the pew exactly opposite to the pulpit, and 
 while Mr. Whitefield was giving full sally 
 to his soul, and in his energetic address, was 
 inviting sinners to the Saviour, he fixed him- 
 self full against Shuter, with his eye upon 
 him, adding to what he had previously said, 
 "And thou, poor Ramble, who hast long 
 rambled from him, come you also. O end 
 your rambling by coming to Jesus." Shuter 
 was exceedingly struck, and coming in to 
 Mr. Whitefield, said, "I thought I should 
 have fainted, how could you serve me so 1" — 
 It was truly impressive to see him ascend the 
 pulpit. My intimate knowledge of him ad- 
 mits of my acquitting him of the charge of 
 affectation. He always appeared to enter the 
 pulpit with a significance of countenance, 
 that indicated he had something of import- 
 ance which he wanted to divulge, and was 
 anxious for the effect of the communication. 
 His gravity on his descent was the same. 
 As soon as ever he was seated in his chair, 
 nature demanded relief, and gained it by a 
 vast discharge from the stomach, usually 
 with a considerable quantity of blood, before 
 he was at liberty to speak. He was averse 
 to much singing after preaching, supposing it 
 diverted the savour of the subject. Nothing 
 awkward, nothing careless, appeared about 
 him in the pulpit, nor do I ever recollect his 
 stumbling upon a word. To his ordinary as 
 well as to his public appearance, this observa- 
 tion applies ; whether he frowned or smiled, 
 whether he looked grave or placid, it was 
 nature acting in him. 
 
 Professed orators might object to his hands 
 being lifted up too high, and it is to be la- 
 mented that in that attitude, rather than in 
 any other, he is represented in print. His 
 own reflection upon that picture was, when 
 it was first put into his hands. " Sure I do not 
 look such a sour creature as this sets me forth ; 
 if I thought I did, I should hate myself." It 
 is necessary to remark, that the attitude was 
 very transient, and always accompanied by 
 some expressions which would justify it. He 
 sometimes had occasion to speak of Peter's 
 going out and weeping bitterly, and then he 
 had a fold of his gown at command, which he 
 put before his face with as much gracefulness 
 as familiarity. 
 
 I hardly ever knew him go through a ser- 
 mon without weeping, more or less, and I 
 truly believe his were the tears of sincerity. 
 His voice was often interrupted by his affec- 
 tion ; and I have heard him say in the pulpit, 
 " You blame me for weeping, but how can I 
 help it, when you will not weep for your- 
 selves, though your immortal souls are upon 
 the verge of destruction, and for aught you 
 know, you are hearing your last sermon, and 
 
HIS OWN 
 
 may never more have an opportunity to have 
 Christ offered to you."* His freedom in the 
 use of his passions often put my pride to the 
 trial. I could hardly bear such unreserved 
 use of tears, and the scope he gave to his 
 feelings, for sometimes he exceedingly wept, 
 stamped loudly and passionately, and was fre- 
 quently so overcome, that, for a few seconds, 
 you would suspect he never could recover; 
 and when he did, nature required some little 
 time to compose herself. 
 
 You may be sure from what has been said, 
 that when he treated upon the sufferings of 
 our Saviour, it was not without great pathos. 
 He was very ready at that kind of painting 
 which frequently answered the end of real 
 scenery. As though Gethsemane were within 
 sight, he would say, stretching out his hand 
 — " Look yonder ! what is that I see ! it is my 
 agonizing Lord !" — And, as though it were 
 no difficult matter to catch the sound of the 
 Saviour praying, he would exclaim, " Hark ! 
 hark ! do not you hear !" — You may suppose 
 that as this occurred frequently, the efficacy 
 of it was destroyed ; but, no ; though we often 
 knew what was coming, it was as new to us 
 as though we had never heard it before. 
 
 That beautiful apostrophe, used by the pro- 
 phet Jeremiah, " O earth, earth, earth, hear 
 the word of the Lord," was very subservient 
 to him, and never used impertinently. 
 
 He abounded with anecdotes, which though 
 not always recited verbatim, were very just 
 as to the matter of them. One, for instance, 
 I remember, tending to illustrate the efficacy 
 of prayer, though I have not been able to 
 meet with it in the English history — it was 
 the case of the London apprentices before 
 Henry the Eighth, pleading his pardon of 
 their insurrection. The monarch, moved by 
 their sight, and their plea, " Mercy ! mercy !" 
 cried, " Take them away, I cannot bear it." 
 The application you may suppose was, that 
 if an earthly monarch of Henry's description, 
 could be so moved, how forcible is the sin- 
 ner's plea in the ears of Jesus Christ. The 
 case of two Scotchmen, in the convulsion of 
 the state at the time of Charles the Second, 
 subserved his design ; who, unavoidably ob- 
 liged to pass some of the troops, were conceiv- 
 ing of their danger, and meditating what 
 method was to be adopted, to come off safe : 
 one proposed the wearing of a scull-cap; the 
 other, supposing that would imply distrust of 
 the providence of God, was determined to 
 proceed bare-headed. The latter, being first 
 laid hold of, and being interrogated, "Are 
 you for the covenant 1" replied "Yes;" and 
 
 * Mr. Winter remarks— The expression of offering 
 Christ was considered exceptionable by some good men, 
 contemporaries with him, whose judgment framed their 
 phraseology ; but though Mr. VVhitefield was orthodox, 
 his affection anil zeal were not to be restrained from 
 using free address, while labouring for the conversion 
 of sinners. The language had been sanctioned by the 
 old divines; anil in the Scriptures we more than once 
 read of " receiving Christ." 
 
 ACCOUNT. 15 
 
 being farther asked, " What covenant 1" an- 
 swered, " The covenant of grace," by which 
 reply, eluding further inquiry, he was let 
 pass; the other, not answering satisfactorily, 
 received a blow with the sabre, which pene- 
 trating through the cap, struck him dead. 
 In the application, Mr. Whitefield, warning 
 against vain confidence, cried, "Beware of 
 your scull-caps." But here likewise the de- 
 scription upon paper, wanting the reality as 
 exemplified by him with voice and motion, 
 conveys but a very faint idea. However, it 
 is a disadvantage which must be submitted 
 to, especially as coming from my pen. 
 
 The difference of the times in which Mr. 
 Whitefield made his public appearance, mate- 
 rially determined the matter of his sermons, 
 and, in some measure, the manner of his ad- 
 dress. He dealt far more in the explanatory 
 and doctrinal mode of preaching on a Sabbath- 
 day morning, than, perhaps, at any other time ; 
 and sometimes made a little, but by no means 
 improper, show of learning. If he had read 
 upon astronomy in the course of the week, 
 you would be sure to discover it. He knew 
 how to convert the centripetal motion of the 
 heavenly bodies to the disposition of the 
 Christian toward Christ, and the fatal attrac- 
 tion of the world would be very properly re- 
 presented by a reference to the centrifugal. 
 Whatever the world might think of him, he 
 had his charms for the learned as well as for 
 the unlearned ; and as he held himself to be 
 a debtor both to the wise and to the unwise, 
 each received his due at such times. The 
 peer and the peasant alike went away satis- 
 fied, 
 
 As though he heard the voice of God ever 
 sounding in his ears the important admoni- 
 tion, " Work while it is called to-day," this 
 was his work in London at one period of his 
 life : — After administering the Lord's supper 
 to several hundred communicants, at half an 
 hour after six in the morning; reading the 
 first and second service in the desk, which he 
 did with the greatest propriety, and preaching 
 full an hour, he read prayers and preached in 
 the afternoon, previous to the evening service, 
 at half an hour after five; and afterwards ad- 
 dressed a large society in public. His after- 
 noon sermon used to be more general and 
 exhortatory. In the evening he drew his bow 
 at a venture, vindicated the doctrines of grace, 
 fenced them with articles and homilies, re- 
 ferred to the martyrs' seal, and exemplified 
 the power of divine grace in their sufferings, 
 by quotations from the venerable Fox. Sin- 
 ners were then closely plied, numbers of 
 whom from curiosity coming to hear a sen- 
 tence or two, were often compelled to hear 
 the whole sermon. How many in the judg- 
 ment day will rise to prove that they heard 
 to the salvation of the soul. The society, 
 which after sermon was encircled in the area 
 of the Tabernacle, consisted of widows, mar- 
 
16 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 ried people, young men and spinsters, placed 
 separately ; all of whom, when a considerable 
 part of the congregation was resettled, for 
 hundreds used to stay upon the occasion, used 
 to receive from him in the colloquial style, 
 various exhortations comprised in short sen- 
 tences, and suitable to their various stations. 
 The practice of Christianity in all its branch- 
 es was then usually inculcated, not without 
 some pertinent anecdote of a character worthy 
 to be held up for an example, and in whose 
 conduct the hints recommended were exem- 
 plified. To the young men for instance — A 
 young man in the mercantile line whose un- 
 cle described him as such a jumble of religion 
 and business, that he was fit for neither. — A 
 widow would be held up to view, remarkable 
 for her confidence in God. A young woman 
 would be described, commendable for her 
 chastity, prudence, and decorum — in a way 
 that made it desirable for each description of 
 characters to imitate them. Masters of house- 
 holds at these opportunities, parents and chil- 
 dren, had their portion, but nothing enforced 
 upon legal principles. 
 
 Perhaps Mr. Whitefield never preached 
 greater sermons than at six in the morning, 
 for at that hour he did preach winter and 
 summer, on Mondays, Tuesdays,Wednesdays, 
 and Thursdays. At these times his congre- 
 gations were of the select description, and 
 young men received admonitions similar with 
 what were given in the society; and were 
 cautioned, while they neglected the duty re- 
 quired from them under the bond of an inden- 
 ture, not to anticipate the pleasures and 
 advantages of future life. Beware of being 
 golden apprentices, silver journeymen, and 
 copper masters, was one of the cautions 1 
 remember upon those occasions. 
 
 His style was now colloquial, with little use 
 of motion ; pertinent expositions, with suitable 
 remarks; and all comprehended within the 
 hour. Christian experience principally made 
 the subject of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, 
 and Thursday evening lectures; when, fre- 
 quently having funeral sermons to preach, the 
 character and experience of the dead helped 
 to elucidate the subject, led to press diligence 
 in the Christian course, to reflect upon the 
 blessing of faith on earth, and glory in hea- 
 ven. Mr. Whitefield adopted the custom of 
 the inhabitants of New England in their best 
 days, of beginning the Sabbath at six o'clock 
 on Saturday evenings. The custom could 
 not be observed by many, but it was conve- 
 nient to a few — a few compared with the 
 multitude, but abstractedly considered, a large 
 and respectable company. Now ministers of 
 every description found a peculiar pleasure 
 in relaxing their minds from the fatigues of 
 study, and were highly entertained by his 
 peculiarly excellent subjects, which were so 
 suitable to the auditory, that I believe it was 
 seldom disappointed. It was an opportunity 
 
 peculiarly suited to apprentices and journey- 
 men in some business, which allowed of their 
 leaving work sooner than on other days, and 
 availing themselves at least of the sermon; 
 from which I also occasionally obtained my 
 blessings. Had my memory been retentive, 
 and I had studiously treasured up his rich re- 
 marks, how much more easily might I have 
 met your wishes, and have answered the de- 
 sign of this letter ! But though I have lost 
 much of the letter of his sermons, the savour 
 of them yet remains. The peculiar talents 
 he possessed, subservient to great usefulness, 
 can be but faintly guessed from his sermons 
 in print ; though, as formerly God has made 
 the reading of them useful, I have no doubt 
 but in future they will have their use. The 
 eighteen taken in short hand, and faithfully 
 transcribed by Mr. Gurney, have been sup- 
 posed to do discredit to his memory, and there- 
 fore they were suppressed. But they who 
 have been accustomed to hear him, may col- 
 lect from them much of his genuine preach- 
 ing. They were far from being the best spe- 
 cimens that might have been produced. He 
 preached many of them when, in fact, he was 
 almost incapable of preaching at all. His 
 constitution, long before they were taken, had 
 received its material shock, and they were 
 all, except the two last, the production of a 
 Wednesday evening; when by the current 
 business of the day, he was fatigued and worn 
 out. The " Good Shepherd" was sent him 
 on board the ship. He was much disgusted 
 with it, and expressed himself to me as in the 
 1440th letter of the third volume of his works 
 — " Tt is not verbatim as I delivered it. In 
 some places it makes me speak false concord, 
 and even nonsense ; in others the sense and 
 connexion is destroyed by the injudicious dis- 
 jointed paragraphs, and the whole is entirely 
 unfit for the public review." His manuscript 
 journal, as quoted by Dr. Gillies, notes — 
 " September 15. This morning came a sur- 
 reptitious copy of my Tabernacle farewell 
 sermon, taken, as the short-hand writer pro- 
 fesses, verbatim as I spoke it ; but surely he 
 is mistaken. The whole is so injudiciously 
 paragraphed, and so wretchedly unconnected, 
 that I owe no thanks to the misguided, though 
 it may be well meant, zeal of the writer and 
 publisher, be they whom they will. But such 
 conduct is an unavoidable tax upon populari- 
 ty." He was then like an ascending Elijah, 
 and many were eager to catch his dropping 
 mantle. In the sermons referred to there are 
 certainly many jewels, though they may not 
 be connected in a proper order. 
 
 Whatever fault criticism may find with his 
 sermons from the press, they were, in the de- 
 livery, powerful to command the most devoted 
 attention. I have been informed by good 
 judges, that if many of the speeches in our 
 two houses were to be given in their original 
 state, they would not appear to the first ad- 
 
HIS OWN 
 
 vantage, nor would Mr. Whiteficld's sermons 
 have had criminal defects, had they been re- 
 vised with his own pen. In the fifth and 
 sixth volumes of his works, all the sermons 
 he ever printed are comprised. It is very 
 easy to distinguish them which were pre- 
 composed, from others which were preached 
 extemporary. Of the latter, I notice Peter's 
 denial of his Lord, and the true way of be- 
 holding the Lamb of God ; Abraham's offering 
 up his son Isaac; Christ the believer's hus- 
 band, and the resurrection of Lazarus. These 
 and others preserve the extemporary style, 
 and fully serve to discover the exactness of 
 the preacher. He shines brightest with a 
 long text, on which fancy has scope to play, 
 and the mind has liberty to range. However 
 exact he may appear in the page, it is impos- 
 sible for the natural man, who discerneth not 
 the things of the Spirit, to understand him. 
 God may make the page printed, the instru- 
 ment in his hand to convert the sinner, and 
 then he will no longer ask, " Doth he not 
 speak parables'!" but till then, as living he 
 was, so dead, he is liable to the lash of seve- 
 rity : but the same Providence that preserved 
 his person, will maintain his works : and thus 
 he being dead, yet speaketh, and will con- 
 tinue to speak for a great while to come. 
 Whatever invidious remarks they may make 
 upon his written discourses, they cannot in- 
 validate his preaching. Mr. Toplady called 
 him the prince of preachers, and with good 
 reason, for none in our day preached with the 
 like effect. It is probable I shall have occa- 
 sion to make farther mention of him in the 
 course of the papers I have to communicate 
 to you. That a large measure of the Spirit 
 with which he spake, may rest upon you, and 
 that you, with the supply of your measure of 
 the gift of Christ, may be steadfast, immove- 
 able, and always abounding in the work of 
 the Lord, until you cease to labour and enter 
 into rest, is the prayer of, my very dear friend, 
 yours, affectionately. 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 My very dear friend, — Having, in my 
 last letter taken the liberty to give my free 
 thoughts of my ever honoured and dear friend 
 and father, Mr. Whitefield, by whom, as an 
 instrument in the hand of the Lord, I was 
 brought into newness of life, I would again 
 take up the thread of my own history. That 
 God's people may review with gratitude what 
 he hath done for them, their mind is to be the 
 repository of his goodness. .To Israel of old, 
 God said by Moses, " Thou shalt remember 
 all the way which the Lord thy God led thee." 
 The tongue cannot utter, nor the pen relate, 
 if the memory do not retain. I cannot well 
 forget the days of my youth. The period to 
 which I am now recurring is fresh upon my 
 C 2* 
 
 ACCOUNT. 17 
 
 mind. By refusing to join in the amusements 
 to which 1 had been addicted, and by my re- 
 treat into retirement, I was taken notice of, 
 and afforded matter for ridicule. It was visi- 
 ble to the whole family by the alteration of 
 my conduct, and the s'edatenessof my deport- 
 ment, that some change had taken place. My 
 relation said that going to Whiteficld's would 
 keep me out of harm's way, and for a little 
 while, he did not much object against it ; but 
 the storm of persecution soon began to arise ; 
 indeed my afflictions were many and great ; 
 but, blessed be God, they were made sup- 
 portable by the comforts which refreshed my 
 soul. Now a guide and companion was want- 
 ing to regulate my zeal, but such a one was 
 not at hand. The good woman, however, who 
 brought me under the word, did every thing 
 in her power to cherish the work she had 
 reason to hope was began, and I took sweet 
 counsel with her. I soon became a sermon 
 hunter, and an admirer of all in whom I dis- 
 covered the least disposition for the gospel. 
 I began to recollect Mr. Romaine, whom I 
 heard some years before, by straying one 
 Thursday afternoon, while on an errand, into 
 St. Dunstan's, Fleet-street. I heard he preach- 
 ed at St. Bartholomew's, Smithfield; and 
 going one Sunday morning there, I heard 
 Mr. Haweis, by whom I was first and greatly 
 comforted. O how precious was the word of 
 the Lord to my soul that day. I feel some- 
 thing of it as I write, but it is more like the 
 gathering of wind with a fan, than like the 
 heavenly breeze .which that day blew upon 
 my soul. — Soon after this, I went to hear Mr. 
 Hitchon, who preached at White's-row, Spi- 
 talfields, and, struck with his animating, in- 
 genious, and critical expositions, delivered on 
 Sabbath-day mornings, I became a constant 
 attendant for twelve months. To what to at- 
 tribute it I know not, whether the novelty of 
 the exercise, my superficial knowledge, or 
 the magnitude of his gift, and the forcibfeness 
 of his delivery ; but it appeared to me no man 
 could excel him; hardly any one came up to 
 him. The eager attention of a numerous 
 auditory met and fastened upon his lively ex- 
 ertions; and when he closed his exercise, the 
 people, relieving their attention, seemed to 
 say one to another, We have heard great 
 things to-day. 
 
 Now it was that I wished to possess a Bi- 
 ble. I might by saving up the few pence 
 which occasionally came to me, have bought 
 one in time, but it was much impressed upon 
 my mind, that I must beg one of Mr. Hitchen. 
 The Bible which lay in the kitchen was with- 
 held from me. I did not know that there was 
 a book society, and when I had knocked at 
 Mr. Hitchen's door, I was much alarmed at 
 my presumption, and was tempted to run 
 away. The idea of speaking to a minister, 
 whom I held in the highest, veneration, was 
 formidable, and I was surprised at his conde- 
 
18 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 scension. He kindly attended to my request, 
 and I hope I never shall forget the excellence 
 of his advice, and the suitableness of his con- 
 versation. At the same time I consulted with 
 him about entering into the Tabernacle so- 
 ciety. He persuaded me to put aside this 
 design for awhile, and to be much in retire- 
 ment. He also cautioned me against forming 
 too favourable an opinion of professors from 
 their exterior deportment, and I have fre- 
 quently found the necessity of attending to it. 
 
 The impression of our mind is often from 
 God ; I have found it to be so in many in- 
 stances. By sucli an impression I became 
 increasingly desirous to join the Tabernacle. 
 I soon passed a favourable examination by 
 Mr. Middleton, a truly excellent man of God, 
 and was admitted. At this juncture I begged 
 the acquaintance of a most amiable youth, 
 who for five years was my familiar friend. 
 He was poor, but rich in grace. He had been 
 renounced by his mother for his religion. Her 
 prejudices were not to be conquered, nor her 
 judgment to be informed ; she died at enmity 
 with him, though he sought in the most be- 
 coming manner to conciliate her affection. 
 He died triumphantly, of a putrid fever, in 
 which I gave him all the attendance in my 
 power, and was affected, but not laid aside 
 by it. He was in the time mentioned, but 
 one, though the first of a circle of young peo- 
 ple who met frequently in a poor woman's 
 room, to sing, pray, and read the scriptures 
 together. It was a blessed retreat from the 
 clamours of a noisy workshop, where I was 
 exposed to cruelty and insult, from six in the 
 morning until eight in the evening. The 
 Bible now became my food. Whatever trials 
 and temptations I was exposed to at this time, 
 and they were very many, I was comforted 
 under them. We used to go to the house of 
 God in company; I can never forget, how 
 many seasons of refreshing from the presence 
 of the Lord we had at the sacred supper; 
 sometimes at St. Alban's church, Wood-street, 
 at half an hour after six in the morning, win- 
 ter and summer ; but more generally at the 
 Tabernacle and Tottenham-court chapel, at 
 the same hour. At that time my constitution 
 was feeble, and my clothing insufficient for 
 the winter, but the comforts which refreshed 
 my soul, made me superior to every thing I 
 endured. To give scripture epithets to the 
 places in which these seasons were enjoyed, 
 they were Beth-els and Peni-els — they were 
 as the house of God, wherein I beheld his glory. 
 While I gave my more constant attendance 
 upon the ministry of my dear and honoured 
 father, Mr. Whitefield, and his stated assist- 
 ants ; I also heard with delight and to profit, 
 Messrs. Romaine, Jones, Maddan, Venn, &c. 
 &c. each of them had a message from God to 
 me. Blessed be his name for those halcyon 
 days. But the happy period which included 
 them was not a morning without clouds, nor 
 
 was my walk free from imperfections. I did 
 many things which I ought not to have done. 
 My zeal carried me into many extravagan- 
 ces, and I sometimes broke the bounds of duty 
 to hear the word. Whenever I could hear 
 an evening sermon, or attend a letter-reading 
 — for Mr. Whitefield read letters publicly — 
 it set me above earth; and when I had heard 
 the conclusion of a sermon, which I now and 
 then did by trespassing upon the time ap- 
 pointed for leaving work a few minutes, pre- 
 cipitately climbing the Artillery-ground gates, 
 and running on the full stretch to the Taber- 
 nacle, I almost envied the congregation who 
 appeared to me to be all enjoyment. Though 
 I could seldom attend preaching, I could on a 
 Wednesday evening reach the class, a de- 
 tached company of the society who met to- 
 gether to relate christian experience ; and 
 here also, I often lost my burden, obtained a 
 blessing, and found others as well as myself 
 felt the briars and thorns of the wilderness. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Green, an occasional assist- 
 ant to Mr. Whitefield, who subsisted by 
 teaching a school ; was hearing some of his 
 scholars read one day in the fourteenth chap- 
 ter of the first epistle to the Corinthians : he 
 was led to reflect upon the mode of prophesy- 
 ing mentioned in that chapter, and he thought 
 it justified the order observed by the Quakers. 
 He proposed to a venerable friend the insti- 
 tution of a meeting in a similar way. Mon- 
 day evenings were the times appointed for 
 holding these meetings. He began as usual, 
 and after following a short sermon with sing- 
 ing an hymn, he sat down and gave liberty to 
 any one who was disposed to speak of the 
 work of grace upon his heart, or to deliver a 
 short exhortation. The meeting was crowd- 
 ed; it began late and held long. I could 
 therefore enjoy my share of it. Several 
 young men made their appearance on these 
 occasions, and discovered good natural abili- 
 ties; among these I may particularly mention, 
 the Rev. Mr. Spencer,* the late Rev. Peter 
 Sampson, of Truro, in Cornwall, and the late 
 Rev. Mr. West, a very popular preacher in 
 London. These I was very intimately ac- 
 quainted with ; but there were others whom 
 I do not mention, whose ministerial talents 
 were first discovered in this exercise. Ani- 
 mated with a degree of zeal, I stood up one 
 evening after many struggles with myself 
 upon the propriety of the attempt. My ap- 
 pearance was singular. I stood upon a form, 
 a meagre youth of eighteen, and meanly ap- 
 parelled. I introduced myself in the words 
 of the Psalmist, " Come and hear all ye that 
 
 * Mr. W. subjoins in a note — Mr. Spencer, by dili- 
 gence in study, and perseverance in grace, lias acquired 
 and sustained the character of an eminent scholar and 
 able minister He was in the curacy of Bradford be- 
 tween twenty and thirty years, and now resides in the 
 adjacent parish of WingiieJd.of which he is the esteemed 
 rector. Mr. Crouch, vice president of Edmund hall, 
 and several other evangelical clergymen, were educat- 
 ed by him. 
 
HIS OWN ACCOUNT. 
 
 19 
 
 fear God, and I will declare what he hath 
 done for my soul." I found much enlarge- 
 ment, and from that time became one of the 
 speakers. What I had to say was kindly re- 
 ceived. I now employed part of the Lord's 
 days in visiting the sick ; and many compa- 
 nies of young people meeting together imme- 
 diately after the hour of eight o'clock in the 
 evening, whose business prevented them from 
 attending the public ministry, I was encou- 
 raged to exercise my talents among them, by 
 exhorting and expounding the Scriptures. 
 Thus my very small intervals from secular 
 employ were occupied in spiritual services. 
 By this means I became known pretty largely, 
 and was unexpectedly brought into a large 
 sphere. 
 
 Though thus encouraged, I had no idea of 
 being disengaged from secular employ. I had 
 formed my own plan of life, little thinking 
 that it was contrary to the will of God, and 
 that he had a different design in view. By 
 this time my sister had become a spiritual 
 companion to me, and walked with me in all 
 the ordinances of the gospel. I had designed 
 to live with her, and by every means in my 
 power, to make her life comfortable. We 
 frequently contemplated the mutual happi- 
 ness we should enjoy when I came out of my 
 apprenticeship. But her health rapidly de- 
 clined, she became unable to get her bread, 
 and in a month after I came out of my time, 
 I had her to bury. This was a sore affliction 
 to me. Attention to her in her latter days, 
 interrupted the course I have above described. 
 The tenderest affection subsisted between us, 
 and instead of labouring for her future sub- 
 sistence, I had to work out a debt contracted 
 for her support in months past; and augment- 
 ed by her funeral. 
 
 I was frequently solicited to appear more 
 publicly, but recoiled at the idea. It was 
 hinted by many that Providence did not in- 
 tend to continue me in the employ of a water- 
 gilder. Mr. Green used some arguments to 
 excite my attention to the ministry, which 
 made me think that the Lord at some time or 
 other, might employ me in his work, but I 
 never expected higher preferment than to be 
 a local preacher. — Mr. Sampson above-men- 
 tioned, called upon me one day, and used 
 earnest solicitation with me to supply a con- 
 gregation alternately with himself and others 
 at Cheshunt, in Hertfordshire. After some 
 debate upon the motion, I then consented to 
 submit to the trial of my acceptance. I was 
 then desired to cast in my labours at Graves- 
 end, with which request I complied, en- 
 deavouring that my time for business might 
 suffer as little encroachment as possible. My 
 constitution was very weak, and I struggled 
 under a great share of indisposition, which 
 God graciously carried me through. But on 
 the reflection, I am astonished that I was so 
 supported. My relation continued very churl- 
 
 ish to me, cramped me in my wages, and 
 made my life very uncomfortable. I conti- 
 nued with him nine months only, after I was 
 out of my apprenticeship, and by hard work 
 and hard fare, was nearly able to say, " I 
 owe no man any thing but love." He came 
 one morning into the shop, when there was 
 not the least cause to find fault, and in a vio- 
 lent outrage, in which he used infamous lan- 
 guage, insisted that I should do no more 
 work. I have reason to think he did not 
 mean as he said, but I replied I would take 
 him at his word, that his usage had worn out 
 my spirits, and I would cast myself upon 
 God. He burlesqued the idea of Providence, 
 read my destiny to be most deplorable, and 
 signified I should soon want bread.* His 
 words alarmed my fears ; but I was enabled 
 to counteract fear by the exercise of faith. I 
 have since reason to think he had heard of 
 my preaching, and that his corruptions were 
 roused by the report. The business itself 
 was injurious to my nerves. The continual 
 discouragement I was under preyed upon 
 my mind; my having adventured into the 
 ministry, was attended with much conflict, so 
 that the time under review was a time of 
 trouble. I pause and bring the scene near. 
 I enter very circumstantially into it. I do 
 not forget that there were secret, faults in my 
 conduct, which, though only visible to the 
 eye of Omniscience and my own conscience, 
 must not be forgotten by me. Indeed they 
 cannot ; my soul hath them still in remem- 
 brance, and is humbled within me. The 
 tempter had his instrument-; by which he 
 wrought. By artless simplicity, I was ex- 
 posed to danger, but not overcome so as to 
 bring reproach upon the cause of God. Be- 
 nevolence and sympathy for the distresses of 
 others, while I was distressed myself, hurried 
 me into imprudence ; but the Lord upheld my 
 soul, and integrity and uprightness preserved 
 me. I was not so happy yet as to be under 
 the eye and guidance of one who might watch 
 over me. Intemperate zeal, and imprudence 
 in many instances discovered themselves ; 
 and I was afraid of spiritual sloth, and of any 
 thing that was contrary to the life and power 
 of godliness. I bless God that he afforded me 
 cause to be thankful, and that from that pe- 
 riod, his mercy has been like a current not to 
 be obstructed. It has run to this moment. 
 Bless the Lord, O my soul, bless the Lord, 
 my ever dear friend, to whom this history is 
 addressed. I bless him on your account. 
 Interested in all the mercies he has conferred 
 
 * Mr. Winter adds— Thus we parted, and I doubt not 
 hut his conduct towards me has since filled him with 
 bitter remorse. I knew this from words he afterwards 
 uttered to me, and to which he would have added more 
 ifl would have suffered the confession. But God has 
 forgiven the debt of sin against him, and has thereby 
 set me an example to forgive all his unkindness to- 
 wards me. At his death, he left me twenty pounds, 
 with an apology in his will for not leaving me more. 
 
20 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 upon you, I remain, ever, yours, affection- 
 ately, &c. 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 My very dear friend, — In reviewing 
 the history of my life, and addressing it to 
 you, I conceive that I am giving glory to 
 God. My object is, as far as I am the subject 
 of it, and that is far indeed, to utter the me- 
 mory of his great goodness. When the breach 
 between my relation and myself became en- 
 tire, I knew not what to do. The trade I had 
 been brought up to did not afford many mas- 
 ters ; but I was in hope I might obtain work 
 somewhere, or be directed into some other 
 line. He who knoweth all things knows 
 how unambitious my mind was, how sin- 
 cerely I was attached to manual labour, and 
 how conscientiously I intended to engage 
 myself under another employer. But not 
 knowing what to do, immediately on my sud- 
 den separation from Mr. Winter, I betook 
 myself to Mr. How, to give vent to a heart 
 big with sorrow. Mr. How was an excel- 
 lent man, and though in trade, at which he 
 worked hard, of good preaching talents and 
 some learning. After labouring with repu- 
 tation and success in the ministry for a few 
 years, he was taken home to enjoy an early 
 reward. He ministered what consolation he 
 could to me. He was going to Chatham for 
 the ensuing sabbath, prevailed upon me to 
 bear him company as far as Gravesend, and 
 advised me to stop there a few days to divert 
 my distress of mind. While at Gravesend, 
 the congregation of Chatham sent me an in- 
 vitation to preach to them, and desired me to 
 fix the time for my coming. Mr. How urged 
 my embracing the invitation. The day 
 for my going was fixed, and it being near 
 Christmas, I chose the angel's message to 
 the shepherds, as proper for the season, and 
 for a stranger to introduce himself with into 
 a new congregation. But what a situation 
 did I seem to be in ! 1 never can forget the 
 moment I entered the pulpit, the deadness 
 that seized my soul, and the cloud that over- 
 spread my understanding. I was so shut up 
 that I did not think it possible any thing 
 spoken could gain acceptance. I was ashamed 
 to see any body afterwards, and continued in 
 the pulpit till the congregation was quite 
 gone, though several loitered about the door. 
 [ had various conjectures concerning the 
 treatment I might receive in going into the 
 house ; upon the whole, I concluded that 
 though humanity might be exercised towards 
 me, disapprobation of my service must be 
 expressed ; and that I should be forbidden to 
 enter the pulpit again. But to my great sur- 
 prise, 1 found the people lingering about the 
 door anxious to embrace an opportunity to 
 express the satisfaction they received ; the 
 dwelling-house likewise was full of friends, 
 
 all of whom took me by the hand, gave me 
 their blessing, and said they had been re- 
 minded of old times; and without consulting 
 me upon the matter, proceeded to plan me 
 out a round for preaching for many days ; but 
 I opposed the motion, telling them "that I only 
 came into the country by the advice of my 
 friend Mr. How, to relax my mind for a few 
 days, and that I must return to London to 
 seek after business. They opposed my de- 
 termination, remarking that I was a young 
 man free of incumbrance, and quite at liberty ; 
 that they thought preaching the gospel was 
 business sufficient for me, to which I might 
 attend without being burdensome to the 
 church. I spent a few weeks between 
 Gravesend and Canterbury, but was under 
 great uneasiness of mind, and on my return 
 to London visited the Rev. Mr. Elliot, with 
 whom I had a prior acquaintance, and who, 
 as well as Mr. Green, had encouraged me to 
 embark in the work of the ministry. 
 
 I know not whether any one has put forth 
 Mr. Elliot's life, therefore would devote a 
 few lines to represent him. He was born in 
 the west of England, finished his education 
 atBennet's College, Cambridge. His princi- 
 pal preferment was a chaplainship at St. 
 George's Hospital, Hyde-park. He was a pro- 
 found mathematician, of very deep and close 
 thought upon divinity subjects, a very hum- 
 ble, holy man, who exercised great grace in 
 deep poverty. Dr. Dodd endeavoured to raise 
 himself at the expense of this good man's 
 reputation, and exciting an alarm at a ser- 
 mon he preached upon Gal. ii. 21., became 
 the means of his being turned out of his chap- 
 lainship. He printed the exceptionable ser- 
 mon under a title that made it still more ex- 
 ceptionable. He publicly addressed the doc- 
 tor in a letter, at the reading of which, I have 
 good reason to say, he fainted. Mr. Elliot, 
 whose propensity to close thinking led him 
 to weigh exactly every subject he took in 
 hand, found no difficulty in leaving the esta- 
 blishment. He became the pastor of a church 
 of his own raising, which was well organized, 
 and assembled at a meeting-house in Can- 
 non-street. He was universally esteemed 
 by Christians of all denominations; and was 
 requested, in the year 1762, the time of Mr. 
 Whitefield's long suspension from labour, to 
 become his assistant at Tottenham-court ; but 
 his gifts by no means suited that congrega- 
 tion, and it dwindled under him to such a de- 
 gree, that he could not be continued. Mr. 
 Watts, bookseller, near Moorfields, a man of 
 learning and close reasoning, became one of 
 his church members. In a conference-meet- 
 ing, Mr. Watts entered into a very warm de- 
 bate with him upon the doctrine of the Tri- 
 nity ; the debate was occasioned by some little 
 accidental circumstance, which arose in the 
 course of the conference, and it drove poor 
 Mr. Elliot into Sabellianism. By this event 
 
HIS OWN ACCOUNT. 
 
 21 
 
 he lost his respect and popularity, lived in 
 poverty and obscurity, and died in the pulpit 
 while preaching to a small congregation, 
 which constantly heard him in Glass-house- 
 yard, Goswell-street. He once had a very 
 violent fever, which threatened his life ; in 
 the delirium of which he went through a ser- 
 vice, supposed by him public, repeated his 
 text, and preached his sermon with the strict- 
 est propriety. He once told Mr. How, that 
 he studied the doctrine of election with that 
 intenseness, that he knew not whether he 
 came out of his study upon his head or upon 
 his heels. His wife was a considerable trial 
 to him. She acquired good property by the 
 millinery business, but denied him the com- 
 fort of it. He was sometimes obliged to sell 
 his books for bread ; but while poor himself, 
 he was a friend to the poor. By the hard 
 measures he latterly met with, he became a 
 little petulant ; but he bore his persecutions 
 for Christ's sake, and his family trials, with 
 great temper and composure, and was a great 
 ornament to his profession. He has left se- 
 veral performances. Those in favour of his 
 new sentiment I am a stranger to. Those 
 relati.ig to the peculiar truths of the gospel 
 are worthy of attention; he was very harsh 
 in his delivery, close in his reasoning, and 
 unimbellished in his style. 
 
 Of Mr. Green above mentioned, it is to be 
 observed, that he was a fine classical scholar, 
 and that he also understood the mathematics 
 well. He said he was a competent master 
 of eight languages, but he was a very un- 
 couth reader and speaker. He never could 
 gain a congregation at Tottenham-court ; at 
 Fetter-lane, he met with attention. The 
 liberty he gave to any to speak, opened a way 
 for the Antinomians to deliver their senti- 
 ments, with whom he entered into large and 
 long public disputations. His Monday eve- 
 ning exercises degenerated into formal dis- 
 putes, and knowing his strength, he was forid 
 of them. The Arians took him up, and by 
 one of them he was one evening so foiled, 
 that he publicly acknowledged he had been 
 wrong all his life in his notions of the Tri- 
 nity, notwithstanding he hail published upon 
 the subject. In this state of mind he con- 
 tinued a week. It produced great distress of 
 soul, and though he died sound in the faith, 
 he was so shocked by his temporary recanta- 
 tion of it, that he never after lifted up his 
 head. 
 
 The case of these two good men is a cau- 
 tion to us not to be too confident in our pow- 
 ers. While I think of them, I think also of 
 the Apostle's admonition, " Let him that 
 thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." 
 Many good men, designing honestly to defend 
 the doctrine of the Trinity, err shockingly in 
 their illustrations of it; and give more ad- 
 vantage to the adversary than they are aware 
 of, as well as drive their opponents into no- 
 
 tions they never would have thought of, had 
 they been treated with more temper. We are 
 safe by taking the subject as the sacred Scrip- 
 ture gives it, and by avoiding to explain what 
 is inexplicable. 
 
 Let us, my dearest friend, adore what we 
 cannot comprehend, and shield ourselves from 
 error by the words which the Holy Ghost 
 teacheth. Rather than puzzle ourselves and 
 our hearers with matters which are too high 
 for either, let us be content with things re- 
 vealed. In my last interview with Mr. Elliot, 
 he said he heard me advance with accept- 
 ance the very same things he did with dis- 
 gust I told him, when a man's sentiments 
 are supposed orthodox, people will give him 
 credit; that the subject, for he mentioned it, 
 evidently led me to treat of Jesus Christ in 
 his mediatorial capacity. I heard him that 
 evening preach an excellent sermon from 
 Heb. xiii. 5. I hope, through the grace of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, he is now in glory. 
 That we may there meet him is the prayer 
 of, my very dear friend, yours, affectionately, 
 &c. 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 My very dear friend, — To them that 
 suffer according to the will of God, is the in- 
 struction, that they should commit the keep- 
 ing of their souls to him. May we not un- 
 derstand the apostle Peter, by a figure of 
 speech recommending the resignation of the 
 whole man to God 1 The admonition befits 
 not only the fiercely persecuted, to whom it 
 was first addressed, but likewise others in 
 every age, and with the rest, those who are 
 in such a state of preponderation as to be un- 
 certain which way the balance will turn; 
 whose path is so intricate that they know not 
 which way to go ; the prospect of whose duty 
 is so obscured, as that they know not what to 
 do. This was really the case with me, when 
 I returned from my Chatham excursion. I 
 earnestly sought employ in the business to 
 which I had been brought up, but could ob- 
 tain none. I did not on any consideration in- 
 tend to see Mr. Winter; I very studiously 
 avoided his house and person, nor did I see 
 him for some months after. My absence from 
 London alarmed many of my Christian friends, 
 some of whom censured me. While I was 
 conscious to myself, I did not wish to eat the 
 bread of idleness, my present circumstances 
 were attributed to indolence of disposition. 
 This made my burden the heavier. Mr. El- 
 liot, whom I frequently called upon, encou- 
 raged me to preach ; but I one day told him, 
 such were the surmises of my friends, that it 
 became necessary I should convince them they 
 were under a mistake, by turning my thoughts 
 to service ; and I begged him to use his en- 
 | deavours to procure me a place. He warmly 
 
•22 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 remonstrated against such a step, pressed me 
 with questions respecting my call to preach 
 the gospel, submitted to my consideration, 1 
 Cor. ix. 16, and requested me patiently to wait 
 for the opening of Providence. He had taken 
 upon him the superintendency of the congre- 
 gation on Portsmouth Common, at their par- 
 ticular desire, in which he had been made 
 very useful, by the repeated visits he had 
 made. This congregation had been raised by 
 Mr. Whitefield, and his assistants, but had 
 been long in a state of neglect, or visited 
 very seldom. Mr. Elliot introduced me to 
 this people, and the Lord was pleased to bless 
 my efforts among them. I twice repeated my 
 visit. But whatever pleasure the people gain- 
 ed, they were seasons of humiliation to me. 
 I began to see the importance of the work in 
 a stronger light than ever ; rny insufficiency for 
 it likewise affected me much. I strove to medi- 
 tate, but could not ; and often went into the 
 pulpit unprepared. It must be observed all 
 this time, I was wholly illiterate. My unset- 
 tled state was unfavourable to improvement, 
 and I had no one to give me the least instruc- 
 tion. Unfortunately, I adopted the Hebrew 
 instead of the English grammar, by which 
 my idea of the subject of grammar was too 
 superficial; and I was a considerable time 
 before I could understand the doctrine of the 
 eight parts of speech. I now also entered 
 upon the Latin and Greek grammar. By 
 reading good authors, I saw my own defects 
 in their excellencies, and endeavoured to cor- 
 rect them. My poverty and want of retire- 
 ment, were great obstructions to my progress. 
 The gratuities I received for my service, 
 merely defrayed my journies. My clerical 
 friends gave me neither hints nor helps. I 
 frequently pored over subjects, and left them 
 as I found them. I had not resolution to ask 
 questions of those who might have helped 
 me. My modesty has in this been a disad- 
 vantage to me, and it may be pride has at- 
 tached itself to modesty. Men of understand- 
 ing, and of some literature, have usually made 
 a part of the congregations I preached to at 
 my first coming out; and when I have sus- 
 pected them to be present, it was a vast em- 
 barrassment to me. I fell under one mistake, 
 against which young preachers should be 
 guarded, especially they who come out under 
 deficiency of knowledge, and that was being 
 devoted to letter writing. How much time 
 have I employed in that way, which should 
 have been devoted to the preparation for the 
 pulpit ! The motive for so doing was pure, 
 though the thing itself was wrong. I should 
 have recollected that pulpit exercises and 
 literary pursuits required my time. I did in- 
 deed recollect, but fainted and sunk under 
 discouragement. I visited too often, and 
 made my visits too long. One circumstance 
 I cannot omit to take notice of — I sometimes 
 was in a state of doubt respecting the propri- 
 
 ety of the constructions I put opon texts of 
 Scripture, which I had selected for my use in 
 the pulpit. I had not met with expository 
 helps ; when being asked to dine with a re- 
 spectable tradesman, and going some time 
 before dinner, I was introduced into a parlour, 
 where was a large book-case, which contain- 
 ed Dr. Gill's exposition. I amused myself by 
 referring to particular texts I had preached 
 from at different times, on which I gained 
 no information, but relied on my own medi- 
 tation ; and in every one I found a coinci- 
 dence of thought with the doctor. This was 
 a comfort to me. 
 
 Whatever deficiency I was under, the Lord 
 conveyed a blessing by the use of such a de- 
 gree of ability as I possessed. An innovation 
 being made upon the Calvinistic cause at 
 Sheerness by Mr. Wesley's people, occasion- 
 ed the leading people in that place, who had 
 contented themselves with reading sermons, 
 rather than countenance men of inferior ta- 
 lents, to make exertion for immediate help, 
 while I was spending my time between Can- 
 terbury and Chatham. I was therefore in- 
 vited over in haste. I walked over from 
 Sittingbourn on a severe winter's day, and 
 in the evening, addressed the people from 
 Judges vi. 13. It had an amazing effect. I 
 became a frequent and an acceptable visiter, 
 and cannot easily forget the times of refresh- 
 ing the Lord vouchsafed us from his presence. 
 Mr. Shrubsole, who till then had contented 
 himself with being a reader, from that time 
 became a preacher ; and the cause, till then 
 cramped, became under his ministry very 
 flourishing. There lived an eminent old 
 saint by the name of Wadsworth, who had 
 been separated from the society by disgust, 
 but from that time became reconciled and re- 
 united; and as the testimony of his affection 
 to me, when he died, left me half-a-crown 
 and his Bible. The first legacy I ever re- 
 ceived. 
 
 At this period, which was 1766, I was 
 wandering in the parts mentioned already, 
 and waiting for farther intimations of the will 
 of God. I had frequently heard Mr. White- 
 field lament the want of ministers in America. 
 I knew he had sent some who were equally 
 deficient in point of learning with myself, and 
 I concluded, from the kind reception their 
 ministry had met with, my labours, with the 
 blessing of God, might be acceptable also. 
 But a difficulty was before me, which was, 
 how to gain an introduction to Mr. White- 
 field. He was accessible but to few. I 
 knew his connexions were very large; and 
 this may be admitted as a reasonable apology 
 for the caution which he used in admitting 
 people to him. He would never be surprised 
 into conversation. You could not knock at 
 his door and be allowed to enter at any time. 
 " Who is it ?" " What is his business ]" and 
 such like inquiries, usually preceded admis- 
 
HIS OWN ACCOUNT. 
 
 23 
 
 sion; and if admission were granted, it was 
 thus: "Tell him to come to-morrow morn- 
 ing at six o'clock, perhaps five, or immediate- 
 ly after preaching ; if he is later, I cannot 
 see him." A person who went to consult 
 him upon going into the ministry, might ex- 
 pect to be treated with severity, if not well 
 recommended, or if he had not something 
 about him particularly engaging. One man 
 saying, in answer to his inquiry, that he was 
 a taylor, was dismissed with, " Go to rag-fair 
 and buy old clothes." Another, who after- 
 wards was of the clerical order, but sadly 
 disgraced it, was admitted to preach in the 
 vestry, one winter's morning at six o'clock, 
 as a probationer. When a good domestic 
 came into the study, the question was, 
 " Well, Betty, what was the text this morn- 
 ing?" " These that have turned the world 
 upside down have come hither also." — " That 
 man shall come no more here ; if God had 
 called him to preach, he would have furnish- 
 ed him with a proper text." — A letter well 
 written as to style, orthography, and decency, 
 would prepossess him much in favour of a 
 person. 
 
 By means of a pious young acquaintance, a 
 native of Royston, in Hertfordshire, I had 
 been introduced to Mr. Berridge, vicar of 
 Evcrton, whose history is so well known that 
 nothing need be said of him. He had given 
 me countenance, I had gained the attention 
 and esteem of many of his congregation, and 
 he had endeared himself much to me, by his 
 paternal deportment, and apostolic advice, 
 such as I have found of excellent use in every 
 stage of my ministry. I knew from the af- 
 fection with which Mr. Whitefield always 
 mentioned his name, and the honour in which 
 he held his services, he must have great in- 
 fluence with him. I therefore paid a third 
 visit to him, purposely to acquaint him with 
 my views and wishes, and to beg him to in- 
 troduce me to Mr. Whitefield, that I might 
 by him be placed in some situation in Ame- 
 rica. O how kind did this man of God be- 
 have to me upon this occasion! 
 
 After having laid before me the many 
 difficulties he judged I must meet with, and 
 having very seriously exhorted me to pray to 
 God to grant me direction and submission, he 
 complied with my request, and sent me back 
 to London with a letter to Mr. Whitefield. 
 He gave me a mild reception ; the interview 
 was short. It was on Wednesday I waited 
 upon him; he said he should expect me to 
 preach at the Tabernacle on the next morn- 
 ing at six o'clock, and appointed the time 
 when I should again come to him. I heard 
 him in the evening, and felt much when he 
 informed the congregation, that a stranger, 
 recommended by Mr. Berridge, would preach 
 on the morrow morning at six o'clock. I had 
 little rest that night, and prayed rather than 
 studied for the service. A larger congrega- 
 
 tion than usual assembled. The sextoness 
 was astonished when she found 1 was going 
 into the pulpit. When I made my appear- 
 ance, the people were as much struck by see- 
 ing me, for many knew me, as I was by their 
 general whisper. I endeavoured to speak 
 from Eph. iii. 4. I was so exceedingly agi- 
 tated that I knew not what I said. From 
 that morning, however, the prejudice of my 
 religious friends, under whose censure I had 
 lain, was removed, and I found it a blessing 
 to have Mr. Whitefield's suffrage. This was 
 in February 1767, and I was under promise 
 to pay Portsmouth another visit. Mr. White- 
 field desired me to procure him a testimonium 
 of myself from different places, whither I had 
 gone, which I did, and in my absence, to 
 write him some account of the dealings of 
 God with me in his Providence and grace. 
 He said he should have occasion to show it 
 to some friends, and if any thing should turn 
 out favourable, he would let me know ; ac- 
 cordingly I wrote him some account, and in 
 a week after was honoured with his first let- 
 ter, of which the following is an exact copy : 
 
 " London, January 29, 1767. 
 "Dear Mr. Winter, — Your letter met 
 with proper acceptance. — The first thing to 
 be done now is to get some knowledge of the 
 Latin — the method to be pursued we can 
 talk of at your return to London. Mr. Green 
 would make a suitable master — no time 
 should be lost — one would hope that the vari- 
 ous humiliations you have met with were 
 intended as preparations for future exalta- 
 tions. — The greatest preferment under hea- 
 ven, is to be an able, painful, faithful, success- 
 ful, suffering, cast-out minister of the New 
 Testament. That this may be your happy 
 lot is the hearty prayer of, dear Mr. Winter, 
 yours, &c. in our common Lord, 
 
 "G. W." 
 
 This letter exceedingly animated me, and 
 my expectations began to soar ; but by reflec- 
 tion, I was enabled to check them. I con- 
 sidered that the best of men are but men; 
 and thought if by Mr. Whitefield's i nstru- 
 mentality I should be brought into a desirable 
 situation, trials would be answerable to it. 
 At the commencement of my connexion with 
 my honoured friend, and since, I have found 
 it good, neither to seek nor to expect great 
 things. 
 
 The morning after I returned from Ports- 
 mouth, I waited early upon Mr. Whitefield. 
 He received me with a mixture of kindness 
 and severity ; and for several days kept me 
 in a state of suspense. At last he set me 
 upon a little business, and told me he should 
 expect me to preach two mornings in the 
 week. He appointed me particular times when 
 I was to call upon him ; when besides send- 
 ing me upon some errands, of which he 
 always had a great number, he set me to 
 
21 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 transcribe some of his manuscripts. He 
 showed himself much dissatisfied with my 
 writing and orthography, both of which cer- 
 tainly stood in need of correction. He de- 
 sired me to take a lodging near the chapel, 
 where he could conveniently send for me ; 
 gave me a little money to defray my ex- 
 penses, and by degrees brought me into a 
 capacity to be useful to him. 1 was very 
 enervated indeed, my scene was new, I was 
 filled with fear, and shocked by the cautious 
 behaviour of Mr. Whitefield, for which I can 
 plead an excuse. He had frequently been 
 imposed upon by people who had very un- 
 generously served themselves of him, with- 
 out being of any service to him. In the lat- 
 ter part of his life he was particularly cau- 
 tious how he disposed of his favours ; but 
 notwithstanding, he was liable to considerable 
 imposition. Soon after, he proposed my go- 
 ing to Mr. Green's for a few hours in the 
 day, to be initiated into the Latin grammar ; 
 but he interrupted the design by requiring 
 a close attention to his own business, and the 
 large demand he made of my pulpit services; 
 for it pleased God to give my ministry a 
 very kind acceptance, and I have met with 
 some instances of its having been useful. A 
 single quarter of a year closed my school 
 exercise, in which I am ashamed but con- 
 strained to say I hardly gained knowledge 
 enough to decline musa. It was plain Mr. 
 Whitefield did not intend to promote my 
 literary improvement. Indeed, he said, Latin 
 was of little or no use, and that they who 
 wish to enter upon it late in life, had better 
 endeavour to acquire a good knowledge , of 
 their mother tongue, in which many preachers, 
 while they aim at Latin, are very deficient. 
 Having just at this time attended Mr. Wes- 
 ley's conference, and having heard him speak 
 to the same effect, he was confirmed in this 
 sentiment, and discouraged any perseverance. 
 Notwithstanding Mr. Whitefield's opinion 
 thus freely expressed, and his deportment to 
 me corresponding with it, my mind hankered 
 greatly after some smatterings of Latin and 
 Greek ; partly that the want of it might be 
 no obstacle in the way of my ordination, and 
 partly to cut off objections against my mi- 
 nistry from them who are apt to think it a 
 sine qua non for a preacher. But I had much 
 temptation to relax my exertion, my memory 
 being very bad, my nerves weak, and my 
 genius small. Yet sensible of the value of 
 a good education, I have never neglected an 
 effort after a portion of it. Considering 
 the weakness of my capacity, and that for 
 many years I had no settled place of abode, 
 nor any person to assist me ; that I have been 
 constantly employed in preaching the word 
 almost every night in the week to different 
 congregations, and twice or thrice every 
 sabbath through the year, I have cause to be 
 thankful for the little I have acquired. 
 
 What a story I have got into : it swells, and 
 I fear will become tedious. If you had not 
 pressed me to give it you, I would not have 
 imposed it upon you. One circumstance is 
 an introduction to another, in the review of 
 which I am affected with humiliation and 
 thankfulness. How far you may be gratified 
 I cannot say. It is a story that in the sequel 
 connects with the Lord's dealings with you. 
 That he may deal bountifully with you to 
 the end of your days, as he has in the begin- 
 ning of them, is the prayer of, my very 
 dear friend, yours, &c. 
 
 LETTER VIII. • 
 
 My very dear friend, — Did it ever 
 strike you that I am of a timid turn of mind ! 
 I had a great deal more of it in my youth 
 than I had at the time you first knew me, or 
 than I now have. As though the late Mr. 
 Winter were the principal person in the 
 world I had occasion to fear, I was in perpe- 
 tual dread of him. He was a great enemy 
 to the gospel, very keen to observe what was 
 amiss in its professors, and very high in his 
 religious principles. Some circumstances 
 in my early connexion with Mr. Whitefield, 
 had he been permitted to have known them, 
 would have been remarked with just severity. 
 When it was reported to him that I preached 
 at the Tabernacle, he disbelieved it, say- 
 ing, "Whitefield would not let ■ such a fool 
 stand up in his place ;" but finding it true, he 
 said " he \vbuld suffer a chimney-sweeper 
 to preach to save himself." Of all reflec- 
 tions ever cast upon Mr. Whitefield, this 
 should have been the last, for self-sparing 
 was no part of his character. He attempted 
 to gratify his curiosity several times by hear- 
 ing me, but was disappointed. In coming 
 one time, he heard Mr. Middleton, who was 
 the most methodical preacher in the Taber- 
 nacle at that time. He was treating upon 
 the Lord's supper. He gained Mr. Winter's 
 attention, who then for the first time, thought 
 any thing offered at the Tabernacle worthy 
 of regard. He came afterwards with inten- 
 tion to hear Mr. Whitefield seriously, whom 
 he had often heard in ridicule, and it pleased 
 God to make the word efficacious. The 
 effect was blessed indeed. His family had 
 the comfort of it, and it was visible to all 
 who knew him. 
 
 Instantly upon the removal of his preju- 
 dices he sent for me to come to his house, 
 took opportunity to lament that his deport- 
 ment had been very unsuitable to me, assured 
 me he had nothing against me, and wished 
 me to overlook all that was wrong. He be- 
 came a communicant at the Tabernacle, and 
 though he afterwards dropped into some of 
 his former life, and was staggered by the 
 bad conduct of some professors, from the re- 
 
HIS OWN ACCOUNT. 
 
 85 
 
 port I had of his dying moments by a good 
 man not liable to be imposed upon, I hope 
 all ended well. Though I had freemen t in- 
 tercourse with him, and a close correspond- 
 ence, and he went some of my journies with 
 me, yet I never could be truly open and fa- 
 miliar with him. 
 
 I am afraid to say every thing which might 
 be brought upon the tapis lor three years.— 
 Perhaps it would be putting the picture of so 
 valuable a man as Mr. Whitefield was, into 
 too deep a shade, to say that he was not a tit 
 person for a young man in humble circum- 
 stances to be connected with. He was not 
 satisfied with deficient abilities, but he did 
 not sufficiently encourage the use of the 
 lamp for their improvement. The attention 
 of a youth designed for the ministry, was too 
 much diverted from the main object, and de- 
 voted too much to objects comparatively tri- 
 fling. I was considered as much the steward 
 of his house as his assistant in the ministry. 
 While I was kept in bay and at anchor, 
 many piloted by him, set sail, and I at last 
 knew not whether I were to indulge a hope 
 for America or not. My fidelity being 
 proved, I became one of the family, slept in 
 the room of my honoured patron, and had the 
 privilege to sit at his table. I judged I was 
 where I should be ; and was determined 
 never to flinch from the path of duty, nor in- 
 tentionally to grieve the man whom I knew 
 had many burdens upon him, and for whom I 
 could have laid down my life. But I was 
 unequal to my sphere, and sunk under my 
 burden. It pleased the Lord thrice in the 
 year to lay me upon a bed of sickness. In 
 a letter from Mr. Whitefield to Mr. Adams, 
 dated October 12, 1767, stands this sentence, 
 " Heaven is the believer's only resting place. 
 There we shall not be disturbed ; I do not 
 know but Mr. Winter will get there soon ; 
 at present he is very ill." The faculty who 
 attended me, said my life was precarious, 
 and advised my being sent into the country. 
 Their advice opened a way for my first 
 journey to Bristol, where I was eight months, 
 preaching and meeting the society every 
 night in the week, and preaching three times 
 on a Sabbath-day, except now and then, when 
 a minister came through the city. At my 
 first going, few could hear me speak ; but 
 the Lord strengthened body and voice to- 
 gether, and attended his word with his bless- 
 ing. 
 
 On my return, I found Mr. Whitefield had 
 been busy and successful in getting one and 
 another ordained for the colonies, but he 
 made no motion for me ; this I thought hard, 
 though I concealed the feeling of my disap- 
 pointment. I now and then signified to Mr. 
 Whitefield, that my inclination for America 
 was as strong as ever. Imprudences in some 
 of the missionaries, and the unbecoming 
 manner in which others applied to the society 
 D 3 
 
 for propagating the gospel, fbr admission into 
 their service, made my application for ordeTS 
 much more difficult than it would formerly 
 have been. While on a second visit to Bris- 
 tol, which held four months, Mr. Whitefield 
 wrote mo a letter, informing me that a Mr. 
 Wrigiit who was a very principal person 
 with" him, had agreed with his relations to 
 go to Georgia, to put the Orphan-house upon 
 a new plan, and proposed to me whether I 
 should like to go with them, there prosecute 
 my studies, and be considered as domestic 
 chaplain. I returned him answer, after 
 making his motion matter of prayer, that I 
 did not find freedom to go without ordination. 
 This answer was of the Lord, for I was after- 
 wards convinced that my going then and un- 
 der the circumstances proposed, would have 
 involved me in many difficulties. When Mr. 
 Wright embarked for Georgia, I was sent for 
 to London ; and to other different capacities, 
 in which I acted, an additional one was to 
 read prayers, and bury the dead at Totten- 
 ham-court chapel ; an employment that I en- 
 tered upon only to oblige my most highly es- 
 teemed patron; for I knew, besides other 
 inconveniences it would subject me to, it 
 would make the probability of ordination at 
 a greater distance than ever, if it came to 
 the bishop's ear. For more than twelve 
 months I performed the office of a curate. 
 Having at seasonable opportunities continued 
 still to express my inclination to go to Ame- 
 rica, Mr. Whitefield one day asked me, if I 
 should have any objection to take the charge 
 of a number of negroes 1 He informed me at 
 the same time he had received a letter from 
 some gentlemen,* requesting him to send 
 them over a proper person for such a charge, 
 and observed, that after entering upon it, and 
 being recommended home for ordination for 
 the service, there was no doubt but I should 
 succeed. This had great weight with me, 
 and though I thought it a tedious method, I 
 was in hopes it would answer a good end at 
 last. I told Mr. Whitefield I would give 
 myself to his disposal, and hoped by him to 
 discover the will of God. Several months 
 past after this, no farther notice was taken 
 of the business, though letters had passed 
 between him and the gentlemen upon it. 
 The reason appeared plain to me : Mr. White- 
 field had made me very useful to himself, 
 eould repose confidence in me, and was 
 unwilling to part with me. He had so 
 delayed the business, that by the time I had 
 arrived at Georgia, the gentlemen had given 
 over all thoughts of my coming. He at last 
 came to a determination that if I would go, I 
 should go with him, and when the time of 
 my departure was at hand, I went out not 
 
 * Those were the executors of Mr. Zububuhler, late 
 rector of Savannah : who by his will had provided for 
 the support of a minister to instruct his negroes, but 
 enjoining that the person employed should be a clergy, 
 man. 
 
26 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 knowing whither I went, nor upon what con- 
 dition. I only knew that I was bound for 
 Georgia, and that I was going to teach the 
 negroes the way of salvation. The neces- 
 sary preparations for the voyage so engrossed 
 my attention that I had little time to take a 
 formal leave of my friends, nor did I want 
 it, but for the sake of a select few. I had no 
 inclination to preach a farewell sermon, but 
 got off as quietly as I could on Friday, Sep- 
 tember 2d, 1769, with a party of friends in a 
 Gravesend boat, to go to our vessel laying at 
 Gravesend. Mr. Whitefield came the next 
 day with a very large party, in coaches and 
 chaises, and the next day preached two ser- 
 mons, one in the morning in the little place 
 called the Tabernacle, for the use of the 
 church was denied him, and in the evening 
 in the Market-place. I preached in the af- 
 ternoon. Several of the company breakfasted 
 with us on board the vessel, on Monday morn- 
 ing previous to the final leave, which they 
 took immediately after. 
 
 By this time I had fully found out dear 
 Mr. Whitefield's complexion, and indeed 
 long before. Not doubting but that by Pro- 
 vidence I was introduced to him, highly re- 
 vering his character, and affectionately loving 
 his person, I was determined to be like Dio- 
 genes, who would rather sustain the blows 
 of the stick of his master Antisthenes, than 
 be deprived of the advantage of his school. 
 
 The following are some of the promiscuous 
 traits of his more private character, and I 
 presume this is no improper place in which 
 to give them. He used too much severity to 
 young people, and required too much from 
 them. He connected circumstances too hu- 
 miliating with public services, in a young 
 man with whom he could take liberty : urging 
 that it was necessary as a curb to the vanity 
 of human nature, and referred to the young 
 Roman orators, who after being exalted by 
 applauses, were sent upon the most trifling 
 errands. His maxim was, if you love me 
 you will serve me disinterestedly ; hence he 
 settled no certain income, or a very slender 
 one upon his dependents, many of whom 
 were sycophants, and while they professed 
 to serve him, under-handedly served them- 
 selves effectually. Under this defect his cha- 
 rity in Georgia was materially injured, owing 
 to the wrong conduct of some who insinuated 
 themselves into his favour by humouring his 
 weakness, and letting him act and speak 
 without contradiction. He was impatient 
 of contradiction; but this is a fault to be 
 charged upon almost all great people. I 
 could mention some. He was not happy in 
 his wife, but I fear some, who had not all the 
 religion they professed, contributed to his in- 
 felicity. He did not intentionally make his 
 wife unhappy. He always preserved great 
 decency and decorum in his conduct towards 
 her. Her death set his mind much at liberty. 
 
 C. WINTER 
 
 She certainly did not behave in all respects 
 as she ought. She could be under no tempt- 
 ation from his conduct towards the sex, for 
 he was a very pure man, a strict example of 
 the chastity he inculcated upon others. No 
 time was to be wasted ; and his expectations 
 generally went before the ability of his ser- 
 vants to perform his commands. He was 
 very exact to the time appointed for his stated 
 meals ; a few minutes delay would be con- 
 sidered a great fault He was irritable, but 
 soon appeased. Not patient enough one day 
 to receive a reason for his being disappointed 
 under a particular occurrence, he hurt the 
 mind of one who was studious to please ; he 
 discovered it by the tears it occasioned, and 
 on reflection, he himself burst into tears, 
 saying, " I shall live to be a poor peevish 
 old man, and every body will be tired of me." 
 He frequently broke the force of his passion 
 by saying, " How could you do so 1 I would 
 not have served you so." He never com- 
 manded haughtily, and always took care to 
 applaud when a person did right. He never in- 
 dulged parties at his table ; a select few might 
 now and then breakfast with him, dine with 
 him on a Sunday, or sup with him on a Wed- 
 nesday night. In the latter indulgence he 
 was scrupulously exact to break up in time. 
 In the height of a conversation I have known 
 him abruptly say, " But we forget ourselves," 
 and rising from his seat, and advancing to 
 the door, add, " Come, gentlemen, it is time 
 for all good folks to be at home." Whether 
 only by himself, or having but his second, a 
 table must have been spread elegantly, 
 though it produced but a loaf and a cheese. 
 He was unjustly charged with being given 
 to appetite. His table was never spread 
 with variety. A cow-heel was his favourite 
 dish, and I have known him cheerfully say, 
 " How surprised would the world be, if they 
 were to peep upon Doctor Squintum, and see 
 a cow-heel only upon his table." He was 
 neat to the extreme in his person and every 
 thing about him. Not a paper must have 
 been out of place, or put up irregularly. 
 Each part of the furniture must have been 
 likewise in its place before we retreated to 
 rest. He said he did not think he should 
 die easy, if he thought his gloves were out 
 of their place. There was no rest after four 
 in the morning, nor sitting up after ten in 
 the evening. He never made a purchase 
 but he paid the money immediately ; for small 
 articles the money was taken in the hand. 
 He was truly generous, and seldom denied 
 relief More was expected from him than 
 was meet. He was tenacious in his friend- 
 ship, and when the transition of Providence 
 moved from prosperity to adversity, he moved 
 witli it to abide by his friend. He felt sen- 
 sibly when he was deserted, and would re- 
 mark, "The world and the church ring 
 changes." Disappointed by many, he had 
 
HIS OWN ACCOUNT. 
 
 as 
 
 not sufficient confidence in mankind ; and 
 from hence I believe it was, lie dreaded the 
 thought of outliving his usefulness. He often 
 dined among his friends; usually connected 
 a comprehensive prayer with his thanks- 
 giving when the table was dismissed, in 
 which he noticed particular cases relative 
 to the family ; and never protracted his visit 
 long after dinner. He appeared often tired 
 of popularity ; and said, he almost envied the 
 man who could take his choice of food at an 
 eating-house, and pass unnoticed. He appre- 
 hended he should not glorify God in his death 
 by any remarkable testimony, and was desirous 
 to die suddenly. 
 
 Thus, my dear friend, I have aimed to 
 gather up the fragments of a character truly 
 excellent, that nothing may be lost. It is the 
 character of a man who had his infirmities, 
 but whose excellencies bore a far greater 
 proportion. He knew himself, and lived under 
 a measure of self-abhorrence, but he knew he 
 was the redeemed of the Lord, and extolled 
 that name by which he was called. Not to 
 detract, but justly to represent, is my object 
 in what I have written concerning him. I had 
 no claim upon him when he took me into his 
 house. I was abundantly indebted to him for 
 his kindness, and his memory will be dear to 
 me while witli my hand 1 can subscribe my- 
 self, yours, very affectionately, in our dear 
 Lord Jesus. 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 My very dear friend, — By taking notice 
 of the history of the first Methodists, you may 
 perceive they abounded in letter-writing. I 
 have condemned myself for indulging corres- 
 pondence, from conviction I should have been 
 otherwise employed ; but I have felt the conso- 
 lation arising from the receipt of a letter to be 
 inexpressibly great; and have highly gratified 
 a friend by the writing of one. Advice is often 
 conveyed by correspondence, that proves a 
 guide to our conduct ; and remarks, applied to 
 our own case, sometimes prevent hasty steps, 
 of which, on reflection, we might have cause 
 to repent. In my situation, hitherto described, 
 letters with which I was favoured from dear 
 Mr. Berridge, were of great use indeed ; an 
 extract I will here insert from two of them. 
 
 "Pray frequently, and wait quietly, and 
 the Lord will make your way plain. — Jesus 
 trains up all his servants to waiting, and if 
 you are called to the ministry, he will exer- 
 cise your soul beforehand with sharp conflicts. 
 Joseph must be cast first into a pit by his own 
 brethren, then into a prison by his master, be- 
 fore he rules the kingdom ; and David must 
 be hunted as a flea upon the mountains, before 
 he gets the sceptre. How can you tell what 
 others feel, unless you have felt the same 
 yourself? How can you sympathize with a 
 
 prisoner, unless your own feet have been fast 
 in the stocks ] How can you comfort those 
 who are cast down, unless you have been 
 often at your wit's end ! Expect nothing but 
 conflicts, day after day, to humble and prove 
 you, and teach you to speak a word in season 
 to every one that is weary. This is indeed 
 the high road to the kingdom for all, yet a 
 minister's path is not only narrow and stony 
 like others, but covered also with bushes and 
 brakes ; and if you labour to remove them by 
 your own hands, they will quickly tear your 
 flesh, and fill your fingers with thorns. Let 
 your master remove them at your request; 
 and remember it is always his work, as it is 
 ever his delight, to clear our way and lead 
 us on till sin and death are trodden down. 
 Undertake nothing without first seeking di- 
 rection from the Lord, and when any thing 
 offers, that is plausible and inviting, beg of 
 God to disappoint you if it be not according 
 to his mind. You cannot safely rely on your 
 own judgment, after God has told you, ' He 
 that trusteth in his own heart is a fool.' This 
 advice relates to all important changes in life. 
 Go nowhere, settle nowhere, marry nowhere, 
 without frequent usage of this prayer." 
 
 " I find your heart is yet looking towards 
 America ; this inclines me to think God will 
 some time send you thither; in the mean 
 while be thankful you have a pulpit in Eng- 
 land to preach Jesus Christ in, and health to 
 preach him. Be not in a hurry to go, lest you 
 go without your passport, and then you go on 
 a fool's errand. Do not wish to be any where 
 but where you are, nor any thing but what 
 you are. It is want of communion with God 
 that makes our thoughts run a gadding. 
 Daily beseech the Lord to make your way 
 plain, then leave it to him to direct your 
 steps. Wish not to do good in America next 
 summer, but to do good in England every day 
 you continue here." Oh that I had never 
 swerved from the good advice of this truly 
 apostolic man. My aim has been to have my 
 conversation in the world according to it. 
 
 I have diverted your attention from the 
 Friendship, Captain Ball, on board of which, 
 Mr. Whitefield, Mr. Smith, who filled up Mr. 
 Wright's place, and myself, were left by the 
 company who had made the most they could 
 of Mr. Whitefield. I had nothing to do but 
 to forget my own people — I had no father's 
 house to forget — and to commit myself unto 
 the Lord. We spent the former part of the 
 day in looking over our stores, setting things 
 in order, and securing them from injury as 
 well as we were able. As I dropped into 
 leisure, I began to reflect upon the steps I 
 had taken, and the leadings of divine Provi- 
 dence by which I was induced to take them. 
 They all seemed satisfactory, and though I 
 compared myself to a sparrow alone upon the 
 house-top, I had a conviction that I was not 
 alone. T he Father of my mercies had been. 
 
28 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 was then, and blessed be his holy name, has 
 been ever since with me. 
 
 Mr. Whitefield began to familiarize him- 
 self to his naval situation, to acquaint himself 
 with the crew and passengers, and proposed 
 to render them all the kindness in his power. 
 Had the captain embraced the former day's 
 wind, we had probably been favoured with a 
 speedy and prosperous passage ; hut by losing 
 that opportunity we were greatly retarded. 
 Against wind we went with the tide down 
 the Pool, and were several days getting to 
 the Downs. Now I first began to know what 
 sea sickness was, and supposed by my reco- 
 vering when we anchored at the Downs, it 
 was all over, but as we attempted to advance 
 I found I was much mistaken. Here we were 
 wind-bound three weeks, opposite Deal. Dr. 
 Gibbons came on board during our stay to see 
 Mr. Whitefield. His business was to ordain 
 one of his pupils to a dissenting church of an- 
 cient standing in that town. The same day 
 the young gentleman to be ordained, and the 
 Rev. Mr. Bradbury, of Ramsgate, came on 
 board, and after many pressing solicitations, 
 prevailed upon Mr. Whitefield, contrary to 
 his intention, to come on shore, to attend the 
 ordination and preach in the evening. This 
 was very agreeable to my inclination, and I 
 hope I shall never forget the solemnities of 
 that day. The wind being settled against us, 
 and the captain giving us leave, upon Mr. 
 Bradbury's repeated and urgent request, Mr. 
 Whitefield was prevailed upon to go to Rams- 
 gate. He preached there twice, and was to 
 have staid over the Sabbath-day, but not be- 
 ing able to overcome the uneasiness of his 
 spirits, occasioned by a fear that we might 
 stay too long, we took a chaise, and returned 
 to our vessel, on board which, we had not been 
 many hours, before the captain weighed an- 
 chor, and in the distant prospect of a favour- 
 able gale attempted to sail; but it only proved 
 a conflict with the wind, to my no small mor- 
 tification, for I was rendered incapable of 
 every thing by the sea sickness. 
 
 After a second obstinate attempt, in which 
 we were beating about Dungeness for a whole 
 week without getting three leagues, and in 
 which time I was not able to hold up my 
 head, Providence was gracious, the wind was 
 propitious, and we soon lost sight of land. It 
 was a long while before I recovered ; I plyed 
 my book, and by the care that jointly fell 
 upon me and my fellow passenger, Mr. Smith, 
 who was Mr. Whitefield's companion and at- 
 tendant to the last, I had a diversity of exer- 
 cise. Mr. Whitefield spent his time in largely 
 reading the History of England, composing 
 sermons, writing letters, &c. and sometimes 
 discovered such remarkable lowness and lan- 
 guor, as proved him not very fit to encounter 
 the difficulties of a voyage to sea. He had 
 great civilities and respect shown him, and 
 was as constant in the discharge of the duties 
 
 of his function as the weather would admit. 
 Some circumstances however turned up to 
 mar our happiness, particularly two bad men 
 we had on board, one of whom I believe fled 
 from England to save his life, the other by 
 his conduct in Georgia, proved that he made 
 no scruple to hazard his. 
 
 After the usual difficulties which attend 
 the seas, we came near Charleston bar, and 
 by reason of the lightness of our vessel, for it 
 was deficient in ballast, we were detained in 
 what is called Five-fathom-hole, a situation 
 not very agreeable. When we got over the 
 bar we were released from our ship by a pilot- 
 boat, on the 30th of November, and on that 
 evening, by the good hand of our God upon 
 us, we set our feet upon the American shore. 
 My endeavour throughout the whole of the 
 passage was to give myself up to the Lord, 
 and to keep from such an elatement of mind, 
 as imaginary painted prospects often occa- 
 sion to the no small after disappointment. In 
 the course of conversation, Mr. Whitefield 
 had dropped such a hint, as convinced me I 
 might look rather for great crosses than trreat 
 honours. He told me what lie had concealed 
 while on the English shore, that if I had as 
 many to preach to as his bed-cabin would hold, 
 I might think myself well off, and that I might 
 expect to be whipped off the plantation when 
 I had done. 
 
 My reception at Charleston was kind and 
 hospitable; I supposed it to have been be- 
 cause I was Mr. Whitefield's friend. Mr. 
 Whitefield's preaching in the cabin at sea 
 had great energy in it, but it was with addi- 
 tional pleasure I once more heard him in a 
 large congregation on the Sabbath-day. I 
 was particularly affected at the Lord's table, 
 where a considerable number of devout ne- 
 groes were present. It was an emblem of 
 heaven indeed, and afforded me encourage- 
 ment to hope I should have the honour of 
 gathering some from among the black tribes 
 into the visible church, who being washed 
 from their sins, should walk with Jesus in 
 white. 
 
 We staid but ten days in Charleston. 
 Curiosity was excited in many to know who 
 and what I was. When known, it was de- 
 sired that I would give a lecture to a serious 
 company in a large school-room. I complied, 
 and the word was kindly received, and if we 
 had not left Charleston on the Sabbath 
 afternoon, I was to have preached again. We 
 had a very pleasant passage through the 
 Sounds, and frequently went on shore and 
 regaled ourselves in the woods. The simpli- 
 city of the negroes who rowed us was very 
 diverting, whose weariness and fatigue served 
 them for a song. I was much affected by it. 
 We stopped at a plantation called Port-royal, 
 where we were most kindly refreshed and 
 entertained, and safely arrived at Savannah 
 on the evening of December the fourteenth. 
 
HIS OWN ACCOUNT. 
 
 29 
 
 Mr. Whitefield was cheerful and easy; he 
 seemed to have lost a weight of care. A 
 great deal of his usually devotional frame 
 connected with his cheerfulness. It surely 
 became me, who was a stranger in a strange 
 land, to be devotional, and to give myself 
 wholly unto prayer. 1 bless the Lord I had 
 no fear ; I had some faitli ; and faithful was lie 
 who had called me, and whose exceeding 
 great and precious promises were all mine 
 own. Let others be encouraged by me to put 
 their trust in the Lord ; whoso trusteth in him 
 shall never be confounded. You, with me, 
 my dear friend, have reason to speak good of 
 his name. O magnify the Lord with- me, 
 and let us exalt his name together ! — I am, 
 yours, very affectionately, &c. 
 
 LETTER X. 
 My very de ar friend, — Continually under 
 the divine protection we may enjoy perfect 
 peace, and being devoted to the will of God, 
 he will take possession of the mind and keep 
 it What is now the matter of observation, 
 was the matter of experience, when sitting 
 for a little while alone in the canoe, where I 
 was desired to remain, at the bottom of Sa- 
 vannah-bluff, the guardian of our property, 
 while Messrs. Whitefield, Wright, and Smith, 
 ascended to the town. It was dark before I 
 was disengaged and escorted to Mr. Haber- 
 sham's house, where Mr. Whitefield had 
 preceded me. Mr. Habersham met me at the 
 door, embraced me in his arms, saying, " I 
 will be your friend, if nobody else will." It 
 being his first salute, I supposed it was in 
 consequence of something previously said by 
 the company, and by the tenor of the conver- 
 sation which went forward, I understood that 
 I was but an unexpected guest. Mr. Haber- 
 sham clapping me upon the knee, repeated, 
 " I will be your friend, if nobody else will ; 
 I will stand by you : you shall instruct my 
 negroes, whoever else refuses you." This 
 brought to my recollection instantly what Mr. 
 Whitefield said on board ship, viz. " That I 
 might be thankful if I had as many to preach 
 to as his bed-cabin would hold, and must not 
 wonder, if for attempting to instruct the ne- 
 groes, I were whipped off the plantation." 
 However, most of Mr. Zububuhler's execu- 
 tors, the gentlemen into whose service I was 
 entering, saw me, and all except two, behaved 
 to me in a very respectful manner. The first 
 night I lodged in Mr. Habersham's house. 
 The next day I was fixed at a Mr. Bolton's, 
 who accommodated strangers with lodgings. 
 The room appointed for me had no fire-place 
 in it, and the weather becoming very cold, I 
 was put to much inconvenience ; but I was 
 determined I would not make my company 
 cheap, whatever I might suffer ; and that 
 whatever reserve might be in my conduct, it 
 should be entirely with a view to the glory 
 
 3* 
 
 of God. It was well in the- end I adopted and 
 maintained this resolution. Previous to my 
 settlement, I spent some days witli Mr. 
 Whitefield at the Orphan-house, and by the 
 time I returned to Savannah, the report of 
 my design, in coming into the province, was 
 noised ahroad. — Some of the more sensible 
 negroes facetiously said they were too wicked 
 to be made good now. A few had their ex- 
 pectations raised by my coming, and seemed 
 pleased with my errand. The white people 
 in general conceived that I came there be- 
 cause I could not live in England, and I 
 scarcely stirred out without hearing one and 
 another say with the acoent of contempt, 
 " There goes the negro parson." 
 
 Perceiving that Mr. Bolton, at whose house 
 my residence was fixed, was a serious man, 
 I told him I longed to begin my mission in 
 some way. I ottered to be his chaplain, and 
 asked him if he would allow me to open a 
 public exposition in his house. He generously 
 consented, and notice being given of my de- 
 sign, numbers both of white and black came, 
 ond I opened with Rom. i. 15. "I am ready 
 to preach the Gospel to you." The word 
 was well received by the serious part of the 
 audience, and perhaps would have been by 
 the others, if I had not particularly discovered 
 myself attached to the more sensible negroes, 
 and given them to understand they were the 
 subjects of my ministry. — I continued to 
 preach in Mr. Bolton's house, to white and 
 black all the time I staid in Savannah, once 
 or twice a week as it was most convenient to 
 me, and on the Sabbath-day evenings. This 
 gave great offence, and the Rev. Mr. Zubly, 
 the Presbyterian minister, did not a little op- 
 pose it. I applied for the use of the old Lu- 
 theran church which stood unoccupied, and 
 offered any moderate rent the proprietors 
 should require for the use of it, but it was 
 refused merely because I preached to, and 
 aimed at instructing the negroes. All were 
 up in arms against me ; many threatened me 
 if I presumed to come into their plantation. 
 A motion was made in the council to consider 
 me as a nuisance to the province, and as such 
 to silence me ; but they could not carry the 
 motion. However time and circumspection 
 retrieved my reputation in some degree. The 
 house I lodged in abounded with boarders, 
 particularly at the sitting of the assembly. I 
 generally endeavoured to be affable, but not 
 forward ; conversant, butnot loquacious ; short 
 in my sittings after meals, and constant in my 
 study. I was generally indulged with much 
 liberty in family prayer, mornings and even- 
 ings, and frequently dropped a short pertinent 
 hint from one or a few verses out of the por- 
 i tion I read. This gained attention, and by 
 degrees I acquired credit, being mostly re- 
 ; proached by persons who knew least of me. 
 . The conversation of which I was the subject, 
 ' usually concluded to this effect : " It is a pity 
 
30 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 he thinks of being employed in a work that 
 will bring him so little credit, while he has a 
 capacity to be an acceptable minister to the 
 white people, where one is wanting." 
 
 It may appear that this representation of 
 myself savours of pride, but I can appeal to 
 Him who alone knoweth the heart, that I 
 only mention it to his praise. If I review- 
 any part of my outward conduct with satis- 
 faction, I review the defects of all my duties 
 before God with shame. However I might 
 satisfy others, I was dissatisfied enough with 
 myself. Strict morality will not compensate 
 the want of spirituality, and of this I found 
 myself deficient — may not the deficiency be 
 laid to my charge ! 
 
 It was not long before I was introduced to 
 my immediate charge, that is the negroes 
 upon the late Rev. Sir. Zububuhler's planta- 
 tion, among whom I was to reside, as soon as 
 the house was put in proper condition for my 
 residence. The greatest number of these 
 negroes were fresh purchased. They had 
 conceived some kind of idea concerning me, 
 but could not distinguish between their mi- 
 nister and their owner ; therefore, when I was 
 first introduced among them, they came up 
 in a body, and in their way showed me the 
 greatest mark of their respect ; at the same 
 time they made very heavy complaints that 
 they were severely beaten, overburdened 
 with work, kept very short of food, and that 
 they and their children were very bare of 
 Clothes. They said if I would be a good 
 master, they would be good negroes. I gave 
 them to understand that I had no right in 
 them, that I should be their sincere friend 
 and minister, and would do every tiling in 
 my power to make them happy. 
 
 The following Lord's day, I went up for 
 the first time to introduce divine worship 
 among them ; but it is impossible to describe 
 the scene, nor can any person, a stranger to 
 it, conceive of it. Mr. Bolton, my host, bore 
 me company to give me countenance, and to 
 assist me to sing. Two or three overseers 
 from the neighbouring plantations, with the 
 person in the same capacity on the spot, men 
 of a similar cast with the Smithfield drovers, 
 were all the white people I had present. 
 Some negroes from the neighbouring planta- 
 tions came, and I opened with as plain an ex- 
 hortation as I possibly could, but felt it was 
 like shooting darts against a stone wall. I 
 prayed, read the lessons for the day, and used 
 a very small part of the liturgy, namely, the 
 confession of the Lord's prayer and the 
 creed, but the greatest part of my poor con- 
 gregation were either asleep, or making 
 some of their figures upon the wainscot, or 
 playing with their fingers, or eating potatoes, 
 or talking with each other. This was very 
 discouraging, but I thought I must get through 
 it as well as I could. — My intended plan was, 
 if I had settled with them, to have attempted 
 
 to make them rational in order to make them 
 capable of understanding my addresses, and 
 to have began with them as with children, 
 teaching them the alphabet. I hoped to have 
 succeeded ; and to carry my point, especially 
 with the children, and that I might expedite 
 the work, I intended to have procured ne- 
 groes, by qualifying of whom, I might have 
 been assisted in promoting general instruc- 
 tion. But knowing I must come home for 
 ordination, and my house not being ready for 
 me, I could only design the plan without put- 
 ting it forward till after my return. 
 
 There were several in Savannah, whom I 
 had learnt to read a little, and on three plant- 
 ations beside my own, I taught Dr. Watts's 
 first catechism and psalmody with some de- 
 gree of success. My black congregations 
 on two of the plantations (Mr. Jonathan Bri- 
 and, being a dissenter from the episcopal 
 church, objected to the use of a form of pray- 
 er,) could with a degree of readiness repeat 
 with me the Lord's prayer, the creed, and 
 the magnificat. 
 
 Once a week I preached to a small congre- 
 gation, about twelve miles from Savannah; 
 and on my own plantation I was soon joined 
 by ten or twelve white people, to whom I ac- 
 commodated my discourse, after I had done 
 with the negroes. But so strong were the 
 prejudices of the people in general against 
 me, for being what they called a negro-parson, 
 that I believe if I had been an angel of light, 
 I should not have been esteemed.* 
 
 Upon my first coming into the province, I 
 was informed it would prove to my advantage, 
 if I could be on good terms with Mr. Frink, 
 the rector of Savannah, and I was desired to 
 seek intimacy with him, though he should 
 treat me roughly and even repulse me. 
 
 I therefore paid him the compliment of 
 asking his permission to speak publicly to the 
 negroes in town ; he gave it in a faint man- 
 ner ; and finding that a recommendatory let- 
 ter from him to the bishop would be requisite 
 for my obtaining ordination, I sought such an 
 acquaintance with him, as my friends judged 
 necessary. — On New-year's day, I sent him 
 a very neatly bound volume of Mr. Hawies's 
 sermons, for a New-year's gift, with a letter, 
 intimating that my sentiments might be ga- 
 thered from the work, and that it contained 
 a just plan of the doctrines I intended to 
 
 * What a view is here incidentally given us of the 
 degraded and despised state of this class of our fellow- 
 creatures, if prejudice and pride will forsooth allow us 
 to call them so. — Torn from their native country — op- 
 pressed by merciless exactions — treated like beasts that 
 perish — fed and valued only for the purposes of labour 
 and drudgery — a man turned into ridicule ami scorn 
 for wishing to teach them the Gospel — their possessors 
 afraid lest one ray of light should enter their minds, 
 and make them feel they were men!— Who can hut 
 lament that our country should so long have " Traded 
 in the persons of men." — Who can hut rejoice that the 
 voice of justice and humanity was at last heard— who 
 can but be grateful to those who "Through evil and 
 good report" persevered till their discouraged efforts 
 were crowned with success? 
 
HIS OWN ACCOUNT. 
 
 81 
 
 preach. lie received them politely, gave me 
 access to him, engaged nic to bury the dead 
 for him when he was indisposed, and 1 be- 
 lieve would have been glad to have served 
 me, if previous to my embarkation from Eng- 
 land, he not laid the foundation of my disap- 
 pointment, as will appear in the sequel. 
 
 I visited the Orphan-house as often as pos- 
 sible, and was in perfect love and harmony 
 with the family. Death made a sad inroad 
 among them in a very little time: but the 
 affliction was completed by the death of Mr. 
 Whitefield. He had left Georgia to go on 
 his northern tour, the latter end of April; 
 and while his return was anticipated and sup- 
 posed to be near, his removal was announced. 
 It was opened to me by Mr. Habersham, who 
 was much affected with it. It may be sup- 
 posed I could not be insensible. As soon as I 
 heard it, I retreated to pray, and pour out my 
 soul to God. I can truly say the cause of God 
 at large lay near my heart, and I had a per- 
 suasion that the work over which he had pre- 
 sided would not die with him. In his own 
 mind he had fully settled me ; his interview 
 with the trustees of Mr. Zububuhlcr had led 
 to some remarks respecting the encouragement 
 of the laity in the service of the church, which 
 he supposed would produce effect. He made 
 me feel, by saying, when we parted, "Now 
 I cast you off, sink or swim." Though his 
 conversation afterwards was to me a convic- 
 tion, he would have been glad to have had 
 me again in his boat His temper had been 
 very placid ever since he left England; at 
 the Orphan-house he seemed quite in his ele- 
 ment. He conversed freely upon the future 
 disposal of it. I told him I thought he should 
 resign it to the government of the province, 
 giving it as my reason, that though lady 
 Huntingdon should have it in case of his 
 death, she would not be able to preserve the 
 life of religion in it, as he supposed. 1 ob- 
 served that the work of God usually goes on 
 in a way contrary to the order prescribed by 
 man. He had taken such steps as certainly 
 raised the expectation of the governor and 
 council. They had reason to think it would 
 be an institution under their direction. He 
 was much too sanguine in his hopes of what 
 was to arise from it. 
 
 I continued in one steady track, desirous 
 to be fully qualified for my office, and vigor- 
 ously to enter upon it in its full extent, which 
 I could not without episcopal ordination. I 
 indulged the idea of a speedy return to Eng- 
 land, and consulted Mr. Habersham upon 
 the expediency of it. He and all with whom 
 he consulted upon the subject, saw it in the 
 same light. For what end I was permitted 
 to go to America, and why prevented from 
 settling there, is among the secrets of the 
 Almighty. He directs our ways and orders 
 our steps. It is not for us to demand the 
 reason of his conduct, but to submit to his 
 
 will. May we ever restrain improper in- 
 quiries, and submissively yield ourselves up 
 to him, as instruments to be used or to be 
 neglected as he thinks good. I rejoice that 
 your feet are set in such a large place, and 
 that you have such a spacious field to labour 
 in. That you may bring forth an abundance 
 of fruit unto God, is the prayer of, my very 
 dear friend, yours, &c. 
 
 LETTER XI. 
 
 My very dear friend,— You have no 
 conception of the effect of Mr. Whitefield's 
 death upon the inhabitants of the province of 
 Georgia. All the black cloth in the stores 
 was bought up; the pulpit and desks of the 
 church, the branches, the organ loft, the pews 
 of the governor and council were covered 
 with black. The governor and council in 
 deep mourning convened at the state-house, 
 and went in procession to church, and were 
 received by the organ playing a funeral dirge. 
 Two funeral sermons were preached, one by 
 Mr. Ellington, which I was desired to com- 
 pose ; the other was preached by Mr. Zubly. 
 All the respect showed to his memory at his 
 death, kept my sensibility alive. Though I 
 was now a stranger in a strange land, I had 
 my mercies; I gained the esteem of many 
 who wished to see me in orders. I perceived 
 I was in the land of mortality. Many by the 
 stroke of death fell on my right hand and on 
 my left ; I, myself, and one of the passengers 
 who came over with us, fell sick at the same 
 time. Mine was but a slight sickness, his 
 terminated in death, and an awful death it 
 was; it discovered him to be a bad man in 
 every respect : and what made it the more 
 affecting, his wife and three children arrived 
 from England just time enough to see his 
 corpse before it was put into the grave. To 
 meet her at the vessel, and to open to her 
 the circumstances of his death, as well as 
 to bury him, was the province assigned me. 
 
 Though I saw no sign of longevity either 
 in natives or foreigners, my heart was set 
 upon doing the best I could for the poor ne- 
 groes, so that I gave no hint in any of my 
 letters, of the badness of the climate for an 
 English constitution. Rather I laboured hard 
 to get a dear friend to partake with me in 
 the comforts and crosses of my situation. 1 
 had settled it in my own mind in submission 
 to the will of God, that I would, being put 
 into a capacity for usefulness, live and die in 
 Georgia, a devoted servant of servants. When 
 the twelve months of my residence were 
 nearly expired, it was agreed upon by Mr. 
 Zububuhler's executors, that I should return 
 home to the bishop for orders; and it was 
 judged the more necessary at that time, as 
 there was a strong suspicion of a Spanish 
 war breaking out, which would make the pas- 
 
82 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 sage to England to be attended with hazard 
 and difficulty. 
 
 At a meeting of the trustees upon the occa- 
 sion of my coming home, they wrote to the 
 different persons hereafter named, in the or- 
 der and manner following : 
 
 The Executors of the Rev. Mr. Zububuh- 
 ler's Letter to Governor Wright. 
 
 " May it please your excellency, — 
 We, the subscribers, executors, and trustees 
 of the last will and testament of the late Rev. 
 Mr. Zububuhler, having, agreeable to the 
 6aid will, employed Mr. Cornelius Winter as 
 a catechist to instruct the negroes on the 
 plantation of the deceased, for a year past, 
 and he having given us entire satisfaction, in 
 the discharge of his duty, and behaved irre- 
 proachably in all respects in his religious and 
 moral character, beg leave to recommend 
 him to your Excellency as a person, in our 
 opinion, properly qualified to receive holy or- 
 ders ; and therefore we request your Excel- 
 lency will be pleased to recommend him to 
 the lord bishop of London for ordination, that 
 he may thereby be enabled fully to comply 
 with the intention of the testator, by perform- 
 ing the ministerial offices required by his 
 will. We are, with great respect, your Ex- 
 cellency's most obedient servants, 
 " FRANCIS HARRIS, 
 
 JAMES READ, 
 
 JOHN SMITH, 
 
 JOSEPH CLAY, 
 
 NOBLE WILLIAM JONES. 
 " Savannah, Georgia, Nov. 22, 1770." 
 
 The Executors of the late Rev. Bartholo- 
 mew Zububuhler to the Rev. Samuel 
 Frink. 
 
 " Reverend sra, — As we find it neces- 
 sary, in compliance with the will of the late 
 Rev. Mr. Zububuhler, your worthy predeces- 
 sor, to have a person properly qualified to 
 perform ministerial offices, and instruct the 
 negroes on the deceased's plantation, in the 
 principles of the Christian religion, as esta- 
 blished by law in the church of England ; and 
 as we have employed Mr. Cornelius Winter as 
 a catechist for a year past on the said planta- 
 tion, and have had full proof of his abilities 
 and fidelity, in daily discharging his duty ; 
 and as we also suppose you cannot be unac- 
 quainted with his religious and moral charac- 
 ter, which we apprehend has been irreproach- 
 able, we can make no doubt, reverend sir, but 
 you will readily join us in recommending 
 Mr. Winter to the lord bishop of London, 
 for holy orders, by which he will be enabled 
 fully to comply with the intention of the tes- 
 tator's will. — We are, reverend sir, your 
 humble servants, &c. 
 
 " Savannah, Nov. 22, 1770." 
 
 His Excellency the governor, and Mr. 
 Frink the rector, received me very politely 
 upon the occasion, and assured me they 
 would write in my behalf to the bishop of 
 London ; accordingly they both wrote by me, 
 but I was a stranger to the contents of their 
 letters. To strengthen their testimonial, and 
 prevent every obstacle, President Habersham 
 wrote to the Rev. Mr. Broughton, rector of 
 Allhallows, Lombard-street, and secretary to 
 the society for propagation of the gospel in 
 foreign parts, as follows, in hopes, if neces- 
 sary, that he would show it to the bishop: 
 
 " Reverend sir, — Upwards of thirty-three 
 years ago, when you were minister of the 
 church in the Tower of London, I was ho- 
 noured with your acquaintance, and, as I sup- 
 pose you have not forgotten me, I shall make 
 no farther apology for troubling you with 
 this. — The worthy rector of this parish, the 
 Rev. Mr. Bartholomew Zububuhler, deceased, 
 having, by will, left great part of his estate in 
 trust, for the support of a person properly 
 qualified to instruct his negroes, on his plant- 
 ation in particular, and others occasionally, 
 in the principles of the Christian religion as 
 established in the church of England ; and the 
 bearer, Mr. Cornelius Winter, having been 
 recommended to the trustees as a serious and 
 judicious person, and every way fit to execute 
 the pious intention of the deceased, they have 
 for a year past employed him in this service, 
 in which he hath given them entire satisfac- 
 tion, having conducted himself in the difficult 
 undertaking with great prudence, assiduity, 
 and discretion ; not only with respect to the 
 people under his charge, but wherever he 
 has had an opportunity of giving a word of 
 advice to the poor blacks on other planta- 
 tions; and I thank God he has found some 
 persons of considerable property, who have 
 gladly opened their houses to him, thankfully 
 accepted and countenanced his services, by 
 attending themselves on the very sensible 
 and affectionate exhortations he has given 
 their numerous slaves. 
 
 " It is to me unaccountable that any peo- 
 ple calling themselves Christians, should have 
 any objection against having their servants 
 instructed, unless it is their inattention to, 
 and ignorance of the eternal importance of the 
 Christian revelation. But it is a melancholy 
 truth that there are too many such ; and for this 
 reason as well as many others, that might be 
 mentioned, it. is necessary that the person 
 employed in this service should be ordained ; 
 because, however little regard some people 
 pay to the pious instructions of a minister, 
 there are, I hope, but few, if any, so abandon- 
 ed, as not to show some respect to his sacred 
 character, especially, if his life and conversa- 
 tion is conformable thereto. 
 
 " Mr. Winter, I understand, has long been 
 desirous of being useful in the church, and 
 
HIS OWN 
 
 has taken no small pains to qualify himself for 
 that purpose; but rinds he cannot be so useful 
 in his present contracted situation, as he wishes 
 to be. And as the executors and trustees of 
 the late Mr. Zububuhler's will, think, by the 
 tenor of it, and I am of their opinion, that the 
 person who should instruct his negroes, should 
 be a minister of the church of England, and 
 consequently qualified to baptize, and perform 
 other holy offices ; they have requested his 
 Excellency the governor, to recommend 
 him to the lord bishop of London for holy 
 orders ; and I am informed they have desired 
 the same of our present rector, the Rev. 
 Samuel Frink, and both of them I believe 
 will readily do it. — He is sufficiently provided 
 for, and will want no farther assistance, be- 
 ing by the executors allowed £12") per an- 
 num, besides his board, a servant, &c. 
 
 " I have had opportunity of knowing him 
 in his private conduct, and do think him to 
 be a truly serious man ; and believe he has 
 engaged in instructing these much neglected 
 and benighted people with an honest view to 
 promote their eternal welfare, and the glory 
 of God, by bringing them from a real state 
 of heathenism to the light of the glorious 
 gospel of the Son of God. I have long wished 
 that some good man would undertake this 
 truly charitable, though arduous work, and 
 must say, that I think Mr. Winter peculiarly 
 qualified for it. He appears to be very con- 
 descending and patient, is of a remarkable 
 humble and quiet disposition, and from my 
 own knowledge, will stoop to the barren, be- 
 cause too generally unimproved capacities of 
 these poor creatures; I say unimproved ca- 
 pacities, as some ignorant people would fool- 
 ishly insinuate that they are scarcely reason- 
 able beings, and not capable of being instruct- 
 ed in the divine truths of Christianity, an 
 absurdity too obvious to deserve any refuta- 
 tion ; and I am ashamed to have occasion to 
 make this observation, as daily experience 
 evinces that there are many ingenious me- 
 chanics among them ; and as far as they 
 have had opportunity of being instructed, 
 have discovered as good abilities as usually 
 are found among people of our own colour ; 
 but making them good tradesmen is imme- 
 diately profitable, and the reward of making 
 them good Christians is at a distance. 1 have 
 been in many of the northern provinces, and 
 have with great pleasure seen many serious 
 negroes, and in the neighbouring province of 
 South Carolina, I have known several who 
 have honoured the gospel, perhaps not less 
 than their owners; and we have had some, 
 though but few, here, who are baptized and 
 admitted to other holy ordinances, whose be- 
 haviour is the most irreproachable. — I have 
 heard Mr. Winter speak to a considerable 
 number of negroes in this town, as well as 
 at my own plantation, where I have two hun- 
 dred men, women, and children, with great 
 
 ACCOUNT. 33 
 
 judgment, and Christian affection ; and have 
 seen such apparent marks of decency and 
 attention among them, that had you, reverend 
 sir, been present, I am sure you could not 
 help bearing a part in their sensibility, and 
 of thanking God for so useful a man; and if 
 I am a judge, I think he has real abilities, 
 and such as would not be despised in any 
 congregation. 
 
 " I hope, therefore, to have the satisfaction 
 of seeing him return to us in holy orders, by 
 which his sphere of usefulness will be more 
 enlarged ; and as I before observed, he will 
 by that means be more acceptable among the 
 white people, he will be much more so among 
 the blacks, who are in this particular, influ- 
 enced by example. For my part, I am not 
 ashamed to say, I have done, and will do all 
 in my power to forward and promote this lau- 
 dable design ; and am happy in the prospect 
 of one day seeing a congregated church of 
 Africans rejoicing in their being brought 
 from a land of darkness, and of being made 
 partakers of our common salvation, to which 
 both bond and free are equally entitled ; and 
 as I am persuaded, reverend sir, that you will 
 rejoice in having an opportunity to promote 
 the welfare of the meanest of our fellow-be- 
 ings, I take the liberty of recommending 
 the deplorable state of these poor neglected 
 negroes to your friendship, as well as the 
 bearer, who is desirous of serving them ; not 
 doubting but he will be countenanced by the 
 reverend fathers of our church, and duly 
 qualified to proceed in his good undertaking, 
 which had been so warmly and affectionately 
 recommended by them in their annual ser- 
 mons preached before the worthy society for 
 the propagation of the gospel : and I am so 
 convinced of the uprightness of Mr. Winter's 
 intention, that I am persuaded he will neither 
 dishonour you, nor reverend and dear sir, 
 your affectionate friend, and servant, 
 
 "JAMES HABERSHAM. 
 
 " Savannah, Georgia, Dec. 1, 1770." 
 
 Another letter, equally strong, to the 
 same purport, was written to John Knox, 
 Esq. secretary to lord Hillsborough, and a 
 fourth, as follows, to the bishop of London : 
 
 " My lord, — The Rev. Bartholomew Zu- 
 bubuhler, deceased, the late worthy rector of 
 this parish, having by his will left the chief 
 part of his estate in trust to us, his trustees 
 and executors, for pious uses, and in particu- 
 lar for the support of a person properly quali- 
 fied to instruct his negroes on his plantation, 
 in the principles of the Christian religion, as 
 by law established in the church of England, 
 we have, for about a year past, employed the 
 bearer, Mr. Cornelius Winter, in this service ; 
 which, as far as his present limited capacity 
 permitted, he hath faithfully executed with 
 prudence and discretion. But as it appears 
 
31 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 by the general design of the deceased, that the 
 testator intended such a person should be a 
 minister, and thereby qualified to baptize and 
 perforin all other holy offices, agreeable to the 
 rubrick of the church of England ; and the 
 bearer having manifested a hearty disposition 
 to propagate the gospel among these poor ig- 
 norant people in particular, and we can from 
 our own knowledge confide in him to execute 
 this trust, we humbly beg leave to recom- 
 mend him to your lordship for holy orders, 
 not doubting but he will give your lordship 
 and us full satisfaction by his diligence and 
 fidelity in executing the (not to every one,) 
 acceptable service. 
 
 " Mr. Winter, who we presume does not 
 want abilities, we understand has been long 
 desirous of devoting his service to promote 
 the interests of religion, as well among bond 
 as free, in the established church, and to en- 
 courage him to proceed in so benevolent and 
 charitable a work, we suppose we have 
 sufficiently provided for him, having had 
 hitherto a stipend of £125 sterling, per an- 
 num, besides his board, a servant, and other 
 conveniences, which we shall continue to 
 him. We have taken the liberty to request 
 his excellency the governor, as also our pre- 
 sent rector, the Rev. Samuel Frink, to re- 
 commend Mr. Winter to your lordship for 
 ordination. The latter, in particular, has 
 been acquainted with his behaviour here, 
 which we believe has been unblameable, and 
 we make no doubt but his future conduct will 
 recommend him to your lordship's counte- 
 nance and protection. 
 
 " That your lordship may long live to pro- 
 mote the interest of our excellent church, es- 
 pecially in this province, at present so deplo- 
 rably destitute of ministers of God's holy 
 word and sacraments, and, after a life full of 
 days, that you may receive your reward from 
 the great Shepherd of souls, is the hearty 
 prayer of, your lordship's dutiful and most 
 obedient servants, &c. 
 
 " Savannah, in Georgia, Nov. 22, 1770." 
 
 Thus laden with recommendations, I pre- 
 pared to embark for England. I cannot say 
 I was frothed with expectation of success, 
 having been informed by a busy man, from 
 whom I sought no information, though he 
 often gave it, that Mr. Frink had written 
 largely about me to the society for propaga- 
 ting the gospel, through the medium of which 
 all business pertaining to religion was at that 
 time usually transacted in America. After 
 visiting the different places, and people who 
 partook of my labours, and with whom it was 
 supposed my intimacy was to be continued, I 
 embarked on board the Georgia packet, Cap- 
 tain Anderson, about the middle of December. 
 Several of the negroes seemed much affected 
 at my leaving them, as did also the white 
 people, particularly thu family of Mr. Bolton 
 
 with whom I lodged ; and at parting I found, 
 
 notwithstanding all the opposition I had met 
 with, Georgia had its attractions. The pas- 
 sengers came on board the packet on the 
 Friday, and we set sail on the Lord's-day. 
 I offered to be chaplain to the packet, the offer 
 was accepted, but being seized with sea sick- 
 ness it was some days before I could engage in 
 devotional exercises. As soon as it was in my 
 power I kept up the exercise of morning and 
 evening prayer as regularly as the weather 
 would admit, and preached or read a sermon 
 on the Lord's-day. 
 
 For a considerable time I was a restraint 
 upon the company. Many efforts were used 
 to break it ; and when the poor captain had 
 disguised himself in liquor, he discovered a 
 manifest prejudice against me. To prevent 
 mischief 1 retreated to my cabin on the even- 
 ing of the 26th of December, when the wea- 
 ther became very foul, and the night tremen- 
 dous. I do not pretend to give an exact ma- 
 rine description of it, neither do I mention it 
 to give this narrative great consequence. 
 Every sailor expected it would have been a 
 fatal night. The captain said he never was 
 in such a storm before ; and he attributed our 
 salvation to the soundness and good condition 
 of the vessel. That which added to our dis- 
 tress was, there were very few working hands 
 on board. Some had deserted her at Savan- 
 nah, others had died there, and it was with 
 difficulty any fresh ones could be engaged in 
 the service, owing to the rumour of a Spanish 
 war having broken out. Not only was the 
 vessel three men short of her usual comple- 
 ment, but some of the crew fell sick after we 
 had sailed, of which number was the mate. 
 Knowing that it was imprudent to be alarmed 
 upon every occasion, I went to bed about ten 
 o'clock, as did the rest of the passengers, and 
 the captain, who was drunk. My cabin being 
 in the gangway, a situation I chose for the 
 advantage of air, and more convenient retire- 
 ment, I was awakened by the sea breaking 
 over the vessel, and coming into the cabin. I 
 had resolved to compose myself, and lay some 
 time in prayer, till finding no body move be- 
 low, and hearing the language of distress 
 above, I repeatedly, though unheard, called 
 to somebody to put up the dead lights, sus- 
 pecting that the sea would break through the 
 cabin windows. Having been obliged to rise, 
 through the repeated breaking of the sea, I 
 went into the cabin, and found all fast asleep 
 but a woman, who was lying in the greatest 
 agony. I had not much difficulty to rouse 
 them, and being soon sensible of their situa- 
 tion, they were roused indeed. The captain 
 was filled with rage that he was not called 
 before, and speedily went to work. The sails 
 were no more to the wind than a sheet of 
 paper ; they were torn to pieces before they 
 could be furled. The steward came down 
 and put up the dead lights, and said there 
 
HIS OWN ACCOUNT. 
 
 was little hope of our surviving long. By 
 the lightning, I saw the masts bend, and 
 heard the men repeatedly say they would 
 be carried away. By the good hand of God, 
 the men were all preserved on board, though 
 a great part of our live stock was washed 
 away. 
 
 Not knowing but the hour of my departure 
 was at hand, I threw myself upon my bed, and 
 endeavoured to compose myself into a frame 
 for examination and prayer. The situation 
 was truly awful. My nature shuddered ; but 
 amidst all, I found my religious views profit- 
 able, and I could bless God for Jesus Christ, 
 and an humble hope of interest in him. My 
 chief concern was that I had Mr. Whitefield's 
 will, and I felt sorry, that, by my bemg lost, 
 his executors should be kept in suspense. 
 However, on reflection, I thought it behoved 
 me to have the more important object, eter- 
 nity, uppermost ; and I endeavoured to divert 
 my mind from every thing else. Two of my 
 fellow-passengers came to me crying, and la- 
 menting their irreligious lives. They desired 
 I would go to prayer, and one of them said if 
 he survived this danger he would lead a dif- 
 ferent life to what he had done. The other 
 was fearful of death, but did not discover any 
 remarkable religious impression. My mouth 
 was open to speak to them. Among other 
 remarks, one I made was — that if we should 
 be spared, they would equally want that 
 mercy for which they then cried. I reminded 
 them what is the only way and method of sal- 
 vation, expatiated from their present feelings, 
 upon the necessity of a religion that trans- 
 forms the heart, and prepares us for all 
 events. They were attentive hearers, and I 
 believe, for once, heartily joined with me in 
 prayer. 
 
 When all was done that was possible, the 
 captain said we had but one chance, which 
 was from the soundness of the bottom, and 
 that we must now be left to the mercy of the 
 sea. Poor man, he was ignorant of God who 
 governed it. We prayed a second time to- 
 gether by joint consent, and the storm by de- 
 grees abated; with this our fears subsided, 
 and our hopes revived. A very great swell 
 continued for two days, in which time we 
 could neither sail by the compass, nor get 
 observation. By contrary winds we were 
 kept out at sea much longer than the time in 
 which the captain usually made his passage 
 home. Hence he lost all his patience, and 
 became very troublesome. The weather was 
 frequently very bad, and he as frequently 
 said, it was well we had sea room. So we 
 found it when we came to land, being in- 
 formed that great havock had been made 
 among the shipping, at that time in the 
 channel. I knew not at least whether I was 
 more tired of my situation or my company ; 
 both were bad enough. By our loss of stock, 
 our provision ran very short, and what re- 
 
 mained was very poor. We made land the 
 80th of January 1771, with hopes of setting 
 foot on shore in a little time. 
 
 As the prospect of distress in the late tem- 
 pest wore away, my fellow-passengers lost 
 their religious qualms, and broke out into ex- 
 pressions of impiety I had not heard before. 
 When I found them deaf to reason I judged 
 it my duty to be silent, and endeavoured in 
 patience to possess my soul. I did not go to 
 bed all the last night I was on board. I spent 
 part of it in writing a letter to my thought- 
 less fellow-passengers. In it I frankly re- 
 minded them of our many mercies, of our 
 great deliverance, and of their abuse of both. 
 I reminded them of the uncertainty of life in 
 the securest circumstances, and exhorted 
 them to flee from the wrath to come. 
 
 On the 2d day of February, a boat came 
 alongside the packet. I was the only one of 
 the crew that went with her to the shore. 
 As soon as I could get discharged from the 
 custom-house, I retired to an inn, where I at- 
 tempted to present my grateful acknowledg- 
 ments to the God of my salvation, made a 
 resignation of myself to his gracious disposal, 
 and indulged myself in meditation. In the 
 evening I attended preaching in Mr. Wes- 
 ley's room, and found it good to be there ; af- 
 terwards I retired to bed, and enjoyed a 
 sweet sleep. When last at Dover, I was a 
 forlorn character with no prospects before me, 
 barely clad, and merely capable of getting 
 conveyed from place to place. I now had the 
 means of traveling comfortably. I vented 
 my soul in a line to Mr. Peronet, of Canter- 
 bury, whose former kindness intitled him to 
 the expression of my gratitude. — It is good to 
 recall the history of life to mind, that we may 
 be quickened to bless the Lord: I find plea- 
 sure in the review, and I feel this effect re- 
 sulting from it. I bless God I have no dispo- 
 sition to deny his mercies, or to conceal his 
 lovingkindness. May my heart never be 
 the grave of forgetfulness, but the altar of 
 praise. From thence may grateful incense 
 rise in abundance ! I give glory to God 
 while I recite his goodness to you, who pos- 
 sess a great share of that affection, that makes 
 it pleasant for me to subscribe myself, my 
 very dear friend, yours, &c. 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 
 My very dear friend, — It is a part of 
 the Christian's wisdom to enjoy his mercies, 
 but to be cautious that he is not impeded by 
 them in his progress. A voyage, or a jour- 
 ney, is an emblem of life, the end of which is 
 to be regarded while we use the refresh- 
 ments of the passage. I alighted at Dover, 
 but was not to be detained a second day, since 
 I had an opportunity to set oft'the next morn- 
 ing for London, whither I arrived safe in the 
 evening. The first house I held myself 
 
36 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 bound to go to, was Mr. Keen's, woollen- 
 draper, in the Minories, a principal friend of 
 Mr. Whitefield's, and one of his executors. 
 He gave me a most kind reception. Alter 
 the first salutation, he said, he, and Mr. 
 Hardy, and Mr. West, the other managers of 
 Mr. Whitefield's concerns, had been but once 
 sorry they let me go, and that had been ever 
 since. Having delivered Mr. Whitefield's 
 will to him, and spent some hours, he said he 
 hoped I should make the Tabernacle-house 
 my home. I signified it had the preference 
 of all other places. The next day I had the 
 pleasure to see my relations, now lovers and 
 followers of that gospel they once despised. 
 The letters I had received from them while 
 abroad, prepared me for this agreeable sight, 
 and our meeting was an emblem of that 
 which I trust we shall have on the other side 
 of Jordan, notwithstanding the strong efforts 
 used by the enemy of souls to prevent it. 
 
 I knew my business required despatch, 
 and I was desirous to know the issue. I 
 therefore proceeded immediately upon it, 
 and a very few days ended it. When my 
 friends saw how well recommended I came 
 home, they all seemed positive that I should 
 succeed. Mr. Broughton, on reading Mr. 
 Habersham's letter, made no doubt of it. He 
 seemed pleased exceedingly with my recom- 
 mendations, but want of courage in a good 
 cause, and the pevalence of the fear of man, 
 suffered him to subvert the design of his let- 
 ter, for he never showed it to the bishop, 
 though he was present at the society at Bow 
 church, when my case was canvassed. I 
 wish to make no reflection upon Mr. Brough- 
 ton's pusillanimity. Providence saw lit, no 
 doubt for wise ends, to frustrate my intention 
 in America, by shutting up the bishop's heart 
 against me, as will appear by a letter I wrote 
 to the Rev. Mr. Zububuhler's executors, giv- 
 ing them an account of the whole process of 
 the affair after my arrival, which was as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 "Gentlemen, — "While I possess much 
 satisfaction upon a recollection of the pru- 
 dence with which I have conducted myself 
 since I arrived in England, and have com- 
 menced candidate for holy orders, it gives me 
 pain on many accounts that I am obliged to 
 inform you, that neither your strong recom- 
 mendations, nor the use I have made of them, 
 have been productive of their desired effect. 
 There is a first cause for all the disappoint- 
 ments we meet with in life, and we should 
 be reconciled to them. — One would have 
 thought the great pains you have been put to, 
 the character you have so kindly given me, 
 the generosity you have shown me, together 
 with the additional favour of his excellency's 
 and Mr. Frink's recommendation to his lord- 
 ship of London, for my admission into the es- 
 tablishment, were sure indications of success. 
 — But all these have availed me nothing. 
 
 " That I may not leave you in the dark 
 about the matter, I think it my duty to state 
 the whole case to you as justly as possible, 
 and then you will judge of the propriety of 
 the conduct of the society, and of the bishop. 
 
 "At my arrival I waited upon Mr. Knox, 
 who, after perusing Mr. Habersham's letter, 
 was pleased to express his great approbation, 
 and he directed me to Dr. Burton, to whom 
 he desired I would signify the letter he had 
 received, and ask directions how I should pro- 
 ceed. The doctor read that part of Mr. Zu- 
 bubuhler's will, that respects the instruction 
 of negroes; he observed it was plain Mr. 
 Zububuhler designed the gentleman employed 
 should be in orders, but gave it as his ad- 
 vice, that as I wanted nothing from the so- 
 ciety, I should immediately go to the bishop 
 of London with the letters directed to him. 
 
 " The next morning I waited upon his lord- 
 ship, who, after reading the testimonials, sent 
 for me into his room. He said, ' You have 
 been over to America as a preacher ?' I 
 answered, ' No, as a catechist.' ' But,' said 
 his lordship, ' You have preached !' I replied, 
 ' I have attempted to explain the Scriptures 
 to the negroes, and some people's curiosity 
 have excited them to hear;' to which he 
 answered, ' It was illegal ; you had no right 
 to do so.' As I stood before his lordship as a 
 candidate, and not as a causist to defend my 
 conduct, I judged it prudent upon this, and 
 some other remarks not very material, to be 
 silent. 
 
 " The next question was, where was I edu- 
 cated ? I answered, ' My lord, I have had no 
 education, but what I have acquired by dint 
 of industry.' His lordship proceeded to in- 
 quire where I was born, and to what I was 
 brought up? I replied, I was born in London, 
 served seven years' apprenticeship to a me- 
 chanic, and as soon as possible afterwards ap- 
 plied myself to the study of divinity. His 
 lordship asked, 'Then how came you to go 
 over to America V To which I answered, ' On 
 purpose to see if I could be of any service to 
 the negroes.' ' Then,' said his lordship, ' you 
 went over with Mr. Whitefield ?' I replied, 
 ' Yes, my lord.' He added, ' Then I suppose 
 you have been connected with him V I re- 
 plied, ' My lord, I cannot with propriety say, 
 I have been connected with any body else.' 
 His lordship was pleased to commend me, in 
 being, as he termed it, honest to him, in not 
 leaving him in the dark, and directly added, 
 ' Then to be sure you have drank deep into 
 his sentiments?' To which I replied, 'I hope, 
 my lord, I shall be enabled to give a degree 
 of satisfaction upon examination.' He said, 
 'I hope you have not baptized children?' I 
 replied, 'By no means; Mr. Frink promised 
 me his assistance in the discharge of that 
 office, till I should be authorized.' He then 
 inquired if I had read Burnet upon the Arti- 
 cles. I replied I had, with other authors for 
 
HIS OWN 
 
 my instruction and information. — This was 
 the purport of our conference, and I can make 
 .no very considerable mistake, as I minuted it 
 down the very moment I left his lordship. He 
 said he should do nothing tor me of himself, 
 that it was always usual tor missionaries to 
 apply to him through the society, that they 
 should meet at Bow church, on the 15th 
 instant, where I should be examined, and he 
 should ordain the next week. 
 
 " From the maimer in which his lordship 
 dismissed me, though there was nothing kind 
 in his deportment, for his look was severe, 
 there was no softness in his manner, and he 
 suffered me to stand all the time I was with 
 him, I formed some expectation of success, and 
 was in hopes I should meet with no impedi- 
 ment. But to my surprise, after waiting in 
 Bow church till the society was nearly broken 
 up, Dr. Burton sent for me into the vestry, and 
 informed me, my business had been laid before 
 the society, who agreed to have nothing to do 
 with it, as there were no letters directed to 
 them ; neither could they recommend me to 
 the bishop of London, as I wanted no assistance 
 from them. I attempted a reply, but was fre- 
 quently interrupted, being informed they 
 could do nothing for me, and that it was con- 
 cluded on, that Mr. Zububuhler's will did not 
 require that the person employed on the estate 
 should be a clergyman. How foreign was 
 this both to the bishop's and doctor's former 
 sentiment. Mr. Broughton, who had been 
 present, waited for my coming out, and gave 
 me some account both of his excellency's, and 
 Mr. Frink's letter, each of which were ex- 
 pressive of my moral conduct. He also in- 
 formed me, that the Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury with others, made some remarks which 
 turned in the negative. However all agreed 
 if his lordship of London were disposed to 
 ordain me, they had no objection ; but his 
 lordship replied, he would have nothing to do 
 with the American business but through the 
 society ; and he added, that he was afraid the 
 young gentleman had drank deep into Mr. 
 Whitefield's doctrine. 
 
 " I was very much concerned that Mr. Knox 
 was not present at Bow church, till I waited 
 upon him in the evening, when he gave for 
 reason, that he knew it would be of no pur- 
 pose, having met the committee the evening 
 before, which consisted of the same body — that 
 Dr. Young, bishop of Norwich, and several 
 others, refused to see Mr. Habersham's letter, 
 or to attend to the subject. Somebody inform- 
 ed them that the executors had spoken very 
 disrespectful things of the society and their 
 missionaries; and it was farther observed, the 
 executors had no right to employ any person 
 without the consent of the society. These, in 
 general, are the things Mr. Knox related to 
 me. I advised with him whether, as his lord- 
 ship had not put a negative upon me person- 
 ally, I should not wait upon him. Mr. Knox 
 4 
 
 ACCOUNT. 37 
 
 thought I should; and that I should write 
 something, and send it to his lordship first, 
 lest by sharpness of speech, he should pre- 
 vent me from speaking my mind to him ; ac- 
 cordingly, I retired to a friend's house, and 
 wrote the following letter: 
 
 ' My lord, — It has given me inexpressible 
 pain to think that any misconduct or mistake, 
 either in myself or the gentlemen intrusted 
 with the affairs of the late Rev. Mr. Zubu- 
 buhler, should prevent your approbation. My 
 being ignorant of the assigned means to ob- 
 tain so desirable an end, I hope will be an 
 excuse in my favour, as it is strictly true, nor 
 can I in any other way apologize for the 
 honourable and worthy gentlemen in whose 
 service I am embarked. I should rejoice in 
 an opportunity to give your lordship the 
 strongest proof of the uprightness and sin- 
 cerity of my heart, actuated by no motive in- 
 ferior to the glory of God, and the very 
 miserable and benighted condition of those 
 slaves, for whom no man can labour with a 
 view to their spiritual interest, without suf- 
 fering reproach. It is true when I first en- 
 gaged in the undertaking, I was under no ap- 
 prehension that this would be the concomitant 
 of such an enterprise ; but I have since learn- 
 ed by experience, that it is one mark among 
 many given by the colonists, of their disap- 
 probation of the instruction of their slaves. I 
 would beg leave to observe to your lordship, 
 that the 26th of last December was a day of 
 so great distress as to render the annual re- 
 turn of it memorable to me, while memory 
 will help me to recollect the works of the 
 Lord, and his wonders in the deep. From 
 the gloomy prospect then before my eyes, and 
 the imminent danger the most skilful mariner 
 on board our ship acknowledged we were in, 
 there was little room to hope I should have 
 had occasion to solicit your lordship's sanc- 
 tion. I am persuaded, if your lordship were 
 acquainted with my principles, they would 
 afford you all possible satisfaction ; as I have, 
 through divine mercy, derived them from that 
 fountain from whence no impure stream can 
 proceed, neither can vicious sentiments be 
 found there. 
 
 'Encouraged by your lordship's patronage, 
 I am once more willing to leave my dear 
 country and friends, and venture across the 
 Atlantic, suffer inclement weathers, and, as 
 must be the case to be of real service to the 
 negroes, many disagreeable inconveniences 
 and much weariness, if by any means I may 
 be instrumental of turning some of them from 
 darkness to light. But, if I am denied what 
 is the only apparent means to give me accept- 
 ance, I shall consider it the voice of Provi- 
 dence, directing me to take up my residence 
 again in my native land, till I shall be called 
 to enter the rest remaining for the people of 
 God. I shall esteem it a very singular honour 
 done me, to be favoured with your lordship's 
 
38 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 countenance; and even though I should he 
 denied, shall think myself under equal obliga- 
 tion to pray for your lordship's long life and 
 increasing usefulness in the church, while I 
 can subscribe myself, witli submission, my 
 lord, your lordship's most dutiful son, and 
 obedient servant, &c.' 
 
 " After his lordship had perused the above 
 letter, he sent for me into him, and said, ' I 
 suppose you have heard what the society have 
 concluded on }' I replied, ' My lord, I have ; 
 and as it is a matter entirely left to your lord- 
 ship, I hope you will determine it in my fa- 
 vour.' But though I urged the necessity by 
 repeated arguments, the only reply he made 
 was, ' I can do nothing in it' He observed, 
 coincident with the society, the will did not 
 require me to be ordained ; and when I told 
 him I could not think of returning in my pre- 
 sent circumstances, he said, ' I must do as I 
 please,' and withal added, ' Now Mr. White- 
 field is dead, you want to throw yourself un- 
 der our wing.' He said, they had an objec- 
 tion against ordaining any person brought up 
 to business ; and frequently repeated, that 
 ' Every body might say they have a call to 
 preach ;' and that ' I had been a preacher with 
 Mr. Whitefield, which was illegal.' To each 
 of these I made a reply in submission to his 
 lordship's judgment, but did not dwell upon 
 them, remembering the circumstances in 
 which I stood. At last he began to reflect 
 very severely upon the executors, for sending 
 to Mr. Whitefield for a missionary, in a man- 
 ner that is not worth while to trouble you 
 with a narration of, saying, ' The society has 
 been used ill ;' and concluded with these words, 
 ' To be plain with you, Mr. Winter, we had 
 information from America of your going over, 
 long before you embarked from England, and 
 had warning, even though you should return 
 home, not to ordain you.' 
 
 "I think I have been as just and circum- 
 stantial in my account as I can. I wish the 
 prolixity of it may not tire your patience. The 
 most disagreeable part I have to act, in con- 
 sequence of my disappointment, is the resign- 
 ation of my poor charge according to my in- 
 tention, which I hinted when I was favoured 
 with a meeting among you : for though I have 
 the spiritual welfare of the negroes much at 
 heart, yet I could not think my labours would 
 be employed solely among them ; and the im- 
 portunities of my numerous friends to stay at 
 home, give me to know how much more ac- 
 ceptable I shall be among them, than among 
 the very few in the province of Georgia, who 
 will not dispense with my want of ordination. 
 
 " I bear upon my heart a very grateful 
 sense of your generosity and kindness, in 
 making me so exceedingly comfortable in my 
 outward circumstances, and am sorry that by 
 the necessity I am under to resign my charge, 
 it lias proved so fruitless an expence. I hope 
 
 C. WINTER. 
 
 the Almighty of his infinite mercy, will raise 
 up some person more capable of, and success- 
 ful in the important work, than it has been in . 
 my power to be. Whoever have been my 
 liinderance I freely forgive them, and pray God 
 it may not be laid to their charge. There 
 will be a day wherein all the upright in heart 
 shall glory, and in that day, my motive for 
 coming to Georgia will appear such as I shall 
 not be ashamed of ; nor will it then appear 
 less evident, that my resignation is not the 
 effect of a fickle and unstable mind. — Since 
 my rejection, I have waited upon every 
 gentleman who I judged had any interest, 
 and among the rest, upon Dr. Franklin, who 
 has engaged to use his exertions on my be- 
 half with the associates of Dr. Bray, of which 
 society he is a member. In about a month I 
 shall be able to judge of his success, and shall 
 be glad to convince the executors of the Rev. 
 Mr. Zububuhler, of my good will to continue 
 in their service, and in the interim I beg leave 
 to subscribe myself, gentlemen, your very 
 humble and obedient servant, &c. 
 " London, February 26, 1771." • 
 
 Just as I shut the door on leaving 'the 
 bishop, he called to me, which led me to think 
 the scale was turned, but he only said, " When 
 you return to America let me know:" to which 
 I replied, " My lord, I cannot think of return- 
 ing without ordination :" bowing his head, he 
 said, "Very well; and thus we parted till 
 the judgment day. — The thread of the nar- 
 ration requires that I should introduce Mr. 
 Clay's answer to the above letter, which runs 
 thus : 
 
 " Dear sir, — Your much esteemed favour 
 of the 26th of February last, I have now he- 
 fore me for reply. I should have answered it 
 sooner, but waited the arrival of Captain 
 Anderson, who, I had some hopes, might 
 probably have brought us some better news 
 in regard to the success of your endeavours 
 to obtain ordination, but I find to no purpose — 
 God's will be done ; he knows what is best 
 for us, and will do it in that way that seem- 
 eth him best. Were I to say I am not ex- 
 tremely sorry for your disappointment on your 
 own account, I should say a great untruth. I 
 should have been very happy to have seen 
 you in this land again, could you have come 
 in a proper manner, I mean in orders : but as 
 a friend I could not as matters have turned 
 out, advise your returning here. There are 
 many, very many, considering the number of 
 our inhabitants, and some of those in authori- 
 ty, who rejoice exceedingly at your disap- 
 pointment; and perhaps, if in their power, 
 would render you all the ill offices they could. 
 Indeed some of them, I am pretty sure, have 
 been as industrious as possible already, to 
 prejudice you all they could on this side, and 
 glory in it. All this I know would be nothing 
 
HIS OWN ACCOUNT. 
 
 39 
 
 to you, if you could have any prospect before 
 you of doing good to souls. 
 
 " As I before observed, I am really sorry 
 for your disappointment — but I must be free 
 to s;iy it does not give me half so much un- 
 easiness on your own account, as to see that a 
 door is so shut against us. Unless God in 
 his infinite mercy and goodness, uses some 
 extra means in our favour, this land, I may 
 6ay land of darkness and ignorance, (more 
 particularly if applied relative to the people 
 in the back woods, many of whom I dare say 
 never saw a Bible in their lives, or ever heard 
 a gospel sermon, and most of whom can 
 neither write nor read,) must be left without 
 teachers at least of the gospel of Jesus Christ, 
 the true and only Saviour of sinners, unless 
 we encourage those who are dissenters from 
 the established church, which for my part I 
 have not the least objection to, provided we 
 cannot get others. But I must say that I 
 think, if two men equally qualified for the 
 ministry, the one of the established church, 
 and the other a dissenter from the church, 
 that the former would be more favourably re- 
 ceived, I mean in this country ; and for which 
 reason, I would rather wish to see episcopal 
 ministers among us. 
 
 " What can our dignitaries think, or really 
 one would rather ask, do they think at all ! 
 One would imagine, if we were to judge on 
 this side from those they generally send 
 among us as ministers, that their only care 
 was to see that they were not religious men. 
 — It is surprising that there is not one among 
 them, who would venture to ordain such per- 
 sons- as they should have reason to think 
 would prove faithful teachers. This is, as I 
 presume, for fear of the scoffs of their bre- 
 thren. Much might be said upon this head, 
 but perhaps it may be more prudent to be 
 silent. A great part of your opposition at 
 home, I am sure has been owing to letters 
 from Mr. Frink, particularly so far as relates 
 to the society. I remember at one of our 
 meetings, after that we had received a letter 
 from poor Mr. Whitefield, acquainting us, he 
 had no prospect of getting a person in orders 
 for Mr. Zububuhler's estate, some of the 
 gentlemen said that Mr. Frink said, if we 
 would give him leave, he would write to the 
 society, and get us a proper person out im- 
 mediately; to which reply was made, that 
 we had specimens enough of ministers of 
 their sending out, and that they (the society) 
 would be the last people we should think of 
 writing to ; and I believe added, that a per- 
 son with no other qualification than Mr. 
 Frink himself, could by no means suit us: all 
 this I dare say was immediately carried to 
 him, and was what I suppose the society 
 meant by our speaking ill of them. I un- 
 derstand they think they have a right to be 
 consulted in regard to a catechist, for the 
 parson's estate. They may think so, but it 
 
 is a right we shall never allow them, nor 
 shall we ever trouble them in any matter 
 relative to it." 
 
 This was dated from Savannah, the 30th 
 of June 1771, accompanied with one from Mr. 
 Habersham, from which the following is an 
 extract : 
 
 " Perhaps few of your friends think them- 
 selves more interested in your success, in 
 getting ordination than myself, and I think I 
 may also truly say, that few, if any, of your 
 friends, have a higher esteem, or more real 
 friendship for your person than I have, and 
 therefore your disappointment has given me 
 much concern, and I cannot help viewing it 
 as a frown of divine Providence. 
 
 " I had raised my expectation of seeing a 
 church of Africans, and had fixed on you as 
 the instrument, under God, to bring it about, 
 and hoped that you would have been the 
 happy man, to have presented many of them 
 to your Father, and to their Father, with a 
 ' Here am I, and the children whom thou 
 hast given me.' You know there are a few, 
 and of no inconsiderable property, who would 
 be glad to have their black servants become 
 fellow-heirs with them, and partakers of the 
 inheritance undefiled, and that fadeth not 
 away. Is it then possible that the guardians 
 and fathers of our excellent church should 
 refuse orders to a man every way qualified, 
 amply provided for, unexceptionable in bis 
 moral character, and heartily desirous from 
 the best motive, the love of God, to engage 
 in and promote so arduous, so painful, and 
 difficult a work, as the conversion of those 
 neglected and benighted people from, what 
 shall I call it, prejudice or mistake 1 I could 
 say more but I forbear, not doubting but God 
 will vindicate his own cause. I have by this 
 conveyance written to good lady Hunting- 
 don, and have desired her to have some con- 
 versation with you on this subject, as you are 
 circumstantially acquainted with the state 
 and provision made for the mission here ; and 
 in case you do not see your way clear to re- 
 turn to us, a kind Providence may possibly 
 point out some person properly qualified, 
 agreeable to the will of the donor to succeed 
 you, who I may venture to say, will be 
 heartily received by those intrusted with the 
 execution of it." 
 
 The review of these letters may seem tedi- 
 ous; but to any one who may think it worth 
 while to acquaint themselves with the me- 
 moirs of a person who feels himself insignifi- 
 cant, it is presumed they will not appear 
 altogether needless. As transcribed by my 
 own pen, they may appear to savour of self- 
 applause, but they are really inserted with 
 no other view than to set forth a naked truth, 
 as it relates to the ineftectualness of the 
 methods pursued for my obtaining orders in 
 the church. At this distance of time, in 
 which I review the whole affair, not less than 
 
40 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 a period of twenty-eight years, no other re- 
 flection should be indulged than what tends 
 to excite a disposition to give glory to God. 
 If we should not ascribe too much to men in 
 a way of applause, as though they acted in- 
 dependent of God, neither should we be too 
 severe in our censures, as though in that part 
 of their conduct which seems reprehensible, 
 they conducted themselves by their own 
 power or wisdom. As the hearts of kings, so 
 of other men are in the hands of the Lord. 
 Of promotion, it is observed that it cometh 
 neither from the east, nor from the west, nor 
 from the south, but God is the judge. Though 
 we may be disappointed, he is not defeated; 
 all things are ordered according to the coun- 
 sel of his own will. To the frustration of 
 my hope, my venerable and dear friend, Mr. 
 Berridge, refers in his letters, with a few 
 sentences of which I cannot help making the 
 conclusion of this. I give you also, though 
 it relates not to my concern, his idea of the 
 defeat of Mr. VVhitefield's design, because of 
 the singularity of the style and sentiment. 
 
 "It excites in me no surprise that the 
 Orphan-house is burnt down. It was origi- 
 nally intended for orphans, and as such was 
 a laudable design ; but has ceased to be an 
 Orphan-house, in order to become a lumber- 
 house for human learning, and God has cast 
 a brand of his displeasure upon it ; but how 
 gracious the Lord has been to Mr. White- 
 field, in preserving it during his lifetime. 
 We all love to lay plans, and you laid a very 
 fair one last winter, but your Master has 
 shown you he will not employ you as his 
 counsellor. 
 
 " As to ordination, I can only say, pray and 
 wait for a clear discovery of the Lord's mind. 
 If you find an eagerness for it, suspect that 
 eagerness as the produce of your own will ; 
 but if you are backward, and yet disposed to 
 comply if it be the Lord's will, it looks well. 
 Whatever I have undertaken with eagerness, 
 has always miscarried ; and what I have at- 
 tempted with trembling, and some little re- 
 luctance, has generally succeeded. 
 
 " You had an eager desire to go to America, 
 and it was a well-meant desire, but it does 
 not seem to have been the Lord's mind. At 
 length you had a passage to America, and it 
 seemed a providential one, and you went 
 with joy, but returned with sorrow and dis- 
 appointment." 
 
 Perhaps good was done by going to Ame- 
 rica, of which I am not acquainted. With 
 this conjecture I conclude this letter, and re- 
 main, my very dear friend, yours, &c. 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 My very dear friend, — Goodness and 
 mercy were exercised towards me in that 
 very event, which appeared to be unfavour- 
 able. While I wae in America, there was 
 
 continual murmuring at the conduct of the 
 
 British ministry. Yet little did I think a 
 continental war was so near. I scarcely got 
 my foot upon the English shore, before 1 
 found the resistance of the Americans to 
 taxes the general topic ; and had I succeeded 
 in my endeavours, I must have experienced 
 soon the horrors of war. But not immedi- 
 ately apprised of this, you may suppose the 
 disappointment I met with was attended 
 with a little shock. Though it produced 
 some uneasy feelings, they were very incon- 
 siderable, and over-balanced by the testimony 
 of my conscience. I had used no shifts nor 
 evasions to insinuate myself into his lord- 
 ship's favour, judging them to be beneath the 
 Christian. Some of my brethren . have re- 
 flected upon me for trying, as they supposed, 
 the whole bench to obtain ordination; but I 
 never applied to any beside the bishop of St 
 Asaph, after the bishop of London refused 
 me. The interview with the former was 
 short, but favourable ; he told me he would 
 be my friend under the rose, but I did not 
 wait upon him the second time. Some of 
 the clergy in Dr. Bray's association, re- 
 quired, in order to my having their interest, 
 that I should renounce my present senti- 
 ments; but Dr. Franklin, properly said he 
 was persuaded I had too much honesty to do 
 so; when he mentioned it to me, I told him I 
 had no sentiment to renounce. A circum- 
 stance not unworthy of notice, is, that on 
 going out, I landed in Charleston with two 
 guineas in my pocket; and by making Mr. 
 Whitefield a gratuitous present of half-a-dozen 
 bottles of port wine, I was reduced to one 
 pound four shillings. I acquitted myself 
 properly in Georgia, and had some occasions 
 to exercise humanity, and brought home 
 twelve guineas. 
 
 Mr. Keen, who received me so cordially at 
 my arrival home, was ever anxious to know 
 the event of my applications to the bishops, 
 and discovered a degree of pleasure when he 
 found my prospect shut up. He frequently 
 said in a way of pleasantry, " We will ordain 
 you : you had better go down to Bristol and 
 bury yourself for a month, and then return to 
 your old office of reading prayers at the 
 chapel." I replied, I knew I was called to 
 preach the gospel, but did not know I was 
 called to read prayers. He said they could 
 have preachers enough. He asked me what 
 I intended to do, I said, preach the gospel, 
 "Where?" "In the whole world if called to 
 it." The favour of kindness before this had 
 abated. I gave offence by using a sheet of 
 writing paper, and the paper case was locked 
 up; and being asked if I could not get a 
 lodging at my relation's, I took the question 
 as an ejectment, and left my quarters. 
 
 In the order of divine Providence, there is 
 a strange combination of circumstances, by 
 which what is appointed is brought to pass. — 
 
HIS OWN 
 
 In the 6amc year, died Mr. Whitefield, Mr. 
 Howel Davies, the head of Calvinistical me- 
 thodism in Pembrokeshire, and Mr. Adams, 
 of Rodborough, the leader of the same cause 
 in Gloucestershire and Wilts. Though the 
 Tabernacle at Bristol was under Mr. White- 
 field's auspices, yet strange to say, in his 
 will he made not the least mention of it. 
 The trustees in London offered to befriend 
 it ; but would not accept it as part of their 
 charge. All was confusion there. The two 
 considerable men then depended upon, were 
 Messrs. Collet and Ireland. Preachers in 
 that department were very scarce indeed. 
 Mr. Croom, of Rodborough, much against his 
 will, had been detained at Bristol twelve 
 months. Pressing letters were sent to me, 
 particularly by Mr. Ireland and Mr. Hogg, 
 who also was a leading man in the Bristol 
 and Gloucestershire cause, and by the death 
 of Mr. Adams, became senior preacher in the 
 connexion. A very earnest letter from the 
 latter, which would be proper to insert here 
 if I could recover it, was the means of di- 
 verting my attention from the bishop of St. 
 Asaph. — Judging that in that letter, the voice 
 of Providence was to be heard very loudly, 
 I released myself from the inconveniences 
 of my London situation, and re-entered upon 
 my ministerial labours at Bristol. I was kindly 
 received by all. I endeavoured to act the part 
 of a moderator, in which I happily succeed- 
 ed. But it proved I had here a cup to drink, 
 not the most agreeable to flesh and blood. 
 After I had indefatigably served the con- 
 gregation for more than six months, upon 
 terms very different from those of the gen- 
 tlemen who now serve it, I was dismissed 
 under many marks of unkindness. 
 
 A variety of occurrences turning up at 
 this time, crowd in upon my mind. — It was 
 the 8th of April 1771, that I went to Bristol, 
 and in about three weeks after, my very 
 happy acquaintance commenced with my 
 dear and most highly esteemed friend, Mr. 
 Rowland Hill. This has been one of the 
 greatest mercies of my life. It is now more 
 than twenty-eight years that I have enjoyed 
 it If the same degree of honesty and ho- 
 nour, had been in some pretended friendships, 
 that I have proved in him, there had not, 
 been such diversity in these memoirs. From 
 the Sabbath on which 1 had the pleasure to 
 introduce him into the Tabernacle pulpit, has 
 religion been reviving through his instru- 
 mentality, and the flame has burned strong 
 ever since. Other instruments may have 
 helped it, but it began with him. May his 
 dear and valuable life be continued long 
 after the hand that writes these lines is mo- 
 tionless. 
 
 He had come from the north, and it was 
 practicable to detain him. Ho was then 
 under the frowns of his family ; by his de- 
 voted, and invariable attachment to the gos- 
 F 4* 
 
 ACCOUNT. 41 
 
 pel, a distressed gentleman. I felt a peculiar 
 attachment to him, and but from my con- 
 straint to the ministry, which I found I dare 
 not relinquish, should, pro tempore, have 
 made a voluntary offer of my humble services 
 to him as an attendant. At this time also I 
 became acquainted with Mr. Joseph Ship- 
 man, who was one of the six students ex- 
 pelled from Oxford. My acquaintance with 
 him commenced from a very affecting letter 
 he wrote the Bristol society, who had partook 
 of his short labours in the decline of life. 1 
 spent much time with him, and found it very 
 profitable. He wanted services I was ena- 
 bled to render him, and I found my being 
 with him opened a door of many mercies to 
 me. One anecdote I cannot omit to commu- 
 nicate. I had no more at this time than, 
 literally, daily bread. Not returning to 
 America, I had no farther claim upon the 
 plantation. My twelve guineas which I 
 Drought home were exhausted. My dying 
 friend used to remind me, that I wanted a 
 new suit of clothes : I replied, when I could 
 pay for them I would have them. Neglect- 
 ed by the Tabernacle connexions, I was at 
 liberty for any opening Providence might 
 make to me. Itineracy seemed to be my lot; 
 but I was neither equipped for such a life, 
 nor had I ability to equip myself. Mr. Ship- 
 man, remarking that I wanted a horse, I 
 said, if I run in debt for any thing, it must be 
 for that. I had occasionally hired one, for 
 which I was disposed to bargain ; but when 
 the bargain was made, I signified I had not 
 money to pay for it, and thus became a debtor 
 of ten pounds for a horse, which carried me 
 more than six years. A party of gentry 
 which was at Clifton, had heard of the pleas- 
 ing frame of Mr. Shipman's mind, and was 
 desirous of seeing and conversing with him. 
 Captain, now Sir Charles Middleton,* was 
 one of them, to whom I dedicated Mr. Ship- 
 man's funeral sermon ; he came to the Taber- 
 nacle to hear me, repeatedly invited me to 
 dine with the party, and the last time, pre- 
 vious to my going away, surprised me with a 
 present of ten guineas. This I note as a kind 
 interposition of divine Providence, though 
 not the only one by very many since, where- 
 by my wants have been supplied. — At this 
 juncture it was, that my honoured and wor- 
 thy friends, Mr. Powis, and Mr. Hill, now 
 Sir Richard, gave me the honour of their 
 friendship. My introduction was by Mr. 
 Rowland Hill. By several annual visits to 
 them, and intermediate interviews, my ex- 
 hausted cruise was supplied. I always found 
 in Mr. Powis's family, I was out of my sphere ; 
 but studied to make myself as agreeable as 
 possible : and though my ministerial labours 
 there, were attended with some peculiar dif- 
 ficulties to myself, they were in general use- 
 ful to others. I visited the amiable widow 
 + Now lord Barham. 
 
42 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 of Mr. Powis, repeatedly after his death, and 
 always found a kind reception. I frequently 
 paid a visit to Everton and its environs, and 
 found the venerable vicar ever disposed to be 
 kind and affectionate. The late Mr. Thorn- 
 ton, who refused to give me any help in pro- 
 curing orders, and reflected upon my having 
 engaged in the curate's place, at Tottenham- 
 court, became my warm and steady friend. 
 He always promoted my exertions in the 
 cause of God, was pleased at intelligence 1 
 could give him, and was free to communicate 
 any that he thought I could use to advantage. 
 He would sometimes invite me to London, 
 and require from me the office of chaplain. 
 By his munificence my wants have often 
 been supplied, and I have also been enabled 
 to relieve the wants of others. 
 
 In the spring of 1772, I first visited the 
 society of Haverfordwest, and repeated my 
 visits to that and the neighbouring congrega- 
 tions thrice, making a considerable stay each 
 time. The requisite labours were hard, but 
 they were amply rewarded by the influences 
 attending them, and from the liberal disposi- 
 tion of the people ; for spiritual things sown, 
 ministers reaped carnal things in an abund- 
 ance. Strange that some ministers should 
 have returned from their Welch tour to talk 
 about their crosses, the greatest of which 
 must have been an intrusion upon their time ; 
 they could not have had a defect in their bed 
 or board. In the years 1774 and 1775, I paid 
 two visits to a destitute congregation at Lan- 
 caster. I introduced the gospel at Garstang, 
 where I believe it continues established unto 
 this day. Here I met with Mr. Winton, who 
 has been many years, and is now, the minis- 
 ter of Exmouth, a Scotch youth, in humble 
 life ; I brought him off with me, and by one 
 way and another, provided for him, and taught 
 him. He was strictly an itinerant student. I 
 took him a long circuit, brought him round to 
 Lancaster again, and finding it inconvenient 
 
 • IT 
 
 to continue him my companion m travel, 1 
 placed him under Mr. Titus Knight, of Hali- 
 fax, from whence he was placed under lady 
 Glenorchy's patronage. It was a bold, some 
 would call it a presumptuous undertaking, 
 but the Lord put an honour upon it. From 
 Lancaster I proceeded to revisit Yorkshire, 
 where I had laboured in 1768, particularly at 
 Leeds and Halifax. I paid occasional visits 
 to London, and was admitted to the Taber- 
 nacle pulpit. In Tottenham-court chapel I 
 preached but once for many years, and was 
 surprised at the largeness of the congrega- 
 tion. Mr. Keen, displeased at my rejection 
 of his motion when the bishop refused me, 
 carried his resentment, and some say — a per- 
 son by me least suspected, heightened it, so 
 that I was become an alien to my mother's 
 children. My interference in a very critical 
 business at Bristol, wherein the glory of God, 
 and the credit of religion was very nearly 
 
 concerned, created me a deal of expense and 
 trouble, and exposed me to reflection. This 
 respected a person held in the highest esteem 
 by the religious and profane ; a man who, 
 though not in affluence, was allowed to rank 
 with the polite, and was considered a gentle- 
 man. The circle of ministers, and Mr. White- 
 field, Mr. Adams, and Mr. Kinsman particu- 
 larly, never thought themselves happier in 
 Bristol than when they were with him. He 
 might be called the secretary of the Taber- 
 nacle, for he kept all the accounts. Not a 
 flaw was in his character till the event re- 
 ferred to was discovered. He concealed it 
 as long as he could — he divulged it to me, 
 and I thought all to whom I mentioned it, 
 would applaud my conduct, and with me fly 
 to his help ; but they left me under the bur- 
 den I had adventurously taken, and forsook 
 the man in his distress, they had honoured in 
 his prosperity. To this conduct, Messrs. 
 Roquet, Hill, and Grove, are exceptions. 
 They stood forth, they eventually rescued; 
 and their attention to the same person proved, 
 that it was not imprudent in me to sympathise 
 with a character who, if he had possessed an 
 overgrown fortune, would have shone with it. 
 
 Gloucestershire and Wilts were the circle 
 in which I more commonly moved. Wotton- 
 underedge and Frampton, were, by Mr. Hill's 
 instrumentality, added to the cause. — No sti- 
 pend was connected with my labours, and the 
 occasional gratuities I received, were too in- 
 considerable to admit of my commanding a 
 purse. I felt the importance of a place to re- 
 tire in, and groaned under the want of im- 
 provement. My efforts were frequently dis- 
 covered, and as frequently reproached by the 
 enemies of literature ; and our connexions 
 abounded with too many, who made little dis- 
 crimination between study and sin. I furnish- 
 ed a room in the cottage at Christian-malford, 
 in Wilts, adjoining a malt-house which had 
 been converted into a preaching place, of 
 which I was extremely fond, and where I had 
 an inclination to live and die. For this room 
 I paid rent; here I collected my little library 
 and papers, resorted to it as often, and staid 
 as long as I could, but as I paid for all I had, 
 and my purse contained shillings rather than 
 guineas, I could not continue there long at a 
 time. It being unto me whenever I could 
 get there, an heaven upon earth ; it may be 
 supposed I left it with reluctance. I used to 
 tell my honoured friends in Shropshire, that 
 if in a day's time I could be transported from 
 their mansion to that cot, I should not, with 
 the common fare of a small piece of bacon, in 
 a large dish of greens, miss the elegancies of 
 the preceding day's table. 
 
 Every now and then my inclination to be 
 ordained revived ; hints given me in Shrop- 
 shire, encouraged it. The Rev. Mr. Stilling- 
 fleet's influence, and his disposition towards 
 me, for I occasionally preached in his house. 
 
HIS OWN 
 
 prompted it ; but I doubted if it wero my duty 
 to be silent, and by that time I had accident- 
 ally laid hold of Dr. Wilton upon Subscrip- 
 tion, and Toogood's Answer to White ; both 
 of which, with other writers upon the subject, 
 I read with attention, and my attention by 
 these authors was directed to things which I 
 never saw before. An instance of the force 
 of episcopal prejudice I must not omit here. 
 I went to breakfast with Mr. Hitchen, one 
 morning after my return from America. In 
 the course of conversation, he asked me what 
 1 intended to do. I told him to get orders, if 
 I could. He said, " I love a clergyman to my 
 heart, and have had a great desire to go into 
 the church ; but, (stretching out his hand, and 
 laying hold of a flat volume which contained 
 the Canons and Articles,) these always pre- 
 vent me." He referred to some particulars, 
 and made his remarks ; when I left him, the 
 conflict between prejudice and conviction 
 was so powerful, that it made me ill; and, 
 though so early in the day, I was obliged to 
 retire to bed. Better informed upon the sub- 
 ject now, than I had formerly been, my mind 
 became settled ; and I determined if once I 
 received ordination among the Dissenters of 
 any description, never to invalidate it by sub- 
 mitting to any other. Though to be the pas- 
 tor of a particular flock, was congenial to my 
 turn of mind, yet the strength of affection to 
 my methodistical circle would not admit of 
 my deserting it. I wanted to be more effect- 
 ually useful among them. The want of the 
 ordinances of baptism and the Lord's-supper, 
 being regularly administered, was a manifest 
 disadvantage to the work. Mr. Hill saw it 
 and lamented it, and proposed my receiving 
 ordination. I was to be ordained to the three 
 societies of Castle-combe, Christian-malford, 
 and Chippenham, in Wilts. Though these were 
 to be my more immediate charge, it was de- 
 signed that I should continue my visits to the 
 congregations in Gloucestershire, in connex- 
 ion witli my brethren, Messrs. Hill, Hogg, 
 Croom, and Vines. The motion was ac- 
 cepted. It may serve as a sufficient apology 
 for my having been a pluralist, that I had no 
 stipend, but lived upon Providence, and was 
 ignorant from what quarter my resources 
 were to come. The poverty of the people 
 not only prevented them from helping me, 
 but rendered it necessary, that I, out of my 
 uncertain quota, should help them. — The day 
 set apart for the solemnity of ordination, was 
 October the 2d, 1777. The persons engaging 
 in the work of the day, were Mr. Joss, of 
 London ; Mr. Williams, of Stevancy, in Mon- 
 mouthshire ; and Mr. Clark, of Trowbridge. 
 It was performed at my little Bethel, at 
 Christian-malford, and it proved a blessed 
 day. It was honoured by the conversion of a 
 whole family ; the parents died in faith, and 
 the children are now walking in the truth. 
 
 ACCOUNT. 43 
 
 Mr. Clark opened with an exposition of the 
 34th of Ezekiel, from the first to the eleventh 
 verse, and 1 Peter v. from the first to the 
 fourth verse. He asked me such questions 
 as were suitable, and required me to give the 
 confession of my faith. After prefacing with 
 such observations and apology, as circum- 
 stances rendered necessary, I delivered it. 
 The three ministers satisfied with it, then 
 proceeded with prayer and imposition of 
 hands to set me apart ; the prayer was offered 
 up by Mr. Williams, who afterwards pro- 
 ceeded to deliver the charge from 2 Tim. ii. 
 1. This was followed by a sermon from Mr. 
 Joss to the people, from 1 Thess. v. 12. The 
 whole service continued five hours ; but was 
 so far from being thought tedious by the con- 
 gregation, that numbers acknowledged they 
 were strangers to every unpleasant feeling. 
 My own soul was truly solemn, and I was so 
 affected when I engaged in my part, that my 
 speech was sometimes interrupted, and often 
 broken. I engaged to take part of all the 
 trials as well as all the comforts of the people, 
 I then was devoted to serve more immediately. 
 
 It was attended by a very considerable 
 number of people. I suspected that many 
 of the neighbours would have scoffed through 
 prejudice ; but on the contrary, all behaved 
 with the strictest decency, and numbers 
 were in tears. I was suspicious some of my 
 church friends would have been offended, 
 but met with no instance of reflection : on 
 the contrary, several expressed their appro- 
 bation. One in a note, said, "I can only 
 attend in spirit, and by prayer at the throne 
 of grace; and hope the Lord will manifest 
 his gracious presence in a powerful manner 
 to the hearts of those that attend, and renew 
 your mission to a lost world." 
 
 One of the most regular clergymen sent 
 me the following short letter, which I re- 
 ceived the very morning I was ordained. 
 
 " My dear friend, — Our friends at Trow- 
 bridge have informed us that you are upon 
 the point of receiving ordination as a Dis- 
 senting minister. I trust you will experience 
 the blessing and presence of the Lord Jesus 
 Christ, the great bishop of our souls, on this 
 and every other occasion, and that you will 
 find this sanction useful to you in your mi- 
 nisterial employment. An external designa- 
 tion, though not necessary to the being of a 
 preacher of the gospel, is, where it may be 
 had, ordinarily expedient to the regular mi- 
 nistration of the church of Christ. May we 
 be enabled to preserve in all things, the happy 
 medium between resting in outward things, 
 and despising those institutions, which the 
 church of Christ has ever approved." 
 
 None ever approved more of the order, the 
 gospel requires than, my very dear friend, 
 yours, &c. 
 
44 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 My dear friend, — It might be supposed 
 that my ordination had been the consequence 
 of a disposition in the people to meet my 
 wishes ; and that they intended to assist me 
 with what was necessary for the supply of 
 my wants, that I might be enabled to serve 
 them as faithfully, as I was disposed to serve 
 them affectionately. But it was rather sub- 
 servient to the advantage of others than ma- 
 terially useful to those, for whose benefit it 
 was primarily designed. The issue of it, and 
 the subsequent providence of God towards 
 me, which has been wise and good, comes to 
 be opened to you. 
 
 I was allowed to bear all the expense of 
 the ordination myself. The day after the 
 service, I found my spirits much fatigued and 
 very languid. After my friends left me, I 
 betook myself to solemn retirement, which I 
 spent in recollection and examination. The 
 retirement was as heaven to me, as much as 
 earth would admit of; the pleasures of it 
 were only damped by a conviction it must 
 often be interrupted ; for supposing I could 
 have kept in the circuit, the accommodations 
 of the other two places, Chippenham and 
 Castle-combe, were not equally comfortable, 
 as they were unfavourable to the share of 
 solitude I required for study. I might have 
 been discouraged with the thought, that my 
 purse did not produce subsistence for a month. 
 But I made the best of the hour, and set my 
 mind to such meditation as was suited to the 
 ensuing Sabbath. Philippians iv. 1. opened 
 readily and widely to me, and I went into 
 the pulpit with the words in my mouth, and 
 with the weight and importance of them in 
 my heart. Wherever I cast my eye, I thought 
 I saw my brother, my sister, and my mother. 
 The ordinance of the sacred supper, which I 
 afterwards administered, was attended with 
 some favourable tokens, that he, who gra- 
 ciously appointed it, was present. I pro- 
 ceeded to move conscientiously in the cir- 
 cuit, and to divide to each department of the 
 household of faith, their portion of meat in 
 due season. A proper regard was paid to the 
 favourite object, itineracy, which I had been 
 given to understand, must on no consideration 
 be dropped, and that the brethren in Glouces- 
 tershire might come into my district, I readily 
 went into theirs. But I soon found the ordi- 
 nation had given umbrage; and though I en- 
 deavoured to explain the design of it to be as 
 a fence against intrusion into the ministry, as 
 of long establishment, in the christian church, 
 attended with evident marks of divine appro- 
 bation, and suited to the well organization 
 of christian society ; it was considered in a 
 different light, rather subversive of the spirit 
 of godliness, than conducive to real good. 
 One of the preachers was a Baptist, and he 
 had privately diffused his notions, with some 
 
 success; a consequence was, that my bap- 
 tizing infants, though I performed the ordin- 
 ance with great tenderness to those of oppo- 
 site sentiment, gave offence, and the offended 
 absconded from my ministry. Without as- 
 signing the reason, they first deserted the 
 ordinance of the Lord's-supper, and after- 
 wards the preaching. How many are there, 
 who, over-heated with party-zeal, omit to 
 cultivate the meekness and gentleness of 
 Christ, and deny to others the claim they 
 make for themselves — the claim of private 
 judgment; and instead of living in the ex- 
 ercise of christian charity, are cherishing 
 animosity. Such persons read their Bible 
 with a blind partiality, and they are not to 
 be won by the most courteous deportment. 
 It gives them a kind of diabolical pleasure 
 to know, that they grieve the spirit of the 
 man against whom they set themselves. — In 
 hopes that I might see better days, I con- 
 tinued to bear with their weakness who were 
 reprehensible, giving place to the services of 
 my brethren, to whom my opponents were 
 more partial. 
 
 At Castle-combe and Chippenham, I met 
 with more civility; but little disposition to 
 render my life comfortable, or to conform to 
 the order I endeavoured to establish among 
 them. At Rodborough, Dursley, Wotton-nn- 
 deredge, and Frampton, in Gloucestershire, 
 my visits were acceptable and useful. Every 
 one of these places was a field for much ac- 
 tion. In each place, I administered the ordi- 
 nance of the Lord's-supper, as often as the 
 several societies judged it necessary, or found 
 it convenient to receive it. I grasped at re- 
 tirement as I could catch it ; but was often 
 intruded upon, and the nature of my studies 
 being discovered, subjected me to much re- 
 flection. I should have been much more ac- 
 ceptable to some descriptions of our friends, 
 if, instead of endeavouring to acquaint my- 
 self with science and language, I had in- 
 dulged long conversation upon what amount- 
 ed to nothing; and instead of spending a few 
 minutes had wasted many hours. I now and 
 then, but seldom, saw London; and always 
 had access to the Tabernacle pulpit when 
 there ; nor was the Tabernacle pulpit at Bris- 
 tol shut against me, but no invitations were 
 given to me, as to others, to supply it. As 
 often as possible I returned to my little apart- 
 ment, at Christian-malford, but while, not- 
 withstanding the hard measures I received 
 from some of its leading members, I enjoyed 
 it in preference to every place upon the 
 globe, it was not possible, for want of subsist- 
 ence, that I should continue there more than 
 a few days at a time, and then my hours were 
 divided between the other two congregations. 
 The malcontents continued to stand aloof, 
 and I felt it very unpleasant to labour under 
 the disesteem of a people who had received 
 the fullest proof of my attachment to them. 
 
HIS OWN ACCOUNT. 
 
 45 
 
 Though I had been often grieved, and was 
 much neglected by several of the leading peo- 
 ple in the Methodist congregations, my af- 
 fections were far from being alienated. My 
 method of preaching was found fault with, as 
 too orderly and exact ; yet it always was at- 
 tended by audiences respectable for number. 
 Could I have moved regularly, and have com- 
 manded necessary retirement, I might have 
 put up with a variety of inconveniences ; but 
 I often took very long and unnecessary jour- 
 neys ; and the plans, usually settled at Rod- 
 borough, on the first Wednesday in the month, 
 were often innovated. I was now entered 
 into the thirty-fourth year of my age, and 
 while on a review of the last twelve years, I 
 had reason to be thankful for an evidence of 
 God's gracious acceptance of my very imper- 
 fect services, and for the instances I met with 
 of their having been useful, I had cause to be 
 humble, and could not help feeling myself 
 shocked on conviction, that I had, though un- 
 avoidably, neglected necessary pursuits. I 
 considered that I was now in the meridian 
 of life. My confidence in my present con- 
 nexions began to weaken, and I felt much 
 inclined, if Providence should admit, to be- 
 come a resident minister. 
 
 On conversing with Mr. Sloper, of Devizes, 
 with whom I had commenced a very steady 
 friendship, which had stood with increasing 
 affection, for more than three years, he re- 
 ferred me to Marlborough, and encouraged 
 me to make it an object of attention. I was 
 struck with it, as being contiguous to my 
 friends, witli whom, notwithstanding hard 
 measures received, I wished to continue in 
 the bonds of friendship, and judged it would 
 be a situation favourable to frequent inter- 
 views. Accordingly I made myself acquaint- 
 ed with the people, preached probationary 
 sermons, and being accepted by the universal 
 consent of the people, I commenced the rela- 
 tion of pastor to the church, which had been 
 organized by the judicious direction of one 
 of the senior professors, who had seen reli- 
 gion in that town pass under various revolu- 
 tions. 
 
 As soon as I could see the probability .of 
 my being connected with the congregation 
 at Marlborough, I communicated my inten- 
 tion of withdrawing from Cliristian-malford, 
 and its connexions — the several congrega- 
 tions in Gloucestershire. The intelligence 
 was not very pleasing. I observed it was a 
 resolution from necessity, and for convenience; 
 and that it was my wish to testify the conti- 
 nuance of my affection, by visiting them as 
 often as I could, and by making an exchange 
 with their ministers, as opportunity ottered. 
 My most highly esteemed friend, Mr. Hill, 
 was not pleased by the event, but I presume 
 he saw the propriety of it. He introduced 
 me to my new charge, February the 2d, 1778, 
 expressing himself very warmly in my favour, 
 
 and the next morning he left mc to prove the 
 justice of all he had said. 
 
 As soon as he departed, my soul was filled 
 with much distress, and an unusual gloom 
 overspread me. I began to suspect the pro- 
 priety of my conduct, and to be apprehensive 
 that I had stepped out of the path of Provi- 
 dence. I retired to prostrate myself before 
 the Lord, and entreated him not to forsake 
 me. In the exercise of prayer I found relief; 
 had a token for good from whence I could 
 conclude, I should not be left in my new situ- 
 ation comfortless, nor useless. Hitherto the 
 Lord had brought me, and it was unavoidable 
 but that I must continue dependent upon him. 
 I had laid up nothing in store, and excepting 
 a little furniture and linen, and my little li- 
 brary, had nothing to bring with me to Marl- 
 borough. As I had engaged to serve the 
 people for £30 per annum, I was under the 
 necessity to set out parsimoniously. Mr. 
 Whitefield's hints often occurred to me, and 
 as I had previously to my settling at Marlbo- 
 rough, adopted them, so in the early part of 
 my residence there especially, they were of 
 great advantage to me. It was well I had 
 learned to be contented with a little, and to 
 habituate myself to frugality. 
 
 By an exhibition obtained from the inde- 
 pendent board, and now and then a present 
 obtained from my much honoured friend Mr. 
 Thornton, I was enabled to render a little 
 assistance to the poor, as well as to defray my 
 own expenses. 
 
 I now more than ever found the want of a 
 greater share of literature. Marlborough is 
 a high church neighbourhood and full of pre- 
 judice against methodism, for under that ap- 
 pellation I was considered, and many of its 
 inhabitants are men of letters: therefore, that 
 I might not disgrace my profession through 
 ignorance, any more than by making an osten- 
 tatious parade of learning, I entered sparingly 
 into company, conversed with caution, and 
 improved my time to the best advantage. I 
 had no notion of studying merely for the sake 
 of" making myself an acceptable companion ; 
 indeed, to go on with my design, it was ne- 
 cessary that I should preclude company. I 
 still kept the important object of an active 
 ministry in view, which engrossed all my 
 time. I preached thrice on the Lord's-day, 
 met a society on the Monday evening, statedly 
 preached a lecture on the Thursday evening, 
 preached in the country on Tuesday, or on 
 Wednesday, or on Friday, and very often had 
 engagements on each day in the evening, and 
 on Saturday held a reading and prayer meet- 
 ing. From this rule I seldom deviated, and 
 at, the same time held a correspondence, of 
 which I have before remarked that it took up 
 too much of my time, and diverted me from 
 more important pursuits in my younger years; 
 latterly it has become indispensable. 
 
 Our congregations grew, and some good 
 
40 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 was done, ut the prejudice of the neighbour- 
 hood was very powerful, and the young peo- 
 ple, as is usually the case, imbibed it. Some 
 indiscretions previous to my settlement had 
 created disgust, nor were they entirely re- 
 moved at my coming. I found as I gained 
 knowledge of my flock, that I had need of 
 patience, while I had cause for thankfulness. 
 I was not a stranger to the divine presence, 
 neither in my retired moments nor in my 
 public work. Always weakly, I felt the weight 
 of my office. I never gave myself to intense 
 thinking, but with disadvantage to my health; 
 nor was it without a considerable degree of 
 languor, that I passed through the exercises 
 of the study, or the pulpit. The closeness of 
 the country-houses in which I preached, and 
 the different changes I passed from heat to 
 cold, had a hazardous effect upon my frame, 
 which though often shocked, has not been 
 suffered yet to fall. It has been matter of sur- 
 prise to me that I have been so little disabled, 
 amidst such sensible weakness as I have ex- 
 perienced. Many great men have fallen 
 while I have continued to stand. Sturdy oaks 
 have been torn up by the roots, while I, a 
 shrub, have only been bent by the strength 
 of the wind. Why this difference, is best 
 known to Him who suffers nothing to occur 
 by chance. Our times are in his hands who 
 hath given us our work, and till our work is 
 done, our day will not close. Every star has 
 its fixed period for rising and setting. It has 
 its hemisphere appointed to it, yea, and its 
 orbit also. We move arranged in our places 
 and do the work for which we are appoint- 
 ed : one shall not do the work of another, 
 but every man in his own order. It becomes 
 us to watch the appointments of Providence, 
 to walk in his paths, to take care we do not 
 clash with each other, neither to envy nor 
 despise one another; but in our respective 
 stations to act as the different builders in the 
 same house, who, by taking their respective 
 parts in the same edifice, aim jointly to bring 
 the fabric to its perfection. You, my very 
 dear friend, are an exact, may you be a very 
 successful workman, in his hands, in whom 
 I am, yours, affectionately. 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 My very dear friend, — I take it for 
 granted, in what I have remarked on the di- 
 vine conduct with me, you conceived that I 
 have rather been stating facts, than complain- 
 ing of difficulties. Nothing occurred which 
 was insupportable ; no disadvantage was 
 thrown in my way but was remediable. My 
 first settlement at Marlborough had many 
 inconveniences attending it, which a more 
 liberal subsistence might have prevented, 
 and after a while, I judged they were only to 
 be relieved by matrimony. I supposed there 
 
 would be a delicacy in addressing a person of 
 property, myself being destitute ; and I con- 
 ceived I should gain no relief by forming a 
 connexion with one in circumstances equally 
 narrow as my own. I considered my advance 
 unsuitable to the commencement of family 
 cares, especially as I had no prospect of be- 
 coming considerable in circumstances. 1 
 made it matter of prayer, that I might be di- 
 rected to a suitable object by the good hand 
 of Providence, which had hilherto enabled me 
 to steer my course prudently. A friend, who 
 well knew my sentiments upon this head, 
 and conceived them proper, encouraged my 
 indulging attention to Miss Brown, well 
 known to the neighbourhood, whose respecta- 
 ble character and conduct procured her uni- 
 versal esteem. He introduced me to her. 
 She was supposed to be very affluent, from 
 the great liberality she exercised to the poor, 
 for which she was enabled, rather from indus- 
 try and economy, than from patrimony, or 
 from the considerable profits she gained by a 
 small farm, which, in conjunction with her 
 youngest sister, she rented and superintended. 
 When I had been repeatedly in her company, 
 and was satisfied with her genuine piety, I 
 addressed a plain letter to her. 
 
 After some little hesitation and objection, 
 raised only from the opposition my offer was 
 like to meet with from a numerous family, I 
 found I had firm ground upon which to ad- 
 vance. The opposition arose from my reli- 
 gion, and the idea that I was devoid of inte- 
 grity, and an honest design. This idea no 
 encomium in my favour could remove. Some 
 little stratagem was used to prevent our 
 union, but I went forward with a fixed deter- 
 mination to enjoy my object, not doubting 
 that time would produce a conviction which 
 testimony could not, and that I should be a 
 gainer in the end. Therefore on the 20th of 
 April 1779, we entered into wedlock. We 
 had previously considered that our joint in- 
 come, being about j£55 per annum, would 
 not admit of our living in splendour, and we 
 had laid our plan answerable to our pittance. 
 By this we regulated our life, and experienced 
 the blessing of the Lord upon it. We erected 
 our altar for sacrifice as soon as we came 
 from church, upon which we then presented 
 our joint offering. We have continued regu- 
 larly and statedly in the presentation, and 
 though it has been attended with all that 
 imperfection which has rendered it unworthy 
 of the notice of an holy God, yet, for the 
 sake of his ever blessed Son, we have rea- 
 son to conclude it has met with acceptance. 
 
 I supposed now, that I had before me my 
 only work in which I should be engaged, the , 
 work of the ministry, which I determined, in 
 the strength of divine grace, diligently to at- 
 tend, and I did not suppose my family would 
 consist of a third person. But God's thoughts 
 and purposes were different to my thoughts 
 
HIS OWN ACCOUNT. 
 
 ■17 
 
 and expectations, and events occurred that set 
 me at the head of a large family in a very 
 little time. 
 
 In the days of my itineracy, I had often 
 said, that if I were ever settled, I would give 
 some poor child a common education. Re- 
 collecting my resolution, I fixed upon the 
 eldest child of our deacon, Mr. John Sim- 
 mons, a poor, but deserving man ; I taught 
 him from his alphabet, till he was made fit 
 for business, into which I was instrumental 
 of introducing him, and in which I believe 
 he is now going on very prosperously. 
 
 In the first year of my marriage, I had oc- 
 casion to go to Bristol, and among others I 
 called upon Mrs. Higgs, one of my first ac- 
 quaintance in the city. She said, " I have 
 long wished you settled for the sake of 
 Tommy," who was the youngest of her two 
 surviving children, then little more than ten 
 years old ; "I expect," said she, "you will 
 now take him," adding, " I care not what 
 you do with him, if you will but take him." 
 lie was a sweet amiable child, who had 
 enough in him to attract my affection. I sig- 
 nified my attachment to him, and that I had 
 not the least objection to receive him, but 
 that I was not sure Mrs. Winter would ac- 
 cept the offer ; however, I proposed to take 
 him upon a Christinas visit, with a design to 
 return him again, if Mrs. Winter would not 
 consent to keep him. The dear little fellow 
 accompanied me with all readiness. On our 
 parting, Mrs. Higgs said, " I give him to 
 you." I replied, " I accept the gift," little 
 thinking what was to be the event. His en- 
 gaging and open conversation every step of 
 the way home, in which he gave strong indi- 
 cation of a mind under some pious influence, 
 riveted him to me. Every friend I called 
 upon was fond of him, and when we came 
 home he was universally noticed with es- 
 teem. His pious disposition, which I certainly 
 cherished, was improperly ascribed to my 
 care of him. This induced Mrs. Turner, of 
 Trowbridge, to press a favourite nephew 
 upon me, whom I very reluctantly accepted, 
 not because he was unworthy of my esteem, 
 but because I feared to have more of a tutor's 
 business in hand than I was equal to. Mrs. 
 Turner conceived after a while, her nephew 
 had caught the flame of piety from my lamp, 
 and reported such high things concerning me 
 as impressed a gentleman of Bath ; and by 
 this I was drawn into an extreme difficulty. 
 I used every method consistent with prudence 
 to divert his attention from me. We were 
 as yet a little happy family indeed. The chil- 
 dren loved our worship, had been used to my 
 ministry, could be taken with us on a jour- 
 ney ; they sat and sang comfortably with us 
 by our fire-side, entertained us by their prat- 
 tle, and ran upon our little errands ; but by 
 taking the sons of a gentleman, I conceived 
 I should lake children used to a superior line 
 
 of life, rather unfriendly to our religious 
 views, and in other respects very unsuitable 
 to me. My intimate neighbours, to whom I 
 had communicated the difficulty I was under 
 from the gentleman's unwillingness to re- 
 ceive my refusal of his sons, pressed me very 
 much to increase my number to six, observ- 
 ing I should find my account in it. 
 
 Had I been convinced in my own mind 
 that I should have done right in opening a 
 school, I could easily have collected scholars, 
 and by providing a proper assistant, should 
 have made the business easy ; but, from the 
 small acquaintance I had with letters, and 
 the little confidence I was inclined to place 
 in men, I could not be convinced I did right, 
 nor could I be satisfied that it was prudent 
 fully to state the reason of my refusal. Com- 
 mitting the event to God, and blowing that 
 I designed his glory, I yielded to the gentle- 
 man's motion, who fixed the day for his two 
 sons being at Marlborough. They came ac- 
 companied by the good mother, wfio was so 
 disgusted at the report of my being- a Metho- 
 dist, and by the plainness of my accommoda- 
 tions, that she took them back with her im- 
 mediately to Bath, without assigning a rea- 
 son, or giving me an opportunity to exchange 
 three words with her. This affair was at- 
 tended with a little shock, which, owing to 
 the shattered state of my nerves, I was not 
 able to bear, and it occasioned my neighbours, 
 who were all out of their doors, to conjecture 
 the cause. But I was soon reduced to a state 
 of composure, and concluded it was the way 
 Providence used to prevent a greater trial. 
 In a few weeks after, however, the young- 
 gentlemen were brought back by the good 
 lady's consent, and the connexion issues in 
 permanent friendship with the eldest brother, 
 who hath given me opportunity to show my 
 attachment to him for many years ; and has 
 proved himself worthy of my most cordial 
 esteem by many pledges of his own for me. 
 Accidentally I have laid my hands upon a 
 few lines accompanied with two handsome 
 volumes, sent me by the above-mentioned 
 young gentleman, soon after we parted ; 
 which may be considered as the beginning 
 of a correspondence, and I think it a tri- 
 bute of respect due to him to insert it here. 
 
 " Sir, — I have not time at present to write 
 a letter, but only a line, to inform you that 
 I shall never forget the many kindnesses I 
 received while under your care, and beg 
 your acceptance of the enclosed as an ac- 
 knowledgment of them." 
 
 It bears date September 1, 1783. At my 
 request he was then removed, but returned 
 to me again by his own earnest desire. He 
 now fills a benefice in the establishment, and 
 may he long continue to fill it, and preach that 
 gospel, the truths of which he acknowledges 
 to have received while at Marlborough. You 
 
48 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 may conceive of his continued esteem by the 
 following extract from one of his letters : 
 
 " After a long interval of silence but not 
 of forgetfulness, I again break in upon you — 
 forget you indeed I cannot ; for whenever I 
 enter my pulpit, or sit down in my study. I 
 find myself expressing ideas I have learned 
 from you, and which bring with them the 
 remembrance of my much respected friend." 
 — Speaking of the liberality which should 
 subsist between the church and the Dis- 
 senters, and the true nature of worship, he 
 says, " You know, and I feel this : for from 
 you I learned it, and now I am often happy that 
 I have passed a part of my life under your 
 roof, as it has prevented me from imbibing 
 many illiberal and unjust prejudices, which 
 several both in and out of the establishment 
 are got to entertain." " I have just atten- 
 tively perused your letter again. Every 
 kind exhortation that comes from your pen, 
 has its full weight upon me, and I hope God, 
 of his infinite goodness, will enable me to 
 follow it." The writer of the above was 
 one of twelve, whom I had together at one 
 time. Of all of them, it may be remarked 
 they were fine youths — they engaged the 
 esteem of the neighbourhood, and gained me 
 credit — they were as my own children. 
 They enabled me to keep a cut loaf, and a 
 running tap for the poor. If I recollect the 
 fatigue, I recollect also the pleasure I had 
 with them, when I could keep them to busi- 
 ness — when I was witness to their progress 
 — when their voices were engaged in the 
 praises of God — when their innocent conver- 
 sation at the table gave vivacity to my spirits, 
 particularly after a third public service on the 
 Lord's-day, when they contributed to relieve 
 me from the sensibility of weariness, and 
 when dismissing them to their rest, I received 
 proof of their affection, and embraced them 
 in my heart while I pronounced upon them 
 the blessing of my lips. 
 
 Mr. Higgs was my primus. I had la- 
 boured to make him useful to me, and he was 
 essentially so. He grew in stature and in 
 knowledge. He was a constant, and I be- 
 lieve a willing attendant upon the means of 
 grace, and very feelingly entered into the 
 spirit of the sermons he heard. I encouraged 
 his views of the ministry, and promoted his 
 preparation for it, by a liberal education ; 
 consequently, though he was my right hand, 
 as soon as I had carried my exertions to the 
 uttermost, I knew it was my duty to part 
 with him. But his parents were not equal 
 to the expense, and by the advice of Mrs. 
 Verbruggen, the lady who for a time made 
 one of our family, he was sent to Lingen, in 
 Westphalia, from the mistaken notion that 
 his education would be more completely 
 finished, and at a far less expense than at one 
 of our universities. 
 
 I went with him to London, and there coin 
 
 mended him to God. It was intended that 
 he should continue at Lingen two years ; but 
 after the absence of little more than half a 
 year, I received him again. This was owing 
 partly to disapjxjintmcnt to what was our 
 object ; but principally to his own extreme 
 dissatisfaction, founded in causes of moral 
 and religious complaint, both in the semina- 
 rium and the university: nothing could be 
 more licentious than the habits of the stu- 
 dents, while a dreadful dearth of every thing 
 good prevailed. Previously to his return, 
 which was October the 30tb, 1786, I had 
 been diligent in securing him clerical friend- 
 ship, to enable him, in proper tune, to enter 
 the establishment, to which his turn of mind 
 led him. I thought I could do him service 
 by introducing him to my highly respected 
 friend, the Rev. Mr. Spencer, of Wingfield. 
 He kindly acceded to my motion, and made 
 him upon very easy terms, pro tempore, one 
 of his family. There, and at Marlborough, 
 he spent his time till he entered Oxford, 
 which was the close of the long vacation, 
 1787. 
 
 How wonderful are the ways of Providence. 
 That all the mortal part of the dear youth, 
 with whom so many pains had been taken, 
 should have been in the silent grave at a 
 time when we expected he would have been 
 in the full vigour of life, proclaiming the 
 truths of the gospel of the grace of God, is 
 one among the many mysterious events that 
 call for submission. It is with peculiar satis- 
 faction I reflect that you, my dear friend, are 
 continued a blessing to a part, a large part 
 of the church of Christ. — I am, yours, &c. 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 
 My very dear friend, — If sloth in any 
 department of life be a blemish to a character, 
 it must be a very dreadful one in that of a 
 minister ; but a minister may be free from 
 the charge of sloth, and yet not perfectly 
 busy. To spend the hours and days in com- 
 posing a few sermons, smooth and elegant to 
 the ear, which should be employed in preach- 
 ing many with energy to the heart, is a 
 waste of time. Of many good men it may be 
 said they are " laboriously doing nothing :" 
 whereas if they would study usefulness, they 
 would give many of these moments to public 
 labour, that are now devoted to unnecessary 
 exactness. The thought applies to country 
 ministers who are surrounded with villages, 
 but communicate the gospel of the grace of 
 God to none of them. When there are real 
 and insurmountable impediments to exertion, 
 a man is free from the reflection ; but if circum- 
 stances and situation favour diligence, and a 
 man is not diligent, he is inattentive to the 
 direction, " work while it is called to-day." 
 Village preaching is of importance to useful- 
 
HIS OWN 
 
 ness. I am glad such powerful efforts are 
 now used to support it. To carry it on, was 
 always an object with me. 1 diligently 
 attended to it while I was at Marlborough, 
 but my attention to the school, and the studies 
 to which I was obliged to turn my mind, in 
 order to discharge my duty in it, relaxed my 
 attention to this important object. I there- 
 fore wished I had it in my power to support a 
 young man of pious character, and of improva- 
 ble gifts, who might receive my communica- 
 tions, and by preaching in the villages, habitu- 
 ate himself to free speaking. Though the idea 
 of such a person was in my mind, I knew 
 not where to look for him, and if I had met 
 with him, I was at a loss to know how I 
 should support him. 
 
 Mr. Surman, an excellent youth in humble 
 life, always engaged my notice when I 
 preached at Dursley ; and I seldom left the 
 congregation without exchanging a word with 
 him ; but as I hardly ever had time upon my 
 hand, we did not abound in conversation. 
 Being upon a visit in Gloucestershire, in the 
 Midsummer of 1782, and having appointed on 
 a Lord's-day to preach at Frampton, entering 
 the court, I unexpectedly saw him. Instant- 
 ly I had an impression for which I cannot ac- 
 count, that I must take him to impart instruc- 
 tion to him, and to introduce him into the 
 ministry. I desired him to meet me in my 
 retirement ; I was under such a fever that I 
 suspected at the same time I should be laid 
 aside. I begged him to read the Scriptures 
 to me, by which I found his deficiency. I 
 asked him if ever he thought of the ministry. 
 He replied, he had ; but could not indulge it, 
 as he concluded there was no opening in Pro- 
 vidence. I proposed his coming to me under 
 certain terms, which he approved of, if he 
 saw, on prayer and deliberate consideration, 
 it was the Divine will. When his mind was 
 fully satisfied, he acceded to my motion, set- 
 tled his alliiirs with great integrity, and gave 
 himself first to the Lord, and then to me. 
 Surely I may venture to call that an act of 
 faith, which was engaged in under what I 
 conceive to have been a divine impression; 
 and for the prosecution of which I had no 
 prospect of support. The event has shown it 
 was of the Lord. Mr. Surman soon proved a 
 very acceptable and useful minister, and a 
 very consistent character. For the sake only 
 of giving him an opportunity to learn the 
 world, I sent him upon a pleasurable excur- 
 sion to London, where his preaching gained 
 such attention, that in less than three years 
 after he came to me, he was providentially 
 taken from me, and yet lives a blessing to the 
 church at large, and to a particular society, 
 more immediately, at Chesham in Bucks, 
 over which he was ordained pastor. May 
 his life and usefulness be prolonged. 
 
 Soon after Mr. Surman came to me, Mr. 
 Yockney, of Warminster, signified his desire 
 G 5 
 
 ACCOUNT. 49 
 
 to retreat from secular life, to devote himself 
 to the preaching of the gospel. He was al- 
 ready blessed with rich experience, and of de- 
 cent education. Given up to God, and fond 
 of retirement, he made the best use of a little 
 time, and by his assiduity in my absence, I was 
 released of anxiety about the school, as the best 
 care was taken to keep my little folks to bu- 
 siness, and the devotions of the family, by these 
 two good men, and Mr. Higgs, were regularly 
 carried on. As Mr. Yockney purposed paying 
 for his board, I had no difficulty about accept- 
 ing him. He was happy and useful with me, 
 till removed by Providence, and soon after 
 obtained a settlement at Staines, in Middle- 
 sex, where abundant honour continues to be 
 put upon his ministry. 
 
 It was at this time our services were requir- 
 ed, and freely given in the village of Tisbury, 
 that gave you birth. Several months pre- 
 viously to the 2d of April, 1785, my eye was 
 upon you, my dear friend, more immediately 
 than upon any other in the congregation, and 
 my heart knit unaccountably to you. Making 
 inquiry concerning you of Mrs. Turner, she 
 mentioned your name with the anecdote which 
 distinguishes you in her life. I told her I was 
 impressed with an idea that I should one day 
 have you under my roof. You having perfect 
 understanding of all things from the very be- 
 ginning, can trace the occurrences of this 
 period respecting yourself You recollect 
 the number and the order of our family, and 
 the worthy female friends which made part 
 of it. How applicable to the description of 
 our happiness and harmony is this stanza : 
 
 The day glides swiftly o'er their head 
 Made up of innocence and love ; 
 
 And soft and silent as the shade 
 Their nightly minutes gently move. 
 
 To all that was kind and amiable in you, my 
 dear friend, under God, we were, in part, in- 
 debted for that happiness. You contributed 
 your quota to it, and had your share in return. 
 — O blessed villages which were favoured 
 with your respective ministerial abilities. O 
 highly favoured Marlborough, whose streets 
 were then occasionally thronged with them, 
 who went to and from the house of God, and 
 had their hearts filled with joy and gladness. 
 I bless the Lord for all that he since has done 
 for you, and by you. 
 
 Mr. Spicer must not be forgotten. He 
 came at the desire of his uncle into our fami- 
 ly, and is worthy to be had in remembrance, 
 though after a long and fair trial it was found, 
 that large as his capacity was, his want of 
 elocution prevented his acceptance. He 
 stands high in my esteem, and is, I believe, 
 the beloved of the Lord. 
 
 The editors of the Evangelical Magazine, 
 Vol. v. page 47, have given the life of Mr. 
 William Griffin — a truly valuable life, and 
 with this concise and general testimony, I 
 refer to his biography. Besides our stated 
 
so 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 times of devotion, our breakfast and tea read- 
 ings were considerable, nor were we want- 
 ing in recreative conversation. To rise early 
 and retire early, was one of our maxims. Our 
 partings and meetings proved we were in 
 the bonds of friendship. The Lord made us 
 to be of one mind. But we became scattered 
 in time; and the weight of the school resting 
 entirely upon me, from a necessary regard 
 to my health, which was much impaired, I 
 became determined to break it up. 
 
 About this time my affairs began to wear a 
 different aspect to what they had done, and a 
 variety of occurrences disposed me to think 
 of leaving Marlborough. I soon began to 
 feel that in giving up my school, I had given 
 up such a measure of my substance, that my 
 circumstances were in danger of being in- 
 volved. I was quite at a loss for a while to 
 determine what to do. I had devised many 
 things, but could bring none of them to bear. 
 I felt reluctant at leaving the place where I 
 had laboured hard. The neighbourhood at 
 this time was reconciled to me, but not to my 
 ministry. My sole success had been with the 
 poor. A most dreadful failure had turned 
 out, which had ruined one of the principal 
 families who attended my preaching. By in- 
 terfering to prevent a marriage which I con- 
 ceived would prove injurious to the parties, I 
 had made an enemy of one of my first profess- 
 ing friends; and a circumstance in addition to 
 the whole, turned up to convince me I must 
 remove. The meeting-house was the private 
 property of Mr. H k, from whom I re- 
 ceived jEIO out of the <£30 per annum, for 
 which I stipulated. He was very rapidly 
 going to the grave. His sons were by no 
 means likeminded with him. The eldest of 
 them continued his attendance upon the word 
 in general. Having one Sabbath-day even- 
 ing a very crowded congregation, as I usually 
 had, and knowing the dissipated state and 
 disposition of many of the young people, I 
 preached a very plain, faithful sermon. It 
 
 was certainly all applicable to Mr. H k ; 
 
 but I did not think of him, nor did I know he 
 was there. However he considered it as a 
 personal address to himself, and protested, 
 when he went out he would never hear me 
 again. I saw that I must soon decamp, or 
 sink into a most uncomfortable situation. I 
 had an attachment to Devizes, and supposed 
 Mr. Sloper, who knew it, would have been 
 disposed to keep me in Wilts, the state of his 
 health requiring assistance, for which his 
 people were able and willing to provide. I 
 had been in long friendship with him, had 
 shown him sympathy, and rendered him help, 
 under many of his domestic and church trials. 
 A friend from Gloucester had been with me, 
 to whom I freely communicated my difficul- 
 ties. He gave me encouragement to make 
 an offer of my services to the church and 
 congregation at Painswick, in the county of 
 
 Gloucester. This was a county to which I 
 was partial, but I held myself bound by the 
 fidelity of friendship to Mr. Sloper, not to 
 take a step without first consulting him. He 
 signified he could not advise me what I should 
 do, and referred me to the leadings of Provi- 
 dence. I was then in a disabled state, under 
 a fit of the gout. I wrote to my friend in 
 Gloucester, to say that if the church at Tains- 
 wick were disposed to give me encourage- 
 ment, I had no objection to put myself in the 
 way of their notice. I had given warning 
 to quit my house, without knowing whither 
 I was to go — at that juncture of time the 
 congregation at Painswick were so disunited 
 in their sentiments of a gentleman wfio stood 
 candidate for their service, that he withdrew 
 his motion, and on the mention of my name, 
 they unanimously agreed to accept me. An 
 occurrence of Providence that much impress- 
 ed my mind was this: Mr. Edwards, of Strat- 
 ford-upon-Avon, being about to leave his peo- 
 ple, and going upon a probationary visit to 
 Wilton, pressed me to pay a visit to Stratford. 
 I engaged, on my return, to preach at Pains- 
 wick, and while upon my journey wrote to 
 Mr. Hancock, signifying my design of leav- 
 ing Marlborough, stating my reasons, and 
 appealing to him for the propriety of my con- 
 duct. But before my letters could reach his 
 house, he was almost suddenly removed into 
 the eternal world. This information reaching 
 me by a letter from Mr. Higgs, threw light upon 
 my steps. The house, which during my resi- 
 dence in Marlborough had been always open 
 to me, and from whence many favours had 
 been communicated, was on the father's death 
 instantly shut against me by the heir ; nor 
 would he permit me, though invited by the 
 rest of the family, to accompany the remains 
 of his father to the tomb. 
 
 The long acquaintance the people at Pains- 
 wick had with me, and my preaching being 
 so fully known by them, made them indiffer- 
 ent to a probationary visit: though, strange 
 to tell, for a faithful hint, misunderstood and 
 misapplied by a ruling elder, I had been ex- 
 cluded from the same pulpit seventeen years ! 
 The good old man, whose authority barred 
 me out, has ever since our connexion been a 
 staunch friend, and we have lived together 
 in the strictest amity. He had long held the 
 reins of government in the church, and was 
 strongly prejudiced against Methodists, of 
 which description he had considered me. He 
 had been mortified by contradiction; but 
 amidst all his prejudice was of too great in- 
 tegrity to indulge war, and experience has 
 taught me, he was to be won by prudence 
 and patience. 
 
 As soon and as quietly as I could, I disen- 
 gaged myself from Marlborough, but with 
 vast pain of mind when the crisis came. I 
 had some distress on Mrs. Winter's account, 
 who had never before left the vicinity of her 
 
HIS OWN ACCOUNT. 
 
 51 
 
 birthplace, and by the change of her situation, 
 was withdrawn from a circle of affectionate 
 relations, particularly from her sisters. Yet 
 I had reason to be thankful on perceiving her 
 strive so magnanimously against her feelings, 
 and on her complying so readily witli the 
 motion of Providence. On balancing my ac- 
 counts, I found myself in arrears, and my 
 removal was attended with an expense consi- 
 derably above what was allowed me. A de- 
 plorable disaster attended my goods in remo- 
 val ; but the combined trials were attended 
 with a combination of suitable mercies, on 
 the review of which fresh gratitude arises in 
 my mind. A disposition to trust in the Lord 
 was granted me at the time, and I knew by 
 experience the import of those words, " Thou 
 wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind 
 is stayed on thee." I had just succeeded 
 in procuring Mr. Higgs his college subsist- 
 ence. It being the time of his long vacation, 
 he was with me, and was very useful in as- 
 sisting our removal. By visits to his school- 
 mate, Mr. Horlick, he well knew Painswick; 
 came a little before us with Mr. Spicer; and 
 on the 2d of August, 1788, received us on the 
 spot where I am now writing. It is a farm, 
 the property of Mr. King, to whom I have 
 above referred. It is beautiful for situation. 
 It is half a mile on the north of Painswick, 
 and six miles south-east of Gloucester. It was 
 offered me as a temporary accommodation ; 
 but I told my friends if they could make it 
 convenient to let me dwell by them, I would 
 seek no other. In an habitation at one end 
 of the farm-house, the dimension of the prin- 
 cipal room of which is thirteen feet in width, 
 fifteen in breadth, and six feet eight inches 
 and a quarter in height, I lose sight and sense 
 of every inconvenience, as happy as I can be 
 in this mortal state, in the advantage of 
 peace, fresh air, and retirement. Mr. Higgs 
 says to his brother, in a letter soon after our 
 settlement, " I am charmed with the solitude 
 of Mr. Winter's situation. I see nobody here 
 but the family ; I have no companion but my 
 books. I cannot describe how happy we are." 
 Little did he think he was to be gratified, and 
 that so soon, when, with his pencil, he wrote 
 upon the wall of the room where he slept 
 and studied, 
 
 " Hie ipso tecum consumerer revo." 
 
 I perceived no indisposition upon him, till a 
 little before he returned to college. The 
 day he left us to enter upon his term, he was 
 not quite well, nor alarmingly ill. I have no 
 letter by me that I can find, previous to the 
 29th of October, informing me of the increase 
 of his indisposition; but in consequence of 
 
 information from Miss W e, his elect, 
 
 of his being indisposed, I wrote to him. 
 
 " My dear Thomas, — It has given us no 
 small concern to hear, by letter received on 
 Saturday from Miss W e, of your in- 
 
 disposition. It would have less surprised me, 
 if I had not previously heard on Monday, that 
 the disorder in the head and eyes prevails 
 very much. Yet that does not alleviate my 
 fear from the fits returning upon you, as I 
 find you have had them more than once. I 
 have been led to account for it from some 
 shock you received in Bristol, from your fa- 
 ther's situation, and other family occurrences. 
 I may be out in my conjecture. If I am not, 
 I would request you not to dispirit yourself. 
 It would hardly be right to desire you not to 
 feel the loss of a parent, supposing I could 
 regulate your passions : but any little disap- 
 pointment that may attend, of a pecuniary 
 nature, need not discourage you, as no doubt 
 but the resources which close at home, will 
 open abroad. If you are in God's way he 
 will provide, and bring you through the dif- 
 ficulties of college expenses. While you 
 perform the part of a faithful steward with the 
 pittance you have, more shall be given you 
 as it is needful. Let us know as soon as you 
 can, how you do, and write freely of all that 
 is upon your mind. No more of your letters 
 shall transpire than may be necessary to give 
 your friends pleasure ; to hear from you, is 
 gratifying to us all on this peaceful spot. I 
 hope by this time you are restored to the use 
 of your sight, as well as to your former de- 
 gree of strength. It is a loud speaking Pro- 
 vidence to be so afflicted, and I am persuaded 
 you are disposed to improve it. Since we 
 hold every faculty upon such uncertain terms, 
 how careful should we be to improve them to 
 his glory, who gives them freely, and can 
 deprive us of them at a moment's warning, 
 or even without warning at all. Let your 
 attention in future be much employed in the 
 Scriptures. Transcribe them from the leaves 
 on which they lie open to the eye, into the 
 book of your heart. You will find your want 
 of them for your own personal comfort, and 
 for your ministerial furniture, if you mean to 
 work upon your own stock ; that is, if by 
 meditation, and not by plagiarism, you pre- 
 pare for the pulpit." 
 
 I might have spared my advice for the pul- 
 pit employ. He was worse than I appre- 
 hended. A gentleman of his hall became his 
 amanuensis, and in his name writes thus, in 
 reply to the last extract : — " Since the re- 
 ception of yours, I have been so indisposed, 
 as not only to be unable to write, but even to 
 dictate a letter. — My disorder is considerably 
 increased. — On Monday last I had four epi- 
 leptic fits, which have left behind them a very 
 nervous affection. I sometimes begin to 
 think that Providence intends to cut my 
 work short here, and to take me from this 
 world of misery. Patience must have its 
 perfect exercise, and I desire complete resig- 
 nation to the Divine will. It certainly is a 
 great affliction to be deprived of the amuse- 
 ment which reading affords. Oh that I had 
 
52 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 used my time better when I had it in my 
 power. One of the most disagreeable symp- 
 toms of my disorder is a palpitation of heart, 
 from which I am scarcely ever free. The 
 happy time will come when it shall cease its 
 th robbings. As soon as I have kept my term, 
 which will be next Monday week, I intend 
 going to Bristol, and to put myself under the 
 
 care of Dr. Ludlow. Miss W e will 
 
 accompany me to Bristol, and if I recover my 
 strength, we intend coming together into 
 Gloucestershire." 
 
 On the 20th of January, 1789, I received 
 the last letter he ever dictated. 
 
 " Honoured and dear sir, You will 
 
 perceive that I am yet unable to write, and 
 when I shall be able is very uncertain indeed. 
 We have been long expecting you in Bristol, 
 but imagined the rough weather, or some un- 
 foreseen circumstance prevented you. No 
 friend ever comes more grateful to our fami- 
 ly, but more particularly to me. As I am 
 sometimes ready to imagine I shall need lit- 
 tle more of your kindness, I have reflected a 
 good deal upon the abundant measure I have 
 already received. I hoped Providence would 
 have afforded me opportunities of showing my 
 grateful sense of them : if it should not, be 
 assured they were not lost upon me. My 
 whole frame is much out of order, my eyes 
 very little, if any, better since you heard from 
 us last; I dare say you will think my situa- 
 tion very melancholy. Confined to my fire- 
 side ever since the Christmas week, with my 
 eyes so dim that I am unable to read, or 
 write, or see any thing distinctly ; a painful 
 seton in my neck, my mouth much affected 
 with the mercury I have taken, and my legs 
 swelled for want of exercise. You will think 
 my case very hard, and be ready to condole 
 with me. — But spare your pains, my dear 
 sir, I grieve not for myself, I have not an un- 
 easy thought. The reflection, that it is not 
 a thousandth part of what I deserve, makes 
 me resigned to the dispensation, though 
 gloomy, and I adore the divine mercy, in pre- 
 serving me from the pains of hell. The phy- 
 sician has just been here, and has ordered 
 another seton to be cut in my temple to-mor- 
 row ; it is a painful operation, but it is of the 
 Lord, let him do what seemeth him good. 
 — If we meet not again here, I hope we shall 
 in a better world, where separation will no 
 more take place. — I remain, dear sir, yours, 
 affectionately, THOMAS HIGGS." 
 
 On the receipt of the above, I went to 
 Bristol, and found him as he described him- 
 self, with other serious symptoms upon him. 
 He seemed very desirous to come to Pains- 
 wick, and with difficulty affected the jour- 
 ney, in the beginning of February. I sent 
 
 for Miss W e, also, which was a 
 
 great gratification to him. She nursed him 
 with great tenderness and modesty, and was 
 
 a painful witness to his drawing his last 
 breath. He was frequently very cheerful — 
 but not very communicative. He engaged 
 sometimes in family prayer; and when his 
 pains were not severe, was very attentive to 
 any one who read to him. In the evening 
 previous to dissolution, he exclaimed with an 
 innocent soft accent, rather as surprised than 
 terrified, " Oh dear ! I have entirely lost the 
 use of my limbs." Finding he could enjoy 
 the recumbent posture on neither side, I fixed 
 myself on the bolster, and supported mm be- 
 tween my knees in my arms. It pleased him, 
 and now and then we exchanged a word. 
 Grateful acknowledgments frequently pro- 
 ceeded from him for kindness received. Soon 
 after he said, " Oh dear, I am going !" and 
 without a struggle he instantly became a 
 corpse. 
 
 It has been asserted that a stranger cannot 
 feel like a parent, but I deny the assertion. 
 Oh, how did I feel when I relieved my arms 
 from the dear youth, who knew no more of 
 an uneasy posture ! Before that decisive 
 moment how many anxious fears filled my 
 breast, lest his mind should be beguiled. How 
 earnest were my exertions to preserve that 
 spark alive, that I was desirous to see advance 
 to a flame. Disappointed in my expectation, 
 I was ready to say, I have laboured in vain, 
 and spent my strength for nought, and in 
 vain. But reflection corrects the conclusion. 
 Oh no, it was not in vain. He is not a mi- 
 nister in the church, but he is a saint in light. 
 — He was exceedingly beloved by his associ- 
 ates at Edmund-hall. A circle of them, with 
 whom I breakfasted, told me in his absence 
 he was an honour to their society. His tutor, 
 in a letter he wrote to me, in return to that 
 wherein I announced his death, says, " I 
 sympathise with you very sincerely on the 
 loss of this amiable youth, whose good exam- 
 ple in our society, will long be remembered 
 with pleasure and sorrow. From the little 
 probability of his restoration to useful life, I 
 consider his removal from this state of suffer- 
 ing, as an instance of that mercy, on which 
 he was enabled to build his hopes. The will 
 of the Lord has been done by him ; however 
 the fond expectation of short-sighted men 
 have been frustrated, I am persuaded he has 
 not lived in vain." 
 
 In all this you have an opportunity to re- 
 view the life of him, whom divine sovereignty 
 saw fit to cut off in the flower of his days — 
 you are spared, and long may you be spared 
 if it be God's blessed will, after the hand that 
 guides this pen can no more admit of my sub- 
 scribing myself, my very dear friend, yours, 
 affectionately, &c. 
 
 . LETTER XVII. 
 My very dear friend, — I have brought 
 you within a very few paces of my progress, 
 
HIS OWN 
 
 and if, in traveling through the former pages, 
 you find it tedious, you may now proceed 
 with pleasure from the idea, that after a very 
 few steps more, you will have a long halt. 
 You have frequently, yet not so often as I 
 could wish, seen me in my cottage of content, 
 where my motto would be, if I were to put 
 it over my door, " Parua parvum decent." 
 But as I came to Pains wick, not to please my- 
 self, but to finish the work my heavenly Fa- 
 ther gave me to do, I proceeded according to 
 the opening of Providence. At my first com- 
 ing, I collected a class of children and young 
 people, among whom I opened catechetical 
 lectures. I was not contented with exact an- 
 swers to the questions of a prescribed formu- 
 lary ; but I wanted to prove the attention and 
 the genius of the children, and to discover if 
 there were any principles of grace, that, un- 
 der proper nurture, would appear to advan- 
 tage. As well, therefore, as hear them the 
 Assembly's catechism, I asked them ques- 
 tions extempore, and often received such per- 
 tinent and significant answers, as rejoiced 
 my heart. By this means I singled out se- 
 veral, of which number was Mr. Wood, who 
 while in a course of education for the minis- 
 try, died with me, and of whom there is a 
 short account in the Evangelical Magazine, 
 vol. ii. page 207 : — Mr. Hogg, of truly amia- 
 ble disposition, and who is now just entering 
 the establishment : — Mr. Clift, of Frome, who 
 with an improved understanding, started 
 early, and has hitherto worn well. About 
 the same time I received from the Devizes, 
 Mr. Sloper, now useful and happy at Ply- 
 mouth. I was uncertain of help, but confi- 
 dent it would be granted, as there was occa- 
 sion for it. Mr. Welch, by your motion, in- 
 trusting me with the care of three students 
 upon his own foundation, I placed Mr. Clift 
 and Mr. Wood upon it, and applied to Mr. 
 Golding, late of Croydon, to come as the 
 third. Blessed be God I have lately been 
 witness to his growth, and perceive he is 
 ripening in his gifts and in his grace. By the 
 motion of the late Mr. Thornton, I took Mr. 
 Griffin, who with the greatest credit passed 
 his three years with me, in diligence and use- 
 fulness ; and is well known for the very re- 
 spectable and useful manner in which he ac- 
 quits himself in the pastoral charge at Port- 
 sea, Hants. I might mention Mr. Underhill, 
 who was determined to be witli me almost 
 upon any terms; but alas ! though he did run 
 well, he is hindered, and he is the only one 
 of all the sons I have brought up, in whom I 
 cannot rejoice. Disengaged in the order of 
 time from these, I thought, now I could do no 
 more to serve the church of Christ in this 
 way, and proceeded to accommodate myself 
 to the retirement of the study, and the exer- 
 tions of the pulpit, till my mind received a 
 farther impression in favour of Mr. Richard- 
 son, who is my faithful Achates. He is the 
 5* 
 
 ACCOUNT. 53 
 
 fruit of my ministry, endeared by his steady 
 and uniform deportment. It was with more 
 than former caution, I watched to be satisfied 
 that it was right to call him from tools to 
 books; but when fully satisfied, 1 proceeded 
 upon the old plan; he is now with me, as a 
 son with a father, and it appears as though 
 our separation will not produce a distance of 
 more than thirteen miles. His gifts have 
 made him an object to the people of Framp- 
 ton, with whom I think he will settle and be 
 happy. 
 
 In the complete eleven years which have 
 revolved over me since I have been here, I 
 have met with little in my pastoral connex- 
 ion to disturb or afflict me. Family differ- 
 ences, personal prejudice, and some instances 
 of immorality, have proved a source of afflic- 
 tion ; but these and a few other proofs of human 
 imperfections excepted, I am surrounded with 
 a poor, simple, pious, affectionate people, who 
 contribute willingly, though slenderly, accord- 
 ing to their ability, to my subsistence; and 
 for whom I will very gladly spend, and be 
 spent. 
 
 I have more reason to be thankful for, than 
 to complain of the attention shown to my mi- 
 nistry. Though death and incidents conti- 
 nually occur to produce changes in our con- 
 gregation, it continues respectable for num- 
 ber. The inhabitants of the town have their 
 strong prejudices against the system I hold 
 myself bound to support ; and the preaching 
 of it out of the church, renders it additionally 
 obnoxious. Yet they show respect to my per- 
 son. I am indeed in a station of mercy, 
 which I have no disposition to exchange for 
 another. I have my times of refreshing from 
 the presence of the Lord, in the congregation, 
 in the family, and in the study. No one can 
 conceive, after a third service on the Lord's 
 day, my mind having been free in my work, 
 and having had reason to conclude the word 
 has been made a blessing, with what joy and 
 tranquillity of mind I return to my mansion in 
 miniature. It affords me all I want till I get 
 where there are rivers of pleasure. — I realize 
 a few lines I have met with in Pope, and 
 which 1 a little alter, for the sake of express- 
 ing what for full eleven years I have en- 
 joyed. 
 
 " Here humble joys of home-felt quiet please. 
 Successive study, exercise, anil ease ; 
 Hero I most sweetly pass my tranquil days, 
 And would devote them to my Saviour's praise." 
 
 I am within two months of entering my 
 fifty-eighth year. Infirmities, to which I 
 never was entirely a stranger, press upon my 
 constitution, and weariness resulting from al- 
 most every degree of exertion. On review- 
 ing papers necessary to be inspected to bring 
 this memoir to its conclusion, I find fourteen 
 years back I was exercised with the same 
 symptoms as beset me now — but the Lord 
 has been my support, and having obtained 
 
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 help of him, I continue unto this day — I am 
 amidst all capable of relishing life, but I 
 would not by the enjoyments I am capable 
 of, and with which I am indulged, be bound. 
 Rather I would indulge a desire to depart and 
 to be with Christ, and would wait for his 
 summons. Whenever it may please him to 
 call me hence, I expect to meet with accept- 
 ance only in my Saviour's righteousness. 
 All my salvation is in him ; independent of 
 him I am nothing, and hope for nothing. My 
 deficiencies are many, but I would not in- 
 dulge one of them. Each, as discovered, is 
 a cause of mourning. Nothing that I have 
 done, or that I can do, will afford me satis- 
 faction. The whole is the effort of an im- 
 perfect and an impure creature, whom it be- 
 comes, in gratitude, to study to advance the 
 glory of God, by whom he is made a monu- 
 ment of grace, by whose kind providence he 
 has been supported and preserved, and who 
 remembered him in his low estate. 
 
 To God — the God of Abraham, of Isaac, 
 and Jacob, I commend you, my very dear 
 friend. — That he may be your God for ever 
 and ever, and your guide through a very long 
 life, even unto a late and easy death ; and 
 that your yoke-fellow and offspring may 
 abound in the blessings of Providence, in the 
 exceeding riches of grace, and with you 
 finally partake of eternal glory, is the prayer 
 of, ever yours, affectionately, &c. 
 
 Painswick, August 17, 1799. 
 
 PART IX* 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 It has been seen by the da te of the preced- 
 ing letters, that Mr. Winter's account of him- 
 self, leaves near nine years of his life un- 
 noticed. He was often urged to carry on the 
 relation ; he intended it — but it was delayed 
 till the purposes of his heart were broken off 
 It remains therefore for the Editor to take up 
 the narrative, and bring it down to the closing 
 scene ; and this can be done much more easi- 
 ly than the recovery of any earlier periods of 
 his history. Indeed, the events that require 
 particular notice are not numerous. 
 
 In November 1800, he met with a very 
 painful affliction, which confined him for a 
 long time from his public work, but gave him 
 
 * In the original edition, the following, as a dedication 
 to this part, was prefixed:— "To those Gentlemen in 
 civil life who were once under the care of the Rev. 
 Cornelius Winter, as Scholars ; and more especially to 
 all those in the Christian ministry, who enjoyed the 
 unspeakable advantage of his tuition and example, as 
 Students; this attempt, to do some justice to a charac- 
 ter, which, as it. is impossible for them to forget, so it 
 is hoped they will always endeavour to resemble, is in- 
 scribed by one who is desirous to feel himself the 
 obligations of which he takes the liberty to remind 
 others.— W. J." 
 
 an opportunity to glorify God in the fires ; 
 and proved how graciously qualified he was 
 to suffer all the good pleasure of his will. He 
 thus describes it in a letter to a friend. " The 
 accident happened just after I had left a 
 venerable dying woman, whom I had been to 
 visit. After proper conversation, in which I 
 found much heavenly refreshment, we pre- 
 pared for prayer, by reading the 12th chapter 
 of the Epistle to the Hebrews. Every word 
 was precious; but the 9th, 10th, and 11th 
 verses came with such light and energy to 
 my soul, that I could have immediately 
 preached from them. The matter of my 
 prayer far exceeded the sick woman's case. 
 I prayed that God would prepare us for 
 whatsoever he had prepared for us, and made 
 a particular resignation of myself into the 
 Lord's hand. It was a very heavy, rainy, 
 night. I was at the bottom of a declivity, 
 upon the plainest ground. I never walked 
 more cautiously: but my foot slipped, and the 
 master-bone of my leg was broken in two 
 places." 
 
 The fracture appeared extremely remark- 
 able, as he did not strike his foot against a 
 stone ; nor bend his leg under him ; but fell 
 upon his back. He was near a mile from his 
 house; and as the only chaise in the town 
 was absent, he was conveyed home in the 
 best vehicle that could be procured. Many 
 followed the cart with tears, to his cottage. 
 He was taken out, and laid upon the bed — 
 but before he would allow the surgeon to 
 proceed, he begged that all might be permit- 
 ted to come up into his chamber. — He then 
 offered up a prayer with such composure, and 
 with such particularity, entering into all the 
 cases which he commonly noticed in family 
 devotion, that it will never be forgotten by 
 any who heard it. 
 
 What the state of his mind was, will ap- 
 pear from the following extract of a letter to 
 the Editor, which he dictated a very short 
 time after. — "I need not tell you that the 
 consequence is confinement upon the bed, in 
 one posture, and very acute pain. But 
 through the goodness of God, I have an ex- 
 perience to relate that redounds much to his 
 glory; and if I was not disaffected to the 
 egotism, I should use it much upon the pre- 
 sent occasion. Shall I venture to tell you, 
 that I am a stranger to murmuring and im- 
 patience ; that I am in a state of entire re- 
 signation ; that I have given myself quite up 
 to God and to the surgeon; that though I 
 may groan in the dead of the night, it is 
 merely to sooth the pain ; and that I can sooth 
 it better by prayer and praise, and reciting 
 the word of God, than by groaning ! I have 
 dismissed all anxiety from my mind. I, who 
 am naturally impatient of suffering, had as 
 much happiness as I was capable of contain- 
 ing the night after the accident, and ever 
 since have known no sorrow. The reason is 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 ss 
 
 that, through grace, I am the heir of pro- 
 mise; and as is the promise, such is the 
 veracity of him that hath made it. His pro- 
 mises are opposite to our exercises, and when 
 the trial comes, then comes the fulfilment, at 
 least to such a degree as the exigency ren- 
 ders necessary. As I am overwhelmed with 
 a sense of the goodness and mercy of God, so 
 I am with the sympathy and kindness of my 
 neighbours in general, and my friends in par- 
 ticular. There is much mercy in the dis- 
 pensation that I cannot exemplify upon this 
 paper. I believe it is the prevention of some 
 great evil, and that it will be productive of 
 some great good. But, though I have thus 
 expressed myself, I remember I am yet in the 
 body, and not out of the reach of the enemies' 
 temptations, which may put dimness upon 
 the pure gold, and cause me to be the very 
 reverse of what I describe. While I think I 
 stand, I hope for grace to take heed lest I 
 fall ; and as our continuing constant in prayer 
 is instrumental of security, so to be aided by 
 the prayers of others, I esteem a very great 
 blessing. Pray for me then, my dearest 
 friend, as I do for you. The petition of the 
 present moment is — Lord, keep all his bones, 
 that not one of them may be broken." 
 
 He continued to feel and display the same 
 spirit through all the months of his confine- 
 ment. Faith and patience had their perfect 
 work. All who were witnesses of the afflic- 
 tion were powerfully impressed by this pas- 
 sive preaching ; and the surgeon who attend- 
 ed him, more than once made a remark to 
 this effect — " Till I visited this man I thought 
 religion was only a mere opinion, or some- 
 thing to talk about; but if I am not happily 
 possessed of it myself, I am now convinced 
 that there is a reality and excellency in it." 
 
 At length, by the use of his crutch and his 
 staff, he was enabled to reach town, and by 
 sitting in the pulpit, discharged again all the 
 three services of the day. Enervated by his 
 affliction, preaching at this time appeared to 
 him very formidable, and he often thought he 
 must resign it. But it was rendered a bless- 
 ing, and the congregation was enlarged. 
 
 Owing to the increase of hearers, and also 
 the decayed state of the place, it was deem- 
 ed desirable and necessary, to rebuild the 
 meeting on a larger scale. The people, by 
 all their exertions, could only raise a small 
 proportion of the sum required for this pur- 
 pose ; the remainder was to be obtained by 
 an application to the religious public. This 
 called him forth as a beggar; and few of 
 this order ever met with so much encourage- 
 ment and success. His name had prepared 
 his way. Many rejoiced to honour his case 
 personally, and to recommend him to their 
 connexions ; and the difficulties which arose 
 from his modesty and reserve, were more 
 than counterbalanced by the promptitude of 
 friendship. 
 
 But these excursions not only proved how 
 high he stood in the esteem of thousands, 
 numbers of whom he had never seen before ; 
 but gave him opportunities, which otherwise 
 he never would have enjoyed, of an interview 
 with many of his old friends, and of seeing 
 the grace of God in the various churches, by 
 which he was made glad. 
 
 The journies however were often tiresome 
 and painful ; and in a multitude of applica- 
 tions, he sometimes met with repulses which 
 his tender spirit would very sensibly feel. 
 The want of more rest and retirement was 
 also frequently trying. But he was deter- 
 mined to persevere, and rejoiced in the 
 thought, not that he should have a better 
 local accommodation for preaching than be- 
 fore, but that he should leave a place conve- 
 nient, large, and unincumbered, to a suc- 
 cessor. This he often mentioned with evident 
 satisfaction, accompanied with the remark, 
 that it was not probable he should occupy it 
 long himself. It was opened on the 13th of 
 June 1804. 
 
 " Blessed is the man that endureth tempta- 
 tion." The word intends every thing by 
 which grace is tried; and this applies not 
 only to distressing events, but also to pros- 
 perous ones. Many have endured indigence 
 and calamity, who have been sadly injured 
 by a successful change in their circumstances. 
 But the deceased had on the armour of 
 righteousness, on the right hand and on the 
 left. As when afflicted, he was not swallow- 
 ed up of overmuch sorrow, so when indulged 
 he was not exalted above measure. He 
 could say with Paul, " I know both how to 
 be abased, and I know how to abound ; every 
 where and in all things I am instructed, both 
 to be full and to he hungry, both to abound 
 and to suffer need. I can do all things 
 through Christ, which strengtheneth me." — 
 It had been seen how he could suffer, it was 
 now to appear how he could possess. An 
 addition was made to his income, which 
 though it would have been inconsiderable to 
 many, was far from being so to him. As I 
 wish to make the subject of these memoirs 
 as much as possible, the writer of them too, 
 it will be proper to insert here a few extracts 
 from his letters, relative to this affair. 
 
 " To his esteemed friend, Mr. P e, 
 
 of Stroud, who had been once his pupil, he 
 writes — " Mrs. Shepherd, to whose kindness 
 I am indebted for a competent subsistence, 
 was a fellow 'orphan with me in the same 
 family. She gave herself at a proper time 
 to Mr. Shepherd, who was a man as poor as 
 herself. By a series of events they prosper- 
 ed. But our friendship was broken off for 
 many years, owing to a fraudulent act in 
 which they both were guilty, having taken 
 advantage of a defect in her uncle's will ; and 
 I never was in company with him after. I 
 provoked him sadly the very year he died ; 
 
56 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 he might have put an effectual caveat against 
 my ever inheriting his property. He left 
 every thing to his wife ; and when making 
 his will, he said to the attorney, that she had 
 a cousin whom he knew she would take care 
 of. She sent for me up to London, in Au- 
 gust 1803, desired that we might support 
 friendship, and before I left town, made her 
 will in my favour, leaving only a legacy of 
 JEIO to a neighbour. She had a wish to live 
 with us, arranged her affairs accordingly, and 
 wonderful to say, came to us on the 7th, and 
 died on the 9th of June, at the very hour 
 she had entered the house. She had settled 
 all tilings so exactly, that no man ever had 
 less trouble in taking possession of property 
 than I have had. It will be little more to 
 me neat than jE150 per annum — a great 
 estate to me, who have all my lifetime been 
 in narrow and uncertain circumstances, and 
 will make me easy to whatever period God 
 may see fit to continue me here, and will 
 enable me, if I precede Mrs. Winter to the 
 eternal world, to leave her comfortable. 
 The more I review the Providence, the more 
 I am filled with astonishment. I am thank- 
 ful, but not elevated ; and think myself highly 
 responsible to the Giver of every good gift, 
 who remembered me in my low estate, and 
 in my latter years has dealt so bountifully 
 with me. I have no change to undergo ; I 
 shall neither eat nor drink more, nor wear 
 better clothing ; yet I would rather lay out 
 than lay up." 
 
 In a letter to Miss C 1, Bristol. — 
 
 "By this affecting Providence I am carried 
 above necessity. My conscience obliges me 
 to restore a sum of which I knew a widow 
 had been unjustly deprived, and which there- 
 fore makes a part of the property ; whether, 
 after this, it may make me worth £150 per 
 annum, I cannot say ; however, I presume it 
 may be something towards it. I receive it 
 with great solemnity of spirit, rather than 
 with elevation, and adore the hand that has 
 committed it to my trust. It is given rather 
 to improve to the good of others, than to de- 
 vote wholly to myself. My case is the re- 
 verse of hers who said, " I went out full, and 
 the Lord hath brought me home again empty." 
 1 entered life empty, and prevented witli the 
 blessings of his goodness, I close it with the 
 enjoyment of bread to the full." 
 
 Addressing his very dear friend Mr. L e 
 
 of W m, Shropshire. — " Had she died 
 
 in London, I should never have received her 
 whole property, as she lived among thieves. 
 Her coming to Painswick with intention to 
 live, and dying exactly on the four and twen- 
 tieth hour after her arrival, is an event that 
 exceedingly affects me whenever I think of 
 it The change it has produced in my cir- 
 cumstances is truly humbling in my mind ; 
 elated I cannot — I would not be. Little did 
 1 think while we were entering Worcester, 
 
 and I was mentioning to you the probability 
 of my surviving Mrs. Shepherd, that her 
 property would so soon fall into my hands; 
 but thus it is, that God is often thinking of, 
 and providing for us, when we are least ap- 
 prehensive of it — Blessed be his name, I 
 have never known what anxiety for futurity 
 is ; but under narrow and uncertain subsist- 
 ence have dwelt at ease. I do not now find 
 an additional want, I have no alteration to 
 make in my mode of living ; but as the stew- 
 ard who is required to be found faithful to the 
 talent entrusted to his care, I wish to impart 
 of the favour imparted, and to consecrate it 
 to God, from whom I have received it." 
 
 No person ever acquired a fortune with so 
 little envy. Every one rejoiced at the intelli- 
 gence, and the joy was as sincere as it was 
 general. He derived indeed little or no per- 
 sonal benefit from it; it is questionable whe- 
 ther he had upon the whole so much coining 
 in as before, since casual gratuities from va- 
 rious quarters now failed — people having a 
 quick sagacity in discerning that a man no 
 longer wants their assistance — while the 
 number of applications and dependents mul- 
 tiplied. Imagining himself, however, inde- 
 pendent in his circumstances, he resolved to 
 alienate his ministerial salary to the support 
 of an assistant, whom he deemed necessary, 
 both from the state of his congregation, and 
 his own growing infirmities. In consequence 
 of this he was led to resume a work which 
 he had declined for some years, and engaged 
 two more students. These were Mr. Lane 
 and Mr. Daniel. While they relieved him 
 from one of the services of the Sabbath, they 
 added to his mental fatigue by his attentions 
 to them in the week ; but he rejoiced to see 
 that his labour was not in vain. They both 
 became very acceptable preachers: Mr. 
 Daniel is fixed in a scene of activity and 
 usefulness at Kingswood, near Wotton-un- 
 deredge ; Mr. Lane, after being compelled 
 by threatening symptoms to refrain for a sea- 
 son from public exercises, is likely to settle 
 at Wells. These were his last pupils. 
 
 The following two letters will serve to 
 render this account more satisfactory, while 
 they express feelings that do him honour, 
 and apprehensions that were, alas ! too soon 
 to be realized. 
 
 The first was written about two months 
 before his seizure, and was addressed to Mrs. 
 
 S r, of B s, who had been much 
 
 with him previous to her marriage, and for 
 whom he entertained a paternal regard. 
 
 " My very dear daughter, — I sit down 
 purposely to write something to you — I wish 
 it may be something profitable, for otherwise 
 a letter is nothing worth. The occurrences 
 of the day come of course to be mentioned. 
 You have heard we have left the hill, and 
 answer the purpose of a tent by residing 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 57 
 
 where Miss Loveday used to reside. — 
 
 Mrs. spent upwards of a month with 
 
 us here. — Could she have been reconciled 
 to all the inconveniences of an invalid family, 
 she would have been cordially welcome to 
 have staid till Christmas ; but our mode of 
 living' is so very different to hers, that I do 
 not think she was quite comfortable. The 
 fact is, that my fortune is reduced below the 
 expected sum per annum, by the change it 
 underwent, and the taxes it is under, so that 
 though in itself a great blessing, economy is 
 required in the use of it, especially as 1 have 
 many mouths to feed upon it, besides those of 
 our own family, that I may not entangle ei- 
 ther it or myself I have a turn for a little 
 elegance, but I must dispense with it, con- 
 tent with ordinary things and common de- 
 cency. I see my mercies more than my 
 disadvantages, and desire that murmuring 
 may never take the place of the great grati- 
 tude due daily to the God of my life. I am 
 disappointed in not seeing more genuine re- 
 ligion produced by my labours. Some I hope 
 fear God, and walk before him, but many 
 are so irregular in their walk, that I fear 
 for them. — I hope matters are different at 
 
 B s. I find the short time since I was 
 
 there, has produced changes. Some have 
 quitted the stage of life, and left vacant seats 
 in the house of God; others are removed; 
 while instability has turned away a few, yet 
 our dear friend has a considerable number, by 
 which his hands are strengthened. O that 
 they may be his present joy and his future 
 crown of rejoicing. How surprised I was to 
 see him so full and fleshy. He credits his 
 soil, his pantry, and his nurse. May you, my 
 dear daughter, be long continued to be his 
 comfort, and may his life be coeval with 
 yours, that, at a very late period, you may 
 both have such a retrospective view of life 
 together as will excite a repeated tribute of 
 praise. I need not say daily consecrate 
 yourselves to God. Keep the mind heaven- 
 wards; let your friends see that you live 
 upon the suburbs of the celestial kingdom. 
 Do not let the world engross you in any de- 
 gree. Whether it smile or frown, be alike 
 indifferent to it. Conceive of it as it is, 
 fleeting and uncertain. Take the refresh- 
 ments provided for and suited to the pilgrim, 
 but do not set up your rest where you should 
 only bait. Prepare to meet your God. I 
 hope to be regulated according to the advice 
 I give. I have need ; the full allotment of 
 the life of man is pretty near its period, and 
 decay discovers itself, if not so perceptible in 
 the countenance ; yet in the feeling of the 
 loss of spirits and strength. Were I in the 
 vigour of my days, inattention to the eternal 
 state would be unallowable. How much 
 more is it at threescore and five. But with 
 all the infirmities and imperfections of nature, 
 not to say sins, I can truly say, my desires 
 
 are ever towards the Lord; and I would be 
 on the constant look-out for my great change, 
 and be daily waiting for my dismission, ra- 
 ther than be taken up with the trifles of sense 
 — whatever consequence the world may give 
 to them. Will the world ever be wiser than 
 it is ! Very weighty are the measures Pro- 
 vidence is using to make it so. The judg- 
 ments of the Lord are abroad in the earth, 
 and our nation is like to feel the force of 
 them. A great deal of distress now prevails. 
 Failures in this neighbourhood are incessant. 
 They who were considered wealthy are re- 
 duced to the greatest straits, and the trade 
 that is carried on, is so depreciated, that it 
 is asserted, the manufacturers cannot get a 
 living profit. Such is the state of things, and 
 consequently the poor feel exquisitely. My 
 good wife is as well as may be expected, 
 and so is Mrs. Tyler, to whom we are much 
 indebted for her kind exertions. They unite 
 in salutations to you and my son, from whom 
 I shall be ever glad to receive a line. If he 
 will commission you to use his pen, and you 
 will accept the commission, it will be equally 
 and very acceptable to, my ever dear daugh- 
 ter, your very affectionate father, C. W. 
 " Painswick, Oct. 16. 1807." 
 
 The other was addressed to Mrs. S r, 
 
 Birmingham, and was written only a month 
 before his death. 
 
 " My dear friend, — It is so long since I 
 wrote to you, that I am ashamed to think of 
 it. You are nevertheless often in my mind, 
 and I set you upon the list of my old friends. 
 I am yet in life, yet in the house of God, yet 
 engaged in the ministry of the word. But 1 
 am waiting for the change when I shall rank 
 with perfect society in the world of blessed- 
 ness, where we shall see no war, nor hear 
 the sound of a trumpet, nor have hunger of 
 bread, as is the case with many of our dear 
 brethren on the Continent, and would have 
 been as dreadfully so with us, if God had 
 punished us as our sins deserve. I am get- 
 ting old and feeble. I am before my years in 
 constitution, and have been ever since I was 
 a child. So trying I find the ministry, and 
 so many trials have I with my people, that I 
 have been tempted to give it up. But yet I 
 dare not. Be thou faithful unto death, is a 
 peal in my cars, and turns the inclination of 
 the mind. It has been the lot of others, as 
 well as of myself, to have their labours de- 
 feated, and to be pained with the worst of all 
 disappointments. A few years will deliver 
 me from my pain and convey me to my rest, 
 and I hope it will be found that however 
 great the ground of my complaint is, that all 
 the labour is not lost. — Our neighbourhood is 
 and has been for some time a neighbourhood 
 in affliction. — Mr. and Mrs. B— - — r are in 
 tlic situation where I was at the hill, and I 
 with my good old woman arc at the brow of 
 
58 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 the town, a very short distance from our 
 place of worship, where we shut our eyes at 
 the inconveniences we sustain, thankful for 
 the conveniences we enjoy. My good wife 
 is in cheerful blindness, desirous of inward 
 illumination. Mrs. Tyler is as well as may 
 be expected, passing her days in devotional 
 retirement, and acting as far as she can in 
 Mrs. Winter's stead. Both unite in affec- 
 tionate salutations to you. Do you find in- 
 creasing encouragement from your attention 
 to the school ! Do the walls of prejudice in 
 
 any degree fall at L d. Persevere, my 
 
 dear friend, though under discouragement. 
 Some good may arise from your endeavours 
 that may diffuse itself to posterity. A little 
 stream may convey downward a great mercy, 
 and from your maintaining your ground, the 
 barren wilderness may become a fruitful 
 field. According to this idea I am led to 
 keep my station. The work has derived but 
 little advantage from me ; may it greatly in- 
 crease by the instrumentality of another, 
 when I am in the grave. Wherever there 
 is to be found one given of the Father, the 
 Son will make his claim to him, and find him 
 out, and according to this truth will be the 
 success, or non-success, of the ministry. 
 
 What news does B m afford? Do the 
 
 Miss W 's appear benefited by the means 
 
 of grace ? Their being so will prove a great 
 satisfaction to you, as the contrary will be 
 your affliction. I hope Mr. W is pru- 
 dent in his management of them, and that by 
 his being near to God, he will communicate 
 something to them that shall remain with 
 them for ever. I hear different tidings from 
 
 W y, but I hope in the main the work of 
 
 God is going forwards in both departments 
 of the church in that place, notwithstanding 
 the late awful instances of human depravity. 
 — Do, my dear friend, let us hear from you 
 
 soon. As I suppose Miss W is with you, 
 
 I take the liberty to send my christian salu- 
 tations by you, and remain, yours, affection- 
 ately, in our dear Lord Jesus, C. W. 
 " Painswick, Nov. 6, 1807." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HIS SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 Mr. Winter was much older in constitu- 
 tion than he was in age. His strength was 
 never considerable ; but for a length of time 
 previous to his removal, he had been gene- 
 rally complaining, and frequently so indis- 
 posed as to render the discharge of his work 
 trying and difficult. 
 
 December 13th, 1807, he exchanged pul- 
 pits with Mr. Jeary of Rodborough. This 
 was the last Sabbath of his public ministry ; 
 and two things are observable. Here he 
 preached his first sermon in Gloucestershire ; 
 and thus he ended his career in this county 
 where he began it. — And his concluding dis- 
 
 course was 2 Corinthians v. 1. " For we 
 know that if our earthly house of this Taber- 
 nacle were dissolved, we have a building of 
 God, a house not made with hands, eternal 
 in the heavens." — The congregation was pe- 
 culiarly impressed. Many said he seemed to 
 be preaching his own funeral sermon. — So it 
 proved. 
 
 He slept that night at Mr. Hogg's. In the 
 morning he came to Mr. William Cooper's, 
 Southfield-house, Woodchester, and ottered, 
 if agreeable, to spend the day, and take a bed 
 with them. In the afternoon as Mr. Cooper 
 was writing to the Editor, he wrote on one 
 part of the sheet — 
 
 " My ever dear friend, — Though I have 
 nothing particularly to communicate, I have 
 wanted to write. A long silence is hardly 
 consistent with the reciprocal regard that 
 subsists between us. I sometimes hear of you 
 that you are pretty well ; sometimes that you 
 are but indifferent. I hope the former is 
 more generally the case. I rejoice in your 
 acceptance ; and trust the result of your la- 
 bours is usefulness in all the variety for 
 which the ministry is appointed. I wish I 
 could give you a pleasing account of myself, 
 but I cannot. My powers of late have been 
 much shut up, like water frozen, rather than 
 like a flowing stream. Indeed I have been 
 very, very, very poorly, and when I am 
 forced to preach, it is in a way that is very 
 dissatisfying to myself My voice fails me, 
 and you may judge of a sermon that is with- 
 out voice, as well as without energy of mind. 
 But what is to be said of an exhausted candle ] 
 The lower it burns the dimmer the light I 
 have been tempted to give out, yet knowing 
 that where I do not stand in the way of ano- 
 ther I ought to stand as long as I am able ; \ 
 resist the temptation hitherto. When you 
 have an half hour's leisure let me hear from 
 you, and give me all the good news you can. 
 Yours ever, and very affectionately, in our 
 dear Lord Jesus, C. W." 
 
 In the evening he seemed tolerably well, 
 and prayed with his usual excellence. But 
 in the night he was seized with a bilious fe- 
 ver ; and though he came down in the morn- 
 ing, he was obliged to return to bed, and con- 
 tinued much afflicted all the day. In the 
 evening of Tuesday, Mr. Payne, of Forest 
 Green, visited him, and after an hour's inter- 
 view and conversation, prayed with him. He 
 said that his friend, who had peculiarly re- 
 ferred the issue of the affliction to the Lord's 
 disposal, had precisely expressed his own 
 wishes. Though the night was restless and 
 painful, in the morning he rose and came 
 down, and expressed a wish that was not to 
 be diverted, to go home. His friend con- 
 veyed him to Painswick in his carriage, and 
 Mrs. Cooper accompanied him. Before he 
 left the house he said " I cannot leave you 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 59 
 
 ma'am, without my blessing." He kneeled 
 down for the last time in this abode of friend- 
 ship ; but so exhausted was his strength, and 
 so low was his voice that he could not be dis- 
 tinctly heard by the servants, who were more 
 remote from him ; and so overpowering was 
 the effect of disease that he was scarcely able 
 to say any thing all the way to his house. 
 Yet after he reached home nothing seemed 
 very alarming, and for some days the physi- 
 cian was not called in. During the week of 
 his return he wrote to a friend : " I was ar- 
 rested in my progress, and brought home a 
 prisoner. I write from my bed to inform you 
 of it. I did not know on Tuesday morning 
 but I should have seen the Judge of all. I 
 have no prospect of coming abroad soon. 
 The Lord sanctify all his dispensations, and 
 it will be well with us, however severe they 
 be." 
 
 Hence on the 28th, he wrote the following 
 note to William Cooper, Esq. 
 
 " My dear sir, — By a poor man who stops 
 a few hours at Mr. Hillman's, I thought it 
 right to drop you and Mrs. Cooper a line : it 
 only expresses the grateful sense of your 
 kindness to me, not only during my confine- 
 ment at your hospitable mansion, but for con- 
 veying me home. I have been a prisoner 
 ever since, but it appears the hour of release 
 is approaching; and, I hope, if no relapse 
 comes, on Sabbath day to resume my services 
 in the congregation. I have reason to be 
 thankful for a mind kept in perfect peace, and 
 for such visits of mercy as amount to an indi- 
 cation that the Lord has not been dealing with 
 me in anger. Oh, my dear sir, how desira- 
 ble it is to be weaned from this world, and to 
 die to it, before we are called to die out of 
 it Reason and religion concur to remind 
 me that I cannot be long here : a respite 
 I may have, a reprieve I cannot expect ; 
 that which sin has made terrible, the re- 
 deeming love of the Lord Jesus has made de- 
 lightful. 
 
 " To die is gain, and to be kept at a dis- 
 tance from death is therefore in reality a dis- 
 advantage — but it is not without its accom- 
 modation to them who live unto the Lord. 
 That you and Mrs. Cooper may be richly ac- 
 commodated with grace till you are meeten- 
 ed for glory, is the prayer of, my dear sir, 
 yours, in the bonds of the gospel, C. W." 
 
 " Mr. Jay bears in mind his obligations to 
 you, and, Deo volente, intends performing his 
 promise. Kind respects to Mrs. Wilks, 
 and hope Mrs. Butler is in merciful circum- 
 stances." 
 
 Before we quite leave Woodchester, and to 
 anticipate a little for the sake of avoiding re- 
 petition — The mansion that had entertained 
 the deceased a few weeks before, welcomed 
 the Editor when he went to attend his funeral 
 
 solemnities. This circumstance produced 
 what is here inserted, .and which would not 
 have been made thus public, had it not been 
 to gratify a friendly request. It was im- 
 promptu ; the sudden unstudied language of 
 the heart, which it was deemed unfair to 
 alter. 
 
 Written, and left in the chamber in which 
 Mr. Winter was seized for death, at the 
 house of William Cooper, Esq. Wood- 
 chester. 
 
 And was it in this house of peace, 
 
 Of friendship and of love, 
 Winter, the Man of God, receiv'd 
 
 His summons from above ? 
 
 With lamp well trim'd and burning bright, 
 
 And loins begirt around, 
 In waiting posture long he stood, 
 
 To hear the welcome sound. 
 
 Born from above, and thither bent, 
 
 And longing for the skies; 
 How sweet the voice that met him here, 
 
 And softly said, " Arise!" 
 
 And, ripe for bliss, to him ere now 
 This call had long been given — 
 
 But he, the joy of doing good 
 On earth, preferr'd to heaven. 
 
 The world, the church, the young, the poor, 
 Ah! these detained him here — 
 
 For us he pray'd, he preach'd, he liv'd, 
 And pour'd the friendly tear. 
 
 Hence, wing'd for heaven, he linger'd still 
 
 Nor was in haste to fly — 
 But having taught us how to live, 
 
 Would teach us how to die. 
 
 " My Father," cried Elisha, when 
 
 Elijah left the earth — 
 And thou hast claims to filial love, 
 
 As strong as those of birth. 
 
 A son of thine, dear saint, here kneels, 
 
 Thy shining flight to trace ; 
 And bless'd, could he thy mantle catch, 
 
 And share but half thy grace. 
 
 When Jacob on his journey slept, 
 
 And saw the ladder near ; 
 The top of which e'en pierced the sky. 
 
 And God was standing there; 
 
 " How dreadful is this place," he cried, 
 
 How sacred is the ground ! 
 I here have seen the house of God, 
 
 The gate of glory found." 
 
 Inmates! or guests! whoe'er you are 
 
 That in this room may lie, 
 Remember — here our Winter slept, 
 
 And here began to die. 
 
 To return to Painswick — He had collec- 
 tions of his papers brought to him, and in- 
 spected them, destroy ing, as well as preserving 
 many. He remarked, that it was unreason- 
 able for him to give his surviving friends so 
 much trouble. It would appear, from hence, 
 that he deemed the time of his departure was 
 drawing on, even though he might be per- 
 mitted to visit the house of God again. What 
 the state of his mind now was, the following 
 letter will discover. — The Editor sets a pecu- 
 liar value upon it, because it was not only 
 the last that he received from his ever dear 
 
60 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 and honoured friend, but also the last that 
 was written by hiin. 
 
 " My very dear friend, — The morning 
 after I wrote to you I was seized with a cold 
 shivering, followed with a violent bilious 
 fever, and this attended with an inflammation 
 in my right leg, from which I have not the 
 least relief. The fever continues to lurk in 
 me, and I am a complete invalid. Hitherto 
 I have had such pulpit help as the neighbour- 
 hood affords, but it is too inconsiderable. I 
 have an inclination to make an effort to come 
 abroad next Lird's-day, but it is very doubt- 
 ful whether I shall be able, but if I do, I fear 
 I shall not be capable of collecting matter 
 that will be a stay to me, so barren is my 
 mind and inadequate to fixed thought. I have 
 been a long time out of order, and my limbs 
 exceedingly affected by every little damp 
 which has come to them. My mind amidst 
 all is calm and placid, and I am desirous that 
 the will of the Lord may be done in the issue. 
 We are sure the Lord does that which is 
 right, and however exercised we may be with 
 pain, it becomes us to live in the exercise of 
 submission. What if this be the presage of 
 dissolution ! I hope to consider it the presage 
 of release from sin and its effects ; and that, 
 through the grace of our adorable Jesus, I 
 shall attain to the full salvation which his 
 sufferings and death have made sure. I am 
 pleased at the good account you give of Wil- 
 liam. May you escape the pain arising from 
 undutiful children, and have all the blessings 
 arising from obedience and affection. My 
 love to Mrs. Jay and the family. I am, my 
 very dear friend, affectionately yours, in our 
 dear Lord Jesus, C. W. 
 
 " Painswick, Dec. 32, 1807." 
 
 This was written in bed; and being finish- 
 ed, the hand, which the writing proved was 
 beginning to forget her cunning, laid down 
 the pen for ever. 
 
 The relapse of the disorder increased its 
 violence, and seemed to threaten mortifica- 
 tion in the right leg. His friends had now 
 every reason to fear the result, and if prayers 
 and tears would have retained him, "Our 
 brother had not died." 
 
 There would have been nothing unsatis- 
 factory if the life of such a man had closed in 
 sdence. We are prone to lay too much stress 
 on a few dyinsr expressions. — Vet the words 
 of departing saints are precious. — They con- 
 vince and they encourage. 
 
 Such stupefaction did the last stages of the 
 disorder produce, that the dear deceased had 
 not many intervals in which he could com- 
 mand the use of his reason. His benign and 
 venerable countenance was viewed witli the 
 most sympathetic interest, while he was sleep- 
 ing away the hours that kept him from the 
 joy of his Lord. 
 
 Even his mild and gentle rambles were all 
 
 in character with the man; and each lucid 
 moment was filled up with prayer, thanks- 
 giving, and friendship. He often mentioned 
 his connexions by name, attended with some 
 devotional expression. Every time he took 
 refreshment, or medicine, he verbally im- 
 plored the divine blessing. On the Wednes- 
 day night previous to his dissolution, being 
 asked by his nurse how he was, he replied, 
 " I am a little languid, but I bless God that 
 he has brought me thus far, in such an easy 
 manner." Soon after he desired the three 
 first chapters of the Epistle to the 1'hilippians, 
 to be read to him. He paid particular regard 
 to those passages that speak of ministers and 
 people in their relation to each other. He 
 said, " He had laboured for the young, but 
 feared he had not been very useful ; yet he 
 hoped the good effect of it would hereafter 
 appear." 
 
 He said, " If God were to refer the event 
 of the affliction to me, I would refer it to him 
 again. I feel to this world as a weaned 
 child." 
 
 On Friday one of his brethren, Mr. Bishop, 
 of Gloucester, visited him. When told that 
 he was come, he lifted up his eyes and hands 
 with surprise and pleasure. Mr. Bishop said 
 to him, " I hope, sir, that you are happy !" 
 He replied, " Yes." His friend added, " It 
 is but a short step from earth to heaven:" 
 with a feeble, but distinct voice, he echoed, 
 " A short step," and then added, " I have 
 sought the divine glory more than my own 
 interest. I am closing life as I began it" 
 His eyelids then fell — his voice ceased — and 
 death" seemed rapidly approaching. 
 
 Many acknowledgments of a similar nature 
 were uttered, which, as is too common in 
 these cases, the attendants did not secure at 
 the season, and could not accurately recover 
 afterwards. Indeed the affectionate and de- 
 voted creatures significantly remarked, they 
 " Did not know that one thing he said was 
 better than another ; it was all alike — so 
 heavenly — it was heaven to be with him." 
 
 The Sabbath was now come that was to end 
 in the rest that remains tor the people of God. 
 In the morning he prayed, " Lord, bless and 
 unite my people." Soon after, he suddenly 
 cried out, " He is my salvation, he is all my 
 salvation." About eleven o'clock he exclaim- 
 ed, " I am ready, I am ready, I want to go 
 home." Soon after, when one of his friends 
 looked upon him, and asked him how he did ? 
 He replied, " Like a dying man ; may the 
 Lord bless you, and your family." He in- 
 quired, as some of the family returned from 
 worship, the state of the congregation, and 
 was pleased to learn that it was large. 
 
 A little before eight in the evening he said, 
 "Tell my good wife, I am going." He then 
 stretched himself out, laid his arms at length 
 upon his body, and indistinctly said, " Come 
 Lord Jesus;" and without a groan, fell asleep. 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 61 
 
 Tuesday morning, January the 19th, was 
 the period appointed for his interment. For 
 several hours before the service began, num- 
 bers were assembled together. More than 
 thirty ministers, of various denominations, 
 were present on the solemn occasion. While 
 the coffin was within view of the congrega- 
 tion, Mr. Bishop, of Gloucester, delivered a 
 funeral sermon from the character given of 
 Hannaniah, "He was a faithful man, and 
 feared God above many." The reflections 
 were as interesting as the text was pertinent. 
 As soon as his remains were laid in the vault 
 beneath the pulpit; a very able and character- 
 istical address was delivered by Mr. Jones, 
 of Chalford. 
 
 Few services were ever so affecting. The 
 place was a Bochim, a place of weeping. — 
 Painful as it is to attend such a scene, there 
 is a kind of melancholy pleasure blending 
 with it. To mingle with a multitude drawn 
 together, not by curiosity, not by the ostenta- 
 tious pageantry of death, but by esteem and 
 attachment; to witness unequivocal, as well 
 as numerous proofs of departed worth; to see 
 one turning aside to heave a sigh, another 
 raising his streaming eyes to heaven ; to hear, 
 as you withdrew, the short but significant 
 eulogiums from many a quivering lip, — " Ah ! 
 he was a good man." — " I have lost a friend 
 indeed." — " I shall never find his like again." 
 — Yes — all this affords a mournful satisfac- 
 tion. And what attendant will ever forget 
 the mixture of grief and gratification he suf- 
 fered and enjoyed when this man of God was 
 carried to his long home? Few men were 
 ever adapted to inspire an affection at once 
 so powerful and tender. There are charac- 
 ters we venerate, that we can hardly be said 
 to love. The apostle has made a difference 
 between the impression produced by right- 
 eousness and goodness : " For scarcely for a 
 righteous man will one die, yet peradventure 
 for a good man some would even dare to die. 
 It is goodness that makes one man a god to 
 another ; we are only to be won by kindness : 
 they are the cords of love, by which hearts 
 are irresistibly drawn, and indissolubly bound 
 together. 
 
 Who, therefore, that knew Mr. Winter, 
 can wonder at the sensibility his loss produced. 
 The intercourse of the friends that assembled 
 in his own house previously to the funeral, 
 was carried on by looks and tears, rather than 
 words. When the procession came out of his 
 dwelling, the spectators that lined the street, 
 all melted into emotions of grief. When the 
 corpse entered the chapel, and when it was 
 laid low in the dust, the audience could 
 hardly be restrained within the bounds of de- 
 cency — all seemed to feel and to verify the 
 words of our great moralist, " The blameless 
 life, the artless tenderness, the pious simpli- 
 city, the modest resignation, the patient sick- 
 ness, the quiet death, are remembered only 
 
 to add value to the loss, and to deepen sorrow 
 for what cannot be recalled." 
 
 Many who never heard him, came to be- 
 dew his grave. Persons of religious senti- 
 ments, widely different from his own, opened 
 their houses to accommodate those who came 
 from a distance. The rector, with a libe- 
 rality of mind, and tenderness of heart, that 
 did him honour, apologized for his inability to 
 attend, as he expressed it, " The funeral of 
 the ever to be lamented Mr. Winter." At- 
 tendants who had waited upon him ; the driver 
 at the inn who had carried him to his house, 
 when he fractured his bone, the coachman 
 that had drove him home, when he was seized 
 for death at the house of his friend — all seem- 
 ed glad to remember, and to divulge, any lit- 
 tle kindness they had shown him. 
 
 Two very impressive sermons were preach- 
 ed in the evening of the day, by Mr. Lowell 
 and Mr. Thorp, of Bristol ; and on the follow- 
 ing Sabbath, all the ministers in Gloucester- 
 shire agreed to improve the Providence in 
 their own congregations. This was done also 
 by his students, and by several ministers in 
 other countries. Two only of these discourses 
 were published,* but the number would have 
 been considerably enlarged, had it not been 
 from a needless delicacy with regard to the 
 intended publication of his life. 
 
 Mr. Winter was only turned of sixty-five ; 
 but his looks and walk had even long before, 
 led many to suppose that he was much more 
 advanced in age. His person was rather 
 above the middle stature. He was inclinable 
 to corpulency. His face was marked with the 
 small pox, but not disagreeably so. His eye 
 was uncommonly mild and risible. His coun- 
 tenance was all benign. 
 
 There is no very good likeness of him. 
 That in the Evangelical Magazine did him 
 no justice; that in the Theological, disgraced 
 him. The image of his placid and heavenly 
 features will long remain in many a fond 
 memory. May the image of his character 
 remain longer still, and be more vividly re- 
 called — especially by those that enjoyed the 
 advantage of his tuition. May it be present 
 with them alone, and in company : in the fa- 
 mily and in the church ; may they be follow- 
 ers of him as dear children ! 
 
 An extract containing the preface to his 
 will, may gratify his friends. 
 
 " In the name of God, Amen. I, Cornelius 
 Winter, of Painswick, in the county of Glou- 
 cester, minister of the gospel, being of sound 
 disposing mind, memory, and understanding, 
 thanks unto the Lord for the same, do make this 
 my last will and testament, as follows ; that 
 is to say, I commit my soul into the hands of 
 God, gratefully acknowledging his discrimi- 
 nating grace, of which he made me an early 
 
 * The one by Mr. Hishop, of Gloucester; the nther by 
 Mr. Goldirtg, of Fulwood, who had been one of his se- 
 I cond class of pupils. 
 
62 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER, 
 
 partaker, and by which I escaped many tempo- 
 ral and moral evils, and have had life sweet- 
 ened, and the trials of it rendered supportable. 
 Whenever it pleases him to call me, I would 
 die in a humble, but firm, confidence in Jesus, 
 as my Redeemer; renouncing all pretensions 
 to merit, in any thing 1 have done, lamenting 
 the imperfections of which I am conscious, 
 and many which my understanding has not 
 discovered, in hope of a blessed resurrection 
 with his redeemed people, in the day when 
 they shall be gathered together, &c. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 VIEWS OF HIS CHARACTER. 
 
 To consider Mr. Winter personally and 
 relatively, in private and in public life; to 
 give, if not a finished portrait, yet a sketch 
 of his leading features, so as to enable the 
 reader to distinguish and estimate his worth 
 — is the design of this part of our subject. 
 And if the power of representation were al- 
 ways the same with the possession of know- 
 ledge, the Editor might hope to succeed; 
 having had from domestic residence, and the 
 most unreserved intercourse and correspond- 
 ence, peculiar opportunities of acquaintance 
 and observation. 
 
 Let us first glance at Mr. Winter's ta- 
 lents and acquisitions! 
 
 He was not possessed of first-rate natural 
 endowments; but it is equally certain that he 
 claimed a considerable degree of mental su- 
 periority. His apprehension was quick, his 
 judgment was accurate; and his imagination, 
 though not vigorous and bold, was fertile and 
 ready. No one could more nicely or instant- 
 aneously discriminate the defects or excel- 
 lencies of a performance ; but his candour and 
 self-diffidence generally repressed the decla- 
 ration of his sentiments. If genius be used in 
 a limited and rather modern sense of the word, 
 as denoting peculiarity and individuality of 
 thought and expression, Mr. Winter had a 
 considerable claim to it. He always lamented 
 the want of memory. It might be supposed, 
 that a man must be certainly conscious whe- 
 ther he is really deficient in this faculty or 
 habit. Yet I am persuaded the complaint is 
 too general, and helps much to produce the 
 effect it bewails. The memory, like a friend, 
 loves to be trusted, and rewards confidence. 
 No man will be satisfied who measures his 
 power of retention by his wishes: and the 
 memory should not be censured because it 
 does not lodge every thing it meets with, and 
 which would produce superfluity and confu- 
 sion. — The goodness of it very much consists 
 in an instinctive property, by which it throws 
 off what is needless and unsuitable, and ap- 
 plies only what is pertinent and necessary. 
 And this was the case, at least, in a great 
 degree, with Mr. Winter: whether writing 
 or speaking he never seemed at a loss for 
 
 what the occasion required, either to confirm 
 or illustrate his subject. 
 
 With regard to his learning it has already 
 appeared that he was destitute of a classical 
 education, and began his ministry under very 
 great disadvantages. Though this could not 
 be considered as his fault, he felt it as his 
 affliction; and never resembled those who 
 depreciate what they do not possess, and are 
 not willing to acquire. Never did a man more 
 value erudition, in all its various branches, 
 and for all its legitimate purposes; never did 
 a man strive more patiently and laboriously 
 to gain literature. And his acquisitions, con- 
 sidered in connexion with his circumstances, 
 were eminent. He had more than a compe- 
 tent knowledge of the original languages, 
 and read the Scriptures in them. He well 
 understood the Latin tongue,* and made pro- 
 ficiency in the French. His acquaintance 
 with general science, though not profound, 
 was extensive. He knew no luxury so great 
 as a book : his reading was constant and di- 
 versified. 
 
 Let us, secondly, notice him as a Tutor: 
 Here we have to view him as the master 
 of a school, and as the president of an acade- 
 my. Nothing could have been more' unex- 
 pected than his introduction to each of these 
 kinds of tuition. 
 
 For several years, while at Marlborough, 
 he had the care of youth intended for civil 
 life. The number of boarders was never very 
 large, but this was not for want of applica- 
 tions, which he found it difficult to reject. 
 With 'what views and dispositions he attend- 
 ed to this branch of duty ; and how anxious 
 he was, while qualifying them for secular 
 stations, to train them up in the nurture and 
 admonition of the Lord, appears from the fol- 
 lowing extract of a letter written to the father 
 of one of his first pupils. " No pains shall be 
 wanting to prepare him for a life of useful- 
 ness. The care of youth should be conscien- 
 tiously undertaken ; and though I find it, with 
 my ministerial services, a life of great labour, 
 I can truly say, I set myself to it with a deal 
 of cheerfulness. It may in some sort be con- 
 sidered as an observation of our dear Lord's 
 command, ' Feed my lambs.' If we attend to 
 them wholly, that is, to their souls as well as 
 to their bodies, they will not admit of our 
 living an idle life. Happy they, who, in what- 
 ever line of duty the Providence of God places 
 them, are enabled to perform the part of a 
 wise steward. You as well as myself, and 
 all who profess the religion of the dear Lord 
 Jesus, are under an obligation to fill up our 
 place with a regard to his glory : but we shall 
 meet with many impediments, and they are 
 not to be surmounted but by watchfulness 
 and prayer. May we continue in these sa- 
 
 * The Editor has in his possession his Latin corres- 
 pondence with Professor Warren, of Linden, in West- 
 phalia, during the residence of one of his pupils Ulldi r 
 liis care. 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 68 
 
 cred exercises ; and be sure to connect thanks- 
 giving with them for all the mercies of our 
 lives. Many of these lie concealed under 
 trials and disappointments ; yea, many of them 
 consist of these very things: they may be 
 grevious to be borne, but they will prove pro- 
 fitable in the end." 
 
 The pupil whom the letter concerns, in 
 transmitting it, referring to " The happy pe- 
 riod" of his being placed under his care, 
 writes "I say happy because though at the 
 tender age of only eight years, my memory 
 still records many instances of his more than 
 parental kindness ; and I trust his affection- 
 ate solicitude for the promotion of my best 
 interests, has had a salutary influence upon 
 my subsequent conduct and character." I 
 cannot refuse inserting — " Return the letters 
 I have sent as soon as possible. They will 
 often afford me a melancholy pleasure in the 
 review ; and enable me to enjoy a sort of 
 mental converse with the ever to be lament- 
 ed writer, though he has passed the confines 
 of mortality." This is only one instance of 
 the obligation and attachment felt and ac- 
 knowledged by numbers more. 
 
 In teaching the young, that which is so re- 
 quisite, is not a vastness of talent, but a pe- 
 culiarity of disposition. It is a temper com- 
 pounded of affection and patience ; it is a 
 temper that blends mildness with firmness, 
 and inspires rather than commands ; it is a 
 temper that, like the genial rays of spring, 
 warms, revives, opens, — not like the stern 
 severity of the winter-day that chills, freezes, 
 and binds; it is a temper that will not produce 
 timidity by eagerness of importunity, or con- 
 fusion by hastiness of censure ; a temper that 
 will prevent discouragement in reaching a 
 remote distance by not discovering too much 
 at once ; and that teaches the receiver as he 
 is able to bear it. 
 
 Some have supposed that it was the design 
 of our Lord to furnish a motiv e rather than a 
 model, when he said, "Learn of me for I am 
 meek and lowly in heart." As if he had said, 
 " Be not afraid to place yourselves under my 
 tuition ; my condescension equals my ability ; 
 I will bear with your weaknesses ; and my 
 gentleness shall make you great." Never 
 had a human being so much of this quali- 
 fication as Mr. Winter. And this appear- 
 ed in another and a higher department of 
 education. 
 
 In training up young men for the work of 
 the ministry, he did not precisely conform to 
 the common method of education in the semi- 
 naries of Protestant Dissenters. It could 
 hardly be deemed necessary. He seldom had 
 more than three or four at the same time. 
 The formalities of an academy would of course 
 be much dispensed with, and conversation and 
 reading supply a series of lectures. He was 
 a father with his sons, rather than a tutor 
 with his students. They were almost con- 
 
 stantly with him ; he was always familiarly 
 instructing them; and the love he inspired 
 was such as to endear every thing he said. 
 Whether they were walking in the field, or 
 sitting in the house ; at the fire-side in the 
 evening, or at the table at meals, improve- 
 ment was blended with pleasure. Reading 
 always attended the hours of breakfast and 
 tea, intermingled with remarks derived from 
 the subject It was no unusual thing for one 
 of his students to accompany him in his visits 
 to the chamber of sickness, and the house of 
 mourning: he knew that young men should 
 be sober-minded ; and that by the sadness of 
 the countenance, the heart is made better. 
 To prepare them for social and edifying inter- 
 course, they also frequently attended him in 
 his friendly visits. They sometimes joined 
 him in his preaching excursions. There are 
 few things in my life that I can remember 
 with so much melting pleasure, as my going 
 with him — walking by the side of his little 
 horse, and occasionally riding — on a fine 
 summer's evening, into a neighbouring vil- 
 lage, and returning again the same night, or 
 very early in the morning. In these instances 
 I was required to take sometimes a part, and 
 sometimes the whole of the service ; but it 
 was a privilege rather than a task, to do any 
 thing before him. He heard our discourses 
 and prayers with the greatest tenderness, and 
 beamed with pleasure at every presage of im- 
 provement. A backwardness to notice imper- 
 fections was his extreme ; he loved to com- 
 mend ; it was hardly in his power to find 
 fault. Yet though his approbation seemed 
 easily gained, it was not rendered the less 
 desirable. It was delicious to enjoy it, and 
 therefore it always supplied a stimulus. 
 
 He engaged his students to preach very 
 early after they were with him. This arose 
 partly from the state of the neighbourhood, 
 which wanted help. Souls were perishing for 
 lack of knowledge, and they who could not as 
 yet hope for acceptance in large and polite 
 audiences were able to show the way of sal- 
 vation to those who were generally more de- 
 ficient than themselves. But I believe it also 
 resulted from his conviction of the propriety 
 of the measure, independent of this necessity. 
 He imagined the sooner the young men began, 
 the more facility and confidence they would 
 acquire ; and that it would be less embarrass- 
 ing and discouraging to commence before all 
 their deficiencies were known, than to start 
 with the full disclosure : that it was better 
 for them to encounter difficulties one by one, 
 as they became sensible of them, than to begin 
 trembling under their united impression. It 
 is to be remembered also, that they officiated 
 at first only in private places, and rustic con- 
 gregations. It unquestionably gave them ad- 
 vantages as preachers ; but it broke in upon 
 their studies as pupils. Some of the villages 
 they served were at a considerable distance : 
 
64 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 their traveling occupied their time, and its 
 engagements diverted their attention. Upon 
 the whole, and after mature reflection, I 
 should prefer the method he adopted to any 
 other. It tended to keep the heart in the 
 things of God, and to preserve the savour of 
 religion on the mind, which it is well known, 
 is easily destroyed, where all the studies are 
 purely intellectual, and several young men 
 of vivacity and emulation are blended to- 
 gether. 
 
 And the preservation of spirituality is of 
 great importance where the office is sacred : 
 of this Mr. Winter never lost sight. He was 
 always feeding and cherishing the piety, as 
 well as promoting the literary improvement 
 of those who were under his care. He con- 
 stantly reminded them of the absolute neces- 
 sity of personal religion ; and endeavoured to 
 keep alive a sense of their dependence on God, 
 for the preservation and the increase of their 
 powers, and the success of their applications 
 and exertions. Often when we have been 
 perfectly alone, and were going to read even 
 a book on general subjects only, he has prayed 
 a few moments himself, or required me to do 
 it ; and I have no doubt but all his students 
 can testify the same practice in their private 
 intercourse with him individually. Indeed 
 if nothing of this kind was engaged in for- 
 mally, it was impossible not to feel devoutly 
 while near him : his presence was the very 
 element of piety. 
 
 To illustrate this kind of attention which 
 he paid as a tutor, I shall introduce a few ex- 
 tracts from his letters. If I take them from 
 his correspondence with me, while I was 
 more immediately his charge, it is not to in- 
 sinuate that his regards were less peculiar to- 
 wards others, but because I am only possessed 
 of materials to exemplify his pious care in this 
 one instance. 
 
 " Dear Billy, — Among the various things 
 which employ my thoughts, your coming to 
 Marlborough is one. I hope in time it will 
 be brought about, and that you will pray for 
 the blessing of God upon our designs and en- 
 deavours. You will not forget the object we 
 have in view — it is to prepare you for, and 
 to introduce you into the service of the sanc- 
 tuary ; in which service that you act proper- 
 ly, and shine to the glory of God, and be use- 
 ful to your fellow-mortals, it is necessary that 
 you should be devotedly given up in heart 
 and life to God himself. If you are not really 
 converted yourself, you will talk very awk- 
 wardly about conversion to others. If you do 
 not love Jesus, you will want a most power- 
 ful constraint to preach him as the only Lord 
 God and Saviour. Pray therefore for a re- 
 newed heart, if you have it not already ; and 
 for a growth in grace, if that divine principle 
 is already implanted. — Then you will enter 
 all upon necessary studies like a devoted and 
 
 C. WINTER. 
 
 dependent youth whoso every moment will 
 discover holiness to the Lord. You will then 
 be prepared to partake of the afflictions of the 
 gospel, and enjoy the spiritual and temporal 
 blessings God may graciously confer upon 
 you to his praise. I am, my dear Billy, your 
 affectionate friend, 0. W. 
 
 "Marlborough, January 21, 1785." 
 
 The above is part of the first letter I ever 
 received from him. 
 
 In another, dated Bristol, Tuesday night, 
 (past eleven o'clock,) he writes — 
 
 " Your way to Tisbury seems open. On 
 the 1st of October, if life and health are 
 spared, you are appointed to preach the un- 
 searchable riches of Christ, in the village 
 where you first drew your breath, and often 
 since have evidenced yourself to be a sinner. 
 Indulge suitable meditation, and pray that 
 you may go with a holy caution upon your 
 spirit, fearing lest while you preach to others, 
 you yourself should be cast away. By the 
 thought that this may be the case, I am 
 awakened out of my sleepy frame, and ex- 
 hort you, my dear youth, on no consideration 
 to take up with preaching merely as a sci- 
 ence ; enter upon it as a work of the last im- 
 portance, and in the discharge of it, respect 
 your own salvation, as well as the salvation 
 of those who hear you. I do not write as 
 suspecting your sincerity, but as knowing the 
 depravity of the human heart, I warn you. 
 On my journey, I have been examining my 
 heart, and reviewing my conduct, and have 
 found myself very deficient in exhorting and 
 praying with you. I hope when you return, 
 to amend this omission, and trust you will 
 be the better for it; neither be presumptuous 
 nor too diffident, but go on praying and de- 
 pending on the Lord Jesus, and may he be 
 with you. Meet my wishes with your en- 
 deavours, and you will find me to be yours, 
 very affectionately, &c." 
 
 In another, dated Bristol, November 3, 1778 : 
 " It gave me great pleasure to hear from 
 you yesterday. I have not time to write to 
 you in Latin, nor indeed much in English. I 
 am happy to hear all is well at home, and 
 much desire to be with you. — I pray the ex- 
 ercise of your soul may be sanctified to you, 
 and that by every means you may be kept 
 humble at the feet of Jesus. O my dear 
 Billy, be clothed with humility, and you will 
 then be happy and useful. God resisteth the 
 proud, but giveth grace to the humble. Many 
 kind inquiries are made after you." 
 
 In another, dated Marlborough, July 4, 
 1788: 
 
 « I am breaking off from the sermon I am 
 
1118 LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 65 
 
 composing for Mr. Hancock's funeral, who 
 was buried yesterday, on purpose to drop you 
 a line. Ever since I received yours, 1 have 
 been in hurry and confusion. 1 am absolutely 
 going from Marlborough, and have a fair 
 prospect of settling at Painswick, in Glou- 
 cestershire. There 1 shall bo glad to see you, 
 and as often as may be convenient and pru- 
 dent, will exchange pulpits with you. You 
 are much upon my heart, and I think upon 
 you with joy, with fear, and trembling. You 
 must expect enemies, and look for persons 
 who will not take a little pains to invalidate 
 your labours. 1 have had information of the 
 advice Mr. Cecil gave you; it was truly im- 
 portant, and equally true the remark he made 
 at the same time. Let nobody spend an af- 
 ternoon with you, nor do you spend so much 
 time with any one, if you can help it. Be 
 sure to preserve some time for attending to 
 Latin and (J reek; and by carrying your wits 
 about you, get a knowledge of men and 
 things, as well as pay a close application to 
 books. Preserve your modesty, and walk 
 with great caution and circumspection. I 
 wish 1 was at your elbow, I could say many 
 things I cannot enter upon now. Tune for- 
 bids my enlarging. May God keep and smile 
 upon you, and cause all grace to abound to- 
 wards you." 
 
 In another, dated Burford, July 9, 1788 : 
 
 "I dare say you received my short line 
 by Mr. Stump. I wish I could have written 
 to you more largely and explicitly, but the 
 hurry I have been in all the last week is 
 scarcely to be conceived of. I have had two 
 providential opportunities to hear of you, and 
 am thankful to hear you are acceptable; I 
 hope the Lord will continue to make you 
 daily so, and keep you low and humble be- 
 fore him ! You will want a great deal of 
 wisdom, and had need ply hard to alt kinds 
 of studies which are subservient to the mi- 
 nistry, and immediately connected with it. 
 Prayer, much prayer to God, is of great con- 
 sequence to you. Keep as much as you can, 
 from contracting epistolary correspondence. 
 Let your letters be as few as possible; yet 
 here you had need be careful, lest you should 
 overlook essential friendship. Pay all due 
 
 respect to , and keep a very close 
 
 tongue. I preached Mr. Hancock's funeral 
 sermon, on last Lord's day, in the afternoon. 
 If I could help it, I would go no more to 
 Marlborough. O that you could meet with 
 some godly young man to fill up my place 
 there ! My heart aches for the people, 
 though they have used me so very ill. I 
 hope God will provide for them, and not suf- 
 fer them to be given up. — I hope when you 
 return, the country will afford you much 
 comfort and opportunity lor study, and that 
 I 0* 
 
 opportunity will be well improved. I am at 
 present exercised with many trials, and hope 
 they will be sanctified. It' you can entertain 
 me with any little news, do. God bless you, 
 &c." 
 
 7/i another, dated Marlborough, July 
 1788: 
 
 " If you really have performed your ap- 
 pointment for Mr. Hill, I would advise you 
 In attend to no farther invitations, but. leave 
 London immediately. Come into the coun- 
 try to pray and reflect, and wherever you go, 
 set the picture of your mortality before you; 
 and consider that he who has raised you can 
 sink you, and will, unless you give him the 
 glory of the gills he has given to you. You will 
 take this hint kind ; it intends no reflection. 
 Write, or come to Painswick, when you can, 
 and by the first opportunity. I long for a 
 little quietude and retirement, but above all, 
 for that which will come in due time. Till 
 then I hope for grace to persevere in every 
 Christian duty, and to prove myself, by every 
 means in my power, yours, &.c." 
 
 In another, dated Wolton, September 7, 
 1788: 
 
 "I a little indulged the hope of seeing 
 you last week, but I acknowledge it proceed- 
 ed more from a kind parental fondness than 
 from a hope founded in reason. I hope you 
 are well, and busily gathering store into your 
 hive from the various flowers upon which you 
 light May all savour of grace, and termi- 
 nate in the glory of the great and good God, 
 whom to serve, I trust we shall never cease; 
 and of whose service, I pray we may never 
 be weary till we are stretched in our coffins. 
 Since God has given you ability for his good 
 work, keep yourself at liberty for, and in it. 
 I bless myself in my heart, that you are out 
 of London. If I was to study your reputa- 
 tion, more than the glory of God, I would 
 advise you to take the same steps; but as 
 the glory of God is concerned, and your eye 
 is single to it, I more confidently rejoice. _ I 
 do not wish you to spend your days in Chris- 
 tian-malfbrd, at the same time I am glad it is 
 a retreat for you. The idea of a young man 
 grasping at lucrative baits, is contemptible, 
 and I suspect the gospel has not suffered a 
 little from such instances ; on the other hand, 
 neglect of wealth, indifference to it, and pre- 
 ferment given to poverty and obscurity, puts 
 lustre upon a religious character, especially 
 with popular £rifts ; profane history gives us 
 many and striking instances of what I say. 
 And we cannot speak with weight upon 
 divine things; but as our practice confirms 
 our doctrine." 
 
66 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 In another, dated Painswick, May 8, 1789 : 
 
 " Wonder not that I have not written to 
 you before. My heart and my hands have 
 been full, and though I have often thought 
 of you, I have lost you in a cloud, which I 
 hoped Providence would disperse. I doubted 
 not but that I should find you again, and that 
 my bowels would be refreshed by thee. 
 How glad am I that it is your design to be 
 at Painswick, my prison, my palace of plea- 
 sure and of praise, next Thursday. Pray 
 start immediately after breakfast, and be not 
 surprised if you meet me in lord Ducie's 
 wood, or on Selsley. Somewhere, I will 
 strive to meet you, if the weather be not 
 very foul. Then, if I can, I will tell you 
 how I was bereaved of dear Thomas. I feel 
 under the Providence, but am not miserable. 
 He was an idol torn from me, and I yield 
 him up, from a conviction I have done wrong, 
 and God has done right. Do not omit to im- 
 prove upon it. God has given you a tongue, 
 and an early commission to use it; let the 
 heart dictate to it, and may the Spirit dictate 
 to the heart. Live while you live ; it is but 
 a little while you have to live. ' Work 
 while it is called to-day ; the night cometh 
 when no man can work.' With an heart 
 enlarged to you beyond what words can ex- 
 press, I am, &c." 
 
 In another, dated Painswick, Nov. 21, 1789 : 
 
 " It is a pleasure to know where to direct 
 to you. Were it not to you it would be no 
 pleasure to write, for I am tired. I long to 
 see you, not for the sake of hearing news, 
 but because I love you. What a noise have 
 you made in the world ! How many eyes 
 are upon you. How many hearts fear for 
 you ! How many envy you ! — I hope you 
 are in the possession of heavenly enjoyments, 
 and walking comfortably in the good ways 
 of God. These are your best days, make 
 much of them, and by your indifference to 
 yourself, and that holy negligence which is 
 a bright ornament, and necessary to blunt 
 the edge of even kind suspicion, show that 
 you can be popular without being proud. 
 The church as well as the world looks with 
 a jealous eye upon the young minister of 
 the day, and especially upon those who have 
 no paternal property to support gay appear- 
 ance. — Mr. Thornton, in a letter of Thurs- 
 day, says, ' The prevalent attention to dress 
 and outward appearance feeds the pride, and 
 ruins more than half our young ministers. 
 Even awkwardness, if it tends to humble 
 them, is desirable ; for whatismoreodiousthan 
 a finical, conceited, dressed up, young minis- 
 ter, that thinks he is the mighty orator. I 
 would never wish ministers to be slovenly, 
 but I had rather see them in worsted hose, 
 than in nice silk stockings, and would prefer 
 
 such as drink water and small liquors, to 
 those who cannot do without wine and spirits.' 
 I write not this to reproach you, but as my 
 most dearly beloved, to caution and warn 
 you. I know you will take it as an evidence 
 of my right to subscribe myself, ever yours, 
 affectionately, &c." 
 
 I have taken an extract or two from letters 
 addressed to me after my removal from him. 
 I could have added to their number greatly ; 
 for his fatherly care never declined. When 
 his students left him, he followed them with 
 his prayers and advice ; he watched over 
 them with a godly jealousy, and cautioned, 
 warned, exhorted, encouraged them, accord- 
 ing as their circumstances required. They 
 were always welcome to his house as visit- 
 ants ; and nothing could afford him greater 
 delight than to see any of them in his pulpit, 
 and to witness the fruit of his labours. He 
 has often been seen standing the whole ser- 
 mon with eager attention, and pleasure 
 glistening through his tears. 
 
 I would only add that he was peculiarly 
 attentive to the behaviour and manners of his 
 young men. No person ever valued more 
 than he did, the moralities and proprieties of 
 life in all its relations and conditions. This 
 is not always the case. Some of those who 
 are very zealous for what they call the power 
 of godliness, trample upon its external forms, 
 and circumstantial appendages, which yet 
 are often, not only ornamental, but highly 
 useful. Taken up with great things they 
 overlook little ones; not considering that 
 what is little in one view, may be great in 
 another; that what is little in its abstract 
 being, may be great in its consequences, and 
 its connexions. In this view it is hardly 
 possible to know what is unimportant, espe- 
 cially in moral conduct, and in public office. 
 Are there no instances to be found of cha- 
 racters whose excellency has been obscured, 
 and whose usefulness has been injured — per- 
 haps, ruined, by little levities, familiarities, 
 indulgences, and inconsistencies, which the 
 severest casuist could not construe into posi- 
 tive crime 1 But it has been said with equal 
 truth and beauty, " That the character of a 
 minister is like that of a female : to be sus- 
 pected, is almost as bad as to be guilty."* 
 A feather discovers the direction of the wind 
 as well as a tree. Our Lord in sending 
 forth his twelve apostles and seventy disci- 
 ples issued a variety of maxims and admoni- 
 tions, which, were they to be delivered now 
 at the ordination of even a young Evangelist, 
 would be deemed trifling. It was the advice 
 of Solomon, " Let thine eyes look straight 
 on :" — " Ponder the path of thy feet, and thy 
 goings shall be established." 
 
 Upon these principles Mr. Winter entered 
 into the detail of practice ; and adduced in- 
 stances to exemplify the defects of the ex- 
 * Clayton's charge at the ordination of Mr. Brookbanks. 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 67 
 
 cellencies he described. It was an object 
 with him to teach them how to appear in the 
 parlour as well as the pulpit. He did not 
 think it unnecessary to guard them against 
 superfluous wants, and unseemly customs — 
 against the sottish and offensive habit of 
 smoking; against giving trouble where 
 they happened to lodge ; against keeping up 
 the family beyond their usual time of repose ; 
 against inexactness in keeping them waiting 
 at meals ; against the use of spirituous li- 
 quors; against fondness for delicacies. He 
 did not think it needless to regulate their 
 deportment towards servants, suggesting the 
 propriety of noticing them, as well as the 
 heads of the family in morning and evening 
 devotion. It will be naturally concluded 
 that he did not leave them uninstructed in 
 their relation to female society. He minute- 
 ly specified the prudence that must guide 
 them in the design of marriage ; and taught 
 them to maintain the sacred obligations 
 arising from choice and engagement. No- 
 thing offended him more than the versatility 
 of some young preachers, who seem to think 
 they have a right to trifle as they please 
 with the affections and characters of those 
 they address. 
 
 He knew that a minister's acceptance 
 and usefulness, depended as much upon con- 
 duct as upon talent ; and therefore as a tutor 
 he knew that he could not discharge his 
 office by teaching them how to decline and 
 conjugate ; how to find a word in the root 
 and follow it in the ramifications; how to 
 form a syllogism or argue without it ; how to 
 form a style, and use the figures of rhetoric, 
 without turning their attention minutely, 
 morally and practically upon themselves : — so 
 that they should leave him able to compose a 
 sermon, but not to form a character ; filled 
 with science and empty of wisdom: to va- 
 pour through life with scraps of Latin and 
 Greek, instead of being wise as serpents and 
 harmless as doves. 
 
 Let us not, thirdly, pass over him as a 
 
 MINISTER. 
 
 He was a scribe well instructed in the 
 kingdom of God, and like a householder he 
 brought forth out of his treasure, things new 
 and old. He had a vast fund of scriptural 
 and experimental knowledge; and few ever 
 furnished so great a variety of important re- 
 flections as he produced in his ordinary mi- 
 nistrations. There was no sameness in his 
 discourses. I never remember to have heard 
 a repetition of the same illustration, or 
 even the same phraseology. The principles 
 lie taught were those which he originally 
 received when he heard the gospel to pur- 
 .pose. His conviction of the truth, and the 
 importance of them, strengthened with his 
 years. Hence in a sermon he published in 
 1792, he affirm?, " I am so far from repenting 
 that I ever embraced them, and from being 
 
 ashamed that I have propagated them as an 
 itinerant and a stated minister, that I shall 
 bo glad to subscribe to them with my dying 
 hand, and testify to them with my expiring 
 breath." To him, they appeared not only as 
 the distinguishing doctrines, but the peculiar 
 glory of revelation. He regarded them as 
 affording the grand desideratum of the state 
 of man, as a guilty, depraved, and helpless 
 creature. They had the most holy and happy 
 influence upon himself; and he saw that, as 
 they are denied or suppressed, religion lan- 
 guishes for want of life, and the fruits of mo- 
 rality and good works sink and shrivel, if they 
 do not immediately drop oft* the branches. 
 
 Yet he did not preach these systems syste- 
 matically and doctrinally, so much as in their 
 experimental and practical bearings and re- 
 sults. He was most strictly evangelical, if 
 that means to preach — that we are saved by 
 grace, through faith and that not of ourselves; 
 that Christ has once suffered for sins, the just 
 for the unjust, that he might bring us unto 
 God ; that in him we have righteousness 
 and strength ; that his sheep hear his voice, 
 and shall never perish ; that every moral 
 duty is to be enforced by christian motives. 
 
 But he would not separate principle from 
 practice; he would not treat doctrines as 
 naked, cold, angry propositions; he would 
 not be always harping upon two or three 
 favourite topics, and shun a large proportion 
 of the gospel scheme ; he would not confine 
 his motion to a circle, like a blind horse 
 going round in a mill, or feed like an ass 
 tethered in a paddock; but went over the 
 whole land of revelation, in the length and 
 breadth of it. 
 
 Neither would he pervert the plain and 
 true meaning of Scripture, in order to ac- 
 commodate himself to the taste of a sound, 
 or rather sickly audience. In a letter to a 
 friend, he has freely expressed himself upon 
 this exceptionable practice. "In our last 
 conversation I believe you misunderstood me. 
 I have no treatise upon friendship ; and only 
 intended to say something upon it in my ex- 
 temporary way, from Proverbs xvii. 17 — 'A 
 friend loveth at all times.' Some were dis- 
 pleased ; the reason is because I did not vio- 
 late the text, and strike out a doctrine from 
 it, as foreign to the design of Solomon in 
 giving it, as the northern and southern poles 
 are to each other. Morality, though intro- 
 duced in its proper order, and fixed in its 
 proper place, is very disgraceful to some of 
 our evangelical hearers, who are very far 
 from being the moral men themselves. They 
 are never pleased with any thing, but that 
 which whips up their frothy passions to a 
 very strong head ; and those are the best 
 preachers in their estimation, who bring the 
 whisk with them into the pulpit, and meet 
 not their true state, but their inclination. 
 Destitute of voice, memory, fancy, and above 
 
68 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 all, of a wish to make a nose of wax of the 
 text, I have not been popular ; if in any de- 
 gree I have been useful, God shall have the 
 glory of my usefulness, and 1 will take to 
 myself the shame of all my defects. I am 
 getting pretty far in life, and am seized with 
 indispositions common to most old men. They 
 do me no harm, though they put me to pain, 
 I have had my weaning, and am weaned." 
 
 Never was there a man more condescend- 
 ing and accommodating where duty called, 
 than Mr. Winter, but he would not stoop to 
 vulgar tricks ; he never courted popularity ; 
 especially where the acquisition involves 
 censure, rather than confers praise. He 
 would no more sacrifice his judgment than 
 his conscience, in letting himself down to a 
 taste which he knew lie ought to endeavour 
 to raise : if he could not correct it, he would 
 bear with it, but would never indulge it, 
 never sanction it. Much might have been 
 done in reforming some abuses, if all minis- 
 ters had followed his example. While 
 classes of hearers, remarkable for their cap- 
 tiousness, and ignorance, meet with preach- 
 ers that seek to pay homage to them, either 
 from love or fear they will feel themselves 
 of importance. 
 
 But little of the impression he made as a 
 public speaker, was derived from his manner 
 of address. He was venerable in the pulpit, 
 not striking. He had no action. His voice 
 was not very clear or powerful; his utter- 
 ance was rather slow and inanimated. 
 
 He frequently preached without notes ; but 
 more generally he wrote a short skeleton ; 
 and sometimes of late years read his whole 
 sermon. 
 
 Various are the ways of discussing texts. 
 The Essay mode : this indeed can hardly be 
 said to treat a text at all, and was probably 
 introduced for the sake of brevity, or as the 
 indignant extreme of the endless multiplicity 
 of heads, and particulars that formerly pre- 
 vailed. The Expository : which explains a 
 portion of Scripture as it lies, intermixed 
 with practical addresses, in the process, and 
 sometimes closed with general reflections 
 in the review. The Observational : which 
 peculiarly applies to historical passages, and 
 contains a succession of remarks, founded upon 
 circumstances which require improvement 
 rather than explication. The Charactcristi- 
 cal: which takes for its subject the narrative 
 of an individual, and holds it. up to view, 
 marking its prominent features, to excite ad- 
 miration or aversion. The Topical : which 
 illustrates a theme or a proposition derived 
 from the design of the words, regardless of 
 the phraseology, and to which an hundred 
 texts would be equally applicable. The 
 Textual: which deduces the divisions and 
 materials from the language of the text. All 
 these methods, except the first, Mr. Winter 
 occasionally employed, but the last was his 
 
 common one. And he excelled in it. How 
 many passages of Scripture under his ma- 
 nagement, were rendered peculiarly instruc- 
 tive, beautiful, and interesting. 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, to a considerable de- 
 gree, he was obscure and perplexing : there 
 was an involution of plan, an intersection of 
 parts, circuitous exemplifications, sentences 
 too long, and parentheses too frequent. This 
 was his greatest imperfection ; and it render- 
 ed him frequently difficult of apprehension, 
 especially among the common people. Indeed, 
 in a general way, persons of some intellect 
 and taste were the most likely to approve of 
 his labours: for when most happy and suc- 
 cessful in his addresses, there were beautiful 
 transitions, allusions, and illustrations, too re- 
 fined for ordinary perception and relish. 
 
 He had a rich acquaintance with the Scrip- 
 ture, and his sermons abounded with the 
 words the Holy Ghost uses, admirably inter- 
 woven with his own. 
 
 The gravity of his appearance, and the ex- 
 cellency of his character, always prepossessed 
 people in his favour, and disposed them to 
 listen to him with attention ; and they were 
 amply repaid. — He very much excelled on 
 public, and particular occasions; such as fast 
 days ; days of thanksgiving ; the church fes- 
 tivals, which he commonly observed ; the 
 seasons of the year, which he never neglect- 
 ed ; and deaths in his congregation and neigh- 
 bourhood, which he always improved. In 
 these performances peculiarly, though not ex- 
 clusively, he discovered a considerable degree 
 of originality, elegance, and ingenuity. But 
 I fear there are young preachers who will 
 affix wrong ideas to these terms ; as it is cer- 
 tain, others have been already led astray by 
 their mistakes concerning them. I avail my- 
 self therefore of the opportunity to deliver a 
 few thoughts upon a subject not very well 
 understood by all those who are emulous to 
 excel. 
 
 There are some whose whole aim seems 
 to terminate in their being original preach- 
 ers. They must have something new ; and 
 in order to find it, will strike out into the un- 
 important and unprofitable. What is solid 
 and useful is often rejected, because it is 
 common and well known. But it should be 
 remembered that usefulness is the end of 
 preaching — that the most common truths are 
 the most profitable — that our hearers are al- 
 ready too fond of speculations and fancies, 
 that bear not on the heart and life — that we 
 should endeavour to recall their attention to 
 truths, which, though slighted, ought to boas 
 interesting as they are momentous — that 
 there is no new revelation to be expected ; 
 nor even any fresh doctrines to be discovered 
 in the old one — and therefore — that with re- 
 gard to us, originality of subject is, and ought 
 to be out of the question; and that all tin 1 
 honour of this kind we can claim, consists in 
 
IIIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 69 
 
 now and pleasing combinations, arrange- 
 ments, and exemplifications of old, simple 
 and well known principles; the preaching of 
 which, in the beginning of the gospel, con- 
 verted the world from Paganism ; at the re- 
 formation delivered the nations from Popery ; 
 and is now the power of God to salvation 
 to every one that believeth. For want of 
 considering that this is the only legitimate 
 novelty and variety belonging to their public 
 office, young ministers have often become 
 unacceptable and useless. The body of the 
 people would have been satisfied with useful 
 and evangelical matter, however plainly de- 
 livered, but they were disappointed of their 
 food, by efforts at peculiarity : a few indivi- 
 duals of more sense than piety, would have 
 been pleased with a display of really superior 
 intellect, but they were disappointed of their 
 gratification, and withdrew disgusted by in- 
 adequate attempts to shine ; and thus has the 
 trifler fallen through between both parties. 
 
 It would be well to remember the remark 
 which Johnson, in his life of Cowley, applies 
 to the metaphysical authors, and which is 
 still more true in reference to scriptural sub- 
 jects, every one of which has been so fre- 
 quently examined : " These writers who lie 
 on the watch for novelty, could have little 
 hope of greatness: for great things cannot 
 have escaped former observation." It would 
 be well also to recollect even in this borrow- 
 ed sense, the adage of the apostle, " Every 
 man in his own order." If we follow what is 
 natural, though it may not render us popular, 
 it will keep us from being ridiculous. It is 
 better to effect well what is within our grasp, 
 than to beckon people together to see us fall 
 into a ditch, by reaching after fruit that re- 
 quires longer arms. 
 
 Elegance is minute beauty, pleasing pro- 
 priety. Simplicity is essential to it. Hence 
 the line of Cowper, who was himself the finest 
 instance of it — 
 
 " Elegant as is simplicity." 
 
 It is the same in style as what is called 
 chasteness in painting, and which is the oppo- 
 site to exuberance and glare. An indiscrimi- 
 nate and unsparing application of florid co- 
 lours, may daub a sign post, but will not be 
 admitted into the gallery. It is the same as 
 gracefulness in apparel ; and which is incon- 
 sistent not only with slovenliness, but with 
 gaudery. A well-dressed gentleman is very 
 distinguishable from an harlequin. See an 
 elegant female enter a garden ; from the pro- 
 fusion of the borders, she seeks an assortment 
 of beauty ; her eye guides her hand ; she 
 gathers, but not all that comes in her way ; 
 she selects, and the choice discovers her 
 taste ; she arranges, and the order equally 
 displays it: the several parts aid each other 
 by their hue, and by their position; though 
 brought together, there is no crowding; 
 
 though diverse, there is no confusion ; though 
 adjusted, no formality; they open, and wave, 
 and retain a natural appearance, even in this 
 artificial state. — But another runs on, gathers, 
 because they are flowers, thinks she can ne- 
 ver have enough, and leaves oft', because the 
 hand can squeeze no more — she binds it — it 
 is a bundle of flowers — but the former is a 
 nosegay. 
 
 A love of genuine simplicity is, perhaps, 
 the best proof of an approximation to mental 
 maturity. But there is an infantile state, 
 during which gaudiness and glitter, shining 
 metaphors, and poetical prose are preferred 
 to it. 
 
 Nearly the same may be said with regard 
 to what is ingenious. That which distin- 
 guishes the true from the spurious is this, the 
 effect appears natural as soon as it is pro- 
 duced, though it was not obvious before ; and 
 the reader or hearer wonders that he had 
 not been able to achieve himself, what now 
 seems so plain. Thus Milton, in referring 
 to the consequence of Satan's advice in the 
 council: 
 
 " The invention all admired, and each how he 
 To be ttie inventor, miss'd ; so easy it seemed 
 Qnbe found, which yet unfound, most would have 
 
 thought 
 Impossible." 
 
 If this statement be just, there is much 
 that would pass for the effect of genius that 
 abides not the test. If the thoughts are sur- 
 prising, they are not natural : and instead of 
 being easy, they require labour to compre- 
 hend and retain them, as well as to produce 
 them. They may indicate learning, and dis- 
 play knowledge, but they do not fascinate, so 
 that a man cannot disengage his mind from 
 the charm ! they do not dissolve him, so that 
 all his feelings are melted into a sympathy 
 of delight with the subject! And here again 
 it is no unusual thing for young preachers to 
 err. They value things according to the la- 
 bour they cost them, and expect others to do 
 the same ; and after straining and polishing, 
 wonder at the little interest they have been 
 able to excite ; while others by a touch will 
 electrify. The mind is in the best state for 
 composition when it is full of feeling, but at 
 ease, insensible of great expectations from it, 
 and unapprehensive of difficulty. A man may 
 run himself out of breath with his eyes in the 
 air ; the flowers are at his feet. 
 
 In the discharge of his office as a minister, 
 nothing was overlooked, 
 
 11 Rut in his duty prompt at ev'rycall, 
 
 He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all. 
 Anil, as a bird each fond endearment tries, 
 To tempt its new fleclg'd offspring to the skies; 
 He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay, 
 Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way. 
 
 " Beside the bed where parting life was laid, 
 And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns diemay'd, 
 The reverend champion stood. At his control, 
 Despair anil anguish lied the struggling soul, 
 Comfort rami' down the trembling Wretch to raise, 
 And his last falt'ring accents whisper'd praise." 
 
70 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 With regard to this part of his work in 
 which he peculiarly excelled, though he ima- 
 gined himself very defective in the manner 
 of the performance; he has expressed him- 
 self in a letter to the Rev. Mr. S r, of 
 
 B s: and the hints may be serviceable to 
 
 others. 
 
 " You wish to possess my idea on visiting 
 the sick. What I have to say upon this sub- 
 ject is in brief. I find it to be one of the 
 most difficult parts of my ministry. To speak 
 to a careless sinner as though his state were 
 favourable, is not possible. To use those li- 
 berties which some good men do, I cannot, by 
 attempting to torture the mind, by imposing 
 duties which though they may be expected 
 from convalescence, cannot from persons 
 whose minds have been so injured by their 
 disorder, that they cannot preserve a chain 
 of thought, nor exert themselves in the dili- 
 gent pursuit of knowledge necessary to be ac- 
 quired. I can seldom do more than remind 
 them that it is a melancholy consideration, if 
 they put off the concerns of the soul till they 
 are fit for nothing ; urge them to examine 
 themselves diligently, reminding them that 
 while they are strangers to the evil of sin, 
 they cannot put a true estimate upon Jesus 
 Christ: that there is no salvation for any but 
 in him ; that if under a consciousness of their 
 guilt, they earnestly apply to him, from his 
 merciful and gracious disposition there is 
 hope concerning them. — Indeed the peculiar 
 circumstances of the patient guide to proper 
 language, and it is pleasure rather than pain, 
 to attend those whose state is promissory, 
 whose sickness is sanctified, and who are 
 reaping the benefits of a work of grace previ- 
 ously begun upon them. I generally turn 
 from the sick to those who are healthy in the 
 room, and conceive that by serious addresses 
 to them, I may speak what is necessary to 
 the sick. I generally endeavour to be very 
 serious in prayer, and usually, if the case of 
 the patient will bear it, read, and as it is 
 your practice, make use of the Scriptures in 
 my address." 
 
 Mr. Winter was singularly pre-eminent in 
 the devotional part of his ministerial work. 
 I have heard many pray, but I never heard 
 one that prayed like him. I never knew him 
 at a loss for a word, or using a word impro- 
 perly. Such was the copiousness, such the 
 flexibility of his talent, that without any pre- 
 meditation, he could perfectly accommodate 
 his language to every occurrence. He intro- 
 duced little things with dignity, and delicate 
 ones without offence. This gave him a 
 great advantage, as he was enabled at all 
 times to notice very affectionately the vari- 
 ous and minute circumstances of his people. 
 Were some to attempt this, who possess not 
 his richness and ease of diction, it would only 
 embarrass them, and render them formal and 
 absurd. 
 
 I am persuaded however, that much of his 
 devotional fluency arose from the state of his 
 heart ; for out of the abundance of the heart 
 the mouth speaketh. The purity and fervour 
 of his benevolence made his tongue as the 
 pen of a ready writer. We can easily plead 
 for those we love, and he loved all he beheld. 
 In one of his letters he beautifully remarks, 
 in allusion to the words of our Saviour, 
 " That when he looked down upon the con- 
 gregation, he saw every where his brother, 
 his sister, his mother." — No wonder such a 
 man could pray or — preach. The Sabbath 
 morning he was more than ordinarily devo- 
 tional, and commonly indulged himself at 
 length, especially at intercession: at other 
 times he was rather short. 
 
 To conclude this article, 
 
 " I wonlil express him simple, crave, sincere ; 
 In doctrine nncorrupt ; in language plain, 
 Ami plain in manlier : decent, solemn, chaste, 
 And natural in gesture ; much impress'd 
 Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, 
 And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds 
 May feel it too ; affectionate in look, 
 And tender in address, as well became 
 A messenger of grace to guilty men. 
 Behold the picture !" 
 
 It is hardly necessary to make another se- 
 parate article, by considering Mr. Winter, 
 fourthly, as an Author. 
 
 He published no work of any extent, and 
 what he furnished the public, does not rise 
 above mediocrity. It consisted principally of 
 sermons, all of which were funeral. 
 
 The first of these was on the death of Mr. 
 Joseph Shipman, one of the students former- 
 ly expelled from Edmund-hall, Oxford, and 
 whose case excited so much attention. This 
 was preached at Upton upon Severn ; and is 
 dedicated to sir Charles Middleton, now 
 lord Barham. 
 
 The second was on the anniversary of the 
 death of Mr. Whitefield. This was preached 
 at Gloucester, and is dedicated to the poor 
 belonging to the Tabernacles at London and 
 Bristol. As this dedication is very charac- 
 teristical of the man, I cannot forbear insert- 
 ing a part of it. 
 
 " My dear friends, — The following ser- 
 mon does not make its appearance in the 
 world for any imagined excellency I conceive 
 there is in it ; my only design is to answer 
 the title, and by an honourable, though short 
 mention of one of the best friends I ever had, 
 to testify to the church and to the world, the 
 obligations I am bound in gratitude to think 
 myself under to Mr. Whitefield ; and I must 
 take the same occasion to intimate, that 
 throughout the connexion I had the honour 
 of, with that great man, I did not seek to 
 serve myself more than to be serviceable. 
 When I first thought of making this discourse 
 public, I intended to dedicate it to a person 
 of distinction, whom I count worthy of dou- 
 ble honour, till I was struck with theobserva- 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 n 
 
 tion of the wise man, viz. 'The ricli have 
 many friends;' and as dedications intend no- 
 thing more than tokens of our respect, to 
 whom should I show them more readily, upon 
 such an occasion, than to those who have the 
 preference of the hest of blessings, I mean 
 the gospel, whereby to be made rich in faith, 
 and heirs of the kingdom the Lord hath pro- 
 mised ! Yours then, my dear brethren, is this 
 sermon, whose servant he was, for Christ's 
 sake, whose memory occasioned it. 
 
 " For some time I was a labourer among 
 you ; many of you knew my original, and, 
 boasting excluded, it is a satisfaction to me, 
 that I can review what manner of entering 
 in I had unto you, and the whole of my be- 
 haviour while among you ; that touching my 
 moral conduct, herein I exercised myself al- 
 ways to have a conscience void of offence. — 
 When I reflect upon my past labours, they 
 are a sufficient cause of humiliation, and yet 
 I am a wonder to myself, when I consider 
 how destitute of every necessary acquirement 
 I at first made my appearance, and what in- 
 cessant interruptions I met with. 
 
 " A growing acquaintance with myself 
 made me conscious of my inability to be so 
 beneficial to you as I desired, therefore, en- 
 tirely at my own repeated request, Mr. 
 Whitefield took mc into America, where I 
 thought I might be useful in a sphere that 
 nobody would envy me ; and where, free from 
 all the trials attending a more popular life, I 
 might glorify God, and be serviceable to the 
 most oppressed and afflicted part of my fel- 
 low-creatures. During my state of trial in 
 this humble situation, my habitation was a 
 Beth-el, my soul was possessed with the 
 peace that passeth all understanding ; my 
 black charge was dear to me, and I much de- 
 sired the time when I should be in a capacity 
 to serve them according to my utmost wishes, 
 and for ever retreat from a world of vanity. 
 This happiness I am obliged to say, the 
 b p of L n most unkindly and most un- 
 generously deprived me of, though I sought it 
 at the hazard of my life. And no sooner did I 
 meet with his unkind treatment, than by an 
 instance from another quarter, which 1 desire 
 to bury in eternal silence, I was taught to 
 cease from man, whose breath is in his nos- 
 trils. 
 
 " You, my brethren, at Bristol, know how 
 pressingly, and at what a critical juncture I 
 was brought into your service, in which I 
 still consider myself engaged, though less 
 frequent than formerly ; owing to the obser- 
 vance of a piece of wholesome advice dear 
 Mr. Whitefield often gave me, viz. ' Be ser- 
 vant like, but not servile.' And blessed be 
 the Lord, I find there are doors enough open 
 to me, quite beyond my expectation ; my feet 
 have been set in a large place ; the poor are 
 the subjects of my itinerant, ministry, and I 
 can say, as the result of my strongest affec- 
 
 tion for them, I am willing to spend and be 
 spent for them, not doubting, but when I can 
 do no more, the Lord will take care of my 
 feeble remains. 
 
 " Perhaps the persons into whose hands 
 these papers may fall, require a word of con- 
 solation as well as instruction. You are poor, 
 and your situation exposes you to many and 
 great trials ; it may be, you find them a sore 
 burden, apparently too heavy for you to bear. 
 Be it so, you have these considerations to 
 comfort yourselves with : first, they are or- 
 dered by the Lord. He is privy to, and de- 
 signs some salutary end by them. VVe are 
 poor disordered creatures ; he is the physician, 
 and knoweth that we have need of all these 
 things. The medicine may operate severely, 
 but the several ingredients in it will work to- 
 gether for good ; and however they may put 
 you to pain for the present, they will be 
 matter of praise hereafter. God Almighty 
 doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the chil- 
 dren of men ; there is necessity for all that he 
 doeth, and the necessity is on our part ; when 
 he shall be visibly glorified by the several dis- 
 pensations of his providence, your profiting 
 will appear unto all men. 
 
 " Secondly, The Lord is daily answering 
 your prayers wherein you request that his 
 will may be done. It is enough that he hath 
 promised he will fulfil the desires of the 
 righteous: but how, or by what means he 
 will perform his promise, is not for you to 
 know ; all you have to do, is to follow the pre- 
 scriptions given you, and suffer the will of 
 God concerning you. Ye have heard of the 
 patience of Job, amidst a variety of the most 
 complicated distresses, and have seen in the 
 history of his life, the end of the Lord, that 
 he is very pitiful, and of tender mercy. You 
 must acknowledge that your blessings are 
 more than a counterbalance to your distresses ; 
 and as you are assured, that an eternal weight 
 of glory is to be the interest of your light af- 
 flictions, be steadfast, and hope to the end. Di- 
 vine supports shall be given unto you, and if 
 the period of your suffering season should be 
 drawn out to an unusual length, the grace of 
 God shall be sufficient for you, and as your 
 day is, so shall your strength be. 
 
 " Thirdly, In the word of the Lord is both 
 hope and comfort, and this is the word that 
 is preached unto you. I should be sorry to 
 make your temporal circumstances the alone 
 objects of my attention, and I hope you have 
 greater ends to answer, by hearing the gos- 
 pel, than to alleviate the sorrow of the world. 
 It so happens, that a tide of spiritual distress 
 frequently flows in upon the children of God 
 with their temporal calamities, therefore a 
 suitable remedy for both is deposited in the 
 sacred word ; and as wise stewards of the 
 mysteries of God, ministers are to deal them 
 out as the exigencies of the people require. 
 If it is well with your souls, in other respects, 
 
72 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 all is and will bo well. As Jesus is the foun- 
 tain of life, and always accessible and com- 
 municative, I beseech you to come to him just 
 as you are, poor and needy and bowed down. 
 Cast all your burdens upon him ; you may de- 
 rive a supply for all your wants out of his ful- 
 ness, he will withhold from you no manner 
 of thing- that is good ; it is your privilege to 
 trust in him at all times, and your peculiar 
 mercy, that he will never leave you nor for- 
 sake you. 
 
 " Thus much I thought necessary to say to 
 you, my poor dear brethren, in this dedica- 
 tion, to supply what may appear defective in 
 the sermon ; and now I beg an interest in your 
 prayers, that God may give me a pilgrim's 
 heart with a pilgrim's life, that I may aim to 
 promote no interest besides that of the king- 
 dom of God, nor attempt to appear an advo- 
 cate for any other party besides that which 
 shall stand upon Mount Sion. There it will be 
 seen how sincerely I have been, and so far as oc- 
 casion offers, am yet yours affectionately, &c. 
 
 "Bristol, October 5, 1773." 
 
 The third was on the death of Mrs. Lanfcar, 
 the pious sister of Mrs. Winter. 
 
 The fourth was on the death of Mr. John 
 Fryer, of Frampton upon Severn. 
 
 The fifth was on the death of Mr. Zacha- 
 rias Harlock, of Painswick, aged ninety-two. 
 
 He published a charge, delivered at the or- 
 dination of the Editor; and another at the or- 
 dination of Mr. Golding, who was also one of 
 his students. 
 
 Some valuable reflections are annexed to 
 the life of Mrs. Joanna Turner, without his 
 name. Some may not be aware of this, but 
 he was "The worthy Dissenting minister" 
 who is there said to have furnished them. 
 
 He sent various communications, especially 
 obituary and biography, to the magazines, 
 which I cannot specify. The lives of Mr. 
 Hogg and of Mr. Adams were written by 
 him. 
 
 He was idly appointed final Editor of the 
 Theological Magazine, but others engrossed 
 all the influence, and no papers were ever sent 
 him. He wrote the preface to that work, 
 which some one contrived to spoil before it 
 was printed. 
 
 Mr. Winter frequently mentioned a design 
 to publish some memoirs of that very extraor- 
 dinary character, Salmanazer, but the inten- 
 tion was never executed. This is the more 
 to be lamented, as he was peculiarly intimate 
 with him, and attended him in his dying mo- 
 ments. Mr. Winter had hope in his death. 
 He had a fine original portrait of him as 
 large as life. But we hasten to observe him 
 finally — 
 
 As a Christian. 
 
 Of the carbuncle it is remarked, that it 
 looks on lire, but when touched it is as cold 
 
 as other stones. There arc persons who soon 
 rectify our mistakes concerning them, by our 
 intercourse with them. They will not en- 
 dure close inspection. Their piety is official 
 rather than personal. It consists in certain 
 exercises and appearances, which are resigned 
 with the occasions that require them: and in 
 company they are the merry companions, the 
 temporising associates ; in the house, the cruel 
 husbands, the negligent fathers, the tyranni- 
 cal masters. 
 
 But it was otherwise with Mr. Winter. 
 His private life was not only consistent with 
 his public character, but surpassed it. We 
 respect him as a man of letters and knowledge, 
 we love him as a tutor, we revere him as a 
 preacher; but as a Christian he " excellcth in 
 glory." 
 
 And here I find it impossible to do any 
 thing that is very satisfactory to my own mind, 
 or that will probably meet the sanguine wish- 
 es of those who intimately knew him. The 
 amiableness and holiness of his daily walk, 
 were so invariable, that, as the whole cannot 
 be produced, so reasons to determine the se- 
 lection of particular parts are not easily found. 
 Facts, like quotations, arc not always speci- 
 mens ; they may rise above the general prac- 
 tice, or be peculiar to themselves; but here 
 the various excellences we adduce are in- 
 stances, and may be compared to small sam- 
 ples severed from a large piece of beautiful 
 and finely woven cloth ; they are of the very 
 same texture and colour with the whole, and 
 would have appeared to better advantage in 
 their original connexion than in their detach- 
 ed form. For fifty years, here is a man un- 
 changeable in all the varieties of life ; by the 
 grace of God, holding on his way without 
 drawing back, or turning aside, or standing 
 still, or even seeming to come short ; what 
 the Scripture calls a perfect and an upright 
 man, one that feareth God and escheweth 
 evil. — Such an one we are called to " Mark 
 and behold." 
 
 His mode of living was very simple and 
 plain. There was nothing superb in his 
 house, nothing superfluous or costly at his 
 table ; but a plenitude of wholesome fare, at- 
 tended with such a graceful welcome, and 
 such an agreeable intercourse, that whoever 
 visited him was more than satisfied, though 
 he might not find all the foolish and gouty in- 
 dulgences, to which he had been generally 
 accustomed. In a letter to his dear friend 
 Mr. L — e, in acknowledgment of a favour 
 received from him, he remarks, " My manner 
 of life is happily adapted to the times ; and, as 
 my wants are contracted, I feel none of the 
 inconveniences which crowd upon many, who 
 suppose the ministerial office must necessarily 
 be attended with style, and therefore confound 
 the distinction between a man of property 
 and a minister. A more public situation, for 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 7,'i 
 
 which I acknowledge myself unfit, may re- 
 quire an appearance with which I can witli 
 propriety dispense, and am hound to acknow- 
 ledge, 1 can obtain nil I want for myself and 
 my dear wife, with the interest of Jt!400 which 
 she brought me, and the per annum which 
 my situation produces. But I must be given 
 to hospitality, and an attention to this duty 
 seems to require a little augmentation, for 
 which I have trusted Providence, and Provi- 
 dence has honoured the confidence reposed in 
 it. The expense of a plain meal, beyond 
 which I never exceed, differs from that of a 
 feast Wherever 1 have been, the poor have 
 closely attached to me, and in fact have been 
 part of my family. For their sake I am 
 thankful for such a friend as my dear Mr. 
 L — e, who blesses me with his friendship, and 
 honours me with his pecuniary favours, and 
 affords me the pleasure, by giving me an op- 
 portunity to impart it to others, which he him- 
 self feels in imparting to me." 
 
 His family worship was early both morning 
 and evening. Reading the Scripture always 
 made a part of it, and a portion of Henry's 
 Exposition generally accompanied it. Sing- 
 ing also was commonly blended with it. He 
 was remarkably fond of psalmody, and could 
 sing well himself But — the prayer ! — Though 
 the frequency of the exercise, and the same- 
 ness of the circumstances tend to formality, 
 and allow of little diversity in domestic devo- 
 tion ; yet his addresses always seemed as new 
 as they were appropriate, and as comprehen- 
 sive and particular as they were short and 
 free.* I shall never forget these exercises ; 
 they enlivened me, however dull, and im- 
 pressed ine, however insensible. I rose from 
 my knees longing to be better ; longing to be 
 more like him ; and thought of the exclama- 
 tion of Philip Henry, when he closed the 
 duty of the Sabbath, "Well, if this be not 
 heaven, it must be the way to it." Many 
 have expressed a wish that a collection of 
 prayers was published, more peculiarly adapt- 
 ed to the use of families than any of those 
 which have already appeared. Nothing would 
 have supplied this want like a number of his 
 ordinary devotions in the family, had they 
 been secured in short hand. 
 
 Mr. Winter had no children — unless by 
 adoption and kindness. Of this class, indeed, 
 he had many. And it is worthy of remark, 
 how singularly he attracted and attached all 
 young people to him. And this was the case 
 even with children, so that I believe no child 
 was ever in his company but loved him : and 
 when 
 
 * Mr. Winter was never tiresome in domestic devo- 
 tion. He often mentioned that Mr. Wliitefield being at 
 a friend's bouse, the master of the family one evening 
 prayed himself. He was immoderately long; in the 
 middle of the prayer Mr. Whitefield rose up and sat 
 down in the chair ; and when the long-winded gentle- 
 man had done, said to him with a frown, 11 Sir, you 
 prayeil me into a good frame, and you prayed me out 
 of it again." 
 
 K 7 
 
 "The service past, around the pious man, 
 Willi ready zeal, each honest rustic ran ; 
 E'en children followed with endearing wile, 
 And pltick'd his gown to share the good man's smile. 
 His ready smile a parent's warmth cxpress'd, 
 Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares distress'd." 
 
 As a husband, he was a pattern of relative 
 virtue. While writing this very paragraph, 
 I have thrown my eye upon the copy of a let- 
 ter to a friend on his marriage, in which he 
 observes: "Much of the happiness of the 
 conjugal state consists in reciprocal giving 
 and receiving ; bearing with infirmities com- 
 mon to men, and forbearing to avail ourselves 
 of inadvertencies; closing the eye to failings, 
 and opening it to a discernment of what is 
 praiseworthy. — The study of mutual felicity 
 will be well rewarded, and it is a duty we 
 owe to ourselves, and to the partners of our 
 lives. — The bond that is soon to be dissolved 
 should be firm while it holds." To Mr. L — e, 
 on his marriage, he writes, among other things, 
 " May your wishes be succeeded to the utter- 
 most, and your expectation of the felicity of 
 the state of matrimony, be answered beyond 
 conception. I could indulge myself in the 
 multiplication of good wishes; they shall all 
 be included in one — may every blessing unite 
 to make you happy. They will, if you set 
 the Lord always before you, choose him for 
 your best portion, and study to advance his 
 interest among men. Mr. Matthew Henry's 
 dying testimony will always prove true. 4 A 
 life of communion with God is the happiest 
 life in the world ;' and his remark in the be- 
 ginning of his Comment is as worthy of notice, 
 that 'He who has a good God, a good wife, 
 and a good home, needs nothing more.' It is 
 the property of a good wife to make domestic 
 happiness ; and we seldom find men disposed 
 to seek an addition to their happiness abroad, 
 who, by the attentions of a bosom friend, are 
 made happy at home. When we do meet 
 with instances to the contrary, it is in those 
 whose natural depravity is not subdued. But 
 dear Mr. L — e has long since lived under the 
 triumphs of grace ; he has been walking in 
 its paths, been guided by its instructions, and 
 has adopted all that it inculcates. His choice 
 therefore, I am persuaded, is favourable to 
 his growth in grace; and whatever additional 
 claims his new state may impose, he will be 
 equal to, and live in the conscientious dis- 
 charge of, till the end of life is answered, and 
 he shall receive the ' Well done,' with which 
 the Lord will welcome into his joy, those who 
 acquit themselves properly in the duties en- 
 joined upon them, and are found faithful in 
 the improvement of the talents intrusted to 
 them. Exertions in his service from princi- 
 ple, will prevent us from giving them an un- 
 due merit: we shall not rob him of the glory 
 which is his due, because he condescends 
 to accept our efforts, and, though infinitely 
 short of perfection, yea, attended with nu- 
 merous instances of imperfection, honours 
 
74 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 them with his plaudit. By the grace and 
 providence of God, we are what we are ; and 
 his grace will keep us from being proud and 
 vain, while under the conduct of his Provi- 
 dence, we have opportunities afforded us to 
 honour our religion, and to be an example to 
 those around us." 
 
 It is to be remembered, that whatever Mr. 
 Winter enforced, he also exemplified. He 
 loved his wife even as himself. This affec- 
 tion was never interrupted by passion, or sul- 
 lied by pettishness. Neither was it suffered 
 to cool with years. It had no abatement under 
 the infirmities and decay of its object. When 
 he was at home, no proper attention was 
 omitted : when abroad, no engagement hin- 
 dered the regularity of his correspondence. — 
 Nor was he satisfied but in proportion as he 
 realized in his companion, an immortal too. 
 All his intercourse was as religious as it was 
 kind and tender. O ! what opportunities have 
 I had to perceive this in all his letters that 
 have passed under my review ! — In this man- 
 ner, indeed, the union commenced : and I 
 cannot resist the inclination I feel to intro- 
 duce a little of his correspondence with Mrs. 
 Winter before marriage. It will be found 
 very descriptive of the man; it may prove 
 exemplary. Here follows his first address. 
 
 " Madam, — I hope this letter will neither 
 give you surprise, nor disgust — I write it in 
 the fear of God, with a single eye to his glory, 
 from the necessity I am under to alter my 
 condition, and the high esteem I have con- 
 ceived for you. — The lowliness of my circum- 
 stances, together with my want of a settled 
 being, hitherto prevented my ever addressing 
 any one ; and I do not now wish to think of a 
 young person, conscious to myself that I am 
 not equal to the duty required in the charge 
 of a large family. — The present line the Pro- 
 vidence of God has cast me into, makes my 
 circumstances equivalent to an annuity of 
 about £35 per annum, and as I do not want 
 to live better than strictly decent, I flatter 
 myself I shall do no injury to the substance 
 of the person I desire to be united with. — If 
 I might have the privilege to address you, 
 madam, I desire to do it on the most honour- 
 able terms — should I succeed, I have not the 
 least doubt but I shall discover an affection 
 worthy of the marriage state, and engage 
 your affection toward myself by a uniform 
 temper and deportment. I have not the least 
 objection to my character and conduct being 
 scrutinized into, with the utmost care and 
 diligence, and if you please, I will refer you 
 to persons whose eminence will give weight 
 to their testimony. — A line from you will be 
 esteemed a favour, and if it brings the least 
 hint answerable to my wishes, you may ex- 
 pect a visit from me very soon ; on the other 
 hand, if you see it right to put a negative 
 upon my request, I shall endeavour to consider 
 
 it in a proper light, and be conscientiously 
 careful, not to make any future interview 
 with you troublesome. You would have heard 
 nothing from me upon this subject, if I did 
 not believe you to be united to, and a sincere 
 follower of, the dear Lord Jesus. It will be 
 by a mere mistake if ever I take a person of 
 a contrary disposition into my embraces, and 
 the more such a person differs in dress, in the 
 choice of company and matter of conversation 
 from the world, the better by far will she suit 
 me. The brilliancy of heaven is truly admi- 
 rable, and therefore desirable ; the ornament 
 Peter recommends, may be worn without re- 
 morse of conscience, even when it is truly 
 awake to know, and serious to examine. That 
 you, madam, may never put any thing on, 
 but what you can easily put off, and cheer- 
 fully exchange for a grave suit; that you may 
 never unite with any but in an indissoluble 
 bond, is the sincere prayer of, yours, in the 
 gospel, C. W. 
 
 " 1778." 
 
 " Dear madam, — In the former letter you 
 did me the honour to receive, I promised, in 
 case you did not comply with my request, not 
 to make any future interview troublesome. I 
 hope you will not deem a renewal of the re- 
 quest a breach of promise. I do intend, with 
 your permission, if an opportunity offers, on 
 Thursday afternoon, to say something upon 
 the subject ; but I thought it necessary to give 
 a previous hint of my intention, lest, being 
 unapprized of it, I might hurt your delicacy. 
 — All you have to say short of an absolute 
 denial I shall be apt to raise my hopes upon. 
 Your only objection hitherto, I am inclined to 
 think, is a fear, that by contracting an inti- 
 macy with me, you should make a fracture in 
 the union of your family — this I would wil- 
 lingly avoid. But is not their consent to be 
 
 won t I conceive Mr. B n is a man of 
 
 understanding. Will you let me pay a com- 
 pliment to his judgment, by asking his con- 
 sent to address you 1 If so, you shall be heart- 
 ily welcome to inspect the letter. I shall 
 never think of forming a union with any other 
 woman while I have the hope of succeeding 
 with you. Let me beg you to be. tender to 
 this declaration, and come to a determination 
 as soon as you can. Should any thing in Pro- 
 vidence occur to retard the accomplishment 
 of my wishes, I will endeavour to reconcile 
 myself to it, if I have but your promise. — Do 
 make it matter of prayer, and the will of God 
 will be made manifest. To-morrow morning 
 at eight o'clock, I shall be upon my knees to 
 solicit (in a particular manner) the blessing 
 of God upon my endeavours to gain you. 
 What, if at the same time you should with- 
 draw from the family for a few moments to 
 ask counsel of him 1 It may hereafter furnish 
 us with an agreeable conversation, when we 
 take a retrospective view of the footsteps of 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 75 
 
 his Providence, and be the occasion of our 
 mutual thanksgiving. — In hopes that this 
 will be one (and the most material) of my lat- 
 ter day temporal blessings, I will venture to 
 subscribe myself, dear madam, yours, &c. 
 " Marlborough, Jan. 5, 1779." 
 
 "My very dear, ever dear friend, — 
 Perhaps you would smile to yourself if you 
 did but know how the parson was tricked last 
 night. Though his strength was as exhausted 
 as^usual witli the duties of the day, in hopes 
 of meeting with one he most sincerely loves, 
 he gave an elastic spring, and with his mind 
 formed for conversation, trotted away to Mr. 
 Merry man's; but, to his great disappointment, 
 the dear object of his affection was not there. 
 This event preached a better sermon to him 
 than he had preached to his congregation, 
 though he had been three times engaged. It 
 brought a conviction that covered him with 
 shame. It made him reflect with humiliation, 
 how stupid and inactive his powers are, when 
 they ought to be vigorously exerted in pursuit 
 of the dear Lord Jesus.^I hope he will take 
 from you your present aversion to a situation 
 in town, seeing it is his good pleasure to deny 
 us the opportunity of an habitation out of 
 town. I am persuaded a little time will make 
 it familiar to us. It should become a matter 
 of great indifference what our neighbours 
 have to say or think concerning us, while we 
 study to approve ourselves unto God. For 
 my own part, I should be glad to have mat- 
 ters settled soon, and as the first necessary 
 6tep, should be glad if you would come and 
 see the house, and give me your thoughts 
 about it. We must not expect the advantages 
 of a Paradise while we are here; every gra- 
 tification will have its alloy, every habitation 
 its inconvenience, every friend his imperfec- 
 tion, and every change of situation something 
 we shall be loth to part with, as well as some- 
 thing we shall be ready to come to. Think, 
 my dear love, of this — not to distress yourself, 
 but to be fortified with such precaution as 
 will be a check upon disappointment, and a 
 means to reconcile you to the little inconve- 
 niences which will always attend us in this 
 life. — With this you will receive a small valu- 
 able pocket Bible, which I beg your accept- 
 ance of, in testimony of your intention to make 
 a present of yourself to me. It has been long 
 a part of my small property, and I rejoice that 
 I have it to present to you as the best signa- 
 ture of my love, and in confirmation of my 
 persuasion, that the rich and inexhaustible 
 treasure it contains is all your own. — I have 
 not one of the same impression by me : but, 
 the quarto one, neatly bound in black calf, is 
 of equal value, nor would I part with it upon 
 any consideration, but that of a desire to tes- 
 tify to your dear sister what an affectionate 
 alliance I wish to form with her, through my 
 union with you. I beg her acceptance of it 
 
 with my love, and pray that its precious con- 
 tents may be the joy, the desire, the guide, 
 the support of her soul. It is the Christianity 
 of the Bible, that only will stand the test; 
 and all the profession of religion that will not 
 admit of a trial by it, will be reprobated by 
 God, the righteous judge in that day, when 
 every man's works shall be tried so as by fire. 
 
 0 that I may derive all my doctrine from it ; 
 and that we may mutually agree to square our 
 lives and conversation by its unerring and 
 safe rule ! Pray for me, and believe me to be, 
 yours, &c. 
 
 "Marlborough, January 11, 1779." 
 
 " My very dear, ever dear friend, — You 
 must necessarily have been very much en- 
 gaged and exercised by the death of your 
 brother. It is an event that I hope will be 
 much sanctified to you and yours. In conse- 
 quence of it, I could not have said much to 
 you upon our own concerns, if I had had op- 
 portunity ; but opportunity has been cut off, 
 and my mind has been strangely bewildered, 
 and I may add, afflicted, by the repeated 
 aversion you have expressed against living in 
 the town. While Providence denies me the 
 pleasure of frequent interview with you, it is 
 impossible for me to act as I would, and un- 
 less you can conquer your little prejudice 
 against a public neighbourhood, I do not see 
 how my strong desire of union with you can 
 be accomplished. You have too much good 
 sense to require severe asseverations in con- 
 firmation of what does not admit of a doubt. 
 
 1 shall therefore be content to say, if I could 
 raise you a house of gold, on a paradisaical 
 spot of earth, it should be at your service ; or, 
 if Providence should abridge us of an habit- 
 ation so convenient as we would wish to en- 
 joy, I could be content to dwell with you in 
 mud walls. I have been in perpetual thought 
 ever since last Monday, about a house out of 
 town, but in vain; and even though a spot 
 could be procured to build upon, serious and 
 deliberate reflection convinces me, that it 
 would be the most imprudent step we could 
 take, to attempt it. For instance, nothing 
 could be raised but out of your own stock, 
 and by a purchase made previous to the build- 
 ing itself. My continuance in Marlborough 
 depends upon the affection and esteem of my 
 friends, and the success of my ministry ; 
 either or both of these failing I must decamp, 
 and then what good would a house do us, 
 merely suited in size, substance, and situation 
 to our own conveniency 1 Mr. Hancock as- 
 sured me it was not in his power to oblige us 
 with a house by the meeting, and I am as far 
 from approving of that in the church-yard as 
 you would be, if it was only because the rent 
 would be too high. This difficulty on our 
 first setting out is very seasonable, at least 
 to me. In a day or two after I left Rockley, 
 I wrote largely to some of my London friends, 
 
76 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER, 
 
 upon the amiable qualifications of the dear 
 woman, whom I told them the Lord had se- 
 creted and preserved to be a help, a delight, 
 a principal temporal blessing to me. Nor can 
 I yet alter my sentiment, while I think of the 
 antidote against the cold, she so kindly sent 
 me on Monday evening last, and which, 
 through the blessing of God, had its desired 
 effect. Will my dear love let me drop her a 
 hint upon a subject she must know by expe- 
 rience, if ever she is the wife of a minister 
 of Christ, viz. the cross. It will appear in 
 ten thousand forms, and be felt in almost 
 every occurrence of life. It will cleave to us 
 if we are Christians, and if we carry it as 
 submissively becomes the disciples of Jesus, 
 it will befriend us even while it galls the 
 shoulder, and prevent our loving, or being 
 loved by the world to our utter destruction. 
 Consider a necessity to live in Marlborough 
 against your natural inclination, one instance 
 of your obligation to take up the cross among 
 many. And if it should be the chief instance, 
 it is more the name than the thing. In gene- 
 ral, God does not suffer his people to pass 
 from earth to heaven, with so trivial and little 
 interruption. Where the thing is little, it 
 ought to be the more readily complied with, 
 otherwise we shall appear to great disadvan- 
 tage when tried by that rule, Luke xvi. 10. 
 Had I studied my own ease and convenience, 
 I should have taken a very different course 
 to that I have pursued through life hitherto; 
 but I enjoy a secret satisfaction in imitating 
 his example in any degree, who pleased not 
 himself, and have reason to blush before God, 
 that having such an example of self-denial in 
 the dear Redeemer, I have in so great a 
 measure walked contrary to it. Heaven will 
 make amends for all ; they who have most of 
 the afflictions of this present life, will have 
 most of the glory of that blessed state. Nor 
 shall we wait till our coronation day, for con- 
 solation. It will mingle with our sufferings, 
 and be the ingredient in our cup, that will 
 taste stronger than our sufferings. This we 
 may gather from 2 Corinthians i. 5. and iv. 
 17. Better example of patience under afflic- 
 tion, or of authority from whence to conclude 
 the advantage of affliction, we cannot have. 
 Therefore, my dear love, make yourself fami- 
 liar with that subject in your meditation, that 
 is most likely to be your companion in life. You 
 may rest assured that I shall never intention- 
 ally add a grain to the weight. I mean all I 
 say and abundantly more, and am persuaded, 
 when you have conquered the difficulties of 
 your first settings out, which (I know arise 
 from the modesty of your temper) you will 
 find as little inconveniences in a town, as in 
 the country. All will depend upon the liberty 
 you at first give your acquaintance. Give up 
 yourself seriously to the Lord, and he will 
 influence you with his wisdom to take every 
 step right. I convey this by your old and 
 
 trusty servant, Robert Deer, by whom I beg 
 to know when I may have a sight of you! 
 Should it be at Mr. Merryman's, I shall con- 
 verse with you with some appearance of re- 
 serve, but do not let that hurt you ; I shall 
 have no reserve in my feeling heart. It pants 
 for the hour when we shall be no more twain. 
 I am, yours, &,c. 
 
 " Marlborough, Jan. 18, 1779." 
 
 In another, after speaking particularly of a 
 house and its advantages, he adds, " O how 
 much of our time and thoughts are taken up 
 about this life ! We had need seize the earliest 
 moment to animate each other with the thought 
 of the life that is to come. Make it your 
 daily concern to remember, that for a covert 
 in time to be screened from temptation, and a 
 habitation in glory we shall dwell in for ever, 
 we must be debtors to Jesus; and miserable 
 wretches must we be, if he does not espouse 
 our cause, and take the management of our best 
 concerns into his own hands. Wo be to 
 the man whose attention is swallowed up 
 about a being for his body, and exposes his 
 immortal soul to wrath and destruction. I 
 trust this will not be our case. In confidence 
 that I am not mistaken, I long for the com- 
 mencement of the time when we shall aid 
 each other in praising the rock upon which 
 we are built, the Saviour by whom we are 
 redeemed. 
 
 In the last, previous to marriage — " I am 
 sure you will see the hand of God in placing 
 us in this dwelling. My heart is affected 
 with it, and my expectation of our being mu- 
 tually happy together, rises higher and high- 
 er. I know you will not delay to come, 
 longer than is necessary, and for so great a 
 blessing as I expect to enjoy in you, I am 
 willing to tarry the Lord's leisure. I am 
 but poorly with a cold, but my soul is hap- 
 py in God, and while I am thinking of 
 the prospect of a nuptial enjoyment with 
 my very dear elect, I am at the same time 
 thinking of the period of my departure. But 
 alas ! earth preponderates the scale of hea- 
 ven. The Lord make me more spiritually 
 minded." 
 
 We need not wonder that a connexion thus 
 formed should have yielded so much peace and 
 pleasure. 
 
 Equally excellent was he in the relation of 
 a master. He was one of the good and gen- 
 tle, he forebore threatening : and was there- 
 fore served from affection rather than duty. 
 He considered servants as humble friends. 
 He marked their peculiar cases in his devo- 
 tion, as well as those of the higher branches 
 of the household : he always mentioned them 
 in his letters. He frequently observed, that 
 it was wrong to suffer a domestic to leave our 
 family unable to read and write. How often 
 have I seen this matchless character, infirm 
 and enervated to a great degree, after toiling 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 77 
 
 all the clay with his scholnrs and students, 
 patiently, cheerfully, devoting' half an hour in 
 the evening to the instruction of his maid 
 servant ! These are scenes indeed that ex- 
 cite little notice and admiration now ; hut a 
 day is coming, when it will appear that to be 
 truly great is to be " Great in the sight of the 
 Lord." " Therefore" said one of those who 
 had seen him gird himself with a towel, and 
 pour water into a basin to wash their feet, 
 and who had themselves imbibed the spirit 
 of the example — " Therefore the world know- 
 eth us not, because it knew him not." 
 
 No person was ever more formed for friend- 
 ship than he, or entered more fully into all its 
 duties. He " showed himself friendly," and 
 he " had friends." The circle was very ex- 
 tensive and varied. He loved their company ; 
 he was devotedly regular and affectionate in 
 his correspondence with them ; he was grate- 
 ful for their attentions and kindnesses ; he en- 
 tered into all their circumstancesand feelings; 
 by the tenderest sympathy he made their trials 
 his own ; and was sure to know their souls 
 in adversity. His friendship was the most 
 pious, the most durable, the most disinterest- 
 ed. Nothing was too costly for him to sacri- 
 fice, nothing was too arduous for him to under- 
 take, nothing was too humiliating for him to 
 undergo, if a friend was to be served. " He 
 pleased not himself." — He never thought of 
 his own advantage or convenience. He 
 breathed for others. Hence what he says in 
 a private letter, he might have published to the 
 world without any danger of contradiction. — 
 " I am happy that. God lias given me not only 
 contentment with such things as I have, but 
 also an accommodating turn of mind, so that 
 I am desirous to make all about me happy, 
 and am happy in their happiness." Indeed he 
 was the Apostle's representation of love alive. 
 " Charity suftereth long, and is kind ; charity 
 envieth not ; charity vaunteth not itself, is not 
 puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, 
 seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, 
 thinketh no evil ; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but 
 rejoiceth in the truth ; beareth all things, be- 
 lieveth all things, hopeth all things, endureth 
 all things." 
 
 This leads me to remark, that nothing cha- 
 racterised Mr. Winter more than Beneficence. 
 His life was an entire conformity to the ex- 
 ample of our Lord, who went about doing 
 good. This was his study, his business, and 
 his delight. His bounty was not pressed out 
 of him by violence, like sourness from a crab ; 
 it dropped like the honey comb. It was not 
 an occasional effusion like a summer-shower, 
 but a perennial spring, the streams of which 
 made glad the sons and daughters of affliction, 
 all around him. And no being, since the days 
 of Job, according to his sphere and his capa- 
 city, could, with more truth, adopt the exqui- 
 sitely tender language : " When the car heard 
 me, then it blessed me ; and when the eye 
 
 7* 
 
 saw me, it gave witness to me : because I de- 
 livered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, 
 and him that had none to help him. The 
 blessing of him that was ready to perish came 
 upon me: and I caused the widow's heart to 
 sing for joy. I was eyes to the blind, and 
 feet was 1 to the lame. I was a father to the 
 poor: and the cause which I knew not, I 
 searched out." 
 
 Benevolence is to be judged of by propor- 
 tion, by income, by self-denial. Hence the 
 most liberal are often those who give the least. 
 Our Saviour himself declared that the poor 
 widow had given more than all the rich. 
 They cast in much, she only two miles ; but 
 they gave of their abundance, and she of her 
 penury ; they could go home after all their 
 bounty to a table spread with profusion and 
 dainties, but she cast in all that she had for 
 the day, even all her present living. A pe- 
 riod is approaching that will develope cha- 
 racter, and weigh motives ; and then shall 
 every man have praise of God. The hero 
 shall be applauded who went boldly to the 
 stake, as far as he was actuated by a concern 
 for the divine glory : but that female sufferer 
 in yonder obscure dwelling, month after 
 month, year after year, devoured by the can- 
 cer, consuming the ear, the eye, the fore- 
 head, till it penetrated the brain ; cheerfully 
 enduring the anguish, without one murmuring 
 word ; retaining her confidence in God, and 
 loving him under all the severity of his hand; 
 talking of his goodness all the day long, and 
 lamenting her own ingratitude; longing to 
 be gone, yet willing to be detained.* — She 
 will be the martyr ! The trial of the one was 
 short, but that of the other protracted ; in his 
 case there was every thing to rouse courage, 
 in her condition every thing to repress it ; he 
 was attended by a multitude of spectators, 
 she was unobserved — here all was pure prin- 
 ciple, unaided by any extrinsical influence. 
 So it is here. We are far from wishing to 
 detract from the generous exertions of any ; 
 at the same time we must not separate prin- 
 ciple from practice. It may be charitable to 
 give what we do not want, and cannot use : 
 but surely this is not the criterion of charity ; 
 it is not the charity of him, who, though he 
 was rich, yet for our sakes came poor, that we 
 through his poverty might be rich. Mr. 
 Winter's resources were comparatively very 
 limited and uncertain ; by a little common 
 reasoning, especially by the help of that Ca- 
 tholic argument, " charity begins at home," 
 he might have justified the application of the 
 whole of his income to himself ; but his case 
 was to separate every thing superfluous from 
 what was really needful; and gratifications in 
 books, conveniences in situation, accommoda- 
 
 * This representation is drawn from the life, and was 
 exemplified in a good woman, whom the Author bu- 
 ried the morning he wrote this — it was from Mrs. 
 Bailey. 
 
78 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 tions in traveling;, and indulgences with re- 
 gard to a thousand nameless things, he re- 
 fused himself, in order to possess some ability 
 to be serviceable to others. And, his circum- 
 stances considered, no one can imagine how 
 much good he accomplished. 
 
 We read of the alms deeds which Dorcas 
 did, and one is specified — her making gar- 
 ments for the poor. Some who abound in 
 wealth will perhaps consent to devote the 
 time, and to take the trouble that is requisite 
 to put their hand into their pocket, and even 
 to bring it out again — but Mr. Winter was a 
 benefactor. He was seen visiting the father- 
 less and the widows in their affliction; he 
 was seen in the chamber of sickness, and by 
 the bed of languishing; he was seen wher- 
 ever disappointments and losses had left no- 
 thing but the attraction of misery: he and the 
 selfish herd were sure to meet very near the 
 door; they leaving their friends when they 
 found nothing more was to be enjoyed ; and 
 he hastening thither as soon as he found some- 
 thing was necessary to be done — the image 
 of him who has said "I will be with thee in 
 trouble." Is it too minute to mention that 
 his students knew what it was on a Christ- 
 mas-eve, as soon as it was dark, to accom- 
 pany him with large baskets of meat to leave 
 in the houses of the poor ; and then return 
 for more, and take another route; and thus 
 gratuitously furnish those with a comfortable 
 meal, who, notwithstanding all Paley's " Rea- 
 sons for Contentment, addressed to the Poor," 
 could never purchase one for themselves. It 
 would be endless to particularize instances 
 of a similar kind. 
 
 He devised liberal things. If ever a scene 
 of misery occurred within his reach, it in- 
 stantly set his thoughts, his feet, his tongue, 
 his pen in motion. When we can do very 
 little personally, we may often do much by 
 means of others. He was always stimulating 
 his connexions. In private companies, and 
 at public meetings, he had commonly some 
 case of affliction to propose. Numberless 
 were the letters he wrote, though he was so 
 driven tor time, and pressed by business, con- 
 taining applications in behalf of orphanism, 
 widowhood, or age. The distresses which 
 rendered such petitions necessary, were 
 patiently stated at large, and feelingly re- 
 commended, while by additional reflections, 
 he endeavoured to render his address a letter 
 of friendship as well as of charity. — And no 
 one could refuse him. It would be curious 
 to conjecture how much money he obtained 
 in the course of his life by such importunity. 
 
 His disposition being known, and his 
 character established, he was honoured by 
 several, who statedly made him their almoner. 
 Were the names of these generous individuals 
 published, the late Mr. John Thornton, and 
 the present Mr. Henry Thornton, would stand 
 peculiarly distinguished. In the distribution 
 
 of such money he acted with the greatest 
 impartiality, prudence, promptitude, and fidel 
 ity, and fully met the wishes of the donors. 
 "That day will declare" how far he was by 
 such indulgences, from diminishing personal 
 liberality, or applying to his own use what 
 was intended for others. He refused the 
 liberty to divide it with them, even when he 
 was allowed to take it. Hence in a letter to 
 Mr. L — e, in 1801, he says, "I was truly 
 concerned to hear of dear Mr. Henshaw's re- 
 moval. Blessed be God, he lived to purpose. 
 Oh that his mantle, or what is the same, his 
 spirit may drop on his relatives, who inherit 
 his temporal blessings. I long wished to in- 
 form you that he kindly honoured my applica- 
 tion of the 24th of November, on the l?th of 
 January, with £15, and liberty to appropriate 
 any part of it to myself But no — I petition- 
 ed on the behalf of the poor, whose indigence 
 is extreme, and the whole sum shall be faith- 
 fully applied to them." 
 
 It is well known that if any thing uncom- 
 mon or delicate was sent to him in the way 
 of a present, little, if any of it fell to his 
 share ; he would divide it among his friends, 
 and these were often " The poor" and the 
 maimed, the halt and the blind." Ah ! 
 " They could not recompense thee ; but thou 
 shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of 
 the just." 
 
 He was given to hospitality, and used it 
 without grudging. His house was always 
 open ; and a welcome to enter or remain, was 
 too easily discerned not to be abused. There 
 were those who took advantage of his kind- 
 ness to sponge upon him, and incommode 
 him; and even some who had it in their 
 power to remunerate him, the expenses and 
 inconveniences they occasioned. 
 
 It was his fate to meet with peculiar in- 
 gratitude in many instances from those he 
 befriended : yet this neither checked nor 
 chilled him in his benevolent exertions. It 
 only afforded an opportunity to illustrate the 
 purity of his motives, and to show that he did 
 good for the sake of doing it. I never heard 
 him mention one of these instances, even in 
 the way of complaint : and when others have 
 been indignant at them, he has without ex- 
 ception, tried to apologize for them. The 
 following fact may serve to explain and verify 
 my meaning : — While I was under his care 
 at Marlborough, among other beneficiaries 
 was an aged female, whom he almost entire- 
 ly supported for a good while before her death. 
 So far from being duly sensible of her obliga- 
 tions to him, she betrayed much infirmity in 
 several very opposite tempers, so as to induce 
 many to speak very severely of her. When 
 she was buried, he preached her funeral ser- 
 mon from the words of our Lord, "Judge not, 
 that ye be not judged. For with what judg- 
 ment ye judge, ye shall be judged ; and with 
 what measure ye mete, it shall be measured 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 7!) 
 
 to you again; and why beholdest thou the 
 mote that is in thy brother's eye, but con- 
 siderest not the beam that is in thine own 
 eye ! ! C 
 
 Nor was he free from enemies. It might 
 have been supposed that such a character 
 could never have provoked any kind of hos- 
 tility. But how then would he have been 
 conformed to his Lord and Saviour who was 
 all excellency, all amiableness ; or how would 
 he have escaped the denunciation, " Wo unto 
 you, when all men shall speak well of you." 
 Things like these, without justifying- the 
 agents, are permitted and overruled for good. 
 They try, and they discover, distinguishing 
 excellency. They are like the field of battle 
 to the hero. " He that is slow to anger is 
 greater than the mighty, and he that ruleth 
 his own spirit, than he that taketh a city." 
 " Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil 
 with good." " It is the glory of a man to 
 pass by a transgression." Laden with this 
 as well as every other kind of honour, he 
 descended to the grave. A man who for 
 years had treated him very unkindly, and 
 given him much trouble and uneasiness, 
 stood in need of his assistance in a particular 
 case some months before his death. He went 
 and applied to him without any acknowledg- 
 ments of repentance. Mr. Winter overlook- 
 ed his injurious treatment, and without drop- 
 ping a reflection, or discovering one emotion 
 of resentment, politely received him, and at- 
 tended to his request The consequence was 
 natural. I saw him at the interment among 
 the mourning crowd weeping bitterly. An- 
 other person who was under great obligations 
 to him, and whose family he had served in 
 various ways, conceived a prejudice against 
 him, and persecuted him with remorseless 
 malignity. The deceased, after doing every 
 thing that gentleness could devise to soften 
 him in vain, mentions him in his will, and 
 " Bequeaths to him his dying forgiveness." 
 
 His will indeed was all like himself. It is 
 full of regard to the temporal and spiritual 
 welfare of others. Nearly all his substance is 
 appropriated to civil and sacred benefaction. 
 
 Innocency was a most prominent trait in 
 the character of the deceased. Hence it was 
 one day wisely and significantly said, by his 
 esteemed friend, Mr. Matthew Wilks, " I am 
 never with this man without being reminded 
 of Paradisaical innocence." The reflection 
 was as full of truth, as it was of taste : num- 
 bers when they read it will remember, and 
 weep. Hence too, his dear and honoured 
 friend, Mr. Hill, with his usual force and 
 humour, said, " Mr. Winter would make the 
 worst devil of any man in the world." It is 
 awful to think how many beings there are, 
 human in name and shape, but infernal in dis- 
 position and action ; and who require only a 
 little change of place to make them completely 
 diabolical. But what a transformation must 
 
 Cornelius Winter have undergone, before he 
 could haveborne the mostdistant resemblance 
 to one of these unhappy spirits ! So full of tho 
 meekness and gentleness of the Prince of Peace 
 was he, that a friend, very remote from adu- 
 lation, and of very discriminating judgment, 
 in this city, more than once said, after he had 
 been the subject of conversation, " I have 
 long thought he is more like Jesus Christ, 
 than any man on earth." I hope I shall be 
 excused for these insertions ; the gratification 
 they afford while writing them, is beyond ex- 
 pression. And much of the pleasure arises 
 not only from my regard to a character, the 
 like of which I despair to see again, but from 
 a conviction that the praises here bestowed 
 upon him, do not savour of the falsehood, or 
 lavishness of common eulogy. 
 
 I wish also this part of his character to be 
 rendered exemplary. Innocency may be 
 deemed a kind of negative quality, but it is 
 an enjoined one, " Be harmless and holy ;" 
 " Give none offence, neither to the Jews nor 
 to the Gentiles, nor to the church of God." 
 David was so alive to this, that he was check- 
 ed from repining and murmuring by the 
 thought of it: "If I say I will speak thus; 
 behold I should offend against the generation 
 of thy children." It is surely an evidence 
 of the degeneracy of the age, that an inoffen- 
 sive man is an expression used generally to 
 insinuate some imagined intellectual deficien- 
 cy ; as if there could be no good sense with- 
 out cunning and villany. But as one has 
 justly observed, "The craftiest villain is the 
 greatest fool, and the harmless Christian the 
 wisest man." It is true, inoffensiveness and 
 talent do not always go together, but neither 
 do wickedness and wit: and a man of inferior 
 endowments, with an honest and good heart, 
 is a far more valuable character, than one of 
 greater capacities, who, while he has the 
 wisdom of the serpent, has the poison too. 
 Call this quality if you please, even an infan- 
 tile property, provided you remember a piece 
 of history: "At the same time came the dis- 
 ciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the greatest 
 in the kingdom of heaven 1 And Jesus called 
 a little child unto him, and set him in the 
 midst of them, and said, Verily I say unto 
 you, except ye be converted, and become as 
 little children, ye shall not enter into the 
 kingdom of heaven. Whosoever therefore 
 shall humble himself as this little child, the 
 same is the greatest in the kingdom of hea- 
 ven." So much more valuable in his follow- 
 ers, and in his judgment, are the simplicity 
 and innocency of a child, than the corusca- 
 tions of intellect, the speculations of philoso- 
 phy, the intrigues of politicians, and the ex- 
 ploits of heroes. 
 
 But it must be confessed, that this inoffen- 
 siveness is peculiarly attractive, where it is 
 combined with qualities that would render a 
 man dangerous without it : where the sublime 
 
80 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 is softened by the beautiful ; where the sim- 
 plicity of the babe tempers the wisdom of the 
 sage. " In malice be ye children, but in un- 
 derstanding be ye full grown men : I would 
 have you wise unto that which is good and 
 simple concerning evil." And who did not 
 perceive this in Cornelius Winter 7 How fear- 
 ful was he of injuring the honour of religion, 
 and causing the way of truth to be evil spoken 
 of! How tender was he of the purity of ano- 
 ther's mind, and the peace of another's con- 
 science'! With what truth could he have 
 adopted the language of the apostle, " Where- 
 fore, if meat make my brother to offend, I 
 will eat no flesh while the world standeth, 
 lest I make my brother to offend." He made 
 straight paths for his feet, for the sake of those 
 that were walking after him, lest that which 
 was lame should be turned out of the way. 
 His concern was to heal, not to stumble. If 
 a brother was overtaken in a fault, he restor- 
 ed such an one in the spirit of meekness, con- 
 sidering himself, lest he also should be tempt- 
 ed. No one was ever injured by his example, 
 or his speech. He made no one angry, no 
 one sad. His whole life was an exemplifica- 
 tion of the admonition which Paul gave to 
 his son Timothy, and which he often gave to 
 his sons, " Speak evil of no man." And we 
 know who hath said, " If a man offend not in 
 word, the same is a perfect man, and able 
 also to bridle the whole body." 
 
 As the thoughts we entertain of ourselves 
 influence us in judging of others, the man 
 who designs no evil often fears none ; hence 
 he is off his guard, and finds himself some- 
 times involved in difficulties which are es- 
 caped by those, who, from the reflection of 
 their own sentiments, keep a sharp look-out 
 upon others. This was not uncommonly the 
 case with our departed friend. But I am 
 persuaded, that notwithstanding these oc- 
 casional disadvantages, he found his innocent 
 and unsuspicious temper its own reward. 
 " Who is he that will harm you, if ye be 
 followers of that which is good V Sufferings 
 that befall us in this way will assuredly be 
 overruled for our benefit. Yea, our own 
 feelings will more than indemnify us for our 
 losses. Nothing is so much to be deprecated 
 as an habitual wretched state of suspicion and 
 dread; having no confidence in those with 
 whom we have to do ; if we sit still — to be 
 listening for the intrusion of thieves, or if we 
 walk out — to be thinking of nothing but tread- 
 ing upon toads and serpents. 
 
 The candour of Mr. Winter was remark- 
 able. His natural temper was unusually 
 sweet, and religion improved it. He held his 
 sentiments with firmness; but distinguished 
 not only between the true and the false, but 
 between the true and the important. He did 
 not consider every tiling alike momentous: 
 and therefore he did not press it with the 
 same degree of zeal. I never remember 
 
 C. WINTER. 
 
 while I was under his care, any attempt to 
 form my mind on inferior questions and dis- 
 putes: he endeavoured to give it in all these 
 cases a proper temper, but not a particulai 
 bias. " Recollect," said he, " that it is pos- 
 sible to defend your own fort without storm- 
 ing another's battery. Maintain by scriptural 
 argument, your own principles and practices 
 with modest confidence; but rail not, insinu- 
 ate no reflection on your opponents; name 
 them not unless — with respect." 
 
 Though he was a Dissenter from convic- 
 tion before he had established his seminary, 
 he sent one student to Oxford, and another 
 to Cambridge. He admired the Liturgy; and 
 was attached to instrumental music in the 
 service of God. 
 
 Though he was a Pa;dobaptist, he was on 
 terms of the most cordial friendship with Mr. 
 Francis, of Horslcy, and his brethren of the 
 same persuasion, in Gloucestershire, and else- 
 where. And here let me mention a circum- 
 stance not invidiously, but to designate the 
 man. He was once desired by a Baptist mi- 
 nister to preach for him. The sermon imme- 
 diately preceded the ordinance of the Lord's 
 supper: to which his discourse was prepa- 
 ratory. When the public service was over, 
 he was informed that he must excuse their 
 asking him to communicate, as it was con- 
 trary to the law of the house. He very 
 cheerfully withdrew into the gallery as a 
 spectator : and all the remark he made in re- 
 lating it was, " That he much enjoyed the 
 service, and communed with them in spi- 
 rit." 
 
 Here is a case which, arguing a prior i, would 
 appear incredibly strange, at least to some. 
 Here are two parties of Christians, agreed in 
 all their doctrinal, ecclesiastical, and discipli- 
 narian principles — differing only in one point 
 — and this not essential to salvation — even by 
 the acknowledgments of both, however in- 
 consistent with such an avowal, excessive 
 zeal on either side may be: and yet these 
 opponents, who, when they mutually explain, 
 can hardly find ground enough to stand upon, 
 while they are disputing, have commonly be- 
 trayed such animosity, that a man of liberal 
 disposition, who will not help forward the 
 contention, is not supposed to have any fixed 
 conviction upon the subject, and our admired 
 poet has mentioned it, as the extreme in- 
 fluence of the power of charity, could it in- 
 duce them to be friendly towards each other — 
 
 " Relenting forms would lose their power, or cease, 
 And e'en the dipp'd and sprinkled live in peace." 
 
 What Dr. Rippon said at the funeral of 
 Mr. Ryland, many might have said at the 
 death of Mr. Winter ; " We talk of candour, 
 he had it." Mrs. Shipway, of Bristol, was 
 his very intimate friend, and many of Mr. 
 Winter's letters to her are now before me. 
 She had belonged to the Tabernacle ; but in 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 si 
 
 1776, it appears that, from conviction, she 
 was baptized by the late venerable Hugh 
 Evans. A transition of this kind too often 
 alienates the affections of those who complain 
 of the loss they have sustained ; and shyness, 
 if not aversion, takes place of cordiality. But 
 this was far from being the case with this 
 man of God. His intercourse and corres- 
 pondence were as frequent and affectionate 
 as before. As some bigots may consider this 
 a moral phenomenon, let us raise their won- 
 der by introducing a part of two letters the 
 deceased wrote to the individual above men- 
 tioned. 
 
 "My dear friend, — On Saturday I ar- 
 rived here, after being absent more than 
 fourteen months. In this time I have fre- 
 quently thought of, and purposed to write to 
 you, but something always prevented. It is 
 not yet too late to testify my steady attach- 
 ment to an old friend, who I did not know 
 till I came here, had been buried in baptism. 
 Well, I can have no just objection to that 
 part of your conduct, though there is no ap- 
 parent probability that I shall follow your 
 steps. Through mercy I have learned to 
 yield my prejudices to the wind, in matters 
 of faith and practice, while I have reason to 
 hope my differing brethren are following the 
 dictates of a tender conscience under the in- 
 fluence of the Holy Ghost. It is, and ever 
 has been, the lot of the poor Methodists to 
 lose their children, but this is our comfort, 
 we shall not lose the glory of their birth. I 
 pray that you may derive much real advan- 
 tage from your submission. The good Lord 
 carry on his work upon your heart, and keep 
 you a dependent on his dear Son. 1 do not 
 doubt but he will : it is not his usual method to 
 lead us into a deep knowledge of ourselves, 
 and impart to us a growing acquaintance 
 with Jesus, and then cast us off. Owing to 
 the power of temptation, I find it hard to 
 hang upon his breast, yet by the arm of his 
 power defending and helping me, I have 
 hold of him still, and trust I shall be able to 
 maintain it. I am yet indulged with the 
 liberty of speaking in his name, and that 
 with some little success. Traveling with- 
 out intermission is disagreeable to nature, 
 but it has its reward, and a fear lest I should 
 take a false step, disposes me to go forward. 
 Perhaps I may get home sooner than I ex- 
 pect. Many of my dear friends are safely 
 housed of late, it may be to escape a violent 
 storm. What if it should overtake us in the 
 wilderness ! — Jesus is a refuge, and that is 
 enough. — I wish you would particularly re- 
 member to give my dear love to Miss Dela- 
 main, Mrs. Brooks, and the mourner in Zion, 
 under the same roof, and as many beside as 
 know or inquire after me. Poor Bristol ! I 
 know thee, and I love thee, but have no 
 more desire to see thee. Could I draw forth 
 L 
 
 some of its select inhabitants, to this little 
 spiritual Elysium, and you among the rest, 
 1 should be glad, and do not doubt but we 
 should anticipate something of that land, 
 where we shall meet to part no more. But 
 we must submit to our Father's will, and 
 bless him lor the means he uses, to work that 
 submission in us. — Pray for me, my dear 
 friend, and rest assured that I continue, 
 yours, affectionately, in our dear Lord Jesus, 
 
 "C. W. 
 
 " Rodborough, April 15, 1776." 
 
 " My dear friend, — I am obliged to you 
 for your kind favour. I shall always be glad 
 of a long letter from you, but must beg you 
 to accept a short one from me. I have so 
 many interruptions in my sphere, that I can- 
 not go on with my necessary studies. I re- 
 joice to hear that the Lord's work is going 
 forward upon yourself and others. 4 s to 
 what you hint about a certain minister, I am 
 unacquainted with it. To his own Master he 
 stands or falls ; whatever imprudent expres- 
 sions may have dropped from his lips, I hope 
 the Lord will pardon. I can observe too much 
 zeal for a party both among Baptists and Pai- 
 dobaptists, and am ready to conclude, the sub- 
 ject in debate is a partition-wall God never 
 intended to separate between Christian and 
 Christian, though he permits it. Good Mr. 
 Bunyan's view of it, is too general and Ca- 
 tholic to satisfy the mind of a contracted bi- 
 got; if followed, it would cut off an oppor- 
 tunity for glorying in man. If nothing but 
 what is consistent with sound argument and 
 good manners is advanced from the Taberna- 
 cle pulpit upon the subject, I do not see why 
 it should give more offence than what, in the 
 same manner, comes from Broadmead. I 
 highly esteem Messrs. Evans, believe them 
 to be dear ministers of Christ, and think they 
 have an undoubted right to assist my differ- 
 ing brethren in complying with the dictates 
 of conscience, and pray, that through the 
 divine power attending their ministry, your 
 soul may be more dead to the world, more 
 conformed to the image of Jesus, and more 
 than ever alive to God. I do not wish ever 
 to enter upon a controversy with you ; my 
 objections against a second baptism are at 
 present insurmountable ; my satisfaction with 
 what I received in infancy is entirely satis- 
 factory, nor have I the least uncharitable re- 
 flection to make upon you. I believe, in the 
 world of spirits, the distinction will be lost, 
 and therefore would avoid any prejudice from 
 it now. Pray for me ; you will not see me 
 unless you come into the country ; here I 
 shall be glad to see you, and here you will 
 see something of the Lord's glory as well as 
 at Bristol. — lily kind love to all dear inquiring 
 friends. — There are many near you I love in 
 truth, and hope nothing will interrupt our 
 social enjoyment above. Wishing you every 
 
82 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 blessing a covenant God can bestow. I re- 
 main, yours, &c. 
 
 " Rodborough, August 14, 1776." 
 
 Though he was a Calvinist lie was inti- 
 mately acquainted with Mr. Wesley, and 
 often spent some days with Mr. Fletcher; 
 and, in the earlier volumes of the Arminian 
 Magazine may be found some specimens of 
 their mutual correspondence. When, there- 
 fore, the Methodists two or three years before 
 his death, erected a chapel in Painswick, 
 though some of his people were displeased, 
 viewing it rather in a way of opposition, he 
 was far from complaining : and the Sabbath it 
 was opened he largely and particularly prayed 
 for the success of the gospel in it, in each of 
 his public services. 
 
 In delivering his most important sentiments 
 he always remembered the advice of the Apos- 
 tle, " Speaking the truth in love." He did 
 not suppose that religion was an altar that, 
 sanctified every gift. He knew that the wrath 
 of man worketh not the righteousness of God. 
 He therefore never employed a pen dipped in 
 gall, nor a tongue set on fire of hell. He left 
 those who differed from him the most widely, 
 to their own Master ; and treated them with 
 the greatest affability and kindness. With 
 some of them he was on terms of the most 
 friendly intercourse, though they never en- 
 tered the doors of his meeting, till a regard 
 for his character compelled them to go to his 
 grave to weep there. 
 
 The little liberality that prevailed among 
 the professedly peculiar followers of Christ 
 made him often sigh, and long for heaven. 
 
 In a letter to lady H , he remarks " All 
 
 distinctions that now divide the people of God 
 will then be lost. Though we are now dis- 
 tinguished by our peculiarities, we should not 
 forget that we are but as so many tribes in 
 the same Israel, and as so many families in 
 the same tribes. When I regulate my views 
 by these Scriptural considerations, it makes 
 me very easy about who has the precedency, 
 or what is the plan that seems to have most 
 of the divine smiles. My utmost ambition is 
 to walk in love, and so to improve my humble 
 talent, that I may not be found with the 
 wicked and unprofitable servant." 
 
 In another, to the same personage : — " It is 
 not always necessary to take sides, and yet 
 it is almost impossible often to be indifferent. 
 When brought into such a dilemma, a tender 
 mind feels perhaps more than the contending 
 parties. This, among other tilings, serves to 
 imbitter even the church as well as the world, 
 and to make us desire to be absent from the 
 body, and present with the Lord, where im- 
 perfections in knowledge will be no longer the 
 occasion of differences in sentiment between 
 the Arminian and Calvinist, the Churchman 
 and Dissenter, the Baptist and Psedobaptist." 
 In another letter to this lady — " I have always 
 
 considered the church rather through the me- 
 dium of Catholicism than as in party-detach- 
 ments ; and am persuaded that, if that gene- 
 rosity and real candour which make no 
 inconsiderable part of our religion were mu- 
 tually cultivated, our joint object would be, 
 more to spread the gospel than to divide its 
 professions into parties." 
 
 In a letter to a young friend who had ex- 
 pressed his scruples concerning the book of 
 Canticles, he says — " Come and see me. We 
 will talk over the matter, and if we cannot 
 unite in sentiment, we will agree to differ ; 
 we will not quarrel about Solomon's Song, if 
 you will agree to love a greater than Solo- 
 mon." 
 
 No one will blame me for concluding this 
 article with an additional testimony of the 
 esteem in which his character was held by 
 persons of different opinions ; and by another 
 instance of that graceful candour by which he 
 deserved it 
 
 • 
 
 " Respected friend, William Jay, — Ob- 
 serving- in the Evangelical Magazine, thy 
 intention announced to the public of editing 
 Memoirs and Select Letters of my late highly 
 valued friend, Cornelius Winter, I could not 
 find my mind excused or satisfied to omit 
 sending thee the inclosed ; the return of which 
 I request. — Accept every good wish for the 
 success of the work, and that of thy ministe- 
 rial gospel labours, which I have been occa- 
 sionally favoured to enjoy through the me- 
 dium of the press. I am, with every respectful 
 regard, thy sincere friend, 
 
 "JOSEPH RICKMAN. 
 
 " Cliffe Lewis." 
 
 " Dear sir, — The punctuality of the 
 Friends is an example to Christians at large ; 
 I wish I could more exactly copy it, but volu- 
 isse only in this case, non satis est. The 
 last time I was favoured with an interview 
 with you, I promised to transmit to you the 
 copy of Dr. Fothergill's letter to Mr. White- 
 field, but it being mislaid, I could not perform 
 my promise. It was some years before I 
 found it ; I have now an opportunity to send 
 it ; it is accompanied with my best and affec- 
 tionate wishes, and would also with a greater 
 number of lines if I were not circumscribed 
 for time. An all-wise Providence has trans- 
 ferred me from the unfruitful soil of Marlbo- 
 rough, to the somewhat more fruitful soil of 
 Painswick, where I am working in the vine- 
 yard according to the ability which God has 
 given me, and waiting for my discharge from 
 labour and dismission from life. Though I 
 had really lost recollection of your name, I 
 feel a warm attachment to your person, and 
 am, in the love of him, who, in the dispensa- 
 tion of the fulness of time, will gather toge- 
 ther in one all things in Christ. — Yours, &c. 
 
 « C. W. 
 
 " Painswick, Aug. 26, 1791." 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 83 
 
 " A few friends are in this town with whom 
 I should be glad to accompany you to meeting, 
 either to join in silent waiting upon God, or 
 to receive instruction from your lips. It 
 would no less give me pleasure to lodge you 
 under our humble roof. Farewell." 
 
 " Dear sir, — Your favour which you in- 
 dulged me with on the receipt of Dr. Fother- 
 gill's letter to Mr. Whitefield, is among my 
 papers. It deserved an acknowledgment be- 
 fore now, but as I hinted to you, so it proves, 
 I am a very bad and irregular correspondent. 
 However, my friend coming into your town, 
 £ must make her the bearer of a line. I hope 
 it will find you the same man in disposition 
 and resolution; disposed as you long have 
 been, to give the world to come the prefer- 
 ence of this, and resolved, in the strength of 
 divine grace, to obtain by vigorous exertion, 
 in compliance with your Lord's will, and by 
 firm reliance upon his promise, the prize of 
 your high calling. O dear sir, what reason 
 have we to be thankful that we have Scrip- 
 tural ground to hope we are in the number of 
 the chosen, and called, and faithful, and for 
 that good hope through grace, which maketh 
 not ashamed. Under different professional 
 distinction we appear to the men of the world, 
 as though we were going a different road, or 
 as though there could be no central point in 
 which we could meet; but we know to the 
 contrary. Jesus Christ is the centre of unity, 
 and by him, through one Spirit, we have ac- 
 cess to the Father. The Lord, in tenderness 
 to our weakness, can admit of our differences, 
 and yet can give us a disposition to receive 
 the same essential teaching, and will no 
 doubt consider us in the number of the chil- 
 dren of the church, concerning whom it is 
 promised they shall all be taught of God. The 
 happy consequent is, that we shall go unto 
 Jesus Christ, and by renewed acts of faith re- 
 new our application daily unto him. It is his 
 precious blood that cleanseth from all sin, and 
 by renewed exertions of faith, we acquire its 
 cleansing virtue. The agency of the Holy 
 Spirit is exerted for our instruction and guid- 
 ance into the way of all truth ; and when we 
 have made the necessary advancement, we 
 shall be taken from the school of instruction 
 to the mansion of our Heavenly Father, where 
 our joy, which is here incomplete, shall be 
 full. What wonder is it if with these views 
 we should leave a noisy world to settle its 
 own quarrels, and fight its own battles, wait- 
 ing to see the events which the all-wise and 
 overruling Providence will bring about by 
 the contentions and dissentions of men. 1 
 allude now, as you may perceive, to the state 
 of the political world, and to the several fo- 
 reign events, which perhaps we could not 
 have supposed, in our juvenile days, would 
 have taken place. It is easy for Him who 
 made the world, in an instant to unframe it, | 
 
 and reduce it to confusion, and to make it 
 appear that the Most High ruleth in the 
 kingdoms of men. We are the subjects of a 
 kingdom that cannot be shaken, and if we 
 have the grace answerable to our vocation, it 
 is impossible that our minds should be divert- 
 ed from it by important trifles. I cannot con- 
 clude these lines with any news. We are in 
 a quiet and pleasant situation. Here are a 
 few friends of your persuasion, something 
 under twenty, among whom is a Mr. Ro- 
 berts, formerly a merchant in the north of 
 America. He is a person of great humanity 
 and good understanding. He is a great bo- 
 tanist, and does good by the application of his 
 study to physical cases. We are on good 
 neighbourhood as you may suppose, and only 
 a want of leisure prevents frequent society. 
 Should any Providence call you into this 
 neighbourhood, no one will be more happy to 
 see you, than my dear sir, yours, affectionate- 
 ly, &c. 
 
 " Painswick, March 6, 1793." 
 
 His candour extended to matters of prac- 
 tice as well as of opinion : witness the follow- 
 ing remark in a letter : " Though Mr. 
 
 should continue angry with me, I cannot 
 treat him as an enemy. We must bear our 
 sufferings from the church as well as from 
 the world, and stand the shock to which we 
 are liable from the misunderstanding, and the 
 resentment even of those we love. I bless 
 God, the misapprehensions of my friends do 
 not alienate my affections from them; and 
 though I feel wounded, I can distinguish be- 
 tween the thrust of an assassin's poniard, and 
 the blow of an offended brother who would 
 not strike if he did not mistake." 
 
 His improvement of lime was exemplary. 
 Though always rather infirm and often poorly, 
 how little did he indulge himself Sloth was 
 out of the question ; but how much did he 
 abridge what many would have deemed ne- 
 cessary for refreshment. He was a very 
 early riser. How many exercises have I 
 performed with him before six in the morn- 
 ing, sitting by his side at the table, or stand- 
 ing between his knees with his arm — I think 
 I feel it now — upon my neck. When abroad, 
 many an hour would he secure in his cham- 
 ber retirement, before the families rose, for 
 reading and writing. He was always anx- 
 ious to return. His visits at home were 
 short, but instructive. He never left a com- 
 pany without dropping something by which 
 they might be the better for him. He thus 
 exhorts one of his young friends, — " May you 
 have wisdom to keep conversation in the vi- 
 siting circle, from degenerating in the least 
 degree. Connect piety with cheerfulness : 
 let not the former be driven out by the latter. 
 Keep not all your religion for the pulpit: 
 have it at heart and at hand ; at dinner and at 
 tea; and let every occurrence furnish you 
 
si 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 with a subject for spiritual improvement." 
 This was his own practice. And though he 
 did not speak much, and his extreme modesty 
 kept him from taking the lead in conversa- 
 tion, he expressed himself with peculiar pro- 
 priety, and dropped sentences which were 
 not easily forgotten. 
 
 Though the Lord's way is hid from us, our 
 way is not hid from him. 
 
 We have an unchanging world before us, 
 and an unchangeable (rod with us. 
 
 I would not only be found in the Lord's 
 work, but 1 would also do it in his way. 
 
 Let us rest in Jesus now, and we shall rest 
 with him soon. 
 
 I want to be very different to what I am, 
 much as I differ from what I was. 
 
 The more dangerous the way, the more 
 cautious the traveller. 
 
 It is a great matter to be able to distin- 
 guish between waiting and loitering. 
 
 lie is all to us, and docs all for us, that he 
 may have the glory of all from us. 
 
 Every place is alike to him, who goes no 
 where without God. 
 
 Much may be done, as in the building of 
 Solomon's temple, without the noise of axes 
 and of hammers. 
 
 Seclusion from the world prepares us for 
 communion with God; and communion with 
 God prepares us for intercourse with the 
 world. 
 
 I endeavour to take things as I find 
 them. I fight with my own heart, from 
 which I am most incommoded ; and when I 
 can get the victory there, I am an universal 
 conqueror. 
 
 Though many of these kinds of aphorisms 
 might have been secured from his lips, they 
 dropped still more frequently from his pen : 
 for the moments devoted to correspondence 
 were by him deemed sacred and accounta- 
 ble ; he said it was a fixed rule with him, 
 " Never to write a letter without aliquid 
 Chrisli in it;" and, neither in his conversa- 
 tion, nor his letters, were these reflections de- 
 livered quaintly, nor from a common place 
 vocabulary, like those of some formal talkers 
 and writers, who have a number of sentences 
 prepared for the occasion, artificially intro- 
 duced, and used till they are worn out. His 
 remarks grew out of present circumstances, 
 they were the spontaneous expressions of the 
 moment, the natural effusions of a thoughtful 
 mind, and a feeling heart, and were never re- 
 peated again. He had an inexhaustible af- 
 fluence of sentiment and phrases. He was 
 perpetually lamenting the waste of time by 
 interruptions, and the loss of it by inability to 
 improve it as he would. Referring to an en- 
 gagement with a person of quality, he ob- 
 serves in one of his letters — "It gave me 
 some little specimen of the attendance great 
 people require, when they condescend to be 
 friendly to a poor preacher; and I wish to 
 
 know little of them, but with a design to do 
 some little good by them. They make one 
 spend more time to eat a dinner than seven 
 of them are worth." In another he says — 
 " Oh ! that 1 had been more diligent in using 
 the opportunities afforded me — the morning's 
 work cannot be performed in the evening of 
 the day. My gracious Master I hope will 
 accept such feeble services as I am able to 
 execute." 
 
 If ever a person was " Lowly in heart," he 
 was the man: he was clothed with humility. 
 In honour he preferred others to himself. He 
 rejoiced to hear of their success, and was in- 
 dustrious to add to their fame. "He must 
 increase, but I must decrease," was a senti- 
 ment that found in his mind its native soil. 
 He condescended to men of low estate. A 
 female friend of his lately put into my hand a 
 letter, which he had written to her servant, 
 whose mind was distressed : it was given me 
 as a curiosity, but the thing was by no means 
 remarkable in Mr. Winter. I have in my 
 possession, by the death of the owner, per- 
 haps fifty letters addressed to a day labourer, 
 at Christian-malford ; and, not to observe that 
 something was conveyed in each of them for 
 the poor man's relief, the letters are written 
 with the same neatness and correctness, and 
 are as large and sentimental, as any of those 
 he addressed to persons of rank. 
 
 His humility was genuine, and not as- 
 sumed. It was not the humility that is 
 founded in vanity, and employs a number of 
 self-annihilating expressions as anglers to fish 
 for praise: a humility that retreats — to be fol- 
 lowed; that refuses — to be courted; that dis- 
 owns excellences — for the satisfaction of in- 
 ducing others to affirm that we possess them, 
 and believe that we are insensible of them. 
 Reality needs no pretensions : but those who 
 have neither the trouble nor expense of main- 
 taining the reality, can afford to be very 
 lavish in professions. I never once heard 
 Mr. Winter in his public services deal in the 
 language of many, who, while they call them- 
 selves " Dust and ashes," " Less than the 
 least," " Unworthy to open their lips," show 
 in their general carriage, that they have no 
 very mean opinion of themselves; and whose 
 frown would probably threaten the daring in- 
 dividual that would address them in the lan- 
 guage of their own " voluntary humility." It 
 is doubtless possible for persons to be led into 
 the occasional vise of such expressions from 
 ignorance, simplicity, and a sense of what 
 they really feel ; but as they are commonly 
 employed by that class of the ambitious who 
 are straightened for expedients, and as they 
 are generally considered the sneaking wishes 
 of pride, it would be better to use them very 
 sparingly, to keep our good from being evil 
 spoken of, and to establish our claims to this 
 christian excellency by something less cheap 
 and suspicious — the whole course of our lives. 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 85 
 
 T remember soon after I was with him, I 
 was called upon rather suddenly to preach at 
 an association of ministers. My dear and ho- 
 noured tutor saw my agitation as I was as- 
 cending the pulpit ; and whispered to me on 
 the stairs by which he was standing, " Make 
 no apology." What he suspected, I had de- 
 termined upon ; but confiding in his judg- 
 ment, I gave up my design. He afterward 
 explained the reason of his prohibition ; and 
 added, that "A young preacher's manner out 
 of the pulpit, and in the pulpit, will he his 
 best apology." 
 
 If we consider his humility more immedi- 
 ately in reference to God, in whose sight the 
 very heavens are not clean, and who charg- 
 eth the angels with folly — What wonder 
 from such a man we meet with language like 
 this. " I wish always to see myself what T 
 am, and then no varnish can so alter me, as 
 to make me excel in my own eyes." 
 
 "Lord, what am IT A sight of my own 
 wickedness frequently bows me down, and I 
 would if I could, lie ten thousand fathoms 
 lower, so that I might but be within the reach 
 of mercy. — It is never better with me than 
 when I am necessitated to lie at the feet of 
 Jesus, begging the crumbs of that bread, 
 which, because I am not worthy to receive 
 as a son, I would thankfully accept as a 
 servant. 
 
 " The constraining love of Christ is the 
 spur to my work, and the reward of my la- 
 bour. And when the dear Jesus, who bought 
 me with his blood, shall crown me with his 
 glory, the whole hierarchy of heaven shall 
 hear me shout grace, ffrace !" 
 
 To Mr. L — e. " We should do what we 
 can, if we cannot do what we would ; and 
 when we have exerted ourselves to the utter- 
 most, it becomes us to lie prostrate at the 
 Redeemer's feet, acknowledging that we are 
 unprofitable servants. I feel this to be the 
 case. Whatever formality there may be in 
 my duties, and much there is indeed, there 
 is none in my confession. I think as I speak, 
 before God and man. I had almost said it is 
 impossible for me to be proud. If at any 
 time Satan and my own heart take the ad- 
 vantage of a more than ordinary lively frame, 
 and by the assistance of a more than usual 
 share of spirits, I am carried through a ser- 
 vice, the comparison of that with the many 
 dull and plodding exercises, which connect 
 with it, forbid me to be vain. It is probable 
 the motives of my humiliation may be more 
 from pride, than from a proper concern for 
 the glory of God, my divine master; if this 
 be the case, I am so much the greater sinner 
 before him. Of this I would stand open to 
 conviction. Our great mercy is that what- 
 ever may be our sin, there is an infinity of 
 pardon for it. But it should be our care not 
 to make work for repentance, by indulging 
 sin, or to sin that grace may abound, and 
 
 8 
 
 thus abuse the information we have of the 
 plenitude of salvation, and the efficacy there 
 is in the blood of Jesus, to cleanse us from 
 all sin." 
 
 To Mr. S— r, of B s. " I do not won- 
 der you derived advantage from the ordina- 
 tion of Mr. Hickman. I always attend upon 
 such an occasion, interested in all the advice 
 given to the ordained, and frequently discover 
 a remissness and deficiency that humbles me 
 before God. Not having life to live over 
 again, my convictions of what I have in many 
 instances detected to have been wrong, hum- 
 ble me. I despair of fetching up time past. 
 The decay of nature, which gradually ad- 
 vances, will not admit of my using time pre- 
 sent as I ought. I must therefore die repent- 
 ing, and throw myself upon the mercy of 
 God in Christ Jesus. He knows that I have 
 always designed better than I have perform- 
 ed ; and I must rely upon his compassion to 
 pity the weakness that he knows has ever 
 attended my frame, and pardon the sin which 
 he equally knows has not been intentional, 
 but cleaving to my most holy performances 
 has polluted them. And the failure of put- 
 ting into practice the resolutions I have 
 formed, makes me cautious in renewing 
 them." 
 
 In another letter. " Oh ! blessed Jesus ! 
 may we all learn of him. But Oh ! my dear 
 madam, with what difficulty have I brought 
 my heart to yield to one of his lessons since 
 I saw you. I do not want, blessed be God, to 
 be conformed to this world ; but while I am 
 indifferent to this world, I am not enough 
 conformed to the image of the first-born 
 among many brethren." 
 
 I would only add, that when a few years 
 ago, I wrote a few verses in my native vil- 
 lage, in which I of course was led to notice 
 him as the instrument of my emerging from 
 the deepest obscurity, upon my transmitting 
 them to him : he wrote — " It is impossible I 
 can keep the little poem to myself; and yet 
 I truly blush at being the subject of so much 
 honour as it intends me. I pray God that in 
 the judgment-day, I may be found the con- 
 sistent character such as I ought to be. From 
 the many imperfections known to myself, I 
 feel shame, while from my fellow-creatures 
 I meet with applause, to which my dearest 
 Jay contributes much. I sometimes tremble on 
 this account. I know that I am not disposed 
 to make an improper use of it, and am sure 
 that it does not in the least divert me from 
 the Saviour, whose name is all my trust. I 
 need his mercy, and am in his service an un- 
 profitable servant. If, like ' Charles, in Cow- 
 per,' I have been desirous to please, and have 
 made any effort to serve acceptably, it is be- 
 cause I love my master, and wherein I can 
 best serve him, I would be most willing." 
 Such a disposition preserved him from com- 
 plaint under inconveniences and trials : and 
 
86 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 rendered him gratefully alive to the kindness 
 of God and man. " I feel," says he, " as in- 
 different to every thing above the supply of 
 food and raiment administered in a decent 
 manner, as a dead man does to the coffin in 
 which his remains are confined." 
 
 Again. " We are in silent submission, 
 called in some respects to take up our cross. 
 My old woman, Betty King,* has taken pos- 
 session of my study. It is now a complete in- 
 firmary. To avoid enormous expense abroad, 
 I have hereby entailed very considerable 
 trouble upon my good wife at home ; and as 
 to myself, I am driven hither and thither for 
 my retirement. But we are agreed in our 
 conclusion, 'It is well,' and therefore we 
 must not murmur ; and indeed, by consider- 
 ing our appointment and our mercies, we are 
 prevented. Our state is not helplessness ; 
 neither are we in want of the necessaries of 
 life, as are many, very many about us ; and 
 when faith performs her office, and helps us 
 to realize things to come, it produces a placid 
 effect." 
 
 In another letter. " The latter part of my 
 journey has been productive of a very serious 
 cold, of which giddiness, deafness, an obsti- 
 nate cough, and a continual fever, are pro- 
 perties. Had I only to nurse it, I should not 
 be so sensible of its effects, as I am under 
 ministerial duties, which require me to go 
 abroad, and keep me fully employed at home. 
 But who is without inconveniences? And 
 who am I that I should be excused 1 Come 
 forth to view my mercies, and excite my gra- 
 titude. They are present — my eyes behold 
 them — my heart thinks upon them — and I am 
 ashamed that their weight and number do not 
 make greater impression upon me." 
 
 While humble in himself, he had a holy 
 confidence in God that never forsook him. 
 His faith was often tried ; especially in the 
 earlier periods of his ministry. But though 
 he was sometimes left almost destitute, and 
 there seemed'no probability of relief, he was 
 always enabled to believe in the promise, 
 "Verily thou shalt be fed." And he had 
 many instances of God's seasonable goodness 
 to encourage him in his future dependence 
 upon him: and by means of these he strength- 
 ened the minds of others. 
 
 Loose among his manuscripts, I very acci- 
 dentally discerned a narrow slip of paper thus 
 written. — "A. Dyer returns Mr. Winter her 
 thanks for the books: as he may choose to 
 increase his library, she begs to have the 
 pleasure of contributing a trifle towards it." 
 What the sum was, is not mentioned, but on 
 the corner of the paper he had written — " I 
 received this when I was exceedingly strait- 
 ened, and I leave it with my papers, as one 
 testimony among many, of the providential 
 regard the Lord hath vouchsafed me. Reader, 
 
 * One of his eleemosynary dependents. 
 
 C. WINTER. 
 
 make him your confidence, and he will make 
 you his care. July, 1776." 
 
 In 1789, his benefactor, the never to be for- 
 gotten Mr. Thornton, wrote to him. 
 
 "Dear and reverend sir, — I inclose you 
 J620, as I suppose your purse may be low. — 
 I commend you to the grace and love of 
 Jesus. May he long shine upon you and 
 bless you. — My dear friend, yours affection- 
 ately, J. THORNTON." 
 
 On the corner of this, opposite the name 
 of him who, unsolicited, had often supplied 
 him, he wrote, — I keep this letter to record 
 the mercy of the Lord. It was a time when 
 I received it wherein I was destitute, and 
 knew not where to look for supply; I was 
 kept from fear and anxiety, and found the 
 great advantage of faith. Bless the Lord, 
 Oh my soul ! 
 
 It is more than probable that many other 
 acknowledgments of a similar kind are to be 
 found in the multitude of his papers. It has 
 been observed by Flavel, that they who no- 
 tice providences will never want providences 
 to notice. And a greater than he, had said 
 long before from experience, as well as con- 
 viction, "Whoso is wise, and will observe 
 these things, even they shall understand the 
 lovingkindness of the Lord." 
 
 " As to temporal circumstances," says he, 
 " I can leave them with Him who long since 
 promised, and has been faithful to his word. 
 He will supply all our need. I live upon the 
 bounty of Providence, with as much certainty 
 and pleasure as those can who command their 
 thousands." 
 
 I feel that I tread on delicate ground, when 
 I remark, that my dear and honoured friend 
 frequently indulged a confidence arising from 
 impression. There never was a man more 
 free from enthusiasm, if we use that term as 
 significant of an unwarrantable dependence 
 upon God, or an expectation of the end with- 
 out the use of the means. He pressed duty 
 in all its relations ; he was sober-minded, cau- 
 tious, and prudent; yet it is certain that, in 
 some of the most eventful circumstances of 
 his life, his decision resulted very much at 
 the time from a forcible impulse of mind which 
 he could not feel himself at liberty to resist ; 
 and which indeed was fully satisfactory to 
 himself. It is equally certain, that in taking 
 these steps, he had no reason to repent : but 
 was abundantly convinced by the consequen- 
 ces, that they were of God. We must not 
 limit the holy one of Israel, nor yet be wise 
 above what is written. " A good man's steps 
 are ordered by the Lord ; and he has said, in 
 all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall 
 direct thy paths." The promise is connected 
 with the duty, and as the one is performed, 
 the other is accomplished. Common Chris- 
 tians can hardly understand the peculiar ad- 
 vantages that arise from exalted spirituality 
 
 / 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 87 
 
 of mind, and the most intimate degrees of- 
 devotedness to, and communion with God. 
 
 He had an holy and unshaken confidence 
 as to his spiritual and eternal concerns. He 
 knew whom he had believed, and was persua- 
 ded that he was able to keep that which he 
 had committed to him against that day. This, 
 under every event that naturally tends to 
 alarm and distress, released him from anxi- 
 ety, and kept his mind in perfect peace. He 
 was not afraid of evil tidings, his heart was 
 fixed, trusting in the Lord. A gentleman, 
 Mr. Dodd, has just written to me to say, that 
 he came over in the same vessel with him 
 from America. He gives the same account 
 of the dreadful storm as Mr. Winter has done 
 in his Narrative : but he adds — " When all 
 hope of being saved was taken away during 
 this extremity — our impious captain fell on 
 his knees, and intreated our neglected and 
 injured friend to pray for him and the ship's 
 company. No one can imagine with what 
 dignity, composure, and kindness, this great 
 and good man behaved himself, and what at- 
 tention was paid to every word that dropped 
 from his lips, as we were kneeling round 
 him." He was always indeed raised above 
 the fear of death, from which some are sub- 
 ject to bondage all through life. To him 
 death was no more than a sleep, not only in 
 reality but apprehension. The last time I 
 was walking with him, he was speaking of 
 his own dissolution. As I wished to know 
 the state of his mind, and he had never been 
 accustomed to talk of his assurance, I asked 
 him how death appeared. He answered, 
 " Very inviting." Aware of his having been 
 generally enervated to a great degree, and 
 supposing it possible that, like some good 
 men, he might have felt a constitutional dread 
 of death, I added, "Has it been always so!" 
 He said, " Always. Blessed be God, ever 
 since I knew him, I have been enabled to live 
 in a waiting posture ; and though I am not 
 improperly weary of the world, having found 
 much friendship and mercy in it, yet death is 
 inviting." 
 
 One of his last students writes me, " That 
 he often spoke with obvious pleasure of the 
 approach of death. If a little pain of body 
 seized him, he would frequently say with a 
 smile, " Who can tell, but this may serve to 
 introduce me to my Father's house I" 
 
 His early letters, of which I have looked 
 over a great number, abound with joy and 
 rapture ; in those of later years there is less 
 ecstasy, but much of that peace which passeth 
 all understanding. Let a few extracts suffice 
 to show the blessedness he enjoyed from the 
 strength of his faith— it would be delightful 
 to transcribe more of them. 
 
 " What wonderful events have occurred 
 since we exchanged a letter 1 — But the Lord 
 reigns, and he can preserve us. The over- 
 flowing scourge cannot pass through the land, 
 
 but by his permission. What a mercy, to be 
 the subjects of a state that war cannot effect, 
 and to be able to look forward to a land where 
 our eyes shall not see evil any more. This, 
 my dear sir, is our discriminating mercy, and 
 it does us good to be thinking of it. Happy 
 would it be for all whom we love, if they 
 would set their hearts upon that state, and in 
 their minds connect the present and the last 
 day together ; and when gloomy thoughts are 
 excited by political events, would banish the 
 gloom by the consideration that the world to 
 come, and into which we shall soon be trans- 
 ferred, knows nothing of the calamities to 
 which this is ever subject. He who made all 
 things has the reins of government in his 
 hands, and all men at his control. And we 
 are sure that he will overrule all the convul- 
 sions which distract the present times, and 
 threaten the disturbance of the future. The 
 storms will spend themselves, and the calm 
 will ensue which will no more be interrupt- 
 ed, when all nations will be blessed. May 
 we exercise faith upon whatever God has 
 promised, and more immediately upon those 
 promises which respect ourselves, our present 
 concerns, and our eternal glory. We shall 
 then rejoice while others mourn, and our joy 
 no man taketh from us." 
 
 — "I catch the retirement of the morning 
 to drop a few lines; I wish they may find you 
 well in God. Then you will be prepared for 
 sickness, should it please him to inflict it 
 upon you. He knows how to deal with us. 
 Nothing shall occur that is really evil in its 
 consequences, if we love him and put our 
 trust in him. If he designs our good we may 
 submissively let him do his pleasure with us ; 
 it will terminate in everlasting happiness, and 
 that is sufficient. In all the revolutions of 
 your constitution, think of the state that un- 
 dergoes no change, and where your youth 
 will be renewed like the eagles. In sickness 
 and in health it becomes us to meditate upon 
 this ; and it will be natural for us so to do, if 
 we live under the influence of the Holy 
 Spirit, and are taught so to number our days 
 as that we apply our hearts unto wisdom. 
 We live in a dying world, and must expect 
 to die. He lives most properly who thinks 
 more of death than of life, and thus dies daily, 
 and lives with an ungrasping hand. I think 
 it is not vanity nor pride in me to say, so I 
 do. I may not, I shall not have done all I 
 should wish when I come to die, but I do not 
 therefore neglect to look forward, rather to a 
 dying day than to a long life. What is it 
 that can make death friendly to us, but an in- 
 terest in the death of the blessed Jesus! He 
 destroyed death, and him that had the power 
 of death, in favour of all who make him their 
 friend." 
 
 " I am much better than I was, but am yet 
 under, I was going to say, complaint — but 
 why should a living man complain, especially 
 
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 the man whose ten thousand mercies stand 
 opposed to a few, very few inconveniences ? 
 Through mercy, I know what it is to be fed 
 with the hidden manna, and at this time I 
 enjoy access with confidence into the holiest 
 of all." 
 
 — " It is well we live as yet secure from 
 invasion. I am inclined to think before war 
 ceaseth I shall be in the realms of eternal 
 peace : yet, as far as my reflections extend, 
 I feel for posterity. But when I reflect that 
 the Lord reigneth, I may dismiss my fears. 
 He who governed the world long before I 
 had my existence, will continue his reign 
 long after I am out of the memory of every 
 one. It is enough if I reign with him, or am 
 one in the retinue in which he will be glori- 
 fied." 
 
 — " This reminds us that we must shortly 
 put off our tabernacle, and if we have put 
 on the Lord Jesus, the sooner the better. I 
 trust this is now become our case. The 
 evidence of it keeps me unmoved by storms, 
 and unshaken by tempests, though the awful 
 falls of my neighbours jar me ; and I cannot 
 hear of them without being deeply affected. 
 O how dreadful is it, to know the evil of sin 
 by experience, after we have made a most 
 glaring profession, that we know the grace 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ! Merciful Saviour ! 
 never suffer me to fall into that horrible pit. 
 If I must look into it, hold me up in thy ever- 
 lasting never-failing arms, and I shall be safe. 
 The promise is sure ; ' I will uphold thee with 
 the right hand of my righteousness.' But in 
 order to its accomplishment, the precept must 
 be attended to, watch thou in all things. O 
 that I may never be unwatchful, till the ene- 
 mies which assault me now shall assault me no 
 more for ever. Then will be the time to put 
 off the harness; and the pain of vigilance 
 will be exchanged for the joy of rest." 
 
 — " There is a deal in this state of mor- 
 tality to make us desire the change, but this 
 desire should be regulated by a submission to 
 the divine will. Sinful selfishness often 
 pushes us toward heaven, rather than a grow- 
 ing heavenly frame ; and if we desire it 
 rather as a convenience, than for the sake of 
 conformity to our blessed Saviour, the desire 
 is itself sinful. We are not better than our 
 fathers who passed through the same evil 
 world, and found it the same as we do. Our 
 duty is in patience to possess our soul, and 
 to endeavour to bear with a Christ-like tem- 
 per whatever comes upon us, till we are ri- 
 pened and prepared for that glorious estate 
 where our happiness will spring from our 
 holiness, and we shall be made perfect in 
 love." 
 
 — " At present, blessed be God, there is 
 nothing in the world that charms me but 
 what I shall enjoy to infinite perfection in 
 the world of spirits." 
 
 — " Why should we fear ! The grave is 
 
 not to be a prison house but a bed-chamher. 
 We should not be thrown into it as criminals, 
 but kindly conducted to it as friends — there 
 our toil will be at an end, our conflicts will 
 cease for ever; endless joy will take place 
 of transient sorrow, and an eternal weight 
 of glory be the substitute for the afflictions 
 of a moment." 
 
 " Here I am like a ship at anchor in a 
 wind-bound condition, longing to sail to the 
 haven of eternal rest. O what a day when 
 I shall behold his face ! I now find him the 
 shadow of a great rock for refuge, and as 
 rivers of water for refreshment. I have 
 peace and quietness now ; and assurance for 
 ever in that which he calls me to possess." — 
 
 — So spoke Aspasio, firm possest 
 
 Of faith's supporting rod ; 
 Then breathed his soul into its rest, 
 
 The bosom of his God. 
 
 He was a man among the few, 
 
 Sincere on virtue's side ; 
 And all his strength from Scripture drew, 
 
 To hourly use apply'd. 
 
 That rule he priz'd, by that he fear'd, 
 
 He hated, hop'd and lov'd : 
 Nor ever frovvn'd, nor sad appear'd, 
 
 But when his heart had rov'd. 
 
 For he was frail as thou or I, 
 
 And evil felt within : 
 But when he felt it heav'd a sigh, 
 
 And loath'd the thought of sin. 
 
 Such liv'd Aspasio ; and at last, 
 
 Call'd up from earth to heaven ; 
 The gulf of death triumphant pass'd 
 
 By gales of blessings driven. 
 
 His Joys be mine, each reader cries, 
 
 When my last hour arrives ; 
 They shall be yours, my verse replies, 
 
 Such only be your lives. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 REMARKS. 
 
 Through all the preceding pages, reflec- 
 tions have mingled with facts, and the peru- 
 sal of the whole narrative, will, it is hoped, 
 make some useful impressions. Yet know- 
 ing that people are generally more disposed 
 to indulge their curiosity, than to aid their 
 improvement, and that there is nothing, to 
 which they are so indifferent as the applica- 
 tion of what they either hear or read to 
 themselves ; it may not be improper to bring 
 together in a distinct form, some additional 
 remarks of practicable utility. 
 
 First. What improbable and marvellous 
 changes often take place in the conditions 
 of mankind ! Many have reached an emi- 
 nence, towards which, at one period of their 
 lives they could not have aspired. Had the 
 important vicissitudes through which they 
 have passed, been previously foretold, they 
 would have replied with the unbelieving no- 
 bleman ; " If the Lord should make windows 
 in heaven might such things be." What 
 would have been the surprise of David, if a 
 prophet had approached him when he was in 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 89 
 
 a field, sitting on a hillock, with the sheep 
 at his feet, and his harp in his hand, and had 
 opened to him the future scenes of his great- 
 ness ! But by a train of events, led on by 
 the Providence of God, he was called to ex- 
 change the shepherd's crook for the royal 
 sceptre, and the cottage for the palace. In 
 revolutions less splendid and striking, but not 
 less strange and unlikely, ho has led others 
 by a way that they knew not. He has made 
 darkness light before them, and crooked 
 things strait. Difficulties which seemed in- 
 superable have been overcome ; and without 
 a design formed by their friends, or a hope 
 entertained by themselves, they have passed 
 from obscurity to honour ; from limitation to 
 enlargement; from dependence, to be the 
 support of others; from inability, to be the 
 instruments of good to thousands. "He 
 raiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth 
 the needy out of the dunghill; that he may 
 set him witli princes, even with the princes 
 of his people." " It is the Lord's doing, and 
 it is marvellous in our eyes." 
 
 It should teach us not to disregard those 
 in humble -life, especially poor children. 
 " Despise not," said our Lord, " one of these 
 little ones." And three reasons he assigns 
 
 for it : angels are their attendants " Their 
 
 angels do always behold the face of my Fa- 
 ther which is in heaven ;" Jesus is their Sa- 
 viour — " The Son of man is come to seek and 
 to save that which is lost." God is their 
 friend — "It is not the will of your Father 
 which is in heaven, that one of these little 
 ones should perish." Is it necessary to add, 
 you know not what they may hereafter be- 
 come ; what in the destinations of heaven 
 they already are. See that floating ark of 
 bulrushes ; it contains a weeping babe, 
 abandoned to the perils of the Nile, in a state 
 equivalent to the want of father or mother — 
 but it carries the scourge of Pharaoh, the 
 deliverer of Israel, the historian of the crea- 
 tion, the legislator miraculously commission- 
 ed, the prophet divinely inspired ! Behold 
 the brightness of the Father's glory, and the 
 express image of his person ! Where shall 
 we originally find him 1 From what pecu- 
 liarity of beginning, promissory of his fu- 
 ture unexampled grandeur, does his illustri- 
 ous course commence t Where is he that is 
 born king of the Jews, king of nations, king 
 of saints, king of glory ? See that new-born 
 infant, brought forth in a stable, wrapped in 
 coarse swaddling clothes, and laid in a man- 
 ger, because there was no room for him in 
 the inn ! These cases it will readily be al- 
 lowed, are peculiar as well as extraordinary 
 — but we may reason from them. They 
 show us how liable we are . to err, while 
 judging after outward appearances; and how 
 unanswerable present indications frequently 
 are to future events. There are many around 
 us unnoticed, in whom are lodged talents, 
 M 8* 
 
 which if roused by circumstances, and im- 
 proved by diligence, would bless, if not as- 
 tonish the church and the world. The sub- 
 ject of these Memoirs, was not only in a 
 considerable degree, an instance himself of 
 the truth of this remark, but an example also 
 of the influence it should have upon the 
 mind. He was observant of the neighbour- 
 hood in which he lived, and of the congrega- 
 tions in which he preached ; he never over- 
 looked the lower ranks of life, but endeavoured 
 to draw forth and encourage every token of 
 piety or talent, however destitute of external 
 recommendation. How often would he say — 
 
 "Full many a gem of purest ray serene, 
 
 The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 Anil waste its sweetness on tile desert air." 
 
 Secondly. We see what progress may be 
 made under the greatest disadvantages. It 
 is frequently the case, that those who have 
 the means and opportunities of improvement, 
 undervalue and neglect them ; while others 
 who are desirous of excelling, are denied 
 these assistances. But diligence conquers 
 the hardest things. An intense desire of 
 knowledge vvill not suffer a man to be idle. 
 It will create the helps it does not find. It 
 will detach leisure from distraction, and soli- 
 tude from company; it will keep open the 
 eyes and the ears; and by lively, active, 
 minute, habitual attention it will aggregate 
 and multiply intellectual stores ; it vvill ren- 
 der every place a school, and every occur- 
 rence a tutor; it will suffer nothing to be 
 lost. 
 
 "Some minds are temppr'd happily, and mix'd 
 With such ingredients of good sense and taste 
 Of what is excellent in man, they thirst 
 With such a zeal to he w hat they approve, 
 That no restraints can circumscribe them more 
 Than they themselves by choice, for wisdom's sake; 
 Nor can example hurt them." — 
 
 None therefore should despair. Especially 
 let young men, who wish to render them- 
 selves respectable and useful, by the cultiva- 
 tion of their minds and the acquisition of 
 science, he encouraged. Let them see what 
 individuals have become, who never enjoyed 
 the advantages of a classical education, re- 
 gular tuition, and ample libraries. How 
 many instances might be mentioned, to refer 
 only to modern times. And that which has 
 been done, may be done — by assiduity and 
 the divine blessing. And if any choose, in 
 the possession of advantages which others 
 want, to be idle and ignorant, let them re- 
 member that their case is not peculiar : there 
 have been, and there arc, 
 
 " Whom schools dismiss'd 
 
 And colleges, untaught." — 
 
 Thirdly. We learn how much good may 
 be done by small resources. The poor and 
 miserable have seldom been much indebted 
 to the rich and great. In general the de- 
 mands of those in the higher circles of life 
 
DO 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 are equal to their supplies : for they have not 
 only the requisitions of necessity, and conve- 
 nience, and decency to satisfy, but those of 
 pride, and luxury, and folly. An allowed 
 distinction above the vulgar will not content 
 them: they must be costly, and vie with 
 each other in the splendour of appearance. 
 And hence, whatever be their income, they 
 have little to spare for benevolent purposes. 
 Nor can it be supposed that their mode of 
 life will allow them to be very familiar with 
 scenes of indigence and distress. They will 
 pass by on the other side, rather than ap- 
 proach the wounded traveller ; the lamenta- 
 ble tale of wo must not mingle with their 
 music ; their feelings cannot bear to be 
 shocked. " They send forth their little ones 
 like a flock, and their children dance. They 
 take the timbrel and harp, and rejoice at the 
 sound of the organ. They spend their days 
 in wealth, and in a moment go down to the 
 grave." 
 
 But others do good and communicate with- 
 out affluence. By small contributions often re- 
 peated, by applications to those who are more 
 ready to give than to do alms ; by the force 
 of example reproaching and stimulating others; 
 by self-denial, by economy, by contrivance ; by 
 numberless and nameless personal attentions, 
 where nothing of a pecuniary nature is con- 
 ferred ; they are even rich in good works. It 
 would be surprising to those whose " strength 
 is to sit still," could they see what may be 
 done by a single individual zealously disposed, 
 and wisely employed. I fear we do not suf- 
 ficiently make this business our object; for 
 there is much truth in the remark of Richard 
 Baxter, that our success commonly bears a 
 much more exact proportion to our design, 
 our desire, and our hope, than we are apt to 
 imagine. Let this thought be enthroned in 
 the mind. Let it influence ministers, parents, 
 and individuals who are concerned to serve 
 their generation according to the will of God. 
 Let us lay it down as a principle, that no good 
 effort is entirely useless. Let us never be 
 discouraged, because we do not command an 
 amplitude of means, but instead of bewailing 
 what is impossible, let us labour to effect what 
 is practicable. Let us never excuse our neg- 
 ligence, by accusing our stations — but remem- 
 ber that the ways of doing good are infinitely 
 various ; that they are found in every period 
 of life; in every relation, in every condition, 
 in every circumstance: that the luxury of 
 doing good is so great, that the Father of 
 Mercies has not confined it to a few; all may 
 taste it ; all cannot be liberal, but all may be 
 kind ; all cannot be generous, but all may be 
 useful. 
 
 One is sometimes astonished to see the in- 
 difference with which the rich and great are 
 carried to their long home. — There rolls by 
 the procession. It is splendid ; but not inter- 
 esting. It attracts numbers ; but not mourners. 
 
 It gratifies curiosity ; but it repels sympathy. 
 The reason is obvious. What has he done ; 
 for whose happiness has he lived but — his 
 own! Something of him will remain on the 
 marble; but nothing written on the fleshly 
 table of the heart " I have seen the wicked 
 in great power, and spreading himself like a 
 green bay-tree. Yet he passed away, and lo, 
 he was not ; yea, I sought him, but he could 
 not be found." But what a sensibility is pro- 
 duced by the loss of an individual who filled 
 no public office, who possessed no large bags 
 of gold and silver, who was hardly known 
 twenty miles off. — He seemed insignificant. 
 The ties that bound many to him were not 
 known — but sickness awakened anxieties and 
 inquiry, his death drew forth his dependents, 
 and at the mouth of the grave was testified 
 the importance which had been concealed in 
 life. 
 
 I remember some years ago to have buried 
 a corpse. — In the extremity of the audience 
 that surrounded me — I discerned a female 
 wrinkled with age, and bending with weak- 
 ness — one hand held a motherless grandchild, 
 the other wiped away her tears, with the cor- 
 ner of a woollen apron. — I pressed towards 
 her when the service was closed. — "Have 
 you lost a friend V — She heaved a melancholy 
 sigh — "The Lord bless her memory!" — I 
 soon found the deceased had allowed her for 
 several years sixpence per week! O my 
 God ! is it possible that the appropriation of a 
 sum so inconsiderable, may cause a widow's 
 heart to sing for joy, and save the child of the 
 needy ! — Who would waste a sixpence ; who 
 would indulge themselves in extravagance; 
 who would not deny themselves, to be able to 
 secure the blessing of them that are ready to 
 perish ! 
 
 What we said with regard to the cause of 
 the poor will equally apply to the cause of 
 God. And this, as well as the former, was 
 exemplified in the character we are review- 
 ing. There is one thing I would peculiarly 
 recommend to notice. It is the service he 
 has rendered to the church of Christ, by his 
 training up young men to labour in the gos- 
 pel ; with regard to several of whom he had 
 no other support than casual assistance. " It 
 has long been my opinion," says he, in one of 
 his letters, "that if every minister would 
 keep a young man under his care, and nurse 
 him for God, it would prove a blessing of no 
 inconsiderable extent, supposing that while 
 he is obliged to learn, he be also permitted to 
 teach." 
 
 Let us not be slothful, but followers of 
 them who, through faith and patience inherit 
 the promises. Our opportunities of doing 
 good will soon be over, and they are as un- 
 certain as they are short 
 
 Fourthly. What an impression is made 
 by constant and consistent goodness. No cha- 
 racter indeed however holy, and however 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 91 
 
 amiable, will elude all opposition or reflection 
 in passing through life. Even among his re- 
 ligious connexions he may suffer, and be 
 wounded in the house of his friends. Some 
 of those who profess godliness have not the 
 Spirit of Christ, and are none of his. Really 
 good men have their imperfections and preju- 
 dices. Their minds are not always polished 
 by education, or enlarged by knowledge. 
 Their habits of thinking are often extreme- 
 ly limited. They view every subject through 
 a key-hole. They cannot take those en- 
 larged views of things which are necessary 
 to do justice to a superior character, and 
 therefore may misconstrue his motives when 
 they are most pure, and censure his plans 
 when they are most wise. They may condemn 
 his prudence as cowardice, and his candour as 
 a want of zeal. 
 
 And if these things be done in the green- 
 tree, what shall be done in the dry 3 There 
 is a reproach irreparably attached to the cross. 
 Genuine religion never can be really loved 
 by the natural man. " The spirit of the 
 world," and " the spirit that is of God," are 
 so opposite to each other, that before there 
 can be a cordial union and harmony, one of 
 them must be changed. It is not difficult to 
 determine in which of these the change must 
 take place. Indeed it is already determined ; 
 " Be not conformed to this world ; but be ye 
 transformed by the renewing of your mind, 
 that ye may prove what is that good and ac- 
 ceptable and perfect will of God." He who 
 was fairer than the children of men, said to 
 his disciples, " If ye were of the world, the 
 world would love its own ; but because ye are 
 not of the world, but I have chosen you out 
 of the world, therefore the world hateth you." 
 To those who did not believe on him, he said, 
 " The world cannot hate you ; but me it 
 hateth, because I testify of it, that the works 
 thereof are evil." The reasoning from hence 
 is easy, and the application needless. — But 
 our Saviour could say, " Which of you con- 
 vinceth me of sin 1 — " Many good works 
 have I showed you from my Father ; for which 
 of these works do ye stone me 1" The ene- 
 mies of Daniel were forced to confess ; " We 
 shall not find any occasion against this man, 
 except we find it against him concerning the 
 law of his God." In agreement with which 
 is the language of the apostle : " If ye be re- 
 proached for the name of Christ, happy are 
 ye ; for the spirit of glory and of God resteth 
 upon you. On their part he is evil spoken of, 
 but on your part he is glorified. But let none 
 of you suffer as a murderer, or as a thief, or 
 as an evil doer, or as a busy body in other 
 men's matters." Hence it appears, that there 
 is a reproach very distinguishable from that 
 which results from our cause, and for which 
 we are accountable. And this may be, and 
 will be avoided by a conscientious and exem- 
 
 plary uniformity, so that no evil thing can be 
 said of us. 
 
 By means of this we adorn the doctrine of 
 God our Saviour ; we put to silence the igno- 
 rance of foolish men ; — while others are even 
 won without the word, and constrained to 
 glorify God in the day of visitation : accord- 
 ing to the admonition of our Lord : " Let your 
 light so shine before men that they may see 
 your good works, and glorify your Father 
 which is in heaven." flow powerful is the 
 silent eloquence of a holy and blameless life. 
 Actions speak louder than words ; and prac- 
 tice might be rendered more useful than 
 preaching. It is an awful consideration that 
 we are " the epistles of Christ," and by read- 
 ing us, the world will judge of our religion ; 
 " What manner of persons therefore ought 
 we to be in all holy conversation and godli- 
 ness !" How careful should we be to make a 
 righteous and a favourable impression, by the 
 influence of our character. 
 
 How lamentable it is to observe in Ritchie's 
 " Life of Hume," that such a man as Dr. 
 Robertson, could be addressed in the language 
 of profane swearing ; but this undeniably ap- 
 pears in the letters of the philosopher to him ; 
 and by parity of reasoning, we may conclude 
 that in the same style he was often greeted 
 in conversation too.* We all know how a 
 consciousness of the character we are ad- 
 dressing affects us both in our correspondence 
 and our discourse. There are men with 
 whom every one would feel it as impossible 
 to use irreligious improprieties, as to throw 
 mud in the king's face ; the majesty of the 
 being would defend him. There is something 
 defective, especially in a minister, unless his 
 character produces an atmosphere around 
 him, which is felt as soon as entered. He, 
 even more than a Christian, is a representa- 
 tive of Deity, and the place whereon he 
 standeth is holy ground. It is not enough 
 for him to have courage to reprove certain 
 things, he should have dignity enough to 
 prevent them — and he will — if the Christian 
 be commensurate with the preacher, and he 
 walks worthy of God, who has called us unto 
 his kingdom and glory. This was the case 
 with the man of God, whose loss we deplore. 
 What he professed to be, he was, invariably 
 and throughout. In his character there was 
 nothing to be concealed ; nothing to be prop- 
 ped. It was an assemblage of excellency 
 that would bear the closest inspection, and it 
 struck every beholder. It was impossible to 
 be an infidel near him. Every one saw in 
 
 * See a most eloquent and impressive notice of this 
 book in the Eclectic Review for January, 1808. I can- 
 not help availing myself of an opportunity to recom- 
 mend this review most earnestly to the attention of my 
 religious readers in particular, and of the public in ge- 
 neral. He surely has not candidly inspected this valu- 
 able publication, who does not allow that its literary 
 merit, its liberal principles, and its evangelical tenden- 
 I cy, entitle it to extensive encouragement. 
 
92 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 him the truth, the efficacy, the glory of the 
 gospel. No one that approached him could 
 be wicked ; he was ashamed of every thing 
 sinful, till he got out of the reach of his voice ; 
 the sight of his person, and the remembrance 
 of his name. He did much good in the pulpit, 
 but unspeakably more out of it. He taught 
 publicly, and also from house to house : but 
 when nothing was said, he was always in- 
 structing, reproving, admonishing, and en- 
 couraging by his heavenly example. His life 
 crowned his labours. What he did was en- 
 forced by what he was. 
 
 Fifthly. We. arc led to reflect on the ad- 
 vantages of evangelical religion. It must be 
 allowed that the deceased discovered the 
 spirit, and exemplified the life of a Christian 
 in no common degree. But it may be con- 
 tended, that the character we have pourtrayed 
 was independent of the principles which he 
 had adopted ; and that he was so excellent, 
 notwithstanding his sentiments, rather than 
 as the result of them. Such an insinuation 
 can only arise from an unhappy indisposition 
 to admit evidence in favour of what are called, 
 the doctrines of grace : nor is there any plau- 
 sible ground for the supposition. Every man 
 that deserves the name of a character, and in 
 proportion to his excellence, lives not acci- 
 dentally, but by rule : he moves not uncer- 
 tainly, but is governed by some fixed views 
 and motives : he does not leave the vessel to 
 the current, or the wind ; he has a port in 
 view, a rudder, a compass. Hence you know 
 such a person ; you can rely upon him ; you 
 can determine previously the course he will 
 take in such an occurrence of circumstances. 
 It is otherwise with a man who has no prin- 
 ciples. He is the creature of whims, and of 
 events. You have no hold of him ; nor can 
 he rely upon himself. 
 
 No person could exhibit more consistency 
 than was to be found in the character of Mr. 
 Winter. There was the most exact conform- 
 ity between his actions and his sentiments ; 
 and from the seed sown, you knew the grain 
 that was to spring up. The doctrines he pro- i 
 fessed, he most firmly believed. He originally 
 embraced religion in the form of them; he 
 habitually viewed it through no other me- : 
 dium. These doctrines with him were not 
 distant and occasional speculations ; they were > 
 brought into daily use ; they mingled with all i 
 his devotional exercises. He was concerned i 
 to advance in the life of godliness — he knew ' 
 what it was that most favourably impressed 1 
 him — he was incapable of avowing influences < 
 which he never felt, and advantages which < 
 he never enjoyed — but such, living and dying 1 
 were his acknowledgments in honour of the 
 sentiments he had embraced and examined, i 
 He was alive to the welfare of others; his i 
 design was not to make them proselytes to a 1 
 a party, but real, and practical and useful i 
 Christians; and had he not been persuaded £ 
 
 1 that the adoption of these religious views 
 would have the most salutary influence, he 
 would not in public, and in private, and in 
 his correspondence, have recommended them. 
 It will be observed for what purpose I here 
 mentioned these things; it is only to prove 
 that these doctrines were in him not opinions, 
 but principles. For if principles are opera- 
 tive causes, if they are grounds of action, if 
 they are leading motives, his religious senti- 
 ments were principles of his character ; they 
 were at once the springs of his consolation, 
 and of his conduct too. 
 
 But if this be allowed, surely it follows 
 that they are not deserving of the treatment 
 they have so often encountered. They have 
 indeed frequently been reprobated, as of the 
 most pernicious tendency with regard to our- 
 selves, our fellow-creatures, and above all, 
 God himself. But I here see a man under 
 their governance — with regard to God, full 
 of love, and of confidence, always concerned 
 to please him, and always rejoicing in him ; 
 thankful for his favours, and resigned to his 
 corrections : — with regard to others, univer- 
 sally benevolent as to their welfare, full of 
 pardon as to their faults, and of pity as to 
 their miseries ; pleading their cause, and re- 
 lieving their wants: — with regard to himself, 
 neither inclined to licentiousness, nor self- 
 conceit; nor trusting in his own righteous- 
 ness, nor despising others ; as watchful as 
 prayerful ; abhorring merit, but delighting in 
 obedience; delivered from the tyranny of un- 
 hallowed appetites and passions; exercising 
 self-denial ; possessing peace of conscience ; 
 relishing with moderation the enjoyments of 
 life, but willing to leave them ; viewing death 
 with solemnity, yet raised above the fear of it. 
 
 If persons will not trace by reasoning the 
 connexion there is between these principles 
 and this practice, they may appeal to fact, and 
 learn that these truths have had the best in- 
 fluence over the heart and life. The conclu- 
 sion is obvious. " Do men gather grapes from 
 thorns, or figs from thistles V It is natural to 
 suppose that divine truth will have a powerful 
 influence over those who truly embrace it: 
 we know that the gospel is a doctrine 
 according to godliness : we are sure that 
 when it was originally delivered, it awaken- 
 ed in men a supreme concern for the 
 salvation of the soul, induced them to for- 
 sake the present evil world, and filled them 
 with zeal to be useful to others ; it turned 
 them from dumb idols, to serve the living 
 God, and to wait for his Son from heaven, 
 even Jesus, who delivered us from the wrath 
 to come ; to worship God in the spirit, and re- 
 joice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence 
 in the flesh : to account all things but loss 
 for the excellency of the Redeemer's know- 
 ledge, and constrained by his love, to live, not 
 unto themselves, but to him that died for them 
 and rose again. This is a very brief and im- 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 93 
 
 perfect relation of the effects of evangelical 
 doctrine upon those who heard the gospel at 
 first But it is sufficient for our purpose. It 
 may be well to ask, what kind of preaching, 
 in our day, produces the same kind of living ! 
 Wherever it is found, it has the signature of 
 Deity upon it : and nothing but ignorance and 
 inattention can deny the importance of it. 
 
 Lastly. What a stimulus have we here to 
 pious excellency. There is a great difference 
 between the reality of religion and the degree 
 of it. A man may be alive and not well ; he 
 may be able to subsist, and not be rich — but 
 we are required to be rich in faith, and in 
 good works ; and not only to have life, but 
 to have it more abundantly. There are con- 
 solations and privileges which depend on 
 growth in grace, and in the knowledge of 
 our Lord and Saviour : and a Christian should 
 be ambitious of obtaining them. He should 
 not be satisfied with a conviction of his safe- 
 ty. His soul should prosper. He should be 
 concerned for the welfare of his genera- 
 tion, and the glory of his God. He should 
 " Follow the Lord wholly" with Caleb ; and, 
 with Paul, " Forget the things that are be- 
 hind, and reach forth unto those things that 
 are before, and press towards the mark for 
 the prize of his high calling of God in Christ 
 Jesus." 
 
 This is the way to seize the prerogatives 
 of the Christian. Such as these, God not only 
 saves, but dignifies. He crowns them in eter- 
 nity, and he owns them here. Whatever free- 
 dom there may be in the operations of his 
 grace, in dispensing honour he always observes 
 a rule, and he has told us what it is — " Them 
 that honour me, I will honour, and they that 
 
 despise me shall be lightly esteemed." 
 
 " Therefore hath the Lord recompensed me 
 according to my righteousness, according to 
 the cleanness of my hands in his eye-sight. 
 With the merciful thou wilt show thyself mer- 
 ciful ; with an upright man thou wilt show 
 thyself upright ; with the pure thou wilt show 
 thyself pure ; and with the fro ward thou wilt 
 show thyself froward ; for thou wilt save the 
 afflicted people; but wilt bring down high 
 looks." 
 
 " Therefore,mybeloved brethren, be ye 
 steadfast, unmoveable, always abounding 
 in the work of the lord ; forasmuch as 
 ye know that your labour is not in vain 
 in the lord." 
 
 PART III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM HIS DIARY. 
 
 Every thing that habituates us to sacred 
 retirement ; that leads us to self-inspection, 
 and promotes self-acquaintance; that causes 
 U3 to review past events, and examine what 
 improvement we have made of them ; that 
 
 i produces comparisons between our present 
 I and former experience, either for our re- 
 ! proof or encouragement— is confessedly valu- 
 able. 
 
 Hence good men have been accustomed 
 to write diaries. It was known that Mr. 
 Winter approved of such a custom, and I 
 hoped that among his papers I should find a 
 complete journal. But in this I was disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 I saw in a letter to one of his friends, the fol- 
 lowing acknowledgment — " I have been guil- 
 ty of a capital omission — the neglect of a 
 regular diary." Even this did not destroy a 
 hope that several interesting portionsofhis life 
 had been recorded by him. But all that has 
 been discovered consists of nothing more than 
 two fragments, began early in his public life, 
 and soon relinquished. 
 
 Nor are these distinguishable by any tiling 
 superior in the subject, or the execution. The 
 whole is too much in the form of the Metho- 
 distical registers of this kind, which, though 
 they may be useful in a degree, are surely 
 very capable of improvement. If it be proper 
 to make daily observations, it is not always 
 necessary to write them. For this purpose 
 perhaps weekly retrospects, or annual reviews, 
 would be preferable. By this means their 
 sameness might be varied, and their dulness 
 enlivened. They might be rendered less 
 minute and more important. They might be 
 extended beyond the detail of one class of 
 feelings, and which are often misunderstood 
 as to their cause and indications ; for how fre- 
 quently is it the case, that no distinction is 
 made between the variations of the animal 
 frame, and the operations of spiritual agen- 
 cy; between physical and moral inabilities 
 and fervours. 
 
 Of the plan we would recommend, we have 
 a pattern in Dr. Doddridge ; and no one can 
 help grieving that more of his diary was not 
 made public. We there see a man not only 
 looking backward, but forward ; not only com- 
 plaining, but resolving ; not only praying, but 
 striving; attentive indeed to his pains and 
 pleasures in the divine life, but always con- 
 necting with practice — you see him investi- 
 gating his moral character, as well as his 
 spiritual state; you see what methods he took 
 to conquer evil propensities, and to strengthen 
 religious habits ; you see how he kept alive 
 the zeal that carried him through so many 
 difficulties, and acquired the patience that 
 supported him under so many trials. 
 
 Short and imperfect as these manuscripts 
 are, I shall here present a few pages of them. 
 They serve to show the pious state of the 
 writer's mind, and may convince the reader 
 that the exercises which he has often been led 
 to consider as peculiar to himself, have been 
 the familiar experience of the Lord's people: 
 and should therefore prove way-marks rather 
 than stumbling-blocks. 
 
94 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " Once they were mourning here below, 
 And wet their couch with tears; 
 They wrestled hard, as we do now, 
 With cries, with doubts, and fears." 
 
 " I find from a recollection of past circum- 
 stances, I have been very remiss in not 
 continuing a method of keeping a diary of 
 the dealings of God with me, but now, by 
 thy grace assisting me, I will remark thy 
 goodness, O Lord, who art plenteous in re- 
 demption, and abundant in goodness and in 
 truth. A more proper opportunity I cannot 
 have than in the ever memorable instance of 
 thy salvation, O Lord, this 25th day of Octo- 
 ber, in which I enter into the 25th year of 
 my age, at which time the Lord was, pleased 
 to give me an humbling sense of my wretch- 
 edness, .in so much that I could not help 
 weeping much in secret, on account of my 
 own un worthiness, and his all-sufficient grace. 
 — Was much assisted in this view by reading 
 
 Gen. xviii. xix. Wrote to M , visited 
 
 a friend, and had reason to say, hitherto hath 
 the Lord helped me. 
 
 " Tuesday 26. — In the morning continued 
 my usual studies; breakfasted with sister 
 
 S , there met a poor desponding woman ; 
 
 endeavoured to recommend the Lord Jesus 
 Christ, to speak of his precious promises. 
 
 Dined with Mr. S ; our conversation was 
 
 not light, but turned more upon the creature, 
 than the Creator. — Received a letter from 
 
 Mr. W d, desiring me to return directly. 
 
 In the afternoon visited poor Mrs. B 1, 
 
 with others, where we sung hymns and pray- 
 ed. I expounded the thirty-second chapter 
 of Isaiah, first and second verses. Our op- 
 portunity was solid ; there was something of 
 the Lord's power manifested. I find it very 
 useful to employ myself in those exercises 
 among my friends, as it keeps out frothy con- 
 versation, and furnishes me with spiritual 
 matter preparative to public work. In the 
 
 evening, supped with brother H n; the 
 
 evening was spent in reading the Scripture, 
 singing, prayer, and narrations of the Lord's 
 providence, which shows that he is good and 
 gracious. 
 
 " Thursday 27. — This morning set out for 
 London ; was much assisted in my meditation 
 by the autumn season. Breakfasted at Mr. 
 
 H 's, arrived in London at two in the 
 
 afternoon ; my time in the boat was spent in 
 silent prayer and reading. I could not get 
 opportunity, nor find freedom to speak to any 
 of the company, all of whom were abandoned 
 people, but not so intolerably outrageous as 
 
 some I have been with there. Mr. W 1 
 
 received me kindly ; when I came home with 
 him went to Tottenham-court chapel, where 
 
 Mr. J read many letters of the gospel 
 
 progress ; Mr. W d explained many things 
 
 in them. — Though my body was weak, my 
 soul was as the chariot of Aminadab. I could 
 rejoice, not for myself only, but for them who 
 had obtained like precious faith, and believe 
 
 C. WINTER. 
 
 I shall sit down with them at the marriage 
 supper of the Lamb." 
 
 " Sunday 30. — If I forget this day, let my 
 right hand forget her cunning! I rose in the 
 morning at four, with a scripture on my heart; 
 my former day's conflict was vanquished, and 
 this was the language of my heart, ' My soul 
 thirsteth for God, even for the living God; 
 when shall I come and appear before God'!' 
 Luke xxii. 37. ' The things concerning me 
 have an end,' was applied with great power. 
 — On the road, could not help weeping much 
 on account of sin ; and a sense of the Lord's 
 goodness to me, with a sight of the unparal- 
 leled love of Jesus, so broke my heart, I could 
 hardly help disturbing the congregation ; but 
 the Lord kept me, and I hope put my tears 
 into his bottle. Was much refreshed under 
 
 Mr. W d's sermon, from Acts xvi. 13 — 
 
 15." 
 
 " Thursday, Nov. 10. — Arose as I went to 
 bed ; had been much tempted all night, but 
 enabled to take comfort from that precious 
 promise, ' I have prayed for thee.' Wrote to 
 
 Mr. J s, and Mr. M d breakfasted 
 
 with me and Miss B n; our conversation 
 
 was upon the favourite topic. Mr. W d 
 
 arrived at eleven, which gave me great joy ; 
 was much laid out in prayer for him, that the 
 Lord may prolong his days. — Dined with the 
 
 poor at Mr. I d's, endeavoured to improve 
 
 the opportunity ; was very dead till I began 
 to expound the sixth chapter of John, when I 
 found my heart deeply affected. — Visited 
 Mrs. S — — r in the close of the day ; she still 
 continues a mourner in Sion ; the Lord grant 
 she may reap in joy." 
 
 " Thursday 17. — This morning rose at four 
 o'clock; had much conversation with Mr. 
 . Was much alarmed at some intima- 
 tion of one who hath left poor evidences of 
 conversion, after glaring profession. Lord 
 give me to walk circumspect! In the fore- 
 part of the day was led into some comfortable 
 discoveries of salvation. In the afternoon, 
 preached at Kingswood, from Matt. xi. 28. 
 had nothing particular. Supped with Mr. 
 
 W d at Mrs. D y's, who is a discreet 
 
 and well-taught woman. Various was our 
 conversation, and to some profit. Returned 
 home at nine o'clock, went to bed under great 
 bodily weakness. Lord be the strength of my 
 heart, and my portion for ever." 
 
 " Saturday 19. — Busily employed in writ- 
 ing all day to my dear friends; was much 
 comforted in meditation. In the afternoon 
 was much alarmed in hearing of dear Mr. 
 
 W d's sudden illness, which he writes of 
 
 as fatal. The Lord prepare us for the awful 
 event, and grant that it may not be in judg- 
 ment. In the evening met the children, with 
 whom I found much liberty ; and being much 
 wearied with the work of the day, retired to 
 bed in a sleepy condition. Slept but uneasy 
 all night, owing, as I suppose, to the news 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 85 
 
 from Bath; but am confident of the Lord's 
 tender care over his church, and his abundant 
 goodness towards her. Lord, number me 
 with her members, and grant I may not be a 
 stranger to the comforts and blessings of the 
 people." 
 
 " Sunday 20. — This morning waked with 
 my soul fixed upon God. Preached from 
 Matt. vi. 21. a large congregation of serious 
 people ; I had much liberty in my soul. At 
 ten, preached at Kingswood, from Heb. iv. 
 16. it was a feeling tune. Dined at Mr. 
 T 's, where I found great bodily weak- 
 ness, was obliged to lie on the bed for two 
 hours, O happy day when I shall know no 
 more pain! In the evening preached from 
 Psalm xcv. 7, 8. — I just got through the op- 
 portunity safely, but not comfortably; the 
 congregation was very large and all attentive, 
 O that my hard heart could have felt more 
 
 for sinners than it did. Hear by Mr. R s, 
 
 Mr. W d is dangerous ; Lord, prepare us 
 
 for the awful stroke ! I felt much from it last 
 night, and am apprehensive I have a bitter 
 draught to drink." 
 
 " Wednesday 23. — After prayer with a few 
 friends, set out for London, rode all the way 
 by myself, was sweetly refreshed in reading 
 my New Testament, and felt the power of 
 these words, ' Jesus, thou son of David, have 
 mercy on me !' At particular times had dis- 
 coveries of the promised land and a good hope, 
 through grace, that I should enjoy it. La- 
 boured under much weakness of body in my 
 journey, but the Lord was the strength of my 
 heart." 
 
 "Monday 28. — This morning I wrestled 
 against flesh and blood, and with the Lord for 
 the conquest; when my countenance is smooth 
 and serene, none but God knows what a rough 
 heart it shadows; found the battle was the 
 
 Lord's. Dined with Mr. W d at Mr. 
 
 S n's, occasional conversation caused 
 
 most of us to weep, my memory will always 
 
 retain the subject; rode with Mr. W d to 
 
 Mr. C d, a backslider from the truth he 
 
 once rejoiced in, how is he now filled with 
 his own ways !" 
 
 " Tuesday 8.— Dined with Mr. W d at 
 
 Mrs. H ge's, with some of lady II n's 
 
 friends, conversation profitable. Mr. W d's 
 
 remark was, ' God always makes use of strong 
 passions for a great work.' He wept bitterly 
 in prayer, and in which the whole company 
 was moved." 
 
 " Thursday, December 15. — Was much 
 relieved from my late burden, though much 
 tempted to doubt of the perpetuity of God's 
 love, but was enabled to commit my way unto 
 the Lord, expecting he will bring it to 
 pass." 
 
 " Friday 16. — Much of this day was spent 
 in sorting my letters. I think myself happy 
 in enjoying so many valuable correspondents. 
 Oh that I may follow them, as they follow 
 
 Christ ! In the evening visited my sister-in- 
 law, whom I found in dying circumstances, 
 but without any apparent knowledge of God. 
 — Prayed with her, and attempted to converse 
 with her, but flesh failed." 
 
 " Monday 26. — This morning rose between 
 six and seven, but poorly in body, comforta- 
 ble in my soul. After breakfast walked with 
 Mr. H— - — d to chapel ; conversed part of the 
 way of the things of God, much to my com- 
 fort. — Preached from 'His name shall be 
 called Wonderful, Counsellor.' My soul was 
 
 much at liberty. Dined with Mr. W d, 
 
 and was enlivened by the table talk. Mrs. 
 
 S k's relation of her experience, was of 
 
 great use to me, and taught me how easily 
 God could pull down every thought that ex- 
 alteth itself." 
 
 From another diary begun 1775. 
 
 " Tuesday, December 13. — This day I left 
 Lancaster, was in much weakness; many 
 trials and many temptations I have been la- 
 bouring under for five months ; our parting 
 was solemn and affecting. Lord grant the 
 seed sown may bring forth fruit to thy glory. 
 — Preached a farewell discourse at Garstang, 
 had liberty in my soul. Text, Matthew 
 xxv. 6." 
 
 "Wednesday 14. — After a comfortable lodg- 
 ing at Billsborough, and much edifying dis- 
 course with the family, proceeded to the 
 field, and preached at night from Acts xx. 
 32. It was a time of refreshment to my soul. 
 
 Poor R parted with grief ; I was much 
 
 affected. Blessed be God, we have a pros- 
 pect of a glorious meeting by and by." 
 
 " Saturday 16. — Was much interrupted in 
 study this day; had many agreeable inter- 
 views with friends ; but in the evening found 
 my spirits low, and my mind very languid : 
 O Lord quicken me according to thy word." 
 
 " Sunday 17. — This day has been a day 
 of fat things ; spiritual blessings multiplied on 
 
 me abundantly. Mr. M 's morning 
 
 and evening sermons were a great comfort 
 to me. I preached in the afternoon, but alas ! 
 though not altogether without help, how life- 
 less when compared with what I read. O 
 that I may have a more growing acquaint- 
 ance with my Bible, and a more experiment- 
 al knowledge of the great truths it reveals !" 
 
 " Monday 25. — This has been a day of 
 continual hurry ; very lifeless in preaching, 
 both at Hardwicke and Wem ; my body faint 
 and weak, my mind continually agitated, 
 every thing seems gloomy. I am in a straight, 
 whether to settle or continue an itinerant ; I 
 fear to take another step. Lord, direct me !" 
 
 "Saturday 30. — Studied the Hebrew 
 Scriptures much this day, together with the 
 English. Wrote letters and prepared for the 
 pulpit ; in general was refreshed, but towards 
 night felt an awful gloom come upon my 
 mind from considering the state of our 
 colonies. If they are ruined, are not we the 
 
96 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 cause 1 Lord ! the sin is ours. Pardon us, 
 and pity them." 
 
 " Sunday 31. — Awoke this morning with 
 a frame suitable to the close of the year; 
 found it good to draw near to the Lord ; heard 
 
 my old friend Mr. H at Shawbury 
 
 church, from Psalm xc. 12. it was a rousing 
 sermon, profitable to my soul. I preached at 
 Hardwicke at night, with more liberty than 
 usual. Some conversation passed with Mrs. 
 
 P s, and I retired to bed in much 
 
 serenity of mind. O that I may begin the 
 new year with a new heart, and renewed in 
 the spirit of my mind." 
 
 " Saturday, January 6. — Came to Wem, 
 found my soul in a spiritual frame, enjoyed 
 liberty in family prayer, but barren in private 
 prayer. Retired to bed in much weakness 
 of body ; Oh that my soul may be strong in 
 the Lord, and in the power of his might !" 
 
 "Monday 8. — Slept little and very bad. 
 In the night rose very poorly, spent the 
 morning in reading and writing to Mr. 
 S 1. Came to Whitchurch in the after- 
 noon ; a bad day to ride in, but the Lord was 
 my Preserver. At night he proved very gra- 
 cious to me, by giving me much light, life, 
 and liberty while speaking from Isaiah xii. 
 3 — 6. How pleasant it is to work for God, 
 when God is with us in our work." 
 
 " Saturday 20. — Found myself dull and 
 stupid a great part of the day. Was much 
 in retirement, read the Scriptures in the 
 original, and closed the day with a sweet 
 calm on my soul. Had never a more lively 
 faith in Jesus, and a more heartfelt sense of 
 his love." 
 
 " Friday 25. — After spending the day in 
 company with many friends, I walked to 
 Hardwicke, pretty comfortable in my soul. 
 I dropped an inadvertent word this day, that 
 much grieved me. What need have we to 
 say, Set a watch, O Lord, over my lips." 
 
 " Sunday, February 4. — Sorely beset with 
 my own heart. O how hard a matter to get 
 into a spiritual frame. I am a teacher of 
 others, and have much to learn myself. 
 Through mercy was able to pay close atten- 
 tion to Mr. M dy's sermon, text, Cant. 
 
 i. 7. I preached twice with some liberty, 
 the more to be remarked in the evening, be- 
 cause I went into the pulpit very sapless in 
 my own mind. In my evening retirement 
 was much struck with that part of Gurnal's 
 Christian Armour, which treats of human 
 learning, necessary furniture, levity to be 
 avoided by ministers in preaching, and other 
 interesting particulars. I bless thee, O Lord, 
 for every thing that rouses my stupid, and 
 quickens my dead soul." 
 
 " Friday 9. — Had a very providential jour- 
 ney to Drayton, escaping heavy weather 
 which began and continued to fall all the 
 afternoon. Studied the Greek Testament, 
 and preached in the evening; but was very 
 
 much straitened though several were com- 
 forted. Lord, help me to be any thing or 
 nothing in thy hand, as thou pleaseth, only 
 let it go well with my soul ; then I have no- 
 thing to fear nor any thing to wish." 
 
 " Wednesday 28. — Continued at Welling- 
 ton, and preached from the parable of the 
 virgins; in the course of this day have been 
 variously exercised. I find there is no get- 
 ting to heaven without perpetual conflicts. 
 ' Thanks be to God who giveth me the vic- 
 tory.'" 
 
 "Friday, March 1. — Read Mr. Hervey, 
 
 and conversed much with Miss , on 
 
 the doctrines of the gospel ; dined with Mr. 
 
 Y k, and came afterwards to Wheaton 
 
 Ashton. Preached with freedom, taken very 
 ill afterward, and thought the hour of my de- 
 parture was at hand. Most of the night was 
 in great sinking of spirit, but recovered 
 enough to enable me to rise at two, and pro- 
 ceed early on my journey ; came to Drayton 
 at noon, and retired and made my will with 
 peculiar solemnity on my spirits, but no dread 
 of death. The whole night was very bad, 
 and expected nothing less than that I was 
 going into a violent fever ; could hardly lift 
 my head from the pillow." 
 
 " Wednesday 13. — Spent part of the morn- 
 ing in canvassing Mr. Fletcher's manuscripts, 
 but we could come to no agreement in senti- 
 ment. We parted in peace and love, and I 
 had a pleasant ride to Wheaton Ashton, where 
 I preached in the evening upon Luke xviii. 
 14. to a little attentive company; spent 
 
 the evening profitably with Mr. W s, 
 
 and, in submission to the will of God, left 
 him." 
 
 " Thursday 14. — Spent the day at Sherif- 
 hale, all the company not very agreeable, re- 
 tired to study and read the Scriptures, was 
 happy in my soul, spoke at night from Ro- 
 mans i. 16. had no liberty. Whenever I lose 
 my feelings, Lord, let it be to prove my faith, 
 and not as the effect of my sin." 
 
 " Sunday 17. — Have reason to be thankful 
 for the morning opportunity while expound- 
 ing the parable of the publican ; and the resi- 
 due of the day, till near six in the evening, 
 was spent in reading and conflicting with my 
 own heart ; O what a vail does the enemy 
 throw over my mercies, to prevent the sight 
 of them ; Lord, rend it ! Preached at Shaw- 
 bury and obtained a little liberty, glory to 
 God. Spent the evening and lodged com- 
 fortably with my dear friend, Mr. H d. 
 
 May I be more thankful for my mercies, and 
 less subject to complain of my crosses." 
 
 " Wednesday 27. — Wrote to my cousin, 
 and spent a very agreeable morning in retire- 
 ment at Marchemley, preached in the even- 
 ing with no very extraordinary freedom, had 
 but an indifferent night. Mr. 's con- 
 versation was edifying, I am ashamed of my 
 own preaching when I hear a rehearsal of 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 !)7 
 
 his sermons. Lord, help me to improve, as 
 well as blush." 
 
 " Tuesday, April 23. — Came early to 
 Wotton this morning, a sweet ride indeed ; 
 the rest of the morning 1 spent retired, and 
 found it good to be alone. Drank tea, con- 
 versed, and prayed with the Miss A s 
 
 and Miss D r. The Lord was with us 
 
 of a truth. O that every interview with my 
 friends may be thus honoured !" 
 
 " Saturday, May 4. — Spent the morning 
 in occasional reading ; the afternoon had a 
 
 short interview with brother C m. I 
 
 noticed some things he said with pleasure. 
 
 Slept at dear Mr. E s's, found him in 
 
 a soft frame ; was enabled to give him some 
 important reproofs ; he took them kind, and 
 we parted, I hope the better for our inter- 
 view." 
 
 " Wednesday 15. — Dined with Mr. , 
 
 of Ebley ; conversation not the most profit- 
 able. Pardon me, O Lord, that I do not 
 meet my friends more like a minister of 
 Christ." 
 
 " Monday 20. — Breakfasted with Mr. Hill 
 at Ebley; taking a farewell of my dear friend 
 
 Mr. E s, who is going to Italy. His 
 
 mind seems exceedingly dissipated and un- 
 hinged from Jesus; the Lord restore him! 
 Conversation turned too much on politics, too 
 little on Christ. Mr. Hill set off in the after- 
 noon for London, in a sweet spirit. On the 
 whole this has been a day of dissipation." 
 
 " Tuesday 21. — Returned to Painswick, 
 
 conversed with brother H g, but not to 
 
 my satisfaction. I find I want grace to bear 
 with the weakness of my brethren. May 
 they have grace to bear with mine !" 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A SELECTION OF LETTERS. 
 
 The number of Mr. Winter's correspond- 
 ents was peculiarly great. Exclusive of the 
 letters, which as having nothing worthy of 
 preservation, were destroyed as he received 
 them; and the several hundreds which he 
 burnt during his last illness — some thousands 
 fell into the hands of the examiners of his 
 papers. Their variety is as striking as their 
 number. They are from persons of all de- 
 nominations of religion ; of all conditions in 
 life. Equally observable also are the great- 
 ness of the esteem, and the warmth of the 
 regard they express. 
 
 As all these were in answer to letters 
 which he had written, or rendering it neces- 
 sary for him to write, it is easy to see how 
 much of his attention correspondence en- 
 grossed. He more than once complained of 
 the obligations he had contracted; and fre- 
 quently cautioned his young men not to fol- 
 low his example. In one case at least this 
 advice I fear was pursued to the extreme ; 
 N 9 
 
 and this he equally censured. The writer 
 is the guilty individual. When therefore I 
 had my last interview with my venerable 
 friend, he asked me — for he was willing if 
 possible, to learn of those he had taught, to 
 sketch the outline of a sermon from the 
 words, " His letters say they are weighty," 
 I complied: but in presenting it, expressed 
 my wonder at the choice of the subject, and 
 intimated that I could hardly deem it im- 
 portant enough, for the edification of an au- 
 dience, many of whom could not write at all. 
 He smiled : and I saw he had gained his ob- 
 ject. In this way he had insinuated a mild 
 reproof. He had drawn from me some re- 
 flections, on the utility and importance of 
 letter writing, by which I own I was con- 
 demned. 
 
 To excel in epistolary writing, is an en- 
 viable accomplishment, and may be rendered 
 an instrument of great profit, as well as of 
 pleasure. But every one has not a talent 
 that is very ready or edifying. This, how- 
 ever, the deceased had in a peculiar degree. 
 He wrote with uncommon facility ; and his 
 letters were so full of hints derived from his 
 own circumstances, or applicable to those of 
 his correspondents; they were enriched with 
 such a vein of experimental religion ; they 
 exhibited so much of the Christian and of the 
 friend united, that if I had not been urged by 
 others, I should have been disposed to publish 
 some of them with the memoirs of his life. 
 
 Aware, however, that in general too many 
 private letters are made public, I determined 
 to keep the selection within bounds : but I 
 now find that I must reduce the allotted 
 number for want of room, materials having 
 multiplied as I advanced with the work. 
 Hence my perplexity of choice, which was 
 considerable before, is greatly increased, nor 
 can I presume to say that the very few 
 which have been taken, are preferable to 
 many that remain. Those of a pastoral na- 
 ture seemed to have a claim : the rest furnish 
 a variety, and turn on some useful and in- 
 teresting topic. It was not deemed neces- 
 sary to observe very strictly the order of time 
 in which the letters are dated. 
 
 Several friends have written requesting 
 me to send forth an additional number of his 
 letters in a separate work. To them I take 
 this opportunity to observe, that what is very 
 interesting to us, may not be equally so to 
 others : that a sufficiency is here furnished 
 to serve by way of specimen : and that if a 
 wish for more be generally expressed, I shall 
 feel pleasure to indulge it. Of copies and 
 originals, enough have come into my hands, 
 to make volumes; and they are all valuable. 
 
 To Mr. , respecting his settlement at 
 
 Marlborough. 
 " Dear sir, — If the few lines I wrote to 
 
98 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 you from Gritenham engaged your attention, 
 or in any degree raised your expectation, I 
 am sure my promise being protracted must 
 tire your patience in proportion. But two 
 things are my apology, one is, that I have 
 been in such an unsettled state that unfitted 
 me to write upon the occasion ; the other is, 
 that I had no objection to let a matter of so 
 great importance rest, till I could well de- 
 liberate upon it in my own mind. The very 
 signal kind ess you have shown the gospel, 
 from its first entrance into Marlborough until 
 now, deservedly entitles you to the repre- 
 sentation of the people who profess it: I 
 therefore suppose myself speaking to the 
 church or society through you, and am per- 
 suaded in you they will find a tender, steady, 
 and affectionate friend. I told you in my 
 last, I found my mind bend towards the peo- 
 ple, I should have added supposing they are 
 unanimous in the choice of a pastor ; for nei- 
 ther am I under a necessity to change my 
 present sphere from any distraction in it, nor 
 would 1 upon any consideration be the means 
 of dividing them, nor come among them, if 
 already divided among themselves. It is but 
 reasonable if I enter into a pastoral relation 
 with them, that they should know what I am, 
 and what I wish for, in order to be happy in 
 that relation. I am a Dissenter upon prin- 
 ciple, though but a young one, having given 
 the preference to the establishment till with- 
 in these two years. As I am honest to my 
 convictions, so I am moderate in my conduct, 
 presuming that neither system is so complete 
 but they both would admit of an amendment; 
 and as an evangelical minister in either com- 
 munity would wish to do good, he can no 
 further succeed than as he is disposed to 
 throw aside such rigour and austerity as 
 are nowhere countenanced in Scripture, nor 
 were encouraged by the apostle of the Gen- 
 tiles, or the Master of that apostle. A com- 
 pliance with the most eligible methods for 
 usefulness, if thereby we may gain some to 
 the faith, is compatible with a strict regard 
 to the word of God. When I profess myself a 
 Calvinist, and tell you that I preach nothing 
 repugnant to that scheme of divinity, you 
 may suppose the grand and leading truths of 
 the gospel in their turn are sincerely, though 
 imperfectly preached by me ; nor am I con- 
 tent to deliver them as a mere system. 
 Their influences felt and experienced can 
 only render them beneficial ; nor can they be 
 felt but as they are preached, in a practical 
 experimental manner, in the demonstration 
 of the Spirit and with power. Thus to 
 preach is my endeavour, and to come short 
 of it is my sorrow. My wish in the first 
 place, is to be useful and happy. Something 
 must be materially wrong when a man can 
 be content to live a course of years with a 
 people in the sacred relation of a pastor, re- 
 gardless whether his people thrive or prne 
 
 away under him. As such a person answers 
 the character of the negligent shepherds, 
 Ezekiel xxxiv. 3, 4. his doom must be that of 
 the careless watchman mentioned in the fore- 
 going chapter. Usefulness must be the basis 
 of true happiness : the minister purchases his 
 happiness at a dear rate who suffers his peo- 
 ple to sleep in their sins. — Secondly, that I 
 may have a discretionary power to make an 
 excursion from home, upon condition of sub- 
 stituting a proper supply. Such a stipulation 
 may be considered by some a weakness, and 
 subversive of the end of the pastoral engage- 
 ment ; but I apprehend this must arise from 
 prejudice and mistake. Be assured, dear sir, 
 I have no intention to subvert the end of a 
 home by continually being abroad. I have 
 more than ten years known the want of a 
 retreat, and with pleasure anticipate what 
 Marlborough may (through the divine bless- 
 ing) afford. Nevertheless to me it appears 
 scriptural to blend the itinerant with the 
 pastor, so far as the former does not prevent 
 a due discharge of the duties of the latter; 
 and that, under proper regulation, it is profit- 
 able both to minister and people, is evident 
 by comparing the prosperity of those socie- 
 ties that encourage it with those that disap- 
 prove it. — Third, that my stipend, if consist- 
 ent with the circumstances of the people, may 
 commence at j£40 per annum, and if pros- 
 perity should attend our union, and by change 
 of condition I should find it necessary, I may 
 be at liberty to ask no more. This article 
 being well thought of and honourably settled, 
 will become a rule for my conduct both in 
 domestic economy, and in the pursuit of so- 
 cial happiness. I am well aware that my 
 subsistence much depends upon the consist- 
 ency of my deportment, the success of my 
 ministry, and the circumstances and disposi- 
 tion of the people. As I would make the 
 glory of God and their good my sole aim, 1 
 am willing to rest the issue upon these con- 
 comitants. It is too late in the day for me to 
 begin to be mercenary, and if little will 
 suffice, I shall not think of asking for more. 
 Hitherto I can, through grace, accommodate 
 the saying of the Apostle to my own con- 
 duct ' We seek not yours, but you.' Having 
 no fortune of my own, makes it necessary to 
 propose, fourthly, that I may have the dis- 
 posal of the sacramental alms. My own 
 liberalities cannot be large, hitherto they 
 have been to the very extent of my circum- 
 stances, nor do I wish to curtail them by this 
 requisite. In market towns the sick poor are 
 generally numerous, and the alms of the mi- 
 nister accompanying his prayers, do much to 
 remove prejudice and bring them under the 
 word. These are the principal terms of set- 
 tlement that at present strike me, and if 
 reasonable objection can be made against 
 them, I shall be ingenuous enough to yield 
 to them. Neither in these or any thing else 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 99 
 
 do I desire to lord it over God's heritage. 
 [Should a connexion take place between us, I 
 trust our stipulation will not be that of mas- 
 ter and servants, but of a more sacred and 
 fraternal nature. No conditions are so bind- 
 ing as those arising from affection, no bonds 
 so lasting as those made up of the unity of 
 the Spirit. My brethren will do well to re- 
 member that a man, and not an angel, is 
 putting himself in their way ; a man subject 
 to like passions, surrounded with many and 
 great temptations, a man at best but of 
 very slender gifts, and of a small degree of 
 grace, who needs their pity and prayers ; and 
 promises not to seek for dominion over their 
 faith, but to strive in the strength of divine 
 grace, to be the helper of their joy. Should 
 I have the opportunity to approve myself 
 what I profess, it will be but prudent in me 
 to remember the people are in some in- 
 stances a counterpart of myself, and will re- 
 quire the exercise of those graces which are 
 opposite to the dictates and inclinations of 
 our corrupt nature. If the providence of God 
 should bring us together, and by the uniting 
 of our affections and the tenderness of our 
 spirits towards each other, we should be con- 
 tinued together any time on earth, I trust it 
 will be the matter of our everlasting rejoicing 
 in heaven. With my kind respects to your 
 family, and christian love to all whom these 
 may concern, I remain, dear sir, &c." 
 
 To the Church under his care at Painswick, 
 respecting an assistant. 
 
 " My dear brethren, — It was my inten- 
 tion long since, to have acknowledged the 
 address communicated to me by Messrs. 
 Wood and Horlick. — I feel myself much 
 obliged for the acceptance you, and others 
 whose names are not added to the address, 
 have given to the sincere, though feeble ser- 
 vices I have rendered you by the ministry of 
 the word, and by other endeavours I have 
 exerted for the cause of Christ in this neigh- 
 bourhood, for full seventeen years. — I am, 
 blessed be God, in full mental capacity for the 
 continuance of my labours, though bodily 
 strength certainly declines. — As the result, I 
 bend under the weight of a third service on 
 the Lord's -day. — This is a service by no mean- 
 necessary for the pious part of the congrega- 
 tion. — I at first established and have continu- 
 ed it for the benefit of our neighbours, sup- 
 posing if they are inclined to hear, God may 
 bless the word to them. However desirable 
 assistance may have been, I could not encou- 
 rage the hope of it, not having it in my power 
 to make the necessary compensation hitherto. 
 Providence having been graciously pleased to 
 throw the property of my late friend and rela- 
 tive into my hands, I thought it necessary 
 from the acknowledgment I have received for 
 
 my labours, to make it practical to have an 
 assistant, and when the expenses of our build- 
 ing are completely defrayed, to support him 
 from my salary. — My valued friends Messrs. 
 called my attention to . I am in- 
 formed his service does not meet with appro- 
 bation sufficient to admit of a hope that he 
 may constantly take part in the ministry with 
 me. — I shall not think of imposing him upon 
 you. As soon as I conveniently can, I shall 
 resign him, and in the mean while as God 
 shall enable me, will persevere in my ministry 
 as usual, not doubting but when I fail, God 
 will provide for you. 
 
 In the mean while I beg an interest in 
 your prayers, and exhort you to pray that 
 in due time the great Head of the churcli 
 may meet our wishes, if he see it fit to send 
 me help, or that if either by reason of weak- 
 ness I should be laid aside, or be removed to 
 my rest, the man after his own heart may be 
 the overseer of you. — The fragment of my 
 days and strength, shaJl, in the strength of 
 divine grace, be as much as ever devoted to 
 your best interest. — My study shall be the 
 harmony, the prosperity, the comfort and im- 
 provement of the church and congregation. — 
 I would wish to be as an affectionate father 
 among his children, seeking not yours, but 
 you, and if any think my conduct should be 
 contrary to this protestation, dn its being 
 pointed out, I will endeavour to correct it. 
 May we all remember that we are professedly 
 the followers of Jesus — he was meek and 
 lowly in heart, and among his disciples as one 
 that served ; thus by copying after him, may 
 we be possessed of humbleness of mind, of 
 charity, which is the bond of perfectness, and 
 in every respect walk worthy of the vocation 
 wherewith we are called, and adorn the doc- 
 trine of God our Saviour in all things. — I ex- 
 ceedingly lament the opposite temper, spirit, 
 and conduct which is among us, and am so 
 far from thinking myself free from blame, 
 that I bewail my imperfections before God, 
 and am sorry that in any instance I have 
 given offence.— But he who knoweth the 
 heart, can discriminate between infirmity that 
 mixes with a small measure of zeal for his 
 glory, and wilful sin; between that weakness 
 of nature that clogs the wheels of the soul, 
 and that sluggishness which is indulged with- 
 out regard to divine honour. That we may 
 walk in love, and live in the mutual exercise 
 of grace one towards another, and altogether 
 glorify God in our bodies and spirits which are 
 his, is, and shall be, the prayer of, my dear 
 brethren, yours, affectionately, in our dear 
 Lord Jesus. 
 
 " Hill Farm, Oct. 19, 1805." 
 
 To the same, when confined by his fracture. 
 
 " Mv dear people, — My present afflic- 
 tion has given me full proof of that concern 
 
100 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of which I never harboured a doubt, namely, 
 your affection for me ; and he who knoweth all 
 things, knoweth that I have an equal share for 
 you. We can mutually bear our testimony to 
 the reciprocal attachment between the shep- 
 herd voluntarily chosen, and the flock, the care 
 of which is freely accepted. How different is 
 such a connexion from that of a minister per- 
 forming his duty officially only, and a people 
 who are habituated only to a frigid service. My 
 present confinement gives me opportunity to 
 review my past life and labours among you, 
 with neither of which I am so fully satisfied, as 
 to be entirely quieted from the censure of my 
 own heart. Indeed I have always been sensible 
 that you had a claim upon me, for the answer- 
 ing of which, 1 have wanted capacity, rather 
 than inclination. I am now, by the providence 
 of God, set aside from service, and am taught 
 by experience to sympathise with, and pray 
 for those who are the subjects of affliction : 
 but I believe through your prayers and the 
 supply of the spirit of Christ, that which is 
 an apparent evil, will work together for good. 
 It is instructive to us all, and is a sermon, 
 which, if properly improved, is as efficacious 
 as any that could be preached from the pulpit. 
 
 " I set out from the house of our venerable 
 dying friend with cautious steps, after having 
 prayed that we might all be prepared for 
 what God has prepared for us ; and if caution, 
 independent of God had been sufficient, I had 
 not fallen. We need continually to recol- 
 lect that address once made by an eminent 
 saint, in these words, ' Hold thou me up and 
 I shall be safe.' 
 
 " There is a material difference between 
 falling through what is called accident, and 
 falling by sin ; from the former we are not 
 always secure, from the latter we may be — 
 through him, who is able to keep us. He 
 does keep the feet of the saints, and his grace 
 is sufficient for all who apply to him for it. 
 A disaster tending to break the bones of any 
 of our members, is nothing, compared with 
 the wound a soul receives by a fall into sin. 
 In the former case, experience teaches me 
 there is peace and quietness, which throbbing 
 pain, and the uneasiness of a fixed unusual 
 posture for many days, cannot interrupt; in 
 the latter is an experience, that I pray God 
 we may all be strangers to — of doubt and dis- 
 quietude, fear and trembling ; a heavy scourge, 
 and hard to be borne ; and which, if given up 
 to hardness of heart, does but prepare us for 
 that awful state, where there remaincth no 
 more sacrifice for sin. 
 
 "We distinguish between the backslider 
 who falls to rise, who returns unto the Lord 
 and is healed ; and the backslider in heart, 
 who is filled with his own ways. But if we 
 love him who loved us, who gave himself a 
 sacrifice for us, we should abhor the idea of 
 departing from him, and of causing his Holy 
 Spirit to depart from us. Connected with 
 
 C. WINTER. 
 
 this disposition there is a duty inculcated 
 upon us. It is watchfulness and prayer ; of 
 these consist the Christian's intrenchment, 
 these are the lines our enemy cannot break; 
 be the person who uses them ever so weak, 
 he will be sure to stand ; be the person who 
 neglects them, ever so strong in himself, 
 ever so judiciously taught, or ever so exten- 
 sive in his knowledge, he is liable to fall. — 
 Honour God in all the means of his appoint- 
 ment. Be attentive to social prayer ; let the 
 time when most suitable, and the place where 
 it may be most convenient to be carried on, 
 and the length of the exercise be studied for 
 general advantage. Do not let family wor- 
 ship and the catechising of children be neg- 
 lected. Be stated and regular in your at- 
 tendance upon the word. In this latter duty 
 three things are to be regarded, the informa- 
 tion of the judgment, the raising the soul to 
 a state of communion with God, and unim- 
 peached morality. The latter is by the apos- 
 tle Peter, denominated 'All holy conversa- 
 tion.' In this perhaps, we are too deficient, 
 and therefore subject ourselves to mutual 
 reflection, and prevent gainsayers from re- 
 ceiving the force of the word, and joining in 
 our communion. I wish my own ministry, 
 as long as I am continued among you, may 
 have a most blessed effect, that the world may 
 have no evil thing to say of you; and during 
 the time of the suspension of my ministry, it 
 shall be my earnest prayer, that the occasional 
 services which may be afforded us, may be 
 alike effectual. Our beloved brother Mr. 
 Bishop, of Gloucester, has most kindly en- 
 gaged to arrange our supplies, and as they 
 will consist of the whole association, I should 
 hope no one will consider himself under a 
 necessity to wander from home. All are not 
 alike steady in their attendance, yet the ex- 
 ception is very inconsiderable. 
 
 "I need not commend myself to your 
 prayers : I have to thank you already for my 
 interest in them. Cease not to pray that I 
 may be restored to you again if it be the will 
 of God ; and that it may be found that my 
 affliction, is eventually, your consolation. It 
 is but a little while at longest I can expect to 
 be with you : as long as it may be, O ! let it 
 prove for ' your furtherance and joy of faith ;' 
 ' Only let your conversation be, as becometh 
 the gospel of Christ, that whether I come to 
 see you, or else be absent, I may hear of your 
 affairs ; that ye stand fast in one spirit, with 
 one mind, striving together for the faith of 
 the gospel.' For that which is inconsistent 
 with the pure principles referred to by the 
 apostle, as the faith of the gospel, will be- 
 wilder our judgment, invalidate the precious 
 Saviour in our esteem, and raise in us a self- 
 importance, which the Lord approveth not; 
 it will lead us into the mistake of substituting 
 tinsel for gold, and of placing unallowed 
 merit in morality. I inculcate morality upon 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 101 
 
 you, with all my powers, but then it is as the 
 fruit of a tree made good. The morality I 
 would largely inculcate, extends to every 
 relation, and to every avocation of life, 
 that the enemies to the truth of the gospel 
 may have no evil tiling to say of you, but 
 otherwise they may see you have your fruit 
 out of holiness, as you expect the end will 
 be everlasting life. Under the influence of 
 grace that enables you so to live and act, you 
 will be at an entire distance from the spirit 
 of the age ; its vanities will not be able to 
 fasten upon you in a way of attraction, you 
 will keep yourself unspotted from the world, 
 find true joys in religion, and your time will 
 be fully occupied between its duties and 
 the avocations of life. You will not with- 
 draw from society, nor insult it by morose- 
 ness. You will observe due decorum, be 
 courteous towards all men, and by supporting 
 the consistency of your character, you will 
 be well understood by men who cannot dive 
 into your views, yet will sooner or later ad- 
 mire in you, what they themselves cannot 
 immediately drop into : by your good conver- 
 sation which they shall behold, they may be 
 awakened and won, and perceiving that God 
 is with us of a truth, the day of their visita- 
 tion may be drawn on, in which they also 
 may glorify God. But whither am I going 1 
 Without prudent caution into the length of a 
 sermon, and far exceeding the limits of a let- 
 ter. I hope again to address you by an 
 amanuensis, till I be restored to see you face 
 to face, in the re-assumption of my pulpit ex- 
 ercises. Till then, and for ever, I am, your 
 faithful and affectionate minister, and friend 
 in the bonds of the everlasting gospel." 
 
 To the same. 
 
 "My ever dear, and highly beloved 
 people, — Nearly a week has elapsed since 
 my address to you, in which time I am 
 brought under increasing obligation to love 
 you, and to thank you for the early attention 
 you have manifested to my necessities, which 
 your tender care led you to conceive would be 
 considerable by the affliction I am exercised 
 with. It would be sinful secrecy that would 
 prevent me now from saying, I have all things 
 and abound. The supply of my wants is 
 ample, while you continue in prayer for me 
 that I may be restored unto you with an in- 
 crease of spirituality and zeal ; and that I 
 may adopt the most effectual methods to be 
 communicative while I receive your commu- 
 nications, is a part of my prayers which I 
 offer frequently upon the bed, to which I ap- 
 prehend I must submit to be long confined. 
 My joy in part is, that I have a list amply 
 filled of brethren, who make their free-will 
 offerings to serve you in the ministry till I 
 am restored unto you again. You may dis- 
 9* 
 
 arm yourselves of suspicion that any thing 
 will be advanced by them but the pure un- 
 adulterated gospel of Christ — may every ser- 
 mon be impressed upon your souls, and while 
 faith and practice are inculcated upon you, 
 may you unanimously say, All that the Lord 
 speaketh unto us by his servants, that, in the 
 strength of his grace, will we do. If I say, 
 take heed how you hear, it is to exhort you 
 not to be hearers only, but doers of the 
 word. Pray to the Father of Lights that he 
 may make you the children of the light and 
 of the day ; that under the guidance of his 
 Holy Spirit you may be led fully and deeply 
 into the truth as it is in Jesus, and that you 
 may support your characters by walking as 
 the sons of God, unreproveable and unrebuke- 
 able in the midst of a crooked and perverse 
 generation. You will then live under the 
 banner of his fatherly protection, who, though 
 he may not suffer you to escape affliction, 
 will support you under it, at whatever time it 
 is his pleasure you should be exercised there- 
 by; and make the bitters of your cup sub- 
 servient to the health of your souls, and pre- 
 paratory of eternal glory. — Determine by 
 divine grace to be nothing short of what you 
 should be; answer to the character of Is- 
 raelites indeed, in whom there is no guile — 
 be continual in your application to the pre- 
 cious Saviour, from whose fulness you may 
 always be supplied with grace ; and in virtue 
 of his communications you may make your 
 boast — ' In the Lord have I righteousness and 
 strength.' Observe all his ordinances, and 
 come into that contact with each other, that 
 will dispose you to form a communion which 
 will distinguish you as members of the 
 church, as well as general hearers of the 
 word. How glad shall I be to see you all 
 disposed to join yourselves to the Lord, and 
 to be found at that sacred table where there 
 is meat to be received, the world knows no- 
 thing of. I am more and more impressed 
 with a conviction that the ordinance of the 
 sacred supper is neglected by many of you, 
 who, I am persuaded have a title to it, 
 through him who receiveth sinners upon 
 the terms of free grace, and inviteth them to 
 come without money and without price. I 
 hope our brethren who constitute an organ- 
 ized church in this place, will not make the 
 door of admission narrower than that which 
 is referred to in this language, 'Behold I 
 have set before you an open door.' It is sad 
 that such a door should remain open, and so 
 few be disposed to enter. But I find I must 
 desist. 
 
 "That God's blessing may be upon all 
 our attempts wherein his glory is concerned, 
 that all our comforts and all our crosses may 
 be alike sanctified, that we whose union is so 
 close, and who meet together for public wor- 
 ship upon earth, may at last meet in glory, is 
 the prayer of, my dear friends, &c." 
 
102 
 
 MEMOIRS OP C. WINTER. 
 
 To H E s, Esq. 
 
 " Honoured and vert dear sir, — Yester- 
 day I had the pleasure of dear Mrs. E 
 
 for an auditor. I sent one of my pupils for 
 her on a double horse, and, with Mrs. Win- 
 ter, escorted her home in the evening 1 , to 
 your most pleasant and comfortable mansion, 
 where we have each laid down in peace and 
 slept and risen again, because the Lord lias 
 made us dwell in safety. I hope your 
 journey has been pleasant and prosperous, 
 and that with a mind staid upon God, you are 
 waiting the providential opportunity to re- 
 turn, determined to be happy. Should not 
 the toil be entirely unloosed at once, let the 
 idea that it will be one day or another, keep 
 you patient; and though litigation may be 
 settled with loss, let the consideration that it 
 is but a partial loss, reconcile your mind to 
 it. Revolve in your own mind the comforts 
 remaining, and give to God the sacrifice of 
 praise. I know I am but expressing your 
 own sentiment, when I say your obligations 
 to God are not the less because your property 
 is paternal. By reflection and expression of 
 gratitude, the mind may be advanced to an 
 amazing pitch, and without some effort of 
 this nature, we may possess the Indies with- 
 out enjoying a mite of our possession. If to 
 
 so valuable and dear friend as Mr. E s, I 
 
 mention any thing of my own frame and con- 
 duct, it is solely with a view to set him upon 
 the same successful expedient of acquiring 
 present tranquillity of mind. I would look 
 not at what I want, but at what I have. I 
 would reflect not how great are my trials in 
 life, but how much greater than they are, 
 they might be. I have but a little while to be 
 here, and why should I not enjoy myself on 
 my journey ? If the way is rugged the end 
 will compensate; and keeping it in view, I 
 reckon the sufferings of this present time are 
 not worthy to be compared with the glory 
 that is to be revealed. These I frankly ac- 
 knowledge, not from ostentation, or as con- 
 ceiving they are in me a merit, or that by my 
 own power I thus act, but to emplify what 
 advantage you in your easy circumstances 
 may live under. Next to God and Christ, 
 love yourself, nourish and cherish your own 
 flesh, by which I mean, make 'every rational 
 and scriptural exertion to enjoy what God 
 has graciously given you ; and in order to 
 this, first study the peace of your mind, and 
 then the most probable means to restore and 
 preserve the health of your body. In mat- 
 ters of religion use your judgment, and re- 
 duce it to practice. Rely upon the Saviour 
 for pardon, look to him for peace, and honour 
 his commands and appointments in evidence 
 that you love him. Pray for grace and 
 strength, and he will make you equal to all 
 that exertion which is expected from the 
 man and the Christian. See, dear sir, how 
 
 soon I catch at your permission to drop you a 
 line, and by my didactical strain, what liberty 
 I take from it. I know you will pardon my 
 freedom, and accept my intention as a pep- 
 per-corn of gratitude for the innumerable in- 
 stances of your long and steady friendship, 
 which as I most highly esteem for its own 
 sake, rather than for the repeated pledges of 
 it, 1 hope I shall never by imprudence, as I 
 am sure I shall never with intention, forfeit. 
 Mrs. E desires that my pen may commu- 
 nicate her kindest love, and is pleased to re- 
 quire me to add, she wishes you joy of your 
 correspondence. — I am, &c." 
 
 To Mrs. B r. 
 
 " My dear madam, — I have not forgotten 
 you, though I have not before communicated 
 to you the pleasure I feel on hearing of the 
 mercy you obtained by a safe birth. As for 
 this blessing I bore you on my heart in pray- 
 er, so your deliverance has excited my warm- 
 est praise. I hope continual mercy attends 
 you, and that you are kept in the delightful 
 exercise of thanksgiving, stimulated by in- 
 creasing favours peculiar to your situation. 
 I shall be thankful when I have an opportu- 
 nity given me to magnify the Lord, together 
 with you. At present I am detained from 
 home to acquire all I can for the purpose of 
 preventing debt being contracted, or of 
 making it as light as possible. Till lately I 
 have heard nothing from our committee, but 
 I find my disappointment has been partly 
 owing to my frequent and uncertain move- 
 ments. I compare myself to a man worn out 
 with repeated shocks of electricity, and there- 
 fore would avoid a future one if he could. 
 But if I add to the sum already acquired, I 
 must undergo shock upon shock yet. My 
 journies, though trying from being obliged to 
 appear before strangers as a mendicant, have 
 been attended with many mercies. I have 
 been providentially directed unto many quar- 
 ters where friendship has displayed itself; 
 and it has been thought a kind Providence 
 that has given occasion to an interview hardly 
 expected on this side the grave. I have seen 
 the grace of God in many of the churches of 
 the saints, and have been made glad by the 
 evidence that God has not left his people des- 
 titute of his mercy and truth. In our quar- 
 ter I trust these divine properties are con- 
 spicuous. May you have abundant proof of 
 the faithfulness" of God, to the promises upon 
 which you are caused to hope. Your new 
 relation gives a turn to your attention, and a 
 fresh channel is now open for your affections 
 to flow in. May the dear infant graciously 
 given to you be continued, and parental care 
 be attended with divine blessing from God, 
 that you may rear into maturity the tender 
 plant, and have your present care rewarded 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 103 
 
 with future comfort. Attention to the dear 
 child will not divert you from the Father of 
 your mercies. You are now as ever, I am 
 persuaded, open to divine communication, and 
 are frequently turning to heaven and eter- 
 nal glory, as to the ultimate of all enjoy- 
 ments. When providentially detained from 
 those public ordinances, which have been and 
 are your delight, by the attention your infant 
 charge may claim, may the sacred Scriptures 
 open to you in your retirement, and through 
 them, as the grand medium of conveyance, 
 may the living water flow to your refresh- 
 ment. With Jesus is an infinite source, and 
 the streams run from him in all directions, 
 that they may follow after, and meet the sub- 
 jects of his love in whatever situation the 
 providence of God may place them. When 
 he by his Spirit excites a thirst in our souls, 
 by that same Spirit he will dispose us to look 
 for that supply he only has to impart, and we 
 shall experience that with him is the foun- 
 tain of life. If we abide by him, we. shall be 
 sure to be well supplied, but if we leave him 
 for cisterns, disappointment will be the con- 
 sequence. Wherever I go I find they are 
 the happiest, who make much of their Sa- 
 viour. He honours the confidence of his peo- 
 ple, and whatever he promises he will give ; 
 none ever trusted in him and were disap- 
 pointed. — On Monday evening I had a short 
 
 interview with Mrs. W from whom I 
 
 learned the state of your family. I hope all 
 the afflictions with which it may be exercised 
 
 will prove blessings. I supposed Mrs. B 's 
 
 health had acquired stability, and was sur- 
 prised to hear that it had been so seriously 
 
 attacked again. Mr. B I find is hardly 
 
 strong enough for a soldier. I hope he never 
 will be called to take the field. If an invalid, 
 he had better consult his constitution, than 
 stand upon a point of honour; and nurse him- 
 self, rather than hazard himself to weathers 
 which might endanger a life too valuable to 
 be sacrificed by neglect. I hope he will ac- 
 cept my warmest salutations, and that he will 
 consider himself a sharer with you in the 
 congratulation, which I tender on the birth 
 and continuance of the dear child ; and if my 
 prayers have efficacy enough to prevail, he 
 with you will have days long upon earth, and 
 at the end of them an abundant entrance mi- 
 nistered into the everlasting kingdom of our 
 Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Thither two 
 valuable ministers have gained admission, 
 whose usefulness I supposed might have been 
 continued for years to come. I expect Mr. 
 Newton will soon be on the list of the glori- 
 fied : I had a most satisfactory interview with 
 him yesterday morning. I wish I could give 
 his conversation, his family exposition, and 
 prayer, upon paper; but I must reserve the 
 recital for our meeting, if God permit. Ac- 
 cept in the mean while, these incoherent 
 lines as they are directed, with a design to 
 
 assure you, that I am, dear madam, yours, 
 &c. London, Nov. 23, 1803." 
 
 " I have opened my letter on purpose to beg 
 
 you to present my best respects to Mr. B 
 
 B . I think of him often. I detained 
 
 this letter the longer in hope of meeting with 
 a frank. I cannot bear to put my friends to 
 the expense of postage, if it be possible to 
 avoid it; but an unwillingness to appear to 
 neglect when I really do not intend it, makes 
 me send this through the common medium. 
 
 To Mr. W n. 
 
 "My ever and very dear sir, — Having 
 at an early hour consecrated myself unto 
 God, a part of that time which he has gra- 
 ciously continued unto me, I dedicate in at- 
 tention to you. In the course of my long 
 absence you have often been in my thoughts, 
 nor have you been excluded from my prayers. 
 I am happy in the occasion now given me to 
 address you, and wish any thing that may 
 drop from my pen may be refreshing to you. 
 I have attended to the prime object of your 
 letter, and applied to a person who I think, 
 if he can be procured, would answer Mr. 
 J — 's description. In a day or two I shall 
 know his mind. It is probable, while I am 
 throwing a few lines together, you are toss- 
 ing upon the sea ; but I trust it is under the 
 protection of Him who gives the waves their 
 fury, who agitates the sea when it roars and 
 is tempestuous, and who has power at any 
 time to reduce into a calm, and make its sur- 
 face as smooth as a looking-glass. He has 
 not only power over the sea to control it, but 
 also over the passions and principles of wicked 
 and unreasonable men, of which the raging 
 waves are a true emblem. We have, as a 
 people, to do with such, and whether they 
 may have power to act against us at all, or 
 with what degree of success, is uncertain. 
 Numbers are interceding with heaven, and 
 pleading, ' Spare thy people, O Lord.' — May 
 he in answer to prayer, raise a bulwark con- 
 sisting of stronger materials than earth can 
 produce, and then all the precautions we may 
 take will be serviceable and successful ; but 
 if salvation be not of the Lord, vain is the 
 wisdom, the foresight, and the help of man. 
 Our discouragement arises from our national 
 sins, which may deservedly cause the Lord's 
 ear to be heavy that it will not hear, and 
 should it be the case that the overflowing 
 scourge should pass through the land, we 
 who, through grace, are not partakers of her 
 evil deeds, shall find support under the judg- 
 ments which may be abroad in the earth, and 
 shall be safe in those chambers which our co- 
 venant God may provide for his people. We 
 must not expect our exemption from, but we 
 may expect supports in trouble. An interest 
 in his lovingkindness will secure to us the 
 
104 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 interposition of his providential goodness on 
 our behalf What his word records relative 
 to this point, may you, my dear sir, have an 
 enlarged and continual experience of, and 
 thus have authority to say to all around you, 
 ' O taste and see that the Lord is good, blessed 
 is the man that trusteth in him.' If I call 
 your attention to myself, I must say, with re- 
 spect to the business I have in hand, I have 
 been wonderfully led. I did not know for 
 some time before I set out, what course to 
 take ; but I found my mind calm while my 
 prospects were clouded. I was preparing for 
 another journey at the instant that a letter 
 foreign to my business, required me to come 
 to London, and I scarcely entered upon my 
 application, when I was pressed into the east- 
 ern part of the kingdom. In different places 
 my ministry has met with a kind reception, 
 and my applications, which, as I expected 
 would be the case, though they have clashed 
 with many others, have not been repulsed. 
 Particular sums are small, but in the aggre- 
 gate they amount to more than , which 
 
 I would fain bring to before I return, nor 
 
 need I fear of success ; but I find myself very 
 inadequate to the fatigue of soliciting from 
 house to house, and the damp and rainy wea- 
 ther has a very serious effect upon my frame. 
 It brings spasms in my stomach and limbs, 
 and I find precautions necessary, lest I lay 
 myself up. The mercies attendant on this 
 journey have been innumerable ; but they 
 have not exempted me from a considerable 
 degree of self-denial. There is no possibility 
 of advancing in the Christian ministry, and of 
 performing the several duties connected with 
 it, without it, especially in that department 
 of the church where I am in providence 
 fixed. Mine through life has been up-hill 
 work, and the whisper in my ear has been, 
 ' Do all things without murmuring.' 
 
 " I would copy the obedience of Christ, of 
 whom it is significantly remarked, that ' He 
 pleased not himself,' and therefore when re- 
 quired, would give up the luxury of retire- 
 ment to mix with the crowd, and those im- 
 provements which I am coveting after, that I 
 may impart from the inconsiderable stock of 
 knowledge God has graciously given to me. 
 I feel mortified in being the beggar, and my 
 pride is often humbled by unbecoming re- 
 pulse, and by the ungracious manner in which 
 some grant the request of my lips. But as 
 in this way I am, pro tempore, called to glo- 
 rify God, I yield to the mortification, and con- 
 trast to it the suavity with which my dear 
 Mr. W n, and a few others who are kin- 
 dred souls, give treble consequence to their 
 benevolence. It is not the minister's lot only 
 to be mortified. You, my dear sir, have the 
 bitter ingredient of mortification in the cup 
 of life. A part of it, I am persuaded, consists 
 in your being obliged to leave your conse- 
 crated and tranquil home to mix witli the 
 
 different tempers of the passengers in a ves- 
 sel. Mix I should not say. It is one thing to 
 accommodate ourselves to company we cannot 
 avoid, and to pass the ceremony of civility, 
 another to unite. Light and darkness are as 
 distinct in the spiritual as in the natural 
 world ; and the question what fellowship hath 
 the former with the latter, amounts to a strong 
 negation, none at all. Blessed be God that 
 you are the child of the light and of the day. 
 I need not say walk as the child of the light. 
 May your steps be exactly followed by those 
 who profess to be in the same communion, 
 and never deviate in their conformity to you, 
 in the vessel, in the dwelling, in the count- 
 ing-house, and in the church ; then they will 
 prove that • they are a part of the remnant 
 which is according to the election of grace, 
 and such of them as are wise and discreet 
 ministers will never make that a stone of 
 stumbling, and a rock of offence which God 
 puts in the way of his people, as a prevention 
 against boasting, and as an incentive to give 
 all the glory of their salvation to him. Such 
 
 a minister I hope the vacant pulpit at S 
 
 M will one day be filled with. Excuse, 
 
 my very dear sir, the paper and the imperfec- 
 tion, both of the writing and of the subject. 
 My prayers will ever be offered up for you. 
 My warmest wishes attend you for the suc- 
 cess of your voyage. My heart's desire is, 
 that I may see you safe in Stroud, and that, 
 by the grasp of my hand, as well as by the 
 strokes of my pen, I may be permitted to 
 express myself, yours, affectionately, &c. 
 " JVo. 30, Gracechurch-street, London. 
 Nov. 30, 1803." 
 
 To Mrs. H—gs. 
 
 " My dear bereaved friend, — I cannot 
 say how sorry I am for your very great, loss, 
 and for the clear children who share with you 
 in it. It seems to me now as though the stay 
 of my friendship is by this providence broke 
 in Bristol, and though it is an event common 
 to man, and what I have been very familiar 
 with, yet every fresh instance awakens sur- 
 prise, and for a while swallows up a recollec- 
 tion of what is past. I was in hope of re- 
 ceiving better news, though I feared that 
 which I yesterday received would come. On 
 Sabbath day I said it was probable we should 
 
 have Mr. H with us for change of air. 
 
 It is otherwise ordered, and permit me to 
 say, well ordered, by him who can do nothing 
 wrong. The air is changed, and a blessed 
 exchange it is to him who is gone to a region 
 where the inhabitants have no sickness to 
 endanger them, and no maladies to complain 
 of. The nerves are braced to their proper 
 tone, and all is well, eternally well. Do not 
 you, my dear friend, repine at the providence, 
 but trust the promise of which, till now, you 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 105 
 
 were not the subject. You who were a few 
 days since the wife of" youth, are now a wo- 
 man forsaken and grieved in spirit ; but com- 
 fort will take place of grief after nature has 
 had her full vent, if you can but turn to the 
 widow's God and receive the Lord of Hosts, 
 the Holy One of Israel, the God of the 
 whole earth, in the near relation in which he 
 condescends to describe himself in the fifty- 
 fourth chapter of Isaiah. To prevent your 
 fear and inspire your confidence, treasure up 
 in your mind a recollection of the divine de- 
 scription, ' A Father of the fatherless, and 
 a Judge of the widow is God in his holy ha- 
 bitation,' who amidst the difficulties and the 
 sorrows and dangers with which life is at- 
 tended, preserveth the fatherless and the 
 widow, and relieveth them out of every dis- 
 tress. You are left in merciful, though not 
 in affluent circumstances. May it please 
 God to spare your good and kind father to 
 you, till you are capable of acting more in- 
 dependent of aid than you can just at present. 
 Be the widow indeed, trust in God, and con- 
 tinue in prayer night and day. Let a proper 
 attention be paid to the education of the dear 
 children, and let it be exact and solid so far 
 as it goes, rather than so extensive and pro- 
 fuse as to spoil them for an early admission 
 into active life, and to unfit them for the 
 ordinary duties of it. You may receive ge- 
 neral advice from your friends upon this head, 
 as well upon what respects yourself, but 
 Providence will unfold his own purposes. 
 While you lie in a dependence upon the oar, 
 waiting for his commission, he will notice you 
 according to the appointed time. — Whatever 
 difficulties there are before us there are none 
 before God ; and therefore in a way and manner 
 that never could be thought of, he has reared 
 up into, and carried through life, thousands 
 and thousands, whose afflictions have far ex- 
 ceeded yours. Let us with all the attention 
 we pay to the duties incumbent upon us, pre- 
 pare for our own dismission ; we are soon to 
 follow those who have preceded, perhaps very 
 soon. O that we may live in the habitual exer- 
 cise of grace, and being found in Jesus Christ, 
 may have nothing to do but to yield up ourselves 
 when the summons shall be sent for us. Our 
 attachments to this mortal state are loosened 
 by our friends being removed before us. 
 Their continuance is not so essential to us as 
 we are apt to imagine, and therefore do not 
 let us grudge them their escape. But with 
 a becoming resignation yield to the sove- 
 reignty of the divine conduct, and be thank- 
 ful for the satisfactory evidence we receive 
 from their expiring breath, that they had firm 
 footing for their feet when earth receded 
 from them. I am thankful for my dear friend, 
 that it was the case with him. I hope that 
 you, from a reaction upon this instance of 
 the Lord's indulgence to him, are freely re- 
 signing him, and that living upon the pro- 
 O 
 
 mise to which we have reference, and pre- 
 pared for all future providences, you will be 
 a follower of him, and all who through faith 
 and patience are numbered with the saints 
 
 in light. Mrs. W is, with me, much 
 
 affected with the news, and concerned for it; 
 she unites in tender sympathetic affection. 
 If a journey hither be practicable, and it 
 would conduce to the refreshment of your 
 spirits, we should be exceedingly glad to see 
 you. Let us hear in some little time how 
 
 you do. Our love to Mrs. H if she is 
 
 capable of receiving it. It may be well that 
 her feelings upon this occasion are capable 
 of diversion. I am pleased to hear the dear 
 children have so much sensibility. I hope 
 you will have them under command, and 
 receive uninterrupted expressions of endear- 
 ing duty from them. Though not without 
 our complaints, we have reason to be thank- 
 ful it is so well with us. But we feel our 
 mortality, and trust we are preparing for our 
 
 immortality. I have not wrote to Mrs. 
 
 yet, but I think I shall take the advantage 
 of this providence, as it will furnish me with 
 serious matter. I beg to be remembered 
 
 kindly to Mr. S and Mrs. H and 
 
 the young gentleman, and remain, my dear 
 bereaved friend, your much affected, die. 
 " Painswick, July 13, 1792." 
 
 To J. L e, Esq. 
 
 " My very dear sir, — Had it been the 
 case that before the summer had closed we 
 had been favoured with your company, I should 
 have numbered it with the blessings of the 
 year. I have blessings in abundance for 
 which to be thankful, yet not unconnected 
 with trials which have chequered them ; yet 
 of these would I not complain ; they are bless- 
 ings, though in their present form, nature re- 
 coils at them. The great cause of complaint 
 is in myself. I cannot do the things that 
 I would. Barrenness restrains ideas; and 
 when they rise, the poverty of them makes 
 me groan. I am obliged to labour hard for a 
 little, and am often busy in doing nothing. 
 The occurrences of the day engross my time, 
 and break in upon my plans, so that I am al- 
 ways behind hand in what I propose. How 
 must this appear to you, who amidst your im- 
 portant avocations and severer studies, can 
 find leisure and strength for the study of di- 
 vinity, and can produce meditations for length 
 and depth of thought such as I am favoured 
 with 1 I hope to have more in addition to 
 those I have already, as your leisure will 
 allow of my being gratified. May heavenly 
 influence rest upon your soul, and diffuse it- 
 self by your pen to him who dearly loves you. 
 
 I hope Mrs. L is in health, and that when 
 
 I am favoured by hearing from you again, I 
 shall be informed that the dear children are in 
 
106 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 a thriving state. They have entered life at 
 a very eventful time. They will, if spared, 
 review the history of the present period, be 
 witnesses to some of the wonders with which 
 it is pregnant, and I trust, partakers of that 
 grace which will more generally then pre- 
 vail. The darkness of the night connects 
 with the dawn of the morning; so do dark 
 providences with those bright things, after 
 which the promises raise our expectation. 
 Why they should come with so slow a process, 
 be delayed to so distant a period, and be pre- 
 ceded with such desolations as perhaps we 
 are to share in, is an inquiry only to be re- 
 solved by a reference to the divine sovereign- 
 ty, and we must therefore conclude it is good 
 and right. Upon this consideration we ac- 
 quiesce in the providences which more di- 
 rectly respect ourselves and our immediate 
 connexions, and endeavour to console our af- 
 flicted friends, whom we know to be the sub- 
 jects of divine grace, by referring them to 
 heaven under their severe trials. In that 
 blessed state, where the government is per- 
 petual and the king everlasting, sin being for 
 ever excluded, no pride, animosity, or any 
 thing productive of strife, can corrupt, irri- 
 tate and disconcert the union and happiness 
 of its inhabitants. Among them we shall 
 stand in our lot. What is allotted to us here, 
 is patiently and submissively to be borne, I had 
 almost said cheerfully ; but as no chastening, 
 which is but another word for affliction, 
 seemeth for the present to be joyous, it is not 
 to be supposed that a bright face can unite with 
 an afflicted mind. Sometimes the thoughts 
 and the evidences of heaven are overpowering 
 to our sorrow, like a third or fourth quantity 
 of sweet, acting against a single quantity of 
 bitter. Nor would this rarely be the case, if 
 we were more in communion with God, and 
 had our conversation in heaven, and we were 
 from thence looking for the coming of our 
 Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. Lest I should 
 seem to make a text in the Hebrews clash with 
 a text in the Romans, I would observe, that 
 there is a difference between an affliction en- 
 tailed by our sins, and one that ariseth from 
 the opposition of men to the work of God, or 
 the sufferings of the Christian for righteous- 
 ness sake. A martyr's suffering when the cause 
 has been good, has had more than a fourth or 
 a tenth of pleasure acting against pain, and 
 from such instances we see how God can act 
 upon us, to make us at least equal to what- 
 soever he calls us to bear. My dear friend 
 might have supposed by the strain of my writ- 
 ing that I am under a particular exercise, had 
 I not prevented the thought in the beginning 
 of the letter. But no; by bending to the 
 times they are not yet too hard for us, though 
 universal experience proves that the expense 
 of housekeeping is doubled since I became 
 housekeeper. The distresses of the poor are 
 not so easily relieved, though in consequence 
 
 of the advanced price upon all the articles of 
 life, their distresses are very considerably in- 
 creased. The cause of the exorbitant prices 
 of provision is matter of speculation as yet un- 
 explored. Perhaps the lightness of the last 
 crop of wheat and barley accounts in part for 
 the high rate at which these are purchased ; 
 and during the drought we could admit of the 
 reason for butter and cheese being advanced. 
 But how mercifully did a fortnight's rain give 
 verdure to the creation and grass to the cattle, 
 which has continued till now so plentiful that 
 it is a matter for admiration. Why then these 
 commodities should now be so highly rated 
 must be conceived of from some other cause 
 than the parsimony of nature. Whatever it 
 be of a secondary nature, it is primarily from 
 the Lord. It is a twig in that rod which is 
 made to scourge, though we are scourged less 
 than our iniquities deserve. May repentance 
 prevent the blow from being repeated with 
 greater force ; and may it not only be repent- 
 ance productive of reform, but may it be re- 
 pentance unto life. I can only add my own 
 
 and Mrs. W 's kind salutations to dear 
 
 Mrs. L , and that I am, &c. 
 
 " Painswick, October 26, 1800 " 
 
 To the same. 
 
 " My very dear sir, — I am generally un- 
 fortunate in not acknowledging your oblig- 
 ing t. nimunications so punctually as I ought, 
 and on this account stand reprovable, though 
 your kindness withholds the reproof. I have 
 had no disinclination to embrace your invi- 
 tation to Wem, on the contrary my heart 
 tends towards you, but I have been prevented 
 hitherto, and till now have not been able to 
 fix the time of my journey. A raging ma- 
 lignant fever has visited our neighbourhood, 
 and seized numbers of the dear people with 
 whom I stand connected. It has held long, 
 and still continues, and by the visits my pas- 
 toral office obliges me to make, I am in deaths 
 oft. With others, a most valuable woman 
 has claimed my attention, a sufferer of an 
 uncommon description for fifteen years, who, 
 about six weeks since, evidently entered upon 
 her last stage, and I was desirous to continue 
 my feeble services to her till she got beyond 
 my reach. That became the case last Sa- 
 turday morning. On Lord's-day evening I 
 preach her funeral sermon. The following 
 Sabbath is our ordinance day, and on the 
 Monday, with divine permission, I shall ad- 
 vance to Gloucester in my way to Wem, 
 making Kidderminster of necessity, and Bir- 
 mingham by choice, in my road. What 
 
 would I bring with me if I could of the trea- 
 sures of wisdom and knowledge, instead of 
 which, I shall bring a heavy, dull, empty 
 mind, and a body that is far from being 
 friendly to its improvement. I shall come 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 107 
 
 with great expectation of being edified and 
 comforted by my dear friends, dear Mr. and 
 
 Mrs. L e and the circle connected with 
 
 them. And though it lias not been in my 
 
 power to embrace their invitation while the 
 country scenes are most engaging, what may 
 fail without, by the advance of the autumn 
 and the early closing of the days, will be 
 amply compensated by their society within 
 doors, the retirement of the chamber, and the 
 silent instructers with which they abound. I 
 pray that what I may bring into the pulpit 
 may be clothed with divine energy, that the 
 creature's deficiency may be supplied with 
 the fulness of God, and that divine power 
 may be made manifest in his weakness. I see 
 it a great indulgence that I have been at 
 liberty this fine spring and summer, though I 
 cannot walk much or far at a time, and by 
 the exertion I am obliged to make, I am sen- 
 sible of much fatigue. The use of the pen 
 has the like effect; but I must act under the 
 influence of self-denial, that I may discharge 
 in the best manner I can, the duties I owe 
 God and my connexions. — I would rather 
 
 have our dear friend 's love than his 
 
 lash, because I dearly love him, and if I could, 
 would preserve him from being lashed; but 
 he sometimes exposes himself to the whip by 
 the liberty he takes, a return of which he 
 cannot well bear. How desirable is an ad- 
 mission into the general assembly and church 
 of the first born, consisting of the spirits of 
 the just made perfect, when in consequence 
 of their perfection, their views are exactly 
 right Could we but live here in the exer- 
 cise of Christian charity and forbearance, we 
 might differ without being different as to 
 what is essential to Christianity. Uniformity 
 is not necessary to union, except we consider 
 it in reference to Christ. In sentiment and 
 external order it is impossible. In our land, 
 where the divisions of profession are so va- 
 rious, a fine opportunity is afforded for the 
 exercise of charity. But it is hard to attain 
 that grace ; whereas depravity, as it appears 
 in our dissentions, is common to our nature, 
 and breaks forth upon the smallest occasion 
 offered. Blessed be God for the spirit pre- 
 vailing in you, my dear sir. May the mind 
 that was in Christ Jesus be in you more and 
 more, till you are as completely as possible 
 changed into his image. Please to present 
 
 my kindest salutations to dear Mr. L , 
 
 Mr. E , and all who have any recollection 
 
 of yours, &c. 
 
 " Painswick, August 27, 1801." 
 
 To the same. 
 
 We have slipped into a new year, I had 
 almost said, imperceptibly, while my most 
 dear friend's favour of the 24th of November 
 remains unacknowledged, though not unno- 
 
 ticed. Shame upon me ! I feel it as I write ; 
 but indulged by the liberty you give, I hope 
 these lines, though too long delayed, will be 
 acceptable. Strange to tell ! When your 
 
 letter with the copy of Mr. W 's and the 
 
 translation of the soliloquy of Musculus came 
 to Painswick, I was in London, from whence 
 I did not return till the beginning of the last 
 month. The call thither was sudden and pro- 
 vidential. It respected the business of the 
 good little woman which I mentioned to you 
 when at Wem. The critical moment was 
 the moment of divine interposition ; and by 
 the benevolence of a neighbour, and the 
 
 vigorous exertion of Mr. P 1, the decent 
 
 subsistence of about fourscore pounds per 
 annum is rescued from Chancery. This oc- 
 currence detained me four weeks in the me- 
 tropolis, where I preached in different con- 
 gregations, among which the Tabernacle and 
 Surrey chapel are to be mentioned. I had as 
 much pleasure as I usually have in preaching ; 
 I have not wings to soar high. I had great 
 pleasure in hearing several excellent minis- 
 ters, within and without the establishment, 
 and am delighted by the evident proof that a 
 great spirit of hearing prevails. It is sup- 
 posed by some that the spirit of religion is 
 not so apparent as formerly. I would hope 
 this is a mistake. There may be leaves with- 
 out fruit, but there cannot be fruit without 
 leaves ; and I think the inference to be drawn 
 from a number of hearers is natural, that 
 some good is doing, though it may not be 
 in proportion to appearance. The circle 
 I moved in, gave me pleasure. I found the 
 friends who formed it such as I could wish. 
 
 Mr. P 1 is not diverted from the gospel 
 
 by the study of the civil law, but like my 
 dear Zenas, finds his delight in the law of 
 the Lord, and has his soul absorbed in the 
 gospel of Christ, though he has not stepped 
 into a pulpit to proclaim it. — How great a 
 debtor am I to you ! I do not forget that I 
 
 am very much dear Mrs. L 's debtor also. 
 
 I revolve in my mind the late visit, and the 
 comfort it was attended with. Not a day, I 
 believe, passes without the thought of you 
 and yours. I hope your late disappointment 
 
 has left no unpleasant effect upon Mrs. L , 
 
 but that her constitution gets confirmed. 
 May many years be appointed for your ex- 
 istence together, and your mutual happiness ; 
 and though an addition in course be not given 
 to your offspring, may the dear little creatures 
 you have, flourish to a long maturity, and re- 
 ward the parental cares by a return of affec- 
 tion! Did you goto Ireland? Or did the 
 sudden introduction of peace prevent your 
 design from taking effect? I hope it will 
 prove a permanent peace, and that we shall 
 have no damp brought upon our joy. We 
 have a more important peace in which we 
 are so interested, that were it not made by 
 the blood of the Cross, we must have been 
 
108 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 eternally miserable : but being made sure and 
 ratified, our eternal happiness follows of con- 
 sequence. The vicissitudes which occur 
 among individuals and nations, though they 
 may affect us as men, cannot hurt us event- 
 ually. Yet a little while and we shall be 
 carried above all that is earthly ; and while 
 on earth, amidst all the convulsions common 
 to this world, we shall be preserved from 
 evil, or be supported under whatever degree 
 of it the Lord may see fit to befall us. Mrs. 
 
 W joins in affectionate wishes, that 
 
 blessings in an abundance may be your por- 
 tion this year. I feel a desire to express 
 more than I am able. I cannot tell you how 
 much I am, &c. 
 
 " Painswick, Jan. 9, 1802." 
 
 To Mr. P e. 
 
 " My dear friend, — Your claim upon my 
 promise is a very just one. I am not morti- 
 fied that you have it to present me with, but 
 pleased that you hold me worth your notice. 
 Never think hard of me because I am not 
 exact in writing, since I am ready to prove 
 my warm attachment when I can devote the 
 hour to you. I observe your partiality for re- 
 tirement, and am thankful for the little, and 
 it is but little I have of it. Though the situa- 
 tion I inhabit is favourable to it, I cannot al- 
 ways use it to advantage. The duties of the 
 pulpit require much more and closer medita- 
 tion than I can indulge ; and, owing to the 
 little services I am called to attend to, on the 
 behalf of one and another, a great deal of time 
 is employed more like a man in business, than 
 like a student in divinity, or as a person who 
 would indulge literary pursuits. It is a mercy 
 to be in God's way, and though it. be not 
 pleasant to have our inclination thwarted, 
 in the end it will turn out better to us than 
 living to ourselves. There is literary lust, as 
 well as the lust of the flesh; and as unhallow- 
 ed passion and pride usually accompany each 
 other ; so vanity and letters are too closely 
 connected, and the man of general learning 
 too frequently forgets, that if he had not been 
 exempted from manual labour, and had dili- 
 gently applied the mind to his favourite ob- 
 ject, he would have gaped with wonder at 
 that, which, by the display of, he makes others 
 gape. You are evidently called to be the 
 man of business, but whether it be the busi- 
 ness of the care-worn metropolis, or that 
 which may be negotiated among the sweet 
 scenes of Stroudwater, is impossible for me 
 to judge. It is the mercy of thousands, and 
 of yourself in the number, that communion 
 witli God is not incompatible with business. 
 Let not the latter be carried to the unneces- 
 sary extreme, and the former will comport 
 with it. The world is the great stage upon 
 which, not the drama, but the reality of life 
 
 is exhibited ; each man is a character, and 
 has his part once to perform, and having per- 
 formed it, he makes his exit to be seen no 
 more. Think of this, my dear friend, and 
 perform your part well. Neither you, nor I, 
 have had our part to choose, it is wisely al- 
 lotted to us, and if we look to him who has 
 appointed us to stand in our lot, his grace 
 will be sufficient for us. Called to advance a 
 little before you, most probably I shall with- 
 draw a little sooner. You are on your ad- 
 vance, and will have your removal; attend to 
 the heavenly Prompter and you will make no 
 material mistake, no, not in the education of 
 your children. Why are you so anxious upon 
 that head? According to the sphere in which 
 a child is designed to move, should be the 
 limit or extent of his education. Let common 
 and essential parts be learnt well, and leave 
 all the rest. Too highly finished an educa- 
 tion to a child who has his bread to labour 
 for, is as prejudicial as a neglected education. 
 You cannot crowd into the years of fourteen, 
 the accomplishments which require applica- 
 tion till twenty. Unless you intend that your 
 daughters shall be upon an equality with 
 ladies of the first description, and your sons 
 shall be prepared for a profession, I hope you 
 will be wiser than many parents, who feed 
 vanity and unfit for usefulness, and thereby 
 entail misery and distress upon posterity. 
 Have a special care of their morals, and in- 
 culcate the principles and duties of religion 
 with the greatest exactness, and you will lay 
 a good foundation. I wish you had signified 
 whether you succeed in your new department, 
 as to know it will give me pleasure. But the 
 times are bad, and I can hardly indulge hope 
 for many of my friends. The mysterious 
 wheel of Providence is going round, and it 
 will fix politics in their proper posture by and 
 by. Though present appearances are un- 
 favourable, they are in their proper order to 
 effect, and to bring to pass, according as the 
 God of the whole world has purposed and 
 promised. I intend, if I live till fast-day, to 
 engage the attention of my people to the 
 second and third verses of the forty-sixth 
 Psalm. Trouble and perplexity will cease in 
 proportion as we are disposed to be like 
 minded with the Psalmist. I am endeavour- 
 ing to accommodate circumstances to provi- 
 dences, and through mercy, we are indulged 
 with much peace and tranquillity. When you 
 come into Gloucestershire, we shall be obliged 
 by a sight of you. ' I wish it had been in my 
 power to have spent more time with you at 
 Hackney, but so wide is the circle of friends 
 in and about London, that it wears me out to 
 attempt to pay due respect to them. I shall 
 not be deficient in my remembrance of you 
 in my best moments. Give me the same 
 advantage, and believe me to be, my dear 
 friend, yours affectionately." 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 109 
 
 To the same. 
 
 "My dear friend, — Your last favour 
 might be supposed to be a stimulus to me. 
 Indeed it is not without its effect, though I 
 never forgot my obligations; to discharge 
 them presently was not in my power. I wish, 
 now I sit down to discharge them, I may be 
 able to pay you large interest. I have an 
 inclination so to do; if I fail, impute it to my 
 poverty. I am abundantly obliged by your 
 communication of the Monthly Magazine, 
 which, for want of time, has been shamefully 
 neglected, and I am sorry I am obliged to add, 
 so superficially scanned over, that numberless 
 articles have escaped me. — Every day brings 
 its particular business, and the week is so 
 swift in its rotation, that I scarcely get re- 
 vived from the fatigue of one Sabbath before 
 another revolves upon me, and finds me un- 
 prepared for its public services. I live a life 
 of perpetual languor, and my eyes hardly ever 
 cease to ache. A reading society crowds 
 books pretty fast upon me, and I can hardly 
 expedite the reading of them fast enough. 
 The Bible demands far more of my attention 
 than I give it, both as a minister, that I should 
 be a scribe well instructed, and as a Chris- 
 tian, that I may know the things which are 
 freely given to me of God. A scanty mind 
 will neither receive nor retain every thing. 
 That must first and principally be attended 
 to, that is of the first importance. My day is 
 far spent ; for want of falling early in life into 
 proper hands, the hours are far gone beyond 
 recall, which should have been devoted to 
 improvement; and there are many things 
 which it would be pleasing to be acquainted 
 with, but of which, at my time of life, and in 
 my situation, I must be content to be ignorant, 
 at least to be very superficially acquainted 
 with ; especially as I have a young man with 
 me to whose improvement I must be atten- 
 tive ; and this is an additional reason why I 
 cannot indulge pursuits for which I am in- 
 clined. It is well to be disposed to be in the 
 will of God ; and knowing we are in it, we 
 ought to be satisfied. Pride makes us dis- 
 contented with little things, and the universal 
 prevalence of pride is the ruin of the whole 
 world. I hope, my dear sir, that by living 
 under the blessing of God, and the influence 
 of his Holy Spirit, you have food for content- 
 ment to feed upon, and that meeting with a 
 daily sufficiency for yourself and family, you 
 feel yourself rich. The present are spending, 
 not enriching times. The current where 
 riches flow is partial. It is directed to here 
 and there a great man, very seldom a good 
 man. Any man had better be without riches, 
 unless he conceives of them as coming from 
 God, and that he is accountable for the use 
 and improvement of them. When they are 
 coined by oppression and fraud, and arc stained 
 with blood, they will turn to a witness against 
 
 10 
 
 their possessors in his sight who judgeth right- 
 eously, and who will render to every man 
 according to his works. How many are there 
 at this time who are basking in their wealth, 
 but who are nigh unto cursing, whose end is 
 to be burned ! A worse evil than poverty will 
 come upon them as an armed man, and they 
 shall not be able to escape. The way to avoid 
 the snare is to use the Gospel properly, to be 
 decided by its declarations, to be guided by 
 its precepts, to believe its promises, and to be 
 so intensely set upon its heavenly objects, as 
 to be detached from earth. A very valuable 
 
 character, Mr. of , a sweet singer 
 
 in that department of God's Israel, who had 
 much to do with life, was on Sabbath day af- 
 ternoon called from it. He was successful in 
 his endeavours, and has lived just long enough 
 to rear the last of his children. I fear their 
 not partaking of the father's grace, will pre- 
 vent the property gained by industry, from 
 spending well. This is the principal piece 
 of intelligence I have to communicate, unless 
 
 I add to it the happy death of Mr. F of 
 
 Frampton, of which you shall have a particu- 
 lar account through the press. I hope these 
 
 will find you, Mrs. P , Mrs. B — ■ — , and 
 
 the dear children, well. My best wishes ever 
 attend you, and my prayers often accompany 
 
 them. Mrs. W unites. Here we are in 
 
 our little cottage, conforming to the times, 
 and waiting for whatever events our good 
 Lord has appointed for us. — I am, &c. 
 " Painswick, April 3, 1799." 
 
 To the same. 
 
 "My dear sir, — Still I may appear to 
 be deficient in the performance of my pro- 
 mise ; but I still have an excuse to plead. My 
 heart is better disposed towards you, than in- 
 tentionally to withhold the only gratification 
 it is in my power to afford you. The lapse 
 of almost three months, since I left London, 
 makes the account of my journey home un- 
 suitable ; it was a journey of some difficulty, 
 but of more mercy. Within a few roods of 
 the Golden Hart, at Stroud, the coach was 
 overset, but I, the only inside passenger, es- 
 caped unhurt. I believe my grasping the 
 loop on the upper side, and poising my head 
 with as much caution as possible, prevented 
 a mischievous blow. In all danger, human 
 foresight and caution is vain, but as we are 
 providentially directed to them, with design 
 to our protection. Our dangers are many 
 more than we are aware of, and our obliga- 
 tion to the Lord for our salvation, greater 
 than we can possibly conceive. This being 
 the case, resignation of ourselves to God, con- 
 fidence in him, and praise rendered to him 
 should be three principal duties, in the dis- 
 charge of which we should daily live, and 
 I while we thus live, we shall not he inatten- 
 
110 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 tive to whatever else respects the glory of 
 God, nor fail to exert ourselves for his glory. 
 An attention to this essential duty of Chris- 
 tianity, does not require that we should al- 
 ways be in the act of divine worship. This 
 is impossible. We must wait till we arrive 
 at glory, before we can be thus incessantly 
 employed. Yet are we not to be inattentive 
 to this devotional service while here. We 
 shall find it to our advantage to redeem as 
 much of our time as we can retrieve from the 
 business of life, for this sacred service ; and 
 to engage in it, not as an amusement, but as 
 an exercise of a pious nature, by which our 
 communion with God is to be supported. 
 While we have a spark of zeal for God, we 
 should lament the decay of custom, which 
 among the people of our connexion, promotes 
 frequent week-day assemblies, as well as 
 those which are collected on the Sabbath. 
 But is there not reason to suspect that we 
 preserve them rather as means of amusement, 
 than as being concerned in the use of them, 
 to keep up holy intercourse with God? They 
 cannot be detached from private devotion, 
 without losing their efficacy. The recess of 
 the closet prepares for public ordinances, as 
 the advantages of public ordinances are se- 
 cured and made efficacious, by the exercises 
 of that retirement. But as the tradesman 
 must of necessity engage much of his time to 
 the business of the counting-house, what is 
 he to do] Take God with him — regard 
 equity in his negociations — guard against le- 
 vity, even where he cannot with propriety in- 
 troduce religion. Where it would be imper- 
 tinent to make religion the subject of dis- 
 course, a man may be religious. Sanctity 
 of heart will produce sanctity of deportment, 
 which will act against levity and sinful com- 
 pliance, without disgusting those who are of 
 a contrary part. Ejaculation is a mental act, 
 in the habitual use of which, communion 
 with God may be maintained in the crowd, as 
 well as in the closet, and we can pray with- 
 out letting any body know we are at prayer. 
 While settling an account, or posting the 
 books, a space may be found to relieve the 
 mind by the indulgence of a spiritual thought, 
 that may be of great use to prevent it from 
 being engrossed by earth ; and though the 
 mind being constantly upon the stretch, mav 
 feel its burden, it will be prevented by a 
 momentary retreat to spiritual objects, from 
 sinking under it. They that wait upon the 
 Lord for the smallest time shall renew their 
 strength. This, my dear friend has learned 
 by experience, and as your knowledge in- 
 creases you will become daily confirmed in 
 grace. Your helps are more "than your hin- 
 derances, many as they may be, and your 
 Helper is always at hand. To him T com- 
 mend you while I write, as well as at other 
 times, and pray he may endue you with all 
 that fortitude your difficulties and duties may 
 
 require, and that you may stand every shock 
 with courage, and submit to every disappoint- 
 ment with a persuasion that nothing comes 
 by chance. — Times are yet seriously bad, not- 
 withstanding peace is restored. Whether it 
 be permanent or not, must be left for futurity 
 to determine. If I were to think for myself 
 only, I should be very indifferent about po- 
 litical events, as I am descending into the 
 vale of life, and a few steps farther may carry 
 me beyond all earthly concerns. I feel much 
 which forbids my expectation of becoming a 
 very old man, though appearance misguides 
 the judgment of my friends, who hardly sup- 
 pose I am the invalid I am in reality. It is 
 at the expense of much spirits I prosecute 
 my ministry, and discharge the duties which 
 attach to it. I have a little youth who at- 
 tends me every day, the youngest son of the 
 
 widow H , for whose improvement I use 
 
 the Elegant Extracts, and there I see such 
 ample instruction for youth, that I wish to 
 recommend it to your dear little folks. I 
 could produce nothing like it. Accompanied 
 with your lectures nothing can be more suita- 
 ble. I think John is at a good school, do not 
 remove him. Let him at his present school 
 acquire all he can, and live under your eye, 
 and in your house. The years will insensi- 
 bly glide forward when he will become your 
 companion, with whom, having secured his 
 affection by the tenderness of your conduct, 
 you may pass your evenings with pleasure, 
 though every friend should be at a distance. 
 — I am, &c. 
 
 " Painswkk, March 3, 1802." 
 
 To Mr. P r. 
 
 " My dear sir, — Should I never more see 
 your face in the flesh, I shall not be unmind- 
 ful of you, Mrs P , and your dear little 
 
 family. The comforts I have received among 
 you, and the favours imparted by you in my 
 latter visits to the metropolis, are not to he 
 
 erased from my memory. Mrs. P said 
 
 ' Write to us,' and I did write, and I write 
 again to show you, that not merely to disen- 
 gage myself from a promise, but to convince 
 you I bear you upon my heart. I wrote my 
 other letter, and follow it with a second. I 
 was glad to have my inquiries after you sa- 
 tisfactorily answered by Mrs. W . I hope 
 
 you have the indulgences of Providence, and 
 an increase of divine grace continued to you. 
 Though the former are very desirable, and 
 set the mind at liberty from anxiety, they 
 will not do, being alone. They may for the 
 natural man, who, as he pants after, can be 
 satisfied with the dust of the earth ; but the 
 Christian has soul wants, which are of a 
 spiritual nature, and can only be satisfied by 
 spiritual provision. It is furnished in a rich 
 abundance, and every hungry soul shall be 
 filled with it. The epicure cannot more highly 
 
HIS LIFE CONTINUED. 
 
 Ill 
 
 be delighted with his dainty meats, than the 
 believer is with the provisions of the house of 
 God, even of his holy temple. The neigh- 
 bourhood of Hackney I find continues to be 
 enriched with it, and London overflows with 
 it Our country is not barren; it has its suf- 
 ficiency. Our Lord always suits his sup- 
 plies to his family. Wherever lie has an in- 
 fant child, there shall be breasts which he 
 shall suck and be satisfied. Yesterday I was 
 supplying the congregation of Chalford, while 
 the minister of that place was in my pulpit, 
 and I found it good to be there. We find a 
 little exchange good for the body and the 
 mind. The ride of six or seven miles is re- 
 freshing, and I am very sensible of it. I can- 
 not do as I have done. I am older in consti- 
 tution than in years, yet have I passed sixty- 
 four. I could be glad to be excused a third 
 service on a Sabbath-day, but I, for the most 
 part, am thus frequently engaged without 
 abridging either, and in addition to this have 
 week-day services. I sometimes suspect my 
 limbs will fail me. I have as much difficulty 
 in standing as in preaching, and am in con- 
 stant pain, which, blessed be God, is not ex- 
 cruciating. He only knows to what extent 
 my day is to be continued, who hath length- 
 ened it thus far. The evening of it has arriv- 
 ed, and I am an expectant of rest — that rest 
 which remaineth for the people of God. I 
 adore the grace which has made me of their 
 number, that I have partaken with them on 
 earth, and am encouraged to believe I shall 
 have my portion with them for ever. There, 
 in that land of uprightness, where the Lord 
 will gather all his people in one glorious 
 body, the din of arms will no longer offend 
 our ears, nor the cruelty and perplexity of 
 war vex and distress our minds. The events 
 of the present day are very serious, and they 
 portend future serious events. To what 
 lengths our inveterate and victorious enemy 
 may be suffered to proceed is hard to say. 
 He is our scourge, may he not be our des- 
 truction. He is the rod of God's anger, and 
 probably may be burned, when the correction 
 of which he is instrumental, shall have an- 
 swered its end. May our prayers counter- 
 act his efforts, and salvation be appointed for 
 walls and bulwarks about us. The spread of 
 the Gospel is a blessed omen in our favour. 
 I wish, in proportion to its prosperity in ge- 
 neral, I could report great things at Pains- 
 wick. Something, however, is doing. Our 
 Sunday's school is kept in existence ; for this 
 and for several poor people, I could be glad 
 of a few Bibles, if among your connexions you 
 could procure me such a gift, with Watts's 
 Psalms and Hymns. With kind and respect- 
 ful salutations to Mrs. P and to Miss 
 
 S , if with you, and with my best wishes 
 
 and prayers for your whole family, I am, &c. 
 " Painswick, November 24, 1806." 
 
 To Mr. J—s E 1 
 
 "I have longed for an opportunity to sit 
 down, and with suitable composure of mind, 
 to acknowledge the dateless letter of my very 
 dear friend. I am ashamed to be so long your 
 debtor, without giving such a discharge as 
 you are kind to accept. But the mind and 
 the body have been alike infirm, and though 
 forced into activity, they have not bent to let- 
 ter writing, but when and upon subjects un- 
 avoidable. I little expected to have been in- 
 formed of the removal of your valuable and 
 dear mother. The last sight I had of her, 
 would lead me to suppose she had many 
 years before her, in which to be blessed by, 
 
 and be a blessing to her dear J s. But 
 
 ' in the midst of life we are in death,' and 
 while we seem to hold our friends firm, they 
 slip from us, drawn by Him whose attractive 
 power will have all unto himself, sooner or 
 later, whom he hath secured for himself by 
 the purchase of his precious blood. In that 
 number was the excellent woman who gave 
 you birth, and lived to see you so far on the 
 journey of life, and to witness the gracious 
 providence of God smiling upon you. I well 
 recollect the placid facetiousness that mutu- 
 ally passed between you, when last at Bath, 
 and the thoughts which it occasioned in my 
 mind. I trust resignation and submission 
 have enabled you to yield the Saviour his 
 claim, and that the thought of your mother 
 being glorified, reconciles you to her remo- 
 val. I thank you, my dearest sir, for the ac- 
 count of her departure. I am yet behind, I 
 hope ready to go ; O that I may not have to 
 say, ' Spare me a little,' when my Master's 
 summons will require me to go hence. 1 
 carry about me some symptoms that the taber- 
 nacle is in a state of decay. I did not know 
 what the close of the fall might produce. — 
 Through mercy I am a little braced, but not 
 
 strong. Mrs. W gets very feeble, and 
 
 the remains of sight are very inconsiderable. 
 She has expressed a desire to be removed if 
 her life be spared till next winter, within a 
 step or two of the house of God, and I am 
 watching for an opportunity by the opening 
 of Providence to indulge her. She says it 
 will be as necessary for myself as for her. It 
 will be attended with a little inconvenience, 
 but to this I submit. I can say what I never 
 could before, that I have settled my last 
 year's accounts, in which my poor have had 
 a portion, and have twenty pounds in the 
 house. Whether when the lawyer's bill is 
 settled, a trifle more may come to me, I can- 
 not say. The property has sunk considera- 
 bly, but even with the demands of govern- 
 ment, prudently used, enough remains. Your 
 benevolence being consecrated to the use of 
 the poor, enables me to be a little more dif- 
 fuse, and a very particular case engaging my 
 
112 
 
 MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER. 
 
 attention, renders it acceptable. May the li- 
 beral things you have devised, add perma- 
 nency to your standing on the foundation of 
 Providence, and may the dear offspring aris- 
 ing from you, inherit a large blessing, with 
 which God has often seen fit to honour the 
 parent's liberality. We are much refreshed 
 and assisted in the journey of life, by the 
 blessings of Providence. They are not our 
 portion but only a part of it, and where it is 
 withheld, it requires grace to submit to all 
 the wants and cravings of nature without 
 murmuring and repining. — God can and does 
 give grace, suited to that disconsolate sta- 
 tion, and in it the crumb is precious, which 
 in affluence is only considered proper for the 
 dogs. The Lord sometimes raises the poor 
 from the dust, and if their advancement be 
 sanctified, they carry the estimate of the 
 crumb, according to what their former wants 
 rated it at, and are careful of it, that it be not 
 
 wasted ; and with addition, make it subser- 
 vient to the comfort of the needy. Though 
 extreme need has not been a part of your ex- 
 perience, you have learned how to use pro- 
 perly, and liberally to dispose of property. 
 May you always have a rich store from 
 whence ' to do good and to communicate.' 
 My kind regards accompany these to Mrs. 
 
 E , to Mr. W- — , and Miss E , to 
 
 the whole number if they recollect me. My 
 enfeebled and blind wife unites with me. 
 She is greatly altered, but has stamina. How 
 long we are to be together, or which is to 
 precede the other into the state of blessed- 
 ness, is only known to him who has his plan 
 and purpose before him, to whom it becomes 
 us to yield submission. To him I commend 
 you, and am increasingly, my very dear sir, 
 yours, &c. 
 
 " Painswick, 
 " January 22, 1807." 
 
MEMOIRS 
 
 OF THE LATE 
 
 REV. JOHN CLARK, 
 
 U KITTEN JJV HIMSELF; AND AT HIS REQUEST, PUBLISHED WITH REMARKS, 
 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 TO MRS. CLARK, THE WIDOW; TO JOHN CLARK, ESQ. THE SON ; TO THE 
 CHURCH AND CONGREGATION, THE CHARGE; TO THE REV. JOHN 
 INNES, THE SUCCESSOR OF THE LATE REV. JOHN CLARK, 
 This Memoir, with a few additional Remarks, is respectfully dedicated by 
 
 The Editor. 
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 In December, 1807, the author and subject of the following narrative being in Bath for 
 his health, informed me that he had written some considerable memoirs of his own life, which 
 he wished to commit into my hands for perusal and publication. This intention he never 
 executed personally : but soon after his death, his respected widow and his son gave me the 
 papers in compliance with his repeated charge. I received the present from them, as I did 
 the promise from him, on the condition of my possessing a discretionary power. 
 
 If it be asked in what way I have used this authority, I answer — it has only been in the 
 way of abridgment. And with regard to the parts omitted, I would observe, that on the one 
 hand, there was nothing in them that could have detracted from the substantial excellency 
 of Mr. Clark ; or on the other, that could have been important to his character, either in ren- 
 dering it useful and impressive, or prominent and distinct. They were mere repetitions of 
 journies and preachings, &c. without any remark of importance attached to them. 
 
 In the selection of what is retained and made public, the editor has had his motives, and 
 they extended to every part of it : though for the perception and approbation of them, he must 
 be indebted to the judgment of some, and the candour of others: as in a case of this kind, it 
 cannot be supposed that he could attempt to state or vindicate every view that has influenced 
 him. Some few things would not have obtained permission to appear, but for three reasons. 
 First, an unwillingness to merge the peculiarity of the individual, and rob him of any dis- 
 tinguishing feature. Secondly, a fear of deviating too much from the design of the deceased, 
 and the wishes and expectations of his friends and connexions. And thirdly, a supposition 
 that an editor is not deemed answerable for every expression used, or opinion held by the 
 author he publishes. 
 
 The editor, however, to prevent any mistaken inference from the supposition on which he 
 has presumed, wishes it to be observed, that he is by no means ashamed of the leading doc- 
 trinal sentiments apparent in the memoir, and known to be held by the writer. But where 
 there is a general agreement, there may yet be a number of subordinate differences. There 
 are things which two individuals may hold to be equally true, but not equally important: 
 they may therefore dissent from each other as to the degree of attention they deiserve — and 
 this will considerably affect the proportion in which they are dispensed. They may hold 
 the same things. to be not only equally true, but equally important ; and yet dissent from each 
 other as to the manner in which they should be enforced, whether abstractedly in their no- 
 
 P lo* ny 
 
114 
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 tions, or in their experimental and practical bearings; whether in their qualities or uses; 
 whether in the mechanical exactness of human systems, or in the line glowing, natural un- 
 defineable freedom of scripture-language. 
 
 This article might be exceedingly enlarged, by extending the remark to a variety of sub- 
 jects. But what the editor lias to allege, either by way of exception or qualification, must 
 be reserved for those reflections with which he may review the character and the narrative 
 in the close of the work. 
 
 To the relations and friends of Mr. Clark the editor has to apologize for the delay of the 
 publication, or rather to account for it, by observing — that as soon as the manuscript was put 
 into his possession, he was obliged, by engagement, to take several considerable excursions 
 from home ; and that on his return from the last of them, he was visited by an indisposition 
 that rendered relaxation necessary even in the ordinary duties of his office. The latter pre- 
 vention ought, in a measure, to apologize for the execution, as well as the delay of the work. 
 
 WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 Percy-Place ; March, 1810. 
 
GRATEFUL MEMOIRS, & c . 
 
 The various occurrences that have attend- 
 ed the life of an individual, can be of little 
 importance to mankind at large ; and unless 
 some of those events have been rather unu- i 
 sual, they will yield but small gratification to 
 such as read merely for the sake of amuse- 
 ment. I should not, therefore, have presumed 
 to obtrude the following memoirs upon the 
 public notice, had they not been connected 
 with the striking providence and grace of 
 God, in raising and establishing a religious 
 interest in the town of Trowbridge, in the 
 county of Wilts, by my poor and unworthy 
 instrumentality. Surely, the goodness of 
 God, and his wonderful works to the children 
 of men ought to be recorded ; and ho doubt, 
 it will be a gratification to those who wish 
 well to religion, to be informed how this lit- 
 tle work was begun, and by what means it 
 has been carried on, by the kind hand of our 
 God upon us, unto the present moment. All 
 glory and praise be to his name for ever and 
 ever. Amen. 
 
 With respect to myself, I drew my first 
 breath at Frome-Selwood, in the county of 
 Somerset, on the 13th of January, O. S. 1745. 
 — I was born of reputable parents, of the 
 established church, who gave me an educa- 
 tion rather beyond their situation in life, and 
 beyond what they gave to any other of their 
 children. The first twelve years of my life 
 were spent at my native place, and were 
 marked with nothing very observable ; ex- 
 cept that I had frequent convictions of sin 
 from my earliest recollection, which proved 
 a great preservative from many of the follies 
 and vices that youth in general are prone to 
 run into. I can also look back upon many 
 and striking instances of the kind interposi- 
 tion of providence, in delivering me from im- 
 minent dangers — even from my infancy. 
 
 I was sent to learn Latin at nine years of 
 age, in which I was enabled to make a tole- 
 rable proficiency, as I had an excellent mas- 
 ter, and applied myself with diligence. My 
 parents, being of the established church, sent 
 me when about ten years old, to be confirmed 
 by the bishop ; and I recollect, that I was ex- 
 tremely affected at the ceremony, and when 
 I returned home wept very much, and resolved, 
 that if possible, I would never be guilty of 
 another sin. I was fond of hearing sermons, 
 especially if they were delivered with any 
 degree of earnestness; but could not distin- 
 guish between a mere moral and evangelical 
 
 discourse, till I heard that excellent, and I 
 may say, seraphical preacher, Mr. Thomas 
 Jones, of St Saviour's, Sout.hwark. O ! what 
 shall I render to God for his great goodness 
 in casting my lot under the ministry of such 
 a person ! This was brought about by a re- 
 markable providence. My father, though he 
 was in a very good way of business at Frome, 
 took a fancy to remove to London ; where, 
 however, he staid scarcely three quarters of 
 a year, and then returned to fix his residence 
 in Trowbridge — the place of his own and my 
 mother's nativity. 
 
 My father now began to think of placing me 
 out. It was in contemplation to send me to 
 the university, but this, providence was pleased 
 to overrule. Indeed, as about this time, six 
 students had been expelled Oxford, for being 
 religiously disposed ; there seemed but little 
 hope that any persons of seriousness would 
 meet with much encouragement there. As 
 the business of a brewer, which my father 
 pursued, did not suit my inclination, it was 
 proposed that I should be a clothier, and ma- 
 nage that business for him till I was at an 
 age to take it upon myself. In the year 176(i, 
 being then twenty-one years of age, I was 
 put into partnership with a brother-in-law, in 
 the same line : about this time, I narrowly 
 escaped being crushed to death by the falling 
 of a house under repair ; myself, with several 
 more, had scarcely got without the door, when 
 it fell down with a dreadful crash. 
 
 But before this period, I hope I had made 
 some progress in heavenly things. The Lord 
 had begun a good work in me, and he will never 
 forsake the work of his own hands. Great 
 were my enjoyments in drawing nigh to him 
 in secret ; in sitting under his precious word ; 
 in conversing with pious Christians. With a 
 company of these, I soon became acquainted, 
 especially one individual — a dear relation, 
 who was seeking the Lord like myself, and 
 who was a great encouragement to me in 
 pursuing the good ways of the Lord. 
 
 On Christmas-day, 1763, she invited me to 
 the sacrament. As I was then but eighteen 
 years of age, I trembled at the thought ; at 
 last, however, I consented, and we received 
 it at a church about a mile from Trowbridge, 
 from the hands of a pious minister, settled 
 there. But it is impossible to describe the 
 sacred delights I experienced at that ever- 
 memorable time. I wet the ground with 
 tears of joy and thankfulness, when I took the 
 115 
 
116 
 
 MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 bread and the wine into my hands in com- 
 memoration of the dying love of my dear Re- 
 deemer. From that time, I constantly attended 
 the sacrament at our parish church, conclud- 
 ing' that the efficacy of it is not destroyed to 
 him that receives it in faith, by the unworthi- 
 ness of him that administers it. — See the 
 twenty-sixth Article. I likewise attended 
 the preaching there as regularly as I could, 
 though I took every opportunity of hearing 
 the gospel elsewhere. 
 
 Hitherto, the Lord had tenderly indulged 
 me ; but now I was to he taken and taught 
 to Walk by faith. Many, great, and grievous 
 temptations I began to experience, tiie rea- 
 son of which I can now discover. They were, 
 doubtless, to prepare me for the work he had 
 for me afterwards to do. I was tempted to 
 call in question the trutli of my Christianity, 
 and almost wished I had gone greater lengths 
 in sin and wickedness, that my conversion 
 might have been rendered the more conspicu- 
 ous. But I was enabled to ward off' this temp- 
 tation by the argument of the man in the gos- 
 pel, who had received his sight : — " Whereas 
 I was blind, now I see." Admitting, said I, 
 even the worst, were all my former profes- 
 sion but a delusion, yet it is not even now too 
 late to come to him who has promised to be 
 found of all that seek him. — Another tempta- 
 tion more dreadful than even this, was my 
 questioning the authenticity of the Scriptures 
 themselves ; and " if the foundations be de- 
 stroyed, what can the righteous do ?" I was 
 ever of an inquisitive disposition, and not being 
 as yet acquainted with the evidences of Chris- 
 tianity, I was horribly perplexed, and almost 
 led to utter desperation ; but blessed be God, 
 this only drove me to examine more narrow- 
 ly into the truth of the Bible ; and laid the 
 foundation of those Dialogues that I after- 
 wards published, under the title of Fidusand 
 Eumenes. But I am persuaded, that nothing 
 will completely satisfy the mind on this sub- 
 ject, but the all-powerful application of the 
 trutli of the word by the Spirit of God. 
 These things are hid from the wise and pru- 
 dent, and revealed unto babes. Many other 
 were my temptations at this period, so that 
 sometimes I wished I had been made a brute 
 — a serpent — a toad, or that I had never ex- 
 isted at all. 
 
 My worldly friends and relations began 
 also to manifest their disapprobation on seeing 
 me associate with the people of God, who 
 were in general poor, and branded with the 
 odious name of Methodists. Particularly my 
 father was roused by some of his acquaint- 
 ances, who insinuated to him, that if I con- 
 tinued to go on in this way, it would entirely 
 ruin my fortune in this world; though, thanks 
 be to God, they were mistaken, lor none has 
 greater reason to be thankful on that head 
 than myself. But lie used me very harshly, 
 sometimes even proceeding to blows. But this 
 
 the Lord also turned into good to me ; for my 
 being enabled to take all patiently, and not 
 being permitted to make any resistance, or to 
 use any impertinent language to my father, 
 has frequently, on reflection, given me the 
 most pleasing satisfaction. It also by degrees 
 won him over to treat me with tenderness, 
 and even respect, and at last lie became one 
 of my constant hearers. 
 
 I continued to assemble with my dear Chris- 
 tian friends every Sunday morning and even- 
 ing, and once on a week night ; for they would 
 not break in upon the public service of the 
 church, being mostly members of the esta- 
 blishment. Here the time was spent in pray- 
 ers, and reading the Scriptures, and sometimes 
 a sermon of some pious and evangelical di- 
 vine. As I was judged to be a pretty good 
 reader, I was prevailed upon sometimes to 
 take that office. This first of all induced me 
 to write my own thoughts on a text of Scrip- 
 ture, and read it to them : at which they ex- 
 pressed pleasure and edification, and entreat- 
 ed me to go on in this way. The first discourse 
 of this kind I recollect to have read, was the 
 8th of April, 1765, from John x. 14. But as 
 writing sermons at length was too laborious 
 for me, and interfered greatly with my world- 
 ly business, I was induced sometimes to con- 
 tent myself with taking down only the heads 
 of a discourse, and filling up the rest extem- 
 poraneously. This I continued for nearly two 
 years, till being invited to preach at a village 
 about three miles from Trowbridge, called 
 East Town, I ventured to trust entirely on 
 the promised assistance of the Holy Ghost; 
 and without any previous study or arrange- 
 ment of the subject, preached from Mark xvi. 
 16. This I was enabled to do with so much 
 ease and comfort to myself, and satisfaction 
 to the audience, that thenceforward, I never 
 made use of any notes, but was enabled to 
 cast myself entirely on the divine goodness. 
 And this suited best with my occupation as a 
 clothier; for I was frequently obliged to go 
 from my counting-house directly into the pul- 
 pit, and could get no time for previous medi- 
 tation. But though this was sometimes at- 
 tended with much cause for humiliation, and 
 often tried my confidence, it became at lengtli 
 so habitual, that I always made the most re- 
 gular discourses, as well as the most animated 
 and useful, when I adhered to that method ; 
 and every deviation from it served rather to 
 embarrass me when in the pulpit. I consider- 
 ed, however, that this by no means excused 
 me from studying, in a general way, God's 
 holy word and wonderful works; but rather 
 enforced so much the more the necessity of 
 it, that I might lay up a stock of things new 
 and old, ready, when called, to brinjr forth to 
 the public. My business, also, being with 
 persons of different descriptions, especially 
 the working poor, gave me an opportunity of 
 knowing the real manners of men, and seeing 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 117 
 
 more into the depravity of human nature. I 
 was, also, always fond of philosophical re- 
 searches, and especially of mechanics ; and 
 this occasionally, together with music, to 
 which I was exceedingly attached, served to 
 fill up my leisure hours, and enlarge my ideas 
 of things, as well as men. Thus has the Lord 
 taught me from my youth, and I have accord- 
 ing to my ability hitherto declared his won- 
 drous works. 
 
 But now I began to be very much grieved, 
 having preached several years and seeing very 
 little good done. I feared that I had intruded 
 myself into the ministry, and had run before I 
 was sent. One Saturday evening, after having 
 despatched my business, as I was solemnly 
 musing on this important point, and beseech- 
 ing my Heavenly Father to direct me, I had 
 these words forcibly impressed on my mind : — 
 " Feed the flock of God which is among you, 
 taking the oversight thereof not by constraint, 
 but willingly; not for filthy lucre, but of a 
 ready mind." This seemed to point out all 
 the particulars that I had wished to know: 
 viz. — That the Lord had designed me for the 
 ministerial office — That my charge lay among 
 the people with whom I had associated — That 
 my business was to feed them and watch over 
 them — That I should cheerfully and willingly 
 engage in it — and seek no worldly advantage 
 from it. The remaining part — " and when the 
 chief Shepherd shall appear, ye shall receive 
 a crown of glory that fadeth not away" — did 
 not at that time occur to my mind ; but after- 
 ward, being at the ordination of a minister at 
 Warminster, the charge turned upon this lat- 
 ter clause ; and I then received very great 
 encouragement from this gracious promise, 
 and was glad that I did not remember it be- 
 fore, as it helped to prove that I did not en- 
 gage in the Lord's work from even the pros- 
 pect of a heavenly reward. After this, I be- 
 gan to think of the pastoral office, and having 
 preached from these words — " Let all things 
 be done decently and in order," I was more 
 confirmed in my thoughts about it: for hither- 
 to there was no bond to unite us, nor disci- 
 pline to correct any misconduct, but every 
 one did what was right in his own eyes. We 
 were also greatly annoyed by the Sandemani- 
 ans on the one hand, and the Arminians on 
 the other, who were continually seeking to 
 draw away disciples after them. I preached 
 from this text September 14th, 1707, and from 
 that time I began to mention my design to 
 some of my dear friends, who expressed them- 
 selves extremely happy at the thought of be- 
 ing connected more closely, and having the 
 Lord's supper administered among ourselves. 
 After a month's deliberation, and much earn- 
 est prayer to the great head of the church, 
 we proposed having a meeting to consult 
 about this important matter; and on the 15th 
 of November, 1707, and after making a short 
 comment on Nehemiah ii. 17 — " Ye see the 
 
 distress that we are in, how Jerusalem licth 
 waste, and the gates thereof are burned with 
 fire : come, and let us build up the wall of 
 Jerusalem, that we be no more a reproach" — 
 we kneeled down and besought the Lord to 
 direct us, and not suffer us to do any thing 
 inconsistent with his glory and our mutual 
 comfort and advantage. On rising from our 
 knees, nine of us, six men and three women, 
 made a confession of our faith, and solemnly 
 gave our hands to each other in the fear of 
 God, with a determination to watch over each 
 other, and to promote to the utmost, our 
 mutual welfare. Others were present, but 
 chose to wait a little longer before they joined 
 us: but after this, our number quickly in- 
 creased, and great joy and Christian affection 
 prevailed among us. It was then proposed 
 that we should meet again in a few days, and 
 settle the order of this infant church, and 
 choose a minister to preside over it, and break 
 the bread of life to the rest. We accordingly 
 met, and they unanimously proposed me as 
 their pastor ; and as I had before expected it, 
 and had made it the matter of most mature 
 reflection and earnest prayer, I accepted their 
 call, but with extreme fear and diffidence. We 
 then kneeled down and besought the Lord 
 Jesus, the chief Shepherd, to direct and bless 
 us. We agreed to have the sacrament every 
 Lord's-day, but this some years after, from 
 various causes, yielded to a monthly adminis- 
 tration. We agreed to provide a box for the 
 relief of the poor, to receive those who applied 
 for admission as members, with the most strict 
 attention to their faith and practice ; but if 
 any stranger not dwelling in the town, wish- 
 ed at any time to sit down with us occasion- 
 ally, he was welcome, provided he came pro- 
 perly recommended by a member of the 
 church ; and we had no objection to any de- 
 nomination of Christians partaking with us, 
 who loved the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity ; 
 for we determined from the beginning to 
 avoid all bigotry and zeal for a party. Some 
 have objected to the validity of my pastoral 
 office, not having had, as they call it, a regu- 
 lar ordination. But though I have no objection 
 for a minister, who is chosen by any assembly 
 of Christians to be their pastor, to call in his 
 brethren in the ministry to be witnesses of 
 their mutual engagement, and to assist them 
 with their prayers and advice — yet in my 
 case, it was utterly impracticable : for as to 
 the established clergy, however inclined, they 
 arc forbidden such a service ; and the dissent- 
 ing ministers around us, were so jealous and 
 narrow, that it would have been in vain to 
 apply to them, especially as we never profess- 
 ed to be a sect of regular dissenters. I judge 
 that every church is competent to choose their 
 own minister, as every family ,has, unques- 
 tionably, a right to choose their own servant, 
 without the concurrence of the heads of any 
 other family — yet I bless God, we have not 
 
118 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 been without the repeated testimony and ac- 
 knowledgments of his dear servants of va- 
 rious denominations, Clergymen, Independ- 
 ents, Baptists, &c. who have publicly and 
 solemnly prayed for us under the character 
 and description of a church of Christ, and 
 for me, likewise, as a pastor over it. But, I 
 trust, we have that which is beyond every 
 thing else, the approbation and blessing of the 
 great Shepherd and Bishop of souls, who has 
 now, at the time of my writing this, continu- 
 ed to bless us with all the privileges of a 
 church nearly thirty-eight years, and I hope 
 will continue to do so to the end of the world. 
 Amen. 
 
 1767, Nov. 18th. Had a sister who died 
 of a dropsical complaint ; and she being the 
 first of our family that had gone into eternity 
 since I had been capable of reflection, it was 
 a very awful providence to me, and I endea- 
 voured to improve it by reading a sermon to 
 our relations who were invited to the funeral, 
 after their return from the grave. When I 
 first proposed it, I could perceive some of 
 them sneered, but they were afterward very 
 attentive : and I hope it was attended with 
 the blessing of God to their souls. 
 
 1768. I had now gone on comfortably for 
 some time, and the Lord was with me, and 
 carried me through my work, though I often 
 found myself greatly fatigued in preaching 
 every Lord's-day three times, besides admi- 
 nistering the sacrament, and always Monday 
 and Thursday evenings at home, besides fre- 
 quent excursions into the neighbouring towns 
 and villages. I had also many discourage- 
 ments arising from a sense of my own ina- 
 bility, the greatness of the work in which I 
 was engaged, and the little success that 
 seemed to follow in proportion to my labours. 
 At length, my discouragement prevailed to 
 such a degree, that on the Lord's-day, Feb. 
 21st, having had, in the afternoon in particu- 
 lar, a very distressing opportunity, I resolved 
 to terminate my preaching with that exer- 
 cise. Drinking tea afterwards with some 
 dear Christian friends, I told them my inten- 
 tion. They said all they could to dissuade 
 me from giving up the work, especially that 
 evening, when there would be a large con- 
 gregation assembled, and they must be disap- 
 pointed, as it was impossible to procure any 
 other minister, the time being nearly expired 
 for the service to begin. I would not give ear 
 to any of their entreaties, but positively de- 
 clared that I could not think of preaching 
 any more. While we were warmly debating 
 the case, some one rang at the door. This 
 proved to be a pious old woman, a member of 
 our church, who being admitted, said she 
 came to desire me to preach from these 
 words : — " Then I said I would speak no more 
 in his name, but his word was as a fire shut 
 up in my bones, and I was weary with for- 
 bearing, and I could not stay." Jeremiah 
 
 JOHN CLARK. 
 
 xx. 9. She said she did not know where the 
 words were, but her mind was much im- 
 pressed with them: and she could not but 
 come and desire me to preach from them that 
 evening. I asked her if she knew the sub- 
 ject on which we had been discoursing: she 
 said, she did not. This extraordinary circum- 
 stance struck me very much. I could not 
 but conclude it to be an interposition of pro- 
 vidence, and therefore consented to preach 
 that once, and from the same words ; and I 
 bless God, I found it a blessing; and though 
 I have had many trials in my work, I have 
 never been so violently tempted on this head 
 ever since. 
 
 I had now many invitations round the coun- 
 try to come and preach to them, which I ac- 
 cepted. Sometimes I preached in private 
 houses, and often in the fields, to great num- 
 bers; and hope the Lord often blessed my 
 poor endeavours to the conversion of un- 
 godly sinners, and the comfort of his own 
 people. 
 
 1769, August 23d. My mother died this 
 morning about six o'clock. Happening to be 
 alone with her when she expired, I was very 
 much affected ; and calling up my father and 
 the rest of the family, I endeavoured to im- 
 prove the awful warning by speaking to them 
 of their own situation were death to overtake 
 them suddenly: they heard me very pa- 
 tiently, and seemed greatly affected. My 
 mother was, I hope, seeking after salvation, 
 but I never heard her say much of her expe- 
 rience. She was very kind to the poor, and 
 attended constantly the sacrament at the 
 church, and frequently came to hear me. 
 While at London, she was very fond of hear- 
 ing Mr. Thomas Jones, of St. Saviour's ; and 
 I would hope, at that time, serious impres- 
 sions were made on her mind. 
 
 February 22d. Took a journey to dispose 
 of my cloth. Preached at Romsey — Winter- 
 bourn — Salisbury, &c. to good congregations, 
 and with much freedom. 
 
 1770, May 27th. I was seized with ex- 
 treme pain in my back, attended with a vio- 
 lent fever. It went from my back into every 
 joint of my body, which in succession swelled 
 very much, and became so inflamed and pain- 
 ful, that I could not bear to be touched. This 
 confined me to my room nearly six weeks, 
 and a great part of the time to my bed. My 
 Christian friends were very kind and affec- 
 tionate ; and before I was able to go to the 
 house of God, many of them came into my 
 chamber, to whom I expounded the first chap- 
 ter of the Philippians, and was peculiarly 
 struck with the words, verses 24, 25, 26. 
 The whole chapter seemed adapted to my 
 situation, and afforded me unspeakable de- 
 light. Indeed, I was extremely happy, at the 
 prospect of eternity, should it have pleased 
 the Lord to take me. 
 
 July 8th. Was so far recovered as to be 
 
MEMOIRS OF 
 
 able to go to the meeting, and preached from 
 Hebrews ii. 9. I was very languid, but hope 
 in a degree sensible of the goodness of God 
 in bringing me again into his house, and 
 among his people. 
 
 July 30th. Had a call to London. On the 
 road, hearing of a young man that was con- 
 fined in Marlborough jail for robbery on the 
 highway, I felt greatly disposed to go and 
 talk with him. When I entered the prison, 
 he appeared very penitent, and sorry for the 
 crime he had committed. I gladly embraced 
 the opportunity to recommend the precious 
 Redeemer of sinners. He showed me a let- 
 ter he had written to his uncle, to endeavour 
 to save his life ; but I advised him not to re- 
 sort to any indirect means to evade justice, 
 but if he was condemned by the laws of his 
 country, to submit to death for an example to 
 others. This, alas! was a doctrine hard 
 to be embraced for a person in his situation : 
 but he seemed to acquiesce ; and what pleased 
 me, was the concern the poor creature mani- 
 fested for his fellow-prisoners, whom he en- 
 treated me to visit ; and one of whom was 
 confined for a similar crime. I did so, and 
 my mind was much affected by what I saw 
 and heard. Lord, may I ever be preserved 
 from sin, and be content with such things as 
 thy good providence shall bestow upon me ! 
 — Meeting with a gentleman and his wife, 
 who were of the people commonly called 
 Quakers, traveling the same road, and find- 
 ing them seriously disposed, we journeyed 
 several miles, discoursing on such religious 
 subjects as we were all agreed in. As we 
 put up at the same inn, we supped and speut 
 the evening together ; but I was much sur- 
 prised to find that on my proposing prayer 
 before we went to rest, they strenuously op- 
 posed it. I begged one of them to engage, 
 but could not prevail ; I thought it therefore 
 my duty to engage, but was sorry to observe 
 their irreverent behaviour at the time. — 
 What a pity is it that Christians, serving the 
 same God, and believing the same scripture 
 revelation, should be so inflexible in trifles 
 of no importance, and for a mere form, break 
 Christian communion. — After finishing my 
 business at London, and hearing many ex- 
 cellent sermons, I returned to Trowbridge 
 August 12th, and again entered on my work, 
 being kindly greeted by the brethren. 
 
 The place of worship we first occupied had 
 been too small for the congregations that as- 
 sembled ; it was, therefore, proposed by some 
 kind friends, to build a place that might at 
 the same time serve the purpose of a dwell- 
 ing-house, and the rooms be so disposed as 
 to admit of a large number of people by taking 
 up some of the floor occasionally, and thus 
 making the upper chambers answer the end 
 of galleries. This was done, and we preached 
 in it for several years. But now the place 
 became too strait for us ; and therefore, my 
 
 JOHN CLARK. 119 
 
 dear friend and relative, Miss Cook, who was 
 now Mrs. Turner, proposed purchasing a 
 piece of ground, and building a more suitable 
 place for divine worship. 
 
 September 5th. We have now many per- 
 sons who frequently come from Devizes and 
 other towns and villages around us. May the 
 Lord increase our usefulness with this in- 
 tended enlargement of our tent. The princi- 
 pal people in the town acknowledge that 
 much good has been done in moralizing the 
 people, though many of them do not approve 
 of the doctrines which have effected it. 
 
 At this time, I was led to interpose my poor 
 endeavours to moderate an unhappy difference 
 that had arisen between the Baptist minister 
 of our town, and some of his people. I greatly 
 sympathized with poor Mr. R. and wrote a 
 letter to his church, entreating them to love 
 and unity ; which, I trust, was kindly receiv- 
 ed ; but it did not remove the dispute, as their 
 minister was shortly after obliged to leave 
 them. 
 
 September 14th. I paid a visit to the friends 
 at Devizes. It was requested that I should 
 preach in the Baptist meeting, but the minis- 
 ter would not consent : I was therefore obliged 
 to preach in a private house ; not, I hope, with- 
 out the approbation of my dear Master. 
 
 October 9th. Preached at Melksham, in the 
 Baptist meeting; these friends being more 
 liberally minded than those of Devizes. There 
 were present some of all denominations of 
 Christians in the town. — O ! how pleasant it is 
 for brethren to dwell together in unity. 
 
 I still continued going out into the villages 
 as I had opportunity, the particulars of which 
 would swell these papers too much, and there- 
 fore for the future shall omit such excursions, 
 as well as my ordinary labours at home, unless 
 any thing should be found particularly worthy 
 of recording. About this time, I began to be 
 encouraged by some seals to my ministry. I 
 was often afraid I had been labouring in vain, 
 and spending my strength for nought : but 
 now it pleased God to give me more intima- 
 tion of his blessing the word preached. Seve- 
 ral characters notoriously wicked, have been 
 convinced of the error of their ways, and are 
 now living in the most exemplary manner, to 
 the astonishment of their neighbours. This is 
 a sufficient recompense for all my pains and 
 reproaches. Besides this, I have had many 
 acknowledgments from persons that have 
 been greatly edified and comforted. Yet I 
 have to regret, that some of those who seem- 
 ed for a season to run well, are turned aside 
 to some dangerous errors that have lately 
 been introduced into the town, making faith 
 to be nothing more than a simple assent to 
 the truth of the gospel, and denying the in- 
 fluences of the Spirit of God. — O my soul ! 
 come not thou into their secret; and unto 
 their assembly, my honour be not thou united. 
 
 1771. My father having removed to Lon- 
 
120 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 don with my brother, I am now going to 
 board with my frierids, Mr. and Mrs. Turner. 
 I have hitherto had but little success in trade, 
 but I am doing the Lord's work. He is too 
 good a master to suffer me to want; yet I 
 would not be less diligent in attending to my 
 worldly affairs. 
 
 April 24th. Preached at a village called 
 Nasteed, about a mile from Devizes, at the 
 house of a Quaker, who behaved extremely 
 kind. We had a room full of people, and up- 
 wards of twenty years after, I had the happi- 
 ness to find that the word was made effectual 
 to the conversion of a profligate sinner. — The 
 Lord's name be praised. 
 
 Going in business to a place called West 
 Lavington, I could not but pity the extreme 
 ignorance of the people, and promised I would 
 come and preach to them. They appeared 
 very thankful; and accordingly I proposed 
 Whit-tuesday, thinking they might be more 
 at leisure to attend. On that day I went, ac- 
 companied by a great many friends from our 
 town, Devizes, and other places. When the 
 hour of preaching arrived, we found the peo- 
 ple occupied in bull-baiting, and as we were 
 going to the spot, either by accident, or de- 
 sign, they let the animal go loose ; we saw 
 him at some distance from us as furious as a 
 lion, and the women began to be much terri- 
 fied, but no mischief ensued ; he passed us as 
 gentle as a lamb. A vast concourse of people 
 was assembled. I began the service, and it 
 went on for some time without interruption, 
 but when I named my text " repent and be- 
 lieve the gospel," the rabble so distracted and 
 disturbed the congregation, that I found it 
 was impossible to proceed. I therefore post- 
 poned what I had to say to another oppor- 
 tunity ; when, I told them, I would come and 
 preach from the same text. All my injury 
 was the soiling of my clothes with a few rot- 
 ten eggs; I found myself very happy through 
 the whole, and hope some good was done, as 
 several wept much, and desired me to come 
 again. 
 
 May 28th. Was at Holt, three miles from 
 Trowbridge, to hear Mr. Rowland Hill, who 
 preached under a large tree, in the middle of 
 the place, from Ephesians v. 14, and thus 
 commenced an acquaintance and friendship 
 that has continued ever since, and I hope will 
 for evermore. 
 
 May 31st. Preached at Broughton Gifford, 
 from 2 Timothy iii. 12. and had very great 
 liberty and love to immortal souls — a large 
 congregation and very attentive. 
 
 June 4th. Agreeably to promise, went 
 again to preach at West Lavington. I was 
 told on the road, that the farmers had collect- 
 ed a great quantity of rotten eggs to throw at 
 me, but this had no effect upon me. Having 
 some time to spare, I called on Dr. Stonehouse, 
 the clergyman of Chiveral, (the intimate 
 friend of Mr. Harvey) about a mile from 
 
 JOHN CLARK. 
 
 Lavington, who prayed with me, and en- 
 couraged me very much. When I stood up 
 to preach, there was a very great company 
 of people, far greater than the last time, and 
 I had no person to stand by me but a man 
 who seemed to have very little knowledge of 
 religion. But the Lord was with me, and I 
 found it better to trust in him than in an arm 
 of flesh. I preached from the same text, and 
 the people were all exceedingly quiet and 
 attentive till I had done, when one or two 
 behaved to me with great rudeness; but 1 
 bless the Lord, I was enabled to resent it only 
 by wishing them the best of blessings for time 
 and eternity. 
 
 I now found a severe trial from some of my 
 dearest friends in Christ. I sincerely loved 
 and respected them ; but being very much in- 
 clined to Arminianism, they were continually 
 teasing me on that head, and would fain have 
 introduced these principles among our little 
 flock, so that I was obliged to withstand them 
 to the utmost of my power. 
 
 June 11th. Heard Mr. Cornelius Winter, 
 at Bradley, and found a very great attachment 
 to him : he had formerly been an attendant on 
 Mr. Whitefield, in his voyage to America. 
 
 The Lord was now with us of a truth. 
 Seldom a week past, but one or more came 
 to inform me of the effect of the word on their 
 souls. Sometimes, I have found four or five 
 together weeping, and inquiring what they 
 must do to be saved ; and what is more re- 
 markable, it was chiefly among those who had 
 been very moral in their conduct, and depend- 
 ing on their own righteousness. 
 
 The eve of the Lord's-day has frequently 
 been very precious to me after my weekly 
 business has been finished, and I have had a 
 view of the solemnities of the approaching 
 sabbath, and the important work in which 1 
 was about to engage, has deeply impressed 
 my mind. I was favoured with a particular 
 instance of this kind, Saturday, July 13th, 
 after being greatly affected with the arduous 
 service I was employed in, and especially 
 with what it would be, when called to preach 
 in our new chapel to such an increased con- 
 gregation ; I earnestly besought the Lord to 
 give me some encouragement from his holy 
 word, and opening the Bible, I was directed 
 to the second chapter of Haggai; and all from 
 the first to the ninth verse, seemed so ex- 
 tremely to the purpose, that I could not but 
 be thankful and astonished. 
 
 August 4th. Went to London and continued 
 about three weeks. Was highly feasted in 
 hearing the gospel from so many eminent and 
 pious ministers, both in the established church 
 and out of it I generally endeavour to be dis- 
 engaged myself, as my labours at home are so 
 abundant ; and I love to get what I can from 
 the diversified gifts of God's dear servants. 
 
 November 20th. We opened our new 
 place of worship — a commodious building: 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 121 
 
 forty feet long, by thirty wide — which we 
 called the Tabernacle; for we approved of 
 the sentiments of Mr. Whitefield, though he 
 had never preached among us, nor had I ever 
 conversed with him, or even heard him preach, 
 except once in the church at Bradford. We 
 had very full congregations each time. As 
 my brethren that were present insisted that 
 I should preach the first sermon in it, with 
 great reluctance I complied, and spoke from 
 Ezekiel xlviii. 35. Mr. Roquett, a clergy- 
 man of Bristol, preached in the afternoon, 
 from Psalm xcix. 15 — 18. Mr. Ware, one 
 of the countess of Huntingdon's students, in 
 the evening, from Genesis xxviii. 17. I had 
 composed some suitable hymns for the occa- 
 sion, which we sung. It was a very blessed 
 «lay. The utmost harmony and joy prevailed. 
 
 We have now very crowded auditories ; 
 and great numbers return home again, not 
 being able to get in. This is, no doubt, in a 
 great measure, owing to novelty ; but yet it 
 is a matter of thankfulness, if any thing con- 
 duces to bring sinners under the word of God : 
 we may hope it will not prove in vain. 
 
 December 19th. Thursday evening, I 
 preached from Matthew xxii. 12 ; and it was 
 attended with a remarkable circumstance. A 
 young person came out of mere curiosity to 
 hear, and it pleased God to make the word 
 the means of convincing her of her sinful and 
 dangerous condition — but it was little thought 
 by her or me at this period, that we should 
 ever be brought into so close a connexion as 
 afterwards took place : for six or seven years 
 from that period, she was pointed out to me 
 for a friend and companion through life. Con- 
 sidering the result of the occasion, the text 
 was singular — " Friend, how comest thou in 
 hither, not having on a wedding garment." 
 
 This has been a very important year of my 
 life, and of the cause of God in this place. 
 Hundreds of my town's people, of all sorts 
 crowd to hear the word of God : some for the 
 benefit of their precious souls, and some to 
 ridicule and scoff. Many of the greatest pro- 
 fligates of the town, and military officers who 
 are stationed here, come among the rest. We 
 have been threatened with disturbance, but 
 is has never been permitted. My worldly 
 friends and relations would fain dissuade me 
 from exerting myself so much, under an ap- 
 prehension that it will be injurious to my 
 health, but I do not find that I am hurt by it 
 If I was, surely the eternal salvation of one 
 soul is of far greater importance than a few 
 years' preservation of bodily health — yet I 
 would not be imprudent, or presumptuous. 
 Lord, be thou my director and protector. 
 
 Christmas-day. Preached three times as 
 usual. In the evening, I found a young mi- 
 nister, Mr. Rippen, of the Baptist persuasion; 
 I went to him after service, and begged he 
 would preach for me the morrow evening, 
 especially as my engagements were rather 
 Q 11 
 
 this week extraordinary. He readily con- 
 sented; but some of the Baptist brethren dis- 
 suaded him from it ! — O ! how much mischief 
 does bigotry for forms occasion to Christian 
 love and fellowship. Friday I went and 
 heard Mr. Rippen, at the Baptist meeting, 
 from Matthew xxv. 6. a very good discourse ; 
 he appears to be a very lively and zealous 
 preacher. 
 
 1772, January 1st. Began the new year 
 at Melksham, where I preached from Reve- 
 lations xxi. 5. — " Behold, I make all things 
 new." 
 
 January 8. I began this evening catechis- 
 ing the children on a week night, as my 
 time on the Lord's-day is too much occupied 
 to attend to it. The Lord has graciously 
 owned this part of my office to several chil- 
 dren, some of whom have afterwards joined 
 the church, and made a good confession. 
 
 January 9th. A company of young per- 
 sons applied to me to grant the use of the 
 meeting on a week-day morning, to assemble 
 together for prayer. Happy was I to grant 
 their request. O ! what a delightful thing to 
 seek the Lord in the days of our youth. 
 
 I think we have reason to believe the Lord 
 is smiling on our attempts to diffuse the know- 
 ledge of his precious salvation : his word — 
 his spirit — and his providence concur in en- 
 couraging us to proceed. A striking instance 
 he has given us of the latter. Our kind 
 friends, Mr. and Mrs. Turner, were surprised 
 on their taking stock this Christmas, to find 
 that they had gained the last year more than 
 sufficient to defray the expense of the build- 
 ing, besides what they had expended in house- 
 keeping, though they had gained no more, 
 they imagine, by their business before, than 
 barely the expenses of their family : nor is 
 his hand less visible in blessing the word 
 preached. Persons of all descriptions are 
 continually coming to me to declare what the 
 Lord has done for their souls ; some convin- 
 ced of their sinful state, and wishing to know 
 how they shall be saved ; and some to ex- 
 press the joy and consolation they have re- 
 ceived under the gospel. There are seven 
 or eight of the most notorious sinners in the 
 town, who were drunkards, swearers, sabbath- 
 breakers, and even a terror to their neighbours 
 by their wickedness, who now constantly at- 
 tend, and are now reformed from their abomi- 
 nable ways, to the astonishment of all around 
 them. — Glory be to God for his wonderful 
 works to the children of men ! 
 
 As we have erected the standard of the 
 gospel in the town, and, as it were, pitched 
 our camp, so I determine now in the strength 
 of the Lord to storm the devil's out-posts. For 
 this purpose, I intend going round the coun- 
 try villages more and more. 
 
 I find I am much censured by formal pro- 
 fessors for preaching without doors ; and my 
 relations account it mean and degrading; but 
 
122 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 surely I have the example of the holiest cha- 
 racter, and the greatest teacher that ever was : 
 and I hope, I have the approbation of God and 
 my own conscience. I desire nothing but to 
 glorify his blessed name. 
 
 O how great is my satisfaction and plea- 
 sure to observe my father and sister, and other 
 relations among the crowd ! I hope the Lord 
 will have mercy upon them. My father now 
 comes to hear me constantly, though so se- 
 vere against me at first. 
 
 June 3. Went again to Westaston, and 
 stood on an tipping stock in the street and 
 preached. At first, my pride seemed to be 
 hurt at the censure and contempt that I should 
 incur from many of my fellow-creatures, but 
 when I considered the dignity and import- 
 ance of the work I was engaged in, I lost 
 these degrading thoughts, and was content 
 to become a fool for Christ I came home 
 with some of Studly-Green, to whom my mi- 
 nistry had been blessed ; and was greatly 
 pleased to hear that they had consented to 
 meet together regularly to sing and pray at 
 each other's houses: some of 'them had been 
 notoriously wicked. — Called to visit a person 
 extremely ill in the small pox ; there was a 
 room full of people. I read a chapter and 
 prayed with them. The poor woman has 
 been very wicked, and is dreadfully terrified 
 at the thought of dying. — O ! what a mercy 
 is it to be possessed of a good hope through 
 grace. 
 
 June 22d. At Southwick-Green, a great 
 company ; and no disturbance, but a few per- 
 sons talking at a distance. After preaching, 
 I went and reasoned with them ; and they 
 seemed very much abashed. — Alas ! if they 
 cannot stand before the reproof of a fellow- 
 mortal, how will they abide the day of his 
 coming, who trieth the heart and the reins ! 
 
 July 5th. After preaching this evening, 
 my heart was much comforted and encour- 
 aged by the great love and respect shown me. 
 Both sides of the way were lined by people, 
 who strove which could express the greatest 
 regard. The sermon seemed a general 
 blessing; and one person in particular said, 
 he would not have but heard it for a £1000. 
 This the Lord has designed, perhaps, as a 
 counterbalance to some grievous scandals 
 that have been cast upon me the week past : 
 I know they are unfounded, but I know also 
 that Satan bears me no good will. 
 
 July 22d. Visited one of our members — 
 an aged gentlewoman who seems near her 
 end, and was much refreshed to see her spirit 
 so calm and resigned — either to live or die. 
 
 July 29th. At Hilperton-Marsh. The 
 
 clergyman of the parish, and Mr. B y, the 
 
 justice of the peace, and his wife and family 
 were among my hearers, who behaved with 
 
 the greatest respect and civility. Mr. B y 
 
 afterward invited me to go into his house and 
 take some refreshment. 
 
 JOHN CLARK. 
 
 September 19th, Saturday. Have reason 
 to admire the goodness of the Lord in carry- 
 ing me through such a multiplicity of labours 
 this week, exclusive of my attention to trade. 
 Yet I bless his name, I feel myself well and 
 happy. 
 
 November 1st. Our society being now 
 very considerably increased, I thought it 
 right to call them together, to recognize our 
 former covenant as a church of Christ ; and 
 to engage anew to fulfil the duties of it to 
 each other. I told them I was at their ser- 
 vice, but I would rather, if they approved of 
 it, resign up my office to any pastor they 
 should choose. This proposal threw them all 
 into tears, and they unanimously and most 
 earnestly entreated me still to take the care 
 of them. I then pointed out some of the duties 
 they owed to their minister and to each 
 other ; and asked if they chose to continue 
 me as their pastor upon those conditions — if 
 so, they would signify it by lifting up their 
 hands, which they all instantly and solemnly 
 did, while I prayed to God to confirm us and 
 bless us as a church of his own. 
 
 I have been lately much encouraged by 
 visiting two old dying Christians, who ex- 
 pressed themselves very happy at the pros- 
 pect of death. 
 
 November 20th, we kept as the anniver- 
 sary of opening our place of worship. I 
 preached morning and evening ; Mr. Roquett 
 in the afternoon. 
 
 A great many persons are now offering 
 themselves to be joined to us in Christian fel- 
 lowship; but we are exceedingly cautious 
 whom we admit. They undergo the strictest 
 examination, first by me privately, then by the 
 whole church. Yet after all, it is to be 
 feared some unworthy communicants will 
 creep in. 
 
 Thursday being the last day of the year, 
 I took for my text Psalm cii. 25 — 27, and 
 do not recollect ever closing a year with 
 such solemnity before. Many have been the 
 mercies of the past year — may the ensuing 
 be marked by more abundant diligence in the 
 ways of the Lord. 
 
 1773. Hitherto, we had gone on in per- 
 fect harmony with respect to points of doc- 
 trine. For as we were originally of the 
 Church of England, we all firmly held the 
 tenets of it, usually called Calvinistic, as ex- 
 pressed in her public prayers and the thirty- 
 nine articles. But now one of our dear 
 friends, and who had great authority among 
 us, having become acquainted with some 
 pious relations, who were among Mr. Wes- 
 ley's people, and were very strenuous advo- 
 cates for Arminianism, she was tinctured 
 herself, and sought every occasion to intro- 
 duce the principles among us. She not only 
 pressed us to admit persons who held these 
 sentiments as members of our church, but 
 whenever any popular preacher among them 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 123 
 
 made his appearance, she endeavoured to 
 bring him forward ; and as our place of wor- 
 ship was not yet vested in the hands of trus- 
 tees, but still continued in the sole power of 
 one individual, we could not always avoid 
 the preaching of such men among us. This 
 has often been a source of great uneasiness 
 to us. One of them, a captain, at this time 
 preaching about the country, and by -his 
 regimentals, and the violence of his manner, 
 having rendered himself popular, our deap, 
 but mistaken sister would needs invite to 
 preach, and would not be persuaded to the 
 contrary. He preached several times: his 
 preaching was exceedingly contradictory — 
 tending greatly to distress tender consciences, 
 and distract those who were unsettled in their 
 minds: he asserted that Christians might be 
 perfect in this life — that they must know the 
 exact time and even place where they were 
 justified — yea, that they could not be Chris- 
 tians without it — that those who believed 
 never doubted afterwards. I took an oppor- 
 tunity, and with much tenderness, pointed 
 out his mistakes to him, which he seemed to 
 take kindly ; but my dear cousin very much 
 resented it afterwards, which caused me great 
 uneasiness. 
 
 March 21st. Have just heard of the death 
 of a person who has left a glorious testimony 
 to the power of the gospel. He was formerly 
 a very wicked character. About six years 
 ago, I visited him in a dangerous fit of sick- 
 ness. He was than horribly afraid of death, 
 and made many protestations of amendment 
 should it please God to spare him. — It pleased 
 God to spare him and he became more wicked 
 than ever — not only a drunkard and profane 
 swearer, but took every opportunity to ridi- 
 cule religion. About a year and a half ago, 
 he came scoffing to hear me ; but the Lord 
 was pleased to put a stop to his scoffing, and 
 sent him home deeply convicted of his un- 
 happy condition. But he was soon relieved 
 by faith in the Lord Jesus : and has since 
 been abundant in offices of love, and patient 
 endurance of tribulation for the sake of his 
 profession. He was very assiduous in visiting 
 the sick, and has sometimes sat up with them 
 all night. He now was very faithful in re- 
 proving his old companions in sin ; and for 
 this he gained many a scoff from them, which 
 he bore with meekness and fortitude, espe- 
 cially the abuses and extravagancies of a 
 drunken and wicked wife. I visited him in 
 his last moments ; but found a pleasing con- 
 trast to what I had observed in his former 
 illness. He was then dreadfully afraid of 
 death, but now he said his greatest comfort 
 was to think he was so near it. 
 
 April 4th. I have been this afternoon 
 called to another important part of my office. 
 Five of my brethren's children were brought 
 for baptism, and I baptized them in the pre- 
 sence of a very large and solemn assembly. 
 
 As I judge we should not engage in any thing 
 of a religious nature without being thoroughly 
 convinced in our own mind of the propriety 
 of it, and without being able to give some 
 reasons for it to the public, I wrote out a ser- 
 mon and read it. It was greatly satisfactory 
 to those who heard it, and I was much soli- 
 cited to publish it ; but I declined it, fearing 
 it might subject me to a controversy with my 
 Baptist friends, which I wish by all means 
 to avoid. 
 
 April 18th. Hitherto we had made use 
 of a box with an opening in the lid, for our 
 contributions to the poor and sick members 
 of our church, and others occasionally ; but 
 not finding this mode sufficient, we this after- 
 noon made a collection at the Lord's table, 
 and were pleased to find the cheerfulness 
 with which every one seemed ready to give. 
 This mode we have continued ever since. 
 
 May 9th. I began my summer excursions 
 into the country villages, and preached at 
 Simington. 
 
 August 7th. Was invited to preach at 
 Frome, my native place. At first, it appeared 
 formidable to think of preaching to my old 
 play-fellows and acquaintances ; and yet I 
 have had a desire to declare to them what 
 God hath done for my soul. 
 
 I have lately had a sight of Mahomet's 
 Alcoran. How infatuated must rational 
 creatures be to believe such shocking ab- 
 surdities. I bless my God, this book has 
 greatly tended to endear my Bible. 
 
 November 17th. Second anniversary. 1 
 preached in the morning from Psalm cxviii. 
 15. Mr. Roquett in the afternoon, from 1 
 Thessalonians v. 16. In the evening, Mr. 
 Marshman, Baptist minister, from Haggai i. 
 5. Blessed be God, it has been a joyful fes- 
 tivity. Mr. Roquett also preached Thursday 
 and Friday evenings. We parted Saturday 
 morning with great regret. — O ! when shall 
 the day come that we shall part no more. — 
 Thus we have concluded another year. 
 Great have been our trials, and great our 
 mercies : and we have had very considerable 
 additions to our little society, of such as, 1 
 hope, will be eventually saved. 
 
 1774, January 2d. I this morning began 
 expounding the assembly's catechism. I in- 
 tend to go through it by taking a question 
 every Sunday morning. I teach it to the 
 children, and esteem it an excellent form of 
 sound words. 
 
 This week past, I have been a good deal 
 engaged by a curious emblematical drawing 
 that I have sketched out, representing the 
 chain of blessings which Paul enumerates in 
 Romans viii. 29, 30. I have some thoughts 
 of publishing it, as I hope God may see good 
 to make it a blessing to others as he has to 
 me. 
 
 April 13th. Went to the sessions at De- 
 vizes, to get myself licensed as a preacher. 
 
124 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 I have hitherto been licensed by the King of 
 kings only, but being in danger of some parish 
 offices, which would be extremely inconve- 
 nient to me as a preacher, I thought it pru- 
 dent to sue for the protection of the legislature. 
 
 April 17th. We met to choose a deacon 
 in the room of one who has forfeited his place 
 by some imprudent step. We conformed as 
 much as we could to the primitive mode : I 
 proposed two to the church, whom I thought 
 the most eligible, and then we prayed and 
 drew lots. 
 
 July 24th. We examined nine persons, 
 who were unanimously admitted into the 
 church. 
 
 October 9th. We met on the painful bu- 
 siness of examining into the conduct of a 
 brother and his wife, for several charges 
 brought against them, and especially their 
 unchristian behaviour towards each other; 
 which being proved to be true, we suspended 
 them from their church privileges, till they 
 should amend their conduct, and live peace- 
 ably together. They submitted to the cen- 
 sure in a very becoming manner. 
 
 October 14th. We assembled according to 
 appointment to humble ourselves before God 
 in fasting and prayer, and to confess our sins 
 as a church, and also to entreat him to re- 
 store our lapsed friends, and to give them 
 repentance. Many of the brethren prayed. 
 It was a solemn and affecting opportunity. 
 
 November 17th. Our third anniversary. 
 I preached in the morning — Mr. Roquett in 
 the afternoon — Mr. Woolmar in the evening. 
 The congregations were great, and love and 
 unity prevailed among all parties. 
 
 In consequence of an. act of parliament 
 for calling in the light gold, the weighing of 
 money is become a very common and neces- 
 sary employment. This suggested the hint 
 of writing a little piece, called the Coin- Act, 
 which has occupied much of my time this 
 week, which Mr. Hill advised me to publish, 
 offering to write a recommendatory preface ; 
 which I consented to do. 
 
 1775, January 23d. I have been this 
 week attending a course of philosophical lec- 
 tures and experiments. Hope I have gained 
 much instruction, and been helped to admire 
 the works of nature, and adore their great 
 Author. 
 
 June 12th. This morning at four o'clock, 
 set out for London. A person who owes me 
 a great deal more than I at present possess, 
 is likely to become a bankrupt. I am likely 
 to lose all I have in the world, though I thank 
 God, I shall hope to be able to pay all to 
 whom I owe any thing. This has been a 
 severe trial, yet I doubt not but all is well : 
 we must not trust in uncertain riches, but in 
 the living God. 
 
 I had the curiosity to see a Popish mass, 
 and I hope I was thankful for our reformation. 
 
 July 28th. We this evening buried the 
 
 JOHN CLARK. 
 
 remains of a gray-headed brother, who has 
 been an honourable member ever since the 
 commencement of our society. He was a 
 poor Christian, but noble-spirited — true to his 
 profession, and patient in affliction. 
 
 The present times are very alarming. 
 War between the mother country and the 
 colonies; an earthquake felt over a great 
 part of England, and the excessive rains that 
 have spoiled a great part of the corn in the 
 ground, threatening a famine; I thought it 
 my duty to appoint a day of fasting and 
 prayer, which we kept Friday, 22d Septem- 
 ber. In order not to break in upon the la- 
 bours of the poor, we met at five o'clock in 
 the morning for one hour, and at ten, and at 
 two, and at seven, when I preached from 
 Isaiah lv. 6, 7. — O may the Lord hear and 
 answer our petitions for a guilty land. 
 
 September 24th. Visited a very great 
 persecutor at Hilperton. He is dangerously 
 ill, and sent for me to pray with him. No- 
 thing shows the reality of religion more than 
 such instances as this, when even the des- 
 pisers of it in their last extremity, seek the 
 prayers of those whom they have despised. 
 I was enabled to speak faithfully to him, but 
 am afraid he is not properly acquainted with 
 the state of his soul. 
 
 November 9th was kept in commemora- 
 tion of the goodness of God, in giving us a 
 place for his worship. This is the fourth an- 
 niversary. 
 
 Thus have we finished another year. It 
 has been a year of peculiar trials to me both 
 in the world and in the church. Yet it has 
 pleased the Lord to bless the word exceed- 
 ingly, and we have had seventeen members 
 added. — The Lord's name be praised for all 
 his mercies. 
 
 1776. I have sometimes, of late, been led 
 to think whether the Lord may not be about 
 to remove me to some other part of his vine- 
 yard. If my business does not succeed to 
 afford me a maintenance, and should I be re- 
 duced, there is no probability that the people 
 among whom I labour could afford me sup- 
 port, as they have been used to have the gos- 
 pel preached to them free of any expense ; 
 and I have lately experienced some instances 
 of their backwardness in things like these. 
 I would be entirely at the disposal of my 
 heavenly Father, and go wherever he directs ; 
 or stay and suffer his will here. 
 
 February 14th. The urgency of my af- 
 fairs has called me again to London, and I 
 set off* this day. On Sunday evening before 
 I left home, I preached from Philippians i. 
 27. I addressed the people with the greatest 
 affection, not knowing that it might please 
 God to continue me any longer among them. 
 They were extremely affected, and many of 
 them got up at four o'clock in the morning 
 to take their leave of me. — May the will of 
 the Lord be done. 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 125 
 
 March 13th. Came home, and the people 
 received me affectionately, and I found a 
 better spirit among some of them than when 
 I left them. Had a great deal of fatigue 
 while in town ; and it is now certain I shall 
 lose the greatest part of my property; but 
 yet I hope I have been enabled to form some 
 advantageous connexions, which may per- 
 haps in time compensate for the loss I have 
 sustained. I published while in London, my 
 Golden Chain of Salvation. 
 
 April 3d. The church met to inquire into 
 the conduct of one of our members, who has 
 been accused of dishonesty, in clandestinely 
 taking her master's coal without his know- 
 ledge. Three persons came to testify to her 
 honesty, but she herself confessing that once 
 she did take a small lump of coal without in- 
 tention to return it again; we gave her a 
 severe reprehension, and she received it in a 
 christian-like manner. 
 
 Sunday, April 14th. Preached three times 
 at Marlborough; baptized a child, and ad- 
 ministered the Lord's supper. I was pleased 
 to see the godly zeal of the people, in re- 
 fusing to let a person sit down at the Lord's 
 table among them who was accused of deal- 
 ing in smuggled goods. Coming back next 
 day over the downs, I observed a poor sheep 
 lying in a very weak condition. As I over- 
 took the shepherd with the rest of the flock, 
 I asked him why he left that poor feeble 
 creature behind : he said it could not follow 
 the rest, and was not worth taking care of. 
 This struck my mind, and as I was to preach 
 at Devizes in the evening, I chose for my 
 text John x. 11. and endeavoured, by way of 
 contrast, to point out the good shepherd. 
 
 May 12th. I have been obliged to preach 
 four times to-day. I do not find that it has 
 hurt me, but it is too much to be continued. 
 Have also preached four times in the week 
 evenings following. But can we do too much 
 for so kind a Master, and for the salvation of 
 such valuable treasure as the souls of men] 
 
 November 4th. Could not sleep this morn- 
 ing, for reflecting on the unhappy differences 
 that subsisted among the Baptists of our town, 
 so as to shut up their meeting for these three 
 weeks past I found it much on my mind to 
 write them a letter to entreat them to be re- 
 conciled. I sent it by one of their members, 
 and I hope it had a good effect, for on the 
 Wednesday following, they met to accommo- 
 date matters. 
 
 November 20th. Was at Bristol, to attend 
 the funeral of my dear friend, Mr. Roquett, 
 who died the 16th instant, universally es- 
 teemed and lamented. I was extremely af- 
 fected by the regard shown to his memory 
 by all ranks, which I have endeavoured to 
 express in an elegy on the occasion. The 
 next day we kept our fifth anniversary, ren- 
 dered more solemn by his death, who had 
 assisted in the dedication of the place. My 
 11* 
 
 text in the morning was Revelations vii. 13 
 — 17. In the afternoon, Mr. Sloper preached 
 from Psalm ciii. 1 — 5. And in the evening, 
 Mr. Rowland Hill from Nehemiah viii. 10. 
 We had with us to day ten or twelve minis- 
 ters of different denominations. 
 
 December 13th, was kept as a general 
 fast. We had service three times, and in the 
 morning I exhorted the people to go to the 
 parish church, and we went to approve our 
 loyalty to our king, and love to our country. 
 
 Christmas-day, preached at home three 
 times, and I hope we can say we experienced 
 in the best sense of the words — a merry 
 Christmas. 
 
 Ours is the best cheer, 
 No surfeit we fear, 
 
 Insatiate enjoyment is temperance here. 
 
 Thus are the labours and trials of another 
 year ended. Many important events have 
 taken place. The Lord has seen good to de- 
 prive me of my worldly dependencies, by 
 permitting a very great loss to befall me in 
 trade ; and also a relation to sell from me an 
 estate that would have fallen to me. But all 
 shall be well. 
 
 1777. January 5th. I began the first 
 Sabbath in this year by taking a text out of 
 the first Psalm. I mean to do this regularly 
 out of all the Psalms of a Lord's-day morn- 
 ing, till I have gone through the whole book. 
 I began also reading the first chapter of Ge- 
 nesis, and the first of Matthew, and I intend 
 to read through the whole Bible and Testa- 
 ment. 
 
 February 10th. We received into the 
 church this morning thirteen members. An- 
 other had applied, but being accused of some 
 imprudences, we judged it proper to let him 
 wait a little longer. 
 
 April 16th. Had another disagreeable 
 meeting, which was convened this evening, 
 to inquire into the behaviour of a member 
 and his wife. Only the husband attended, 
 and for want of his wife's evidence, we could 
 not fully ascertain the truth ; but they were 
 both set aside from the Lord's table — the one 
 from his own confession — the other for con- 
 tempt, till they should be sensible of their 
 faults, and acknowledge them. I had many 
 times called upon them privately, and en- 
 deavoured to accommodate matters, till it 
 grew so notorious and offensive, as to need 
 the interposition of the church. 
 
 July 13th. Visited a woman who appears 
 to be very near death, but is exceedingly 
 happy. She died next morning, and Tuesday 
 following was interred in our burial ground. 
 She desired me to preach a sermon on the 
 occasion ; but as she named no text, I made 
 the corpse itself my text, and mortality my 
 subject. 
 
 . November 16th. Received in seven mem- 
 bers, who were all unanimously approved of. 
 
128 
 
 MEMOIRS OP JOHN CLARK. 
 
 — Blessed be God for his abundant goodness 
 to us this year. He has brought us into 
 favour with his dear ministers and people ; 
 united us more together in brotherly affec- 
 tion; and added to our number twenty-five 
 souls. 
 
 1778. February 27th being set apart, by 
 government, for a day of humiliation, we met 
 as usual in the morning at seven o'clock, 
 two in the afternoon, and half-past five in the 
 evening; besides which, I exhorted the peo- 
 ple in the morning to go to the parish church, 
 to show our loyalty and Christian love. 
 
 March 26th. Have this day another bless- 
 ing to thank God for. I am now commenced 
 housekeeper, and have removed to a most 
 delightful spot, suited to my taste, in a field 
 near a river, with beautiful prospects all 
 around. — O may my prospects of a better 
 world never be obscured by too great an at- 
 tachment to this. 
 
 May 7th. Took a little trip with my dear 
 friends Mr. and Mrs. T. in a chaise to Lon- 
 don, where we stayed a week, and then pur- 
 sued our journey to Olney, in Buckingham- 
 shire, on a visit to Mr. Newton, and to be at 
 the wedding of the Reverend Mr. Jones, 
 which was solemnized the next day by Mr. 
 Newton. We found great affection and kind- 
 ness from all, and returned home through 
 Oxfordshire and Berkshire, Saturday even- 
 ing. — Blessed be the Lord our God, who has 
 carried us out and brought us home again in 
 safety. While at London, I preached at 
 many places. 
 
 June 14th. Expounded the seventy-first 
 Psalm — a Psalm that has been peculiarly 
 blessed to my soul, and which I have fre- 
 quently called, by way of appropriation, my 
 Psalm. It contains the whole of my expe- 
 rience from the day I began to preach to the 
 present hour. It always seems new to me 
 whenever I read it; and I have often re- 
 ceived inexpressible consolation from it — O 
 that when I am old and gray-headed, I may 
 not be forsaken — and may I be enabled to 
 talk of the righteousness of God all the day 
 long. 
 
 June 21st. Preached before breakfast at 
 our own place, and afterwards went over to 
 Frome, and heard a sermon at church, from 
 my old master, the Reverend P. Mason ; and 
 in the evening preached at Rook-Lane Meet- 
 ing, to a very great congregation. 
 
 July 27th. We assembled according to 
 previous notice given, to investigate the con- 
 duct of one of our deacons accused of in- 
 toxication. He was desired to attend, but 
 did not. The charges against him being 
 fully proved, he was put from his office, and 
 the Lord's table, till he should discover re- 
 pentance. Another person who had been 
 suspended some time back, came and con- 
 fessed his faults, and acknowledged that he 
 was extremely grieved for what he had 
 
 done, and was restored to the peace of the 
 church. 
 
 August 23d. Received into the church 
 four members, and 
 
 September 6th, five more; all of whom, 
 giving a good account of their faith in Christ, 
 and being irreproachable in their practice, 
 were admitted joyfully by unanimous suf- 
 frage. 
 
 October 26th. Riding by Tyburn, in my 
 return from London, I was greatly affected 
 with the sight of two malefactors that were 
 executing. I was told, seven more were 
 hung there last Monday. — O what a mercy 
 to be preserved from those atrocious sins that 
 bring men to such a disgraceful end. But, 
 alas ! though my sins have not exposed me to 
 the punishment of the gallows, yet they have 
 rendered me worthy of the damnation of 
 hell. — O ! how can I sufficiently value the 
 all-sufficient sacrifice that has been a pro- 
 pitiation for my sin, and procured for me 
 eternal salvation. 
 
 1779. As it has pleased my Heavenly 
 Father to give me an habitation of my own 
 the year past, and also to give a favourable 
 turn to my worldly affairs, I see it my duty 
 to look out for a suitable companion for life, 
 a help-meet to assist me both in my temporal 
 and spiritual concerns. I have therefore this 
 day, Tuesday, January 5th, after the most 
 mature deliberation and earnest prayer, pro- 
 posed the matter to a Christian friend for her 
 approbation. She is one who is, I hope, both 
 pious and discreet, " a partaker of the benefit." 
 She is already my child and my sister; and 1 
 hope soon to make her my wife. 
 
 My engaging in trade, for my temporal 
 support, is certainly attended with many ad- 
 vantages. It enables me to preach the gos- 
 pel without charge ; and rendering me inde- 
 pendent of the people, it emboldens me to 
 deliver the truth with greater freedom. It 
 also tends to stop the mouth of the scoffing 
 infidel, who would gladly represent all the 
 ministers of Christ as preaching from mer- 
 cenary views. Besides which, being in busi- 
 ness enables a man to judge of the real 
 characters and dispositions of people, better 
 than he can learn them by theory or informa- 
 tion ; and he is thereby helped to address them 
 in a more pointed and experimental way. 
 Yet many and great are the difficulties to 
 which a minister of this description is neces- 
 sarily exposed ; especially if his business be 
 of the manufacturing kind, and he employs 
 many of the vulgar and low-bred people, who 
 are often actuated by the most selfish and 
 illiberal motives. I have lately had many 
 very striking proofs of this. Many unjust 
 slanders have been propagated about me; 
 many take the advantage of my being a 
 preacher to impose upon me ; and I am not 
 at liberty to make that advantage of my busi- 
 ness as another person can. Some to whom 
 
MEMOIRS OF 
 
 I preach the gospel freely, even spoil my 
 work. This often gives me uneasiness, and 
 tends to check my labour of love : but I thank 
 my God, 1 am still enabled to go on, having 
 his approbation, and the testimony of a good 
 conscience. 
 
 February 23d. Gave an exhortation to my 
 spinners at Rockly, near Marlborough, after 
 I had paid them : had much liberty and plea- 
 sure, and was heard with great attention. 
 
 December 12th. We met together to in- 
 quire into the behaviour of one of our mem- 
 bers, who has lately professed to preach, for 
 writing a very unkind and disrespectful let- 
 ter to an aged minister. It being proved 
 against him, and also that his motive for 
 preaching was apparently worldly gain, he 
 was excluded from the Lord's table, till he 
 should be sensible of his faults, and make 
 proper acknowledgments. 
 
 I have this year finished my organ, and 
 some other mechanical and philosophical em- 
 ployments, with which I bless God, I have 
 pleasingly filled up my leisure hours. We 
 have not had additions so great this year as 
 in some former ones, but I hope we have been 
 more and more confirmed and strengthened 
 in the good ways of the Lord. Our number 
 is now upwards of one hundred communi- 
 cants, and great love and zeal at present 
 reign among us. O may they be continued, 
 and increase abundantly ! 
 
 1780. Sunday morning, April 9th, I call- 
 ed the church together to supplicate the di- 
 vine throne; to bewail our imperfections; 
 especially to lament over those who had been 
 censured and suspended from our communion ; 
 and to pray that God would graciously be 
 pleased to restore them : as also to beg his 
 direction concerning many that have applied 
 for admittance, that vve might not be suffered 
 to receive improper persons into our society ; 
 at the same time to praise his holy name for 
 the many signal favours he has granted us, 
 since we became an organized church. We 
 also took opportunity to intercede for our 
 country — that the Lord would be pleased 
 speedily to bring our distracting and distress- 
 ing affairs to a happy issue. We agreed to 
 meet again the following Sabbath for the same 
 purpose. 
 
 September 20th. This day my father died, 
 aged 78. I hope the Lord has been gracious 
 to him. He opposed me very much when I 
 began to profess religion, but of late he has 
 constantly attended on my ministry. 
 
 October 24th. As our society has been 
 now formed upwards of thirteen years, we 
 begin to have many removed from us by death ; 
 and it has been a peculiar satisfaction to me 
 to see them depart with a good hope through 
 grace; some of them full of comfort, and re- 
 joicing in the prospect of eternal felicity. 
 Surely this is an ample reward for all my 
 labour. This evening I have interred one of 
 
 JOHN CLARK. 127 
 
 our dear sisters, a most amiable young wo- 
 man, who though naturally of a timid disposi- 
 tion, yet was strong in faith, and left our 
 world with holy delight. I preached by her 
 desire from Isaiah xii. 2. as expressive of the 
 frame of her mind in her last moments. 
 
 December 27th. Mr. Sloper was ordained 
 at Devizes. The ministers who officiated 
 were Messrs. Phene, Winter, Jameson, 
 Brewer and Bishop. I was desired to point 
 out the duties of the pastoral office, which I 
 endeavoured to do, but was so deeply affected 
 with my dear brother's confession, delivered 
 with so much godly simplicity and sincerity, 
 that I could not perform it with that order 
 and regularity I could have wished. 
 
 1781. May 15th. Was attacked with a 
 violent fever, which threatened to carry me 
 off in a short time. It is generally supposed 
 that I took cold in going out to pray over the 
 grave of a person I buried last Sunday even- 
 ing, after preaching to a crowded audience, 
 and being very warm. There is a scrupulous 
 particularity in many to have a prayer at the 
 grave ; but surely it can be of no importance 
 whether it be pronounced within doors or 
 without. If I fall a martyr, let it be to the 
 souls of the living, and not to the bodies of 
 the dead. 
 
 May 20th. Have this day resumed my 
 pleasing work of preaching salvation to sin- 
 ners, but find myself very weak. 
 
 December 25. We have kept Christmas 
 as we think most congenial to the design of 
 its institution, and the character of Him whose 
 birth we celebrate : viz. not in carnal feasting 
 and profane mirth, but in feasting on the 
 word of God, and in holy joy. We had 
 preaching as usual ; and I trust we had more 
 real happiness than if we had spent the day 
 in rioting and drunkenness. Wisdom's ways 
 are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths 
 are peace. 
 
 1782. February 8th. This being appoint- 
 ed by government for a general fast, the 
 preceding evening I attempted to show the 
 people the nature and design of a Christian 
 fast, from Matthew vi. 16* — 18. 
 
 August 4th. Received in five members. 
 Another applied to be restored, but we judg- 
 ed it necessary for him to wait some time 
 longer, as he does not seem to have profited 
 sufficiently by the censure of the church. 
 
 1763. May 28th. Attended Mr. Steven- 
 son's ordination, who is settled in the Inde- 
 pendent Meeting in Trowbridge. He gave 
 in an excellent confession of faith. — May the 
 Lord make him abundantly useful to that 
 people. 
 
 1784. December 24th. Died our dear 
 friend Mrs. Turner. I was with her, and 
 witnessed the sweet composure with which 
 she departed. Her complaint was a dreadful 
 cancer in the breast, which she bore with ex- 
 emplary patience. She had some imperfec- 
 
128 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 tions, but many excellencies. She was ex- 
 tremely liberal in her sentiments, of which 
 some persons endeavoured to take advantage, 
 labouring to draw her away to their opinions. 
 She was zealous for inward piety, and prac- 
 tical religion ; but rather too positive. Having 
 been greatly carried away by dress and gaiety 
 in her younger days, she would scarcely al- 
 low of any thing that had the appearance of 
 ornament. Though suspected of being in- 
 clined to Arminianism, she has often acknow- 
 ledged to me, that her doctrinal sentiments 
 were entirely Calvinistic. In short, she was 
 a most excellent Christian, and died renounc- 
 ing all dependence on her own works, and 
 triumphing in the Saviour alone. — May my 
 latter end be like her's. 
 
 1785. Wednesday, January 5th. At the 
 interment of our dear friend, Mrs. Turner, I 
 preached by her desire from the words — " I 
 am nothing;" which were fully expressive 
 of her real sentiments and experience. Ac- 
 cording to our usual custom, all the members 
 of our church followed the corpse to the 
 grave ; and I suppose there were not less than 
 forty ministers of different denominations pre- 
 sent A vast concourse of people was ga- 
 thered together. — May many of them be led 
 to consider their latter end, and to copy the 
 example of our deceased sister. 
 
 January 23d. Having been greatly solicited 
 to publish Mrs. Turner's funeral sermon, I 
 have been this week occupied in endeavour- 
 ing to recollect the particulars, as it was de- 
 livered entirely extemporary; and also in 
 composing an elegiac poem on the occasion, 
 as a token of my sincerest regard. 
 
 May 15th. Approving very much of the 
 late institution of Sunday-schools, I have en- 
 deavoured for some time to establish one 
 among ourselves; and we have now about 
 two hundred and fifty boys and girls ; and as 
 it was found inconvenient to intermix them 
 with the congregation, we have erected a 
 gallery at one end of the meeting, which they 
 took possession of this morning; and it was 
 very pleasing to see what a difference there 
 is between their appearanee now and when 
 they were playing about the street, and 
 breaking the Sabbath. — May the Lord own 
 and bless this laudable institution. 
 
 September 18th. When I came home from 
 preaching, I was informed that the weavers 
 were rising round the country, and intended 
 to come and destroy all the looms of their 
 masters. As I live at a little distance from 
 the town, it was concluded to come to me 
 first Many of my friends were greatly con- 
 cerned for me, and we waited up till one 
 o'clock next morning; but being much fa- 
 tigued by preaching three times, I determined 
 to go to bed, and leave ourselves in the hands 
 of a merciful Redeemer ; but happy was I in 
 reading in the family to open at the third 
 Psalm. This was so suitable throughout, and 
 
 JOHN CLARK. 
 
 so comfortable, that I went to rest with entire 
 confidence. 
 
 1786. August 27th. My wife was delivered 
 of a fine boy ; both likely to do well. 
 
 October 1st. In the presence of the con- 
 gregation, I solemnly devoted my dear infant 
 to the Lord by baptism. — O ! may he baptize 
 him with the Holy Spirit, and make him meet 
 for the enjoyment of himself for ever. — We 
 called his name John. 
 
 1787. January 4th. I endeavoured to de- 
 scribe the office of a watchman, from Ezekiel 
 xxxiii. — O ! may I begin the year with an 
 humble dependence on my God, to enable me 
 to discharge this important office with faith- 
 fulness. The work people are again in a 
 riotous state ; which, as I am a clothier, and 
 have much to do with them, creates me a 
 deal of uneasiness. It is very difficult to 
 know how to act. Surely, the working poor 
 should have every encouragement ; but it can- 
 not be right for them to dictate to their mas- 
 ters, and threaten to destroy their property 
 and their lives. 
 
 May 19th. We have this day experienced 
 a most afflictive providence. It has pleased 
 God to take from us our dear little boy ; and 
 the stroke seems the heavier, as it was sud- 
 den and unexpected; and he was our only 
 child. — O ! might it have the desired effect 
 of showing us the uncertainty and unsatisfac- 
 toriness of every thing here below, and of 
 setting our hearts more entirely on those 
 things that are above. 
 
 November 29th. My wife was brought to 
 bed of another son, which seems somewhat 
 like my late Isaac being raised from the dead 
 — but his mother is so extremely ill, that I 
 almost despair of her life. — Many have been 
 my afflictions this year, but I can also say, 
 great have been my consolations. The riot- 
 ing of the weavers — the death of my child — 
 my own painful illness — the troublesome and 
 litigious conduct of those who sold me the 
 spot of ground for my new dwelling house — 
 and now the dangerous condition of my wife ; 
 but yet I bless God, one portion of his Holy 
 Word has been my support through the 
 whole. It is in my beloved Psalm lxxi. 20, 
 21. Thou who hast shown me great and sore 
 troubles, shalt quicken me again, and shalt 
 bring me up again from the depths of the 
 earth. Thou shalt increase my greatness, 
 and comfort me on every side. 
 
 1788. January 13th. Met to regulate some 
 disorders that have crept in among us, and to 
 insist on a stricter attendance at the Lord's 
 table ; and also to choose an additional deacon 
 to assist in visiting the poor and the sick, as 
 our number is so greatly increased. All was 
 conducted with harmony and decorum. 
 
 February 3d. Baptized my child in the 
 presence of the congregation, and called him 
 by the name of his deceased brother, John. 
 
 1789. December 15. Slept for the first 
 
MEMOIRS OF 
 
 time in our new habitation. O may it prove 
 a Bethel, and may it be our resting-place till 
 He is pleased to remove us to the house not 
 made with hands ! 
 
 1790. January 3d. Preached from Psalm 
 xxiii. 6. Surely, I may apply these words to 
 my own experience: goodness and mercy 
 have followed me : goodness in all the benefits 
 I have received, and mercy in all the afflic- 
 tions I have endured : goodness in supplying 
 all my wants, and mercy in forgiving all my 
 sins: goodness from God my creator, and 
 mercy from God my redeemer. — These have 
 followed me as constantly as my shadow. 
 These have been with me in every condition 
 — all the days of my life — in helpless child- 
 hood, in giddy youth, in manhood, and I doubt 
 not will be to old age : and may this be my 
 determined and unalterable resolution — to 
 dwell in the house of the Lord, to enjoy, and 
 serve and praise him for ever. Amen. 
 
 1791. Being now nearly forty years old, I 
 judge that I have fully reached the meridian 
 of life, and perhaps must henceforth expect 
 to find my remaining years declining towards 
 the grave : but O may I never decline from 
 the ways of God. He has been very gracious 
 to me hitherto, and, I doubt not, will preserve 
 me to the end. It is thy presence, O my 
 God, that alone can support rne under the 
 infirmities of declining life, and it is this that 
 must give a relish to all my enjoyments. 
 May the remainder of my days, whether 
 many or few, be entirely devoted to thy glory, 
 and the service of immortal souls. Amen. 
 
 June. As the Lord has been graciously 
 pleased to establish my health once more, I 
 think this summer to visit the villages round 
 this neighbourhood, where I have formerly 
 preached the word. There are many in these 
 places that will not be at the pains of coming 
 where the gospel is regularly preached, whose 
 curiosity may lead them to go and hear what 
 a babbler may say. I would therefore wish 
 to accommodate myself to their prejudices, 
 hoping that God may bless it to their souls. 
 
 July. As our church is now grown pretty 
 large, and I find that I cannot attend to every 
 thing myself, I proposed to choose a few of 
 our most discreet members to assist me, to 
 inquire into the state of the church from time 
 to time, that we may keep up its discipline, 
 and consult about measures for its prosperity. 
 I therefore called a meeting for the purpose; 
 and six persons were approved and chosen. 
 We have agreed to meet an hour once a 
 month, viz. on the Tuesday evening before 
 the sacrament. 
 
 1792. November. My mind has been much 
 hurt of late, by finding that a spirit of disaf- 
 fection to government is gone abroad among 
 the people of England, in consequence of the 
 revolution in France. May the Lord check 
 the follies of mankind, and give peace in our 
 time! 
 
 R 
 
 JOHN CLARK 129 
 
 1793. April 19th being a public fast, we 
 kept it in a very solemn manner. The un- 
 happy spirit of disloyalty and disaffection that 
 prevails too much at present, made the day 
 peculiarly interesting. I preached at seven 
 in the morning : we afterwards went to the 
 parish church. In the afternoon I preached 
 from Proverbs xxiv. 21. " My son, fear thou 
 the Lord and the king, and meddle not with 
 them that are given to change." I found 
 great boldness and liberty. Preached again 
 in the evening. Had a very large congrega- 
 tion each time. 
 
 July 15th. Died my brother at Newbury. 
 He is taken off in the prime of life, and has 
 left a widow and two children. To these I 
 must endeavour to be a father, as he has not 
 been very successful in trade, and has left 
 very little property. May the Lord enable 
 me to do a father's part : and may the stroke 
 be sanctified to the survivors. 
 
 On a retrospection of the year past, we have 
 great room for gratitude. The Lord has 
 greatly increased our numbers and blessed 
 his word ; and much unanimity and kindness 
 reign among us. The losses of our dear 
 friends, who are gone to heaven, have been 
 abundantly made up by the acquisitions of 
 some very pious and useful members. 
 
 1794. Our tabernacle being so crowded as 
 to make it very uncomfortable both to minis- 
 ter and people, it has been for some time in 
 contemplation to enlarge. This can only be 
 done by doubling the breadth, which will 
 make it very spacious, and, I am afraid, re- 
 quire too much exertion for me to preach in 
 it constantly ; but the Lord can give strength 
 according to the necessity. 
 
 June 10th. Began to preach round about 
 in the villages. 0 that the Lord would give 
 me a heart of flesh and a face of flint, to pro- 
 claim his word, and to weep over precious 
 souls. 
 
 December 21. I bless my heavenly Father 
 I am greatly recovered from my late illness, 
 and am determined, in his strength, to spend 
 the remnant of my days more than ever in his 
 blessed service, and to his honour and glory. 
 
 1795. Being now nearly arrived at my 
 fiftieth year, and having been reminded by 
 my late long and severe illness of the uncer- 
 tainty of human life, I judge it to be very 
 proper that I should for a moment look back, 
 and see how these years have been spent. 
 But first, undoubtedly, the thoughtless years 
 of childhood and youth must be struck out of 
 the account ; very little improvement, though 
 much folly, can be attributed to them. My 
 noblest source of satisfaction is in reflecting 
 that the Lord has honoured me with a com- 
 mission to preach his blessed gospel; and 
 though few can be more unfit for this import- 
 ant work, yet he has supported me in it, and 
 owned my poor attempts to the conversion of 
 a number of my fellow-sinners, and the esta» 
 
130 
 
 MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 blishment of his people in his holy ways. 
 Much, however, have I to be ashamed of in 
 the many imperfections that have attended 
 my endeavours. That which has occupied 
 the greatest portion of my time has been the 
 management of a large business, in which I 
 have met with many losses and difficulties; 
 yet it has pleased God to give me a comfort- 
 able subsistence, and a rich abundance. Many 
 of my intervening hours have been taken up 
 in educating my child, investigating the 
 works of nature, mechanism, poetry, music, 
 gardening, &c. In short, my time has been 
 pleasingly diversified. But has all been done 
 to the glory of God ; and may I not say much 
 of my time has run to waste] Yet, O my God, 
 the best hours I have spent in this world have 
 been those in which thou hast permitted a 
 near approach to thyself. These have been 
 my golden moments. O ! had they been 
 more ! Great room, therefore, have I to be 
 thankful, and great room to be humbled. May 
 I forget the things that are behind, and reach 
 forth to those that are before. 
 
 March 29th. Preached a funeral sermon 
 for the wife of one of our members, who, 
 though she never professed much, yet evi- 
 denced her love to the Lord and his people by 
 every act of kindness. Her husband was one 
 of those abandoned characters converted at 
 the first opening of our tabernacle ; and she 
 has often observed that the ground of her at- 
 tachment to us was the reformation we had 
 made in her husband, so that she lived with 
 him quiet and happy afterwards. I hope it 
 may be said she also was a partaker of his 
 grace. She always attended the word ; and 
 being in a public house, they kept the strict- 
 est order, and would not permit any one to 
 get intoxicated. 
 
 May 28th. Buried our dear friend Jacob 
 Gaton, one of our deacons, a worthy man and 
 a pious Christian. He died after a very long 
 and trying affliction, which he bore with ad- 
 mirable patience and fortitude. He might be 
 truly said to "have great peace by loving 
 God's law, so that nothing could offend him." 
 It was a pleasure to visit him, and to witness 
 his triumphing over death. In one of my last 
 interviews I hinted to him what a mercy it 
 was to have the great concerns of another 
 world settled before we lay on a dying bed. 
 He replied with great earnestness, " This is 
 the time to spend faith, and not to get it ;" 
 and immediately recollecting that the term 
 spend did not seem quite proper, he corrected 
 himself and added, " I mean to use faith, for 
 I know," said he, " it can never be spent." 
 At another time, a person sitting by his bed- 
 side said, "Jacob, you will be soon happy;" 
 he answered in an ecstasy, " I am happy al- 
 ready, and am only going to a greater happi- 
 ness. A death-bed," added he, " is the time 
 to prove the value and importance of religion." 
 The funeral text, chosen by himself was Ze- 
 
 phaniah iii. 17. He was one of the nine that 
 joined us first, and has walked steadily and 
 uniformly between thirty and forty years. 
 
 1797. September. I am now somewhat 
 recovered, and am able once more to preach, 
 but with much difficulty, and am obliged to 
 be carried. I hope I shall be yet able to call 
 a few more sinners to repentance, if it is my 
 Heavenly Father's good pleasure. But the 
 complaint in my head still continues, and I 
 am afraid, will to the end of my days. Though 
 I have been incapacitated to attend to the 
 concerns of our church this year past, yet I 
 am happy to find that several have been ad- 
 mitted to the privileges of it. — With respect 
 to my own frame of mind, I can truly say 
 that I have found the religion of the gospel to 
 be my only support and consolation. Though 
 I have been excluded from the participation 
 of the outward means of grace, yet my soul 
 has trusted in the Lord, and 1 am helped. 
 
 1798. I have hitherto attempted to edu- 
 cate my child in every branch of useful sci- 
 ence, but my health and spirits not permitting 
 me to attend so closely to his improvement as 
 his present age and abilities require, I think 
 it my duty to put him to a master who will 
 do justice to his talents: and I am happy to 
 have found one — a pious clergyman, who 
 keeps only a few boarders, and who, while he 
 is a good classical scholar, is extremely at- 
 tentive to their morals, and an evangelical 
 preacher. — May the Lord grant that his ta- 
 lents may be improved to the most useful and 
 important purposes. Amen. 
 
 1799. As I have been very much con- 
 fined this winter within doors, I have amused 
 myself in looking over some little pieces of 
 poetry, which were chiefly composed in my 
 juvenile years, together with some hymns, 
 which we have occasionally sung at the Ta- 
 bernacle ; and having been frequently told 
 that they might become a blessing, if made 
 public, I have prepared them for the press, 
 and had them printed. I hope I can say I 
 have done it with a pure motive to be ser- 
 viceable to the cause of religion in every way 
 I am able. 
 
 I am thankful I am one year nearer to my 
 eternal sabbath, where all sin, and sorrow, 
 and weakness will for ever end. 
 
 1800. This year I have been very much 
 confined at home ; but have been enabled in 
 general to preach at our own place twice of 
 a Lord's-day, and once on a week-day even- 
 ing, besides expounding a chapter Sunday 
 afternoon — yet I have made some excursions. 
 In August, we visited Weymouth again, and 
 continued there five weeks, where I often 
 preached as I was able. — As 1 have been 
 sometimes detained in private for a whole 
 Sabbath together, it has afforded me an oppor- 
 tunity of more attentively and experimentally 
 reading God's blessed word ; and I find afflic- 
 tions are necessary to make us understand it. 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 131 
 
 On one of those occasions, I thought I would 
 regularly read through the whole book of 
 Psalms ; and I was surprised to find that there 
 was scarce a Psalm, but in one part or an- 
 other, exactly applied to my case. I was par- 
 ticularly struck with Psalm lxvi. 10, 11, 12. 
 I have often been brought into the net of 
 perplexities and difficulties, in my business, 
 and in my office, as a preacher, and as a 
 pastor : I have had affliction laid upon my 
 loins in many painful and dangerous diseases : 
 men have rode over my head by their impo- 
 sitions and oppressions; and because I preach 
 the word of God freely, many religious per- 
 sons have taken occasion to borrow sums of 
 money, and instead of repaying me, have en- 
 treated me with the greatest unkindness and 
 ingratitude, judging that I should not have re- 
 course to rigorous methods to recover it, be- 
 ing a preacher of mercy : I have also been 
 brought through fire and through water ; 
 opposite extremes of trials and temptations ; 
 yet I bless his holy name, I have no doubt but 
 he will shortly bring me forth into a wealthy 
 place ; either making me more useful in this 
 world, or calling me away to a better. 
 
 1803. March 1st. I published a little 
 thing called the Christian's Ledger, wherein 
 are contrasted the various texts of Scripture, 
 pointing out what we are, and what we are 
 commanded to be ; and also, what God has 
 promised to bestow. May it be useful. 
 
 May. Published a little poem, called No- 
 vitius ; intended to give some friendly hints 
 to young preachers. — O may God condescend 
 to smile upon my endeavours for his glory 
 and the advancement of real religion. I hope 
 I can say my motives are upright. I want 
 no emolument. I have devoted the profit, if 
 there should be any, to benevolent purposes : 
 and as to what is called fame, it is a mere 
 phantom — unworthy the pursuit of any ra- 
 tional being. — O that my poor attempts may 
 be blessed to many when I am incapable of 
 hearing of it ; and may the glory be given to 
 him, who is the author of every good and per- 
 fect gift. 
 
 November. Much complaint having been 
 made of a want of tunes to hymns of a pecu- 
 liar metre, I composed a few, which we may 
 occasionally use, and in hopes of their being 
 useful to other congregations as well as our 
 own, I published them under the title of the- 
 Trowbridge Harmony. 
 
 " O may I breathe no longer than I breathe 
 My soul in praise to Htm who gave my soul 
 All her infinite of prospect fair." 
 
 1804. Another thing that requires regula- 
 tion, is our singing. It was formerly our 
 method for all the congregation to sing the 
 praises of God ; and it was performed with 
 much reverence and devotion. But of late 
 years, it has degenerated very much from its 
 original simplicity. A set of persons calling 
 
 themselves songsters, has by degrees taken 
 upon them the whole of that part of God's ser- 
 vice; and the rest of the congregation sit 
 carelessly to listen, as if they had no active 
 concern in it. Besides, these songsters are 
 often falling out among themselves, and fre- 
 quently sing such improper tunes, that they 
 cause great uneasiness. To obviate these 
 difficulties, I thought the best way would be 
 to make use of an* organ, and hearing of a 
 good one to be sold at Bath, I went over and 
 purchased it. It is now delightful to hear 
 the whole congregation uniting as one man 
 in the exercise. My own son and another 
 young gentleman have engaged to play it 
 gratis. 
 
 1805. I have been several times seized 
 with such a difficulty of breathing, that I 
 thought I should have expired immediately : 
 especially after my last return from Wey- 
 mouth ; I was obliged to rise at two o'clock, 
 and all my family were greatly alarmed. I 
 expected every instant to depart; but thank 
 God, I was quite easy and satisfied ; and 
 seemed to be waiting to have the prison doors 
 opened, and the captive soul set at liberty. — 
 
 0 what a mercy to have all right between 
 my soul and my God in a dying hour. 
 
 1806. September 7th. The Lord has seen 
 good to lay me by these three or four months, 
 in a severe fit of rheumatic gout, and a com- 
 plication of other disorders. Excessive has 
 been the pain and distress which I have felt, 
 yet I hope I can say, the consolations of the 
 Lord have been neither few nor small. The 
 brethren, and indeed my town people in gene- 
 ral, have manifested a great deal of kindness 
 and affectionate solicitude for my recovery. 
 It seems very trying to be checked in the 
 midst of my work, which of late has been very 
 pleasant to me ; but the will of the Lord must 
 be done ; O that I may submit cheerfully to it 
 
 1 am going, however, to be carried this after- 
 noon to the table of the Lord. There I met 
 
 the brethren, and we all wept together for 
 the goodness of God to us as a church, in so 
 far recovering me. Surely the Lord was 
 with us of a truth. 
 
 1807. In the course of my late tedious af- 
 fliction, I have received considerable amuse- 
 ment and gratification in composing a little 
 poem, called the Fortunate Discovery; and 
 which I have since published. 
 
 August 12th. Went to Weymouth, and 
 continued there a month. It served, I think, 
 in some measure to strengthen my general 
 frame ; but my dropsical complaint is return- 
 ed again with great violence. 
 
 December. Spent a month at Bath, in hope 
 the change oP air might be useful ; but the 
 weather was so extremely unfavourable, that 
 I could not go out, and found myself worse. 
 As it does not seem probable that I shall ever 
 be able again to fill up my place in the house 
 of God as formerly, I am looking out for an 
 
132 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 assistant — one that may be a comfort to me, 
 and a blessing to the people. 
 
 1808. January 24th. This being my birth 
 day, and having arrived at what some people 
 call the grand climacteric, I am induced to 
 look back and view how these sixty-three 
 years have been spent. I cannot express 
 myself better than in the words of Dr. 
 Watts:— 
 
 Much of my time lias run to waste, 
 And I, perhaps, am near my home ; 
 
 Lord, grant me pardon for the past, 
 And give me strength for days to come. 
 
 My indisposition still continues, and my 
 people are obliged to procure various minis- 
 ters to supply my place. — At length, I trust, 
 we have been happily directed to a person 
 well qualified to take a share with me in the 
 pastoral care of the church and congregation. 
 He seems a man of real piety, and possessed 
 of every other requisite for the due discharge 
 of his important office. His name is Innes, 
 now at Crediton in Devonshire. — May the 
 Lord make him a useful instrument of good, 
 and a lasting blessing to the people. 
 
 Mr. Innes preached his first sermon, after 
 which he continued with us some time, and 
 found great acceptance with the people, who 
 almost unanimously invited him to be their 
 pastor and teacher, in conjunction with my- 
 self, to which he acceded ; and at the same 
 time, they have provided liberally for his sup- 
 port, far beyond my expectations; for all 
 
 JOHN CLARK. 
 
 which, the Lord enable me to be thankful. It 
 has relieved me from a great burden, and 1 
 hope, laid a foundation for continuing the 
 gospel in that place — so that I can now de- 
 part in peace, and with entire satisfaction. 
 
 August 21st. I ventured out to God's house 
 this morning, and gave the people an exhort- 
 ation respecting our dear friend Mr. Innes, 
 founded on the words of St. Paul, 1 Corin- 
 thians xvi. 10, 11. " See that he may be with 
 you without fear : for he worketh the work 
 of the Lord, as I also do." After which, Mr. 
 Innes addressed them in a very affectionate 
 manner. They seemed to be much moved, 
 and I hope were greatly edified. 
 
 August 27th. Repeated my journey to 
 Weymouth, but the weather proved so very 
 unfavourable, that we did not stay there long, 
 though I think it rather helped to brace up 
 my frame, and harden me against the ap- 
 proaching winter. All the friends at Wey- 
 mouth were very kind. Before I took this 
 journey, I had the pleasure of hearing the 
 experience of eighteen persons, who desired 
 to be admitted into the church. 
 
 October 9th. I assisted Mr. Innes at the 
 Lord's table, being the first sacrament since 
 the taking in of our new members. — O that 
 the great Shepherd may crown all our la- 
 bours, and bless our souls to his glory. 
 
 [Here end the Memoirs, from -which we have 
 made the preceding extracts.] 
 
 REMARKS ON THE CHARACTER AND NARRATIVE. 
 
 From the preceding Memoir it appears, 
 that Mr. Clark's health had been for some 
 years impaired and declining. At length the 
 symptoms of his disorder grew more serious; 
 and his friends foreboded the event as at no 
 great distance. But his removal was rather 
 sudden and unexpected. In the morning of 
 the last Sabbath he spent on earth, he attend- 
 ed public worship. In the evening of the day 
 on which he died, a friend called upon him, 
 and remarked his cheerfulness and compo- 
 sure: he replied, "I enjoy a solid peace, and 
 have not been suffered to doubt the safety of 
 my state during all this affliction, and for 
 years before." He performed family worship 
 himself — it was the last time — he prayed 
 with peculiar impressiveness, like one who 
 was at " the gate of heaven." Then taking 
 leave of his friend, he said, " Perhaps we may 
 not meet again on earth, but I trust we shall 
 meet in heaven. I might have died long ago. 
 I may not die for some weeks. I may die 
 this very night. But, blessed be God, let it 
 come when it will, all is well with regard to 
 the soul and eternity." He retired ; and, 
 when in bed, again expressed his sense of the 
 
 divine goodness, that "all, all was well." 
 Shortly after which he literally and figura- 
 tively "fell asleep." Nothing could have 
 been more easy or tranquil than his entrance 
 into the " rest that remains for the people of 
 God." 
 
 Thus from the termination of his written 
 account to the period of his dissolution, only 
 a few months intervened ; and they were 
 months of inability for public service, and of 
 bodily sickness and pain. During this season 
 nothing occurred worthy of remark, but the 
 exemplary manner in which he bore his pri- 
 vations and afflictions ; and the familiarity 
 and satisfaction with which he looked forward 
 to the hour of his release. His experience 
 and conversation in circumstances so trying, 
 and in prospect of an event so awful and im- 
 portant, were peculiarly interesting and edi- 
 fying. I never withdrew from his presence 
 without exclaiming, " Thus, if called to it, 
 may I suffer." " Let me die the death of the 
 righteous ; and let my last end be like liis." 
 
 In our monthly religious obituaries there is 
 too great an insertion of at least one kind of 
 peaceful and happy deaths. I mean those 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 133 
 
 deaths — with which the life has no corres- 
 pondence— -for which it is no preparation — 
 and of which it yields no reasonable hope. 
 The Scripture does not countenance the ex- 
 pectation of such a frequent discordancy be- 
 tween the way and the end ; between the 
 character of a man while in this world, and 
 his transition out of it. And though we should 
 always endeavour to do good, and never limit 
 the Holy One of Israel, it becomes us in 
 many instances to rejoice, not only with 
 trembling, but with silence ; and to remem- 
 ber that the evidences which encourage us, 
 must be from the very nature of the case du- 
 bious ; that " light is sown for the righteous, 
 and joy for the upright in heart ;" that we are 
 to " fight the good fight of faith," in order to 
 " lay hold on eternal life," and to " run the 
 race set before us," in order to " reach the 
 prize of our high calling ;" and that the fre- 
 quent exhibition of careless, worldly, wicked 
 lives being closed with a work of grace, will 
 have a tendency to prevent a salutary fear, 
 and to keep alive a presumptuous hope. God 
 forbid we should exclude, however vile, any 
 of our fellow-creatures from mercy, even at 
 the eleventh hour. We do not. But it may 
 strike some with wonder to observe how com- 
 monly — may I not add invariably, even male- 
 factors, when visited by a certain order of 
 good men, finish their course, if not with the 
 triumph and exstasy of martyrs, yet with a 
 confidence and joy far superior to those of 
 thousands who have long followed the Sa- 
 viour in the regeneration. Now admitting, 
 as we most cheerfully and gratefully do, the 
 possibility of a real change of heart, in some 
 of these examples, yet surely it would not be 
 amiss if many of those who profess to experi- 
 ence it, discovered a little more penitence, as 
 well as assurance ; and many of those who 
 record it displayed a little more caution as 
 well as zeal. 
 
 To return to the place from which we may 
 seem to have digressed ; in Mr. Clark the 
 way and the end, the life and the death har- 
 monized. To live was Christ ; to die was 
 gain. He had been distinguished by a long 
 course of dependence upon God, of com- 
 munion with him, of devotedness to him. He 
 evinced a remarkable steadiness and consist- 
 ency of character. He was early called to a 
 knowledge of the truth, as it is in Jesus ; and 
 from the commencement of his religious ca- 
 reer to the close of it he was uniform. Ob- 
 served at twenty, at forty, at sixty; seen in 
 public, in private, in single life ; examined 
 as a son, a master, a husband, a father — 
 he was the same ; harmless and blameless ; 
 holy and spiritual — no other difference be- 
 ing discernible than that which results from 
 increase and progression. For " the path of 
 the just is as the shining light that shineth 
 more and more unto the perfect day." 
 What an interesting object to contemplate 
 12 
 
 is a man who not only begins well, but ends 
 so ; who, moving through a world like this for 
 near seventy years, is steadfast, unmoveable, 
 always abounding in the work of the Lord ; 
 who is neither discouraged by difficulties, nor 
 flattered by seducing prospects to abandon his 
 course, or even to relax in it ! How many 
 apostacies and declensions has such a man 
 witnessed while he has held on his way! 
 How often have his principles been reduced 
 to proof, and how often has he practically 
 said, " Yea, doubtless, and I count all things 
 but loss for the excellency of the knowledge 
 of Christ Jesus my Lord !" Such a man gains 
 esteem and confidence : his enemies and his 
 friends are possessed of a thousand pledges 
 of the part he will act in any given circum- 
 stances : he is a tower-man, he has passed the 
 mint, and circulates unquestioned and ap- 
 proved: he is "blessed," for "he is tried, 
 and receives a crown of life" — and the 
 Judge of all, as he puts it on, says " Thou 
 hast borne, and hast patience, and for my 
 name's sake hast laboured, and hast not 
 fainted." Such a man is here presented to 
 the public. 
 
 A prejudice has sometimes been excited 
 against early conversions ; but an enemy has 
 done this. Surely it is reasonable to con- 
 clude, that where God intends a man should 
 gain much or do much, he will dispose him to 
 begin betimes. Surely it is not without cause 
 that he has said, " I love them that love me, 
 and they that seek me early shall find me." 
 And the eminent servants of God recorded in 
 the Scriptures, and the numberless examples 
 that have adorned the church of God down 
 to a Winter, and a Clark, will, I hope, be 
 sufficient to disprove the wretched proverb, 
 that "young saints make old devils," and 
 give rise to a juster one, " that young saints 
 make old angels." 
 
 While we acknowledge the insufficiency 
 of a dry and barren orthodoxy ; of cold and 
 speculative opinions, that leave the heart un- 
 impressed and the life unsanctified ; no op- 
 portunity should be omitted of remarking the 
 importance that ought to be attached to an 
 enlightened understanding and a sound judg- 
 ment. And, it would not be difficult to prove, 
 how materially the adoption of definite and 
 fixed views of the doctrines of the gospel af- 
 fects, if not the safety, yet the excellency of 
 the individual. Decision and firmness, even 
 when they rather partake of obstinacy, con- 
 nect much more advantageously with dignity 
 and usefulness; than levity, and fickleness, 
 and change. That which is firm may be ren- 
 dered fundamental; but who can build on 
 sliding sand"! A double minded man is un- 
 stable in all his ways. He can never be a 
 character. Character is the result and fame 
 of habits ; habits are formed by actions ; and 
 actions that are uniform and constant enough 
 to produce them, must issue from some strong 
 
134 
 
 MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 principle — the man cannot be versatile in the 
 bias of his feelings, or of his views. The firm 
 reception of, and adherence to, a class of sen- 
 timents, even allowing 1 the system not to be 
 perfectly correct, (a concession that ought to 
 be extended to every system, but that which 
 is contained in the Book of God) is preferable 
 to a state of hesitation and uncertainty. For 
 this state of mind, though it may in some 
 cases be excused, and in some, for awhile, be 
 even commended, generally springs from 
 evil, and leads to it. It reflects on revela- 
 tion, which being designed not only for im- 
 portant but immediate use, is doubtless in- 
 tended to be plain. It discredits the truth 
 of the promise — " Blessed are the poor in 
 spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven ;" 
 — " The meek will he guide in judgment, 
 and the meek will he teach his way." It 
 causes us to lose the advantage of truth un- 
 der the constant apprehension of admitting 
 error; keeps every thing unoperative, be- 
 cause undecided ; and employs in search, the 
 opportunities given for use and employment. 
 I can never suppose, that the scripture de- 
 signed to applaud the free inquiry and liberal 
 minds of those who are represented as " ever 
 learning, and never able to come to the know- 
 ledge of the truth." Men the most distin- 
 guished and serviceable in the cause of God, 
 have been the reverse of this vagrancy of 
 mind ; they had their leading sentiments 
 early and firmly fixed ; their " hearts were 
 established with grace;" and though they 
 improved much, they varied little. And this 
 was the case with the man of God we are 
 reviewing. He never found it necessary to 
 change those principles which he felt per- 
 fectly adapted to his state as a sinner, and his 
 experience as a saint. He discerned and em- 
 braced the truth at once, and without delay, 
 began to enjoy it — to walk in it — to profess 
 it — to diffuse it: and hence the complexion 
 of his future life. 
 
 I am far from wishing to represent Mr. 
 Clark as perfect. We have no such cha- 
 racters in the biography of the scripture ; and 
 when we meet with them in other works, we 
 feel ourselves trifled with, if not insulted. 
 We have fable given us instead of fact. Such 
 characters are imaginary. Even the grace 
 of God, while it produces the Christian, leaves 
 the man. I should not furnish a just view of 
 the subject of this narrative, were I not to ob- 
 serve, that he had a disposition, which to an 
 unusual degree, was retreating and reserved. 
 To this may be fairly ascribed several of the 
 little blemishes occasionally noticed in him. 
 We are prone to run into extremes. The 
 generality of ministers, as well as of females 
 in our day, are not in danger of excess in 
 " being keepers at home ;" but in the case of 
 the deceased, home was, perhaps, too attrac- 
 tive and engrossing. He seemed to draw 
 solitarily, rather than as a co-operator with 
 
 others. He rarely met with his brethren in 
 their associations, or attended any of their 
 public services. He too rarely saw his own 
 people, but in the house of God, and in 
 the hour of affliction ; he had too little in- 
 tercourse with his neighbours and friends; 
 he stood too much aloof from general so- 
 ciety. 
 
 Here it may be necessary to observe, that 
 while religion disposes us for retirement, it 
 prepares us to leave it ; and that many of its 
 duties call us, not out of the world, but into 
 it. A Christian, says our Lord, is a candle ; 
 and " no man, when he hath lighted a candle, 
 putteth it under a bushel, but on a candle- 
 stick, that it may give light to all that are in 
 the house." And adds he — " Let your light 
 so shine before men, that they may see your 
 good works, and glorify your Father which is 
 in heaven." Ye are my witnesses, says 
 God. As such, they are subpeened to appear ; 
 and they are not to be absent when called 
 upon to depose. Many a testimony has been 
 lost, by the Christians withdrawment from his 
 place, as well as by his cowardly fear and 
 shame when he is in it. 
 
 It is possible, therefore, that the abstraction 
 enjoined upon us in the Scriptures, may lead 
 us astray ; and there is peculiar danger of 
 this, when it falls in with a recluse temper. 
 It is very conceivable, that many find soli- 
 tude much more inviting, and free, and plea- 
 sant, than society. Moses, doubtless, found it a 
 greater privilege to hold communion with 
 God in Horeb ; but it was his duty to descend, 
 and endeavour to guide and govern a faithless 
 and perverse generation, through the wilder- 
 ness to Canaan. Peter wished to remain in 
 the transfiguration with his Master, and Mo- 
 ses and Elias — but "he knew not what he 
 said." From the irreligious maxims and man- 
 ners of the world, we are absolutely to retire, 
 and thus practically bear our testimony against 
 them : but the demand does not extend in the 
 same way to our social intercourse with them- 
 selves. This it indirectly and conditionally 
 forbids. This we are only to avoid when 
 there is danger of infection, and no prospect 
 of doing good. And even with regard to 
 these, we are to remember — that we may be 
 secured from contagion, if we take our preser- 
 vatives along with us, and venture only at 
 the call of God, and with a single eye to our 
 duty : and — that there are opportunities and 
 ways of being serviceable by a well regulated 
 intermixture with others, that some cannot or 
 will not discern. We should, therefore, guard 
 not only against every tiling that looks un- 
 civil, but unsocial in religion. Though we 
 are to discover a peculiar regard to "the 
 household of faith ;" " as we have opportunity, 
 we are to do good unto all men." They have 
 claims upon us as fellow-creatures, citizens, 
 neighbours. The Saviour died for them ; and 
 it is not the will of our Father, who is in 
 
MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Heaven, that one of them should perish. If 
 we are in the possession of a benefit that at 
 present they are unhappily destitute of ; are 
 we to be proud, as well as thankful ! are we 
 to feel, and act as if we considered them ex- 
 cluded and reprobate] Or as those, who are 
 encouraged by the mercy bestowed on them, 
 to invite others from their own experience, 
 and to say — " O taste and see that the Lord is 
 good — blessed is the man that trusteth in 
 him." 
 
 By keeping at an ungracious distance from 
 those around us, we seem at least to regard 
 them as the Jews did the Gentiles, unworthy 
 to come in contact with so peculiar a people: 
 we seem to say " Stand by thyself, come not 
 near to me ; for I am holier than thou." Hence 
 as they will judge by us of our religion — our 
 religion will acquire, in their minds, a con- 
 temptuous and repulsive aspect, and the re- 
 action of such a sentiment, cannot but be in- 
 jurious and lamentable. 
 
 Nor is this all. A man may move suffi- 
 ciently in a state of society, and yet prevent 
 all the usefulness of which he might render 
 himself capable. It is only for him to imitate 
 some of those beautiful and amiable exam- 
 ples with which the professing world in too 
 many districts abounds. Let him only display 
 the arrogance of spiritual pride ; the censc- 
 riousness of superior orthodoxy ; the captious- 
 ness of theological controversy ; the rudeness 
 and rancour of malevolence called faithful- 
 ness ; the self-conceit, and positiveness, and 
 intolerance, and insolence of those who see 
 things clearly ; the evangelical pharasaism, 
 if I may be allowed a perversion of language, 
 of those " who trust in themselves that they 
 are righteous, and despise others ;" and the 
 work is effectually done. Who would ever 
 wish to be religious with such specimens of 
 religion before his eyes 7 Who would not 
 deprecate the conversion of sinners, if they 
 were to be converted by such saints as 
 these ! 
 
 It is to be lamented that many, who are in 
 a great measure free from these incurable 
 evils, do not attend sufficiently to the apos- 
 tolical maxim, " Walk in wisdom towards 
 them that are without." But some few there 
 are who, along with inflexible integrity, pos- 
 sess the secret of moral attraction. They dis- 
 cover such a sympathy in their afflictions, such 
 a concern for their welfare, such a readiness 
 to serve them, as seldom fails to impress and 
 interest those who neither think nor worship 
 with them. They not only differ, but even 
 censure, without producing resentment or 
 alienation. They can drop hints so gentle 
 and well-timed as not to disgust ; so derived 
 from circumstances and events as to appear 
 natural and undesigned ; so judicious in their 
 application as to exemplify the proverb " A 
 word fitly spoken, O how good is it ; it is 
 like apples of gold in pictures of silver." 
 
 JOHN CLARK. 135 
 
 They study the educations, connexions, habits, 
 prejudices and temperament of the individuals 
 with whom they have todo. They shun every 
 tendency to angry dispute, while they are 
 " always ready to give to every man that ask- 
 eth, a reason of the hope that is in them with 
 meekness and fear." They know that the 
 wrath of man vvorketh not the righteousness 
 of God;" and therefore in meekness "instruct 
 those that oppose themselves." — They do not 
 press what their connexions at present are 
 not prepared to receive; but endeavour to 
 improve what is admitted and acknowledged, 
 and which in due time will make way for 
 more. Instead of assailing every thing that 
 is wrong, they commend and cherish every 
 thing that is right. They expel evil by in- 
 troducing good; and banish error by present- 
 ing truth : and thus the friend acts without 
 assuming an opposition that may render him 
 in appearance a foe. They tear not the vo- 
 taries of the world from their pursuits by 
 violence, while their hearts would mourn 
 after the interdicted delights ; but they wean 
 and allure from dissipation by substituting 
 other engagements, and pleasures more ra- 
 tional and satisfying ; and are therefore care- 
 ful to exhibit " whatsoever things are lovely 
 and of good report ;" and to render religion 
 as desirable as it is necessary ; as " having 
 the promise of the life that now is, as well as 
 of that which is to come." 
 
 Such conduct is not the sacrifice of princi- 
 ple, but the judicious use of it. It is prudence, 
 considering the quality of its materials, as 
 well as its work ; varying its means to com- 
 pass its end ; conceding to gain, and yielding 
 to conquer. It is not the cowardice, but " the 
 meekness of wisdom." And though this wis- 
 dom is never perceived in its operation, and 
 seldom acknowledged even in its useful re- 
 sult, by blind and furious bigots, " it is justi- 
 fied of all her children." Was there ever a 
 more steadfast friend to truth than Paul ? In- 
 stead of betraying the cause he espoused, he 
 nobly fell a martyr to it. But what says he 1 
 " Though I be free from all men, yet have I 
 made myself servant unto all that I might 
 gain the more. And unto the Jews I became 
 as a Jew, that I might gain the Jews; to 
 them that are under the law, as under the 
 law, that I might gain them that are under 
 the law ; to them that are without the law, 
 as without law, (being not without law to 
 God, but under the law to Christ) that I 
 might gain them that are without law. To 
 the weak became I as weak, that I might 
 gain the weak : I am made all things to all 
 men, that I might by all means save some." 
 " Even as I please all men in all things, not 
 seeking mine own profit, but the profit of 
 many, that they may be saved." 
 
 It may be necessary to touch another arti- 
 cle of some importance in the Christian life. 
 Habits of frugality may easily pass the line 
 
136 
 
 MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 of duty, and enter the province of the neigh- 
 bouring vice. People are often in hazard 
 from this quarter, without apprehending it. 
 Their religion teaches them to regard mode- 
 ration as a virtue ; and their circumstances 
 perhaps require the practice of rigid economy 
 even to " provide things honest in the sight 
 of all men." What was originally necessary, 
 continues when it is no longer indispensable. 
 They who have felt the worth of property by 
 the want of it, are apt to remember the worth 
 when it is no longer wanted : and as they ad- 
 vance, not only shun extravagance, but that 
 becomingly enlarged and liberal mode of live- 
 lihood which will not suffer "their good to 
 be evil spoken of." For if a Christian, espe- 
 cially one of the stricter class, denies him- 
 self many things which his condition allows, 
 he must be largely generous and beneficent, 
 or his profession suffers : his privations will 
 be considered the offspring of niggardliness, 
 or sacrifices to mammon. 
 
 But as habits of frugality and economy may 
 very possibly be perverted and misrepresent- 
 ed ; so the degree of beneficence practised 
 by many of our fellow-christians cannot be 
 easily ascertained. When, with regard to 
 oounty, we consider how much ought to be, 
 and how much may be private ; how many 
 cases of distress come under the notice of an- 
 other, that never strike our own ; how diversi- 
 fied the views of charity are, as well as its 
 objects, and that those who do not walk with 
 us may do good in their own way ; it becomes 
 us, in this as well as in many other instances, 
 to remember the admonition " Judge not, that 
 ye be not judged." 
 
 It has been supposed, even by friendship, 
 that if Mr. Clark required the exercise of 
 candour any where, it would be here. How 
 far it is needful I cannot determine. From 
 personal observation I was never impressed 
 with the deficiency. But I can suppose, that 
 his abstracted life cut him off from many ob- 
 jects, which by striking the eye would have 
 affected the heart ; and that the full employ- 
 ment of himself in a large business, in literary 
 pursuits, and constant preaching, left him 
 little leisure and opportunity to explore af- 
 fliction in person. I can imagine, though I 
 do not wish to justify the effect, that having 
 constantly had so many of the lower class 
 manufacturing for him, he might have had 
 blunted, by all the wickedness he witnessed, 
 something of the fine edge or humanity that 
 many of those feel, whose intercourse with 
 the poor and wretched is only occasional and 
 charitable. I know, that so conscious was 
 he of the important duty of liberality, that he 
 enjoined his dearest friend, if she judged 
 it proper, to extend relief on any application, 
 even should he himself at the time seem to be 
 disinclined or adverse to it. He was not only 
 the tender, but the kind relative ; and amply 
 proved himself " a friend to the fatherless." 
 
 He even purchased the place of worship in 
 which he so long employed himself, and of 
 private property made it public, by putting it 
 into the hand of trustees ; and also secured 
 provision for a considerable endowment in aid 
 of the future support of divine worship there. 
 The sums expended for this purpose alone 
 were more than one thousand pounds. When 
 it became necessary to have an assistant and 
 a successor, that would require a salary ; he 
 set his people an example by a very hand- 
 some annual subscription. The profits that 
 might arise from any of his publications, he 
 previously consecrated to benevolent purpo- 
 ses. He bequeathed considerable legacies to 
 the Bible, the Missionary, the Hibernian, and 
 Tract Societies. And what was his whole 
 life 1 Was it not completely disinterested 1 
 " They that sow spiritual things should reap 
 carnal things :" " and the labourer is worthy 
 of his hire."* It is an ordinance of God, as 
 truly as baptism or the Lord's supper ; " even 
 so hath God ordained that they that preach 
 the gospel should live of the gospel." But* 
 like Paul, our friend always waived his privi- 
 lege ; not only in the infancy of the church, 
 but when they were able to remunerate his 
 services: and for all his labours he never re- 
 ceived one mite. He could say without a 
 fear of contradiction, " I seek not yours but 
 you. I have coveted no man's silver or gold, 
 or apparel ; yea, ye yourselves know that 
 these hands have ministered unto my necessi- 
 ties, and to them that were with me." Many 
 may be equally disinterested and unsecular in 
 the sight of God, who cannot appear so in the 
 view of men : but it is a singular advantage 
 when the proof can accompany and illustrate 
 the principle. — What could have carried a 
 man forward, not only without repentance, 
 but with delight, in so many ways, and for 
 so many years, without the prospect or the 
 wish of any emolument — yea, at the expense 
 of substance, ease, friendship, fame I What 
 was it that led him to subordinate worldly 
 business and the pursuits of science to his 
 public work ] What led him to resign the 
 figure he might have made as the gentleman 
 and the scholar, for the sake of preaching in 
 places and circumstances the most revolting 
 to human pride, at the risk of health and life ! 
 
 To those who were ignorant of the nature 
 and force of the principle that actuated him, 
 his conduct, doubtless, appeared mysterious 
 or insane. But neither their ignorance, nor 
 their reproach, could make him swerve, or 
 pause. He could not but speak the things 
 that he had heard and seen. He was a won- 
 der unto many: but he did not view them 
 with contempt. He pitied them ; he prayed 
 for them. And though he did not think it 
 
 * Mr. Clark somewhere strikingly says, 
 Must not. you'll say, a preacher, then, have bread ; 
 And feeding others, not himself be fed ? 
 — Tis true : but here a difference we conceive — 
 Some live by preaching, and some preach to live. 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 137 
 
 necessary to apologize, he explained, in lan- 
 guage canonized by one who had a larger 
 share of the same spirit : " For whether we 
 be beside ourselves, it is to God : or whether 
 we be sober, it is for your cause. For the 
 love of Christ constraineth us, because we 
 thus judge, that if one died for all, then were 
 all dead: and that he died for all, that they 
 which live, should not henceforth live unto 
 themselves, but unto him which died for 
 them, and rose again." 
 
 There are few, especially among the mo- 
 derns, who will bear any comparison with 
 the deceased in point of activity. In labours 
 he was more abundant. He was in season, 
 and out of season. He knew that souls were 
 perishing for lack of knowledge, and that his 
 opportunities of saving them from death, 
 were limited and uncertain. He spent " the 
 day" — it is called no more ; — not in idleness, 
 or wavering resolves, but in exertion ; for he 
 saw " the night coming wherein no man can 
 work." Is it possible for a preacher to read 
 his narrative 1 Is it possible for him to re- 
 flect how often he engaged in public and in 
 private? In how many places he proclaimed 
 the word of life"! The quantity of fresh 
 ground he broke up — and all this under the 
 engagements and perplexities he felt from 
 secular concerns — and not be ashamed or — 
 inflamed by it i 
 
 His labours were distinguished by their 
 usefulness, as well as by their greatness. 
 His preaching laid the foundation of many 
 religious societies in the surrounding neigh- 
 bourhood. But to Trowbridge we princi- 
 pally look for evidence that he did not " run 
 in vain, nor labour in vain." Beginning with 
 three or four individuals in a private room, 
 we behold him at length at the head of a 
 congregation of considerably more than a 
 thousand people on the Lord's-day, eager to 
 hear the gracious words that proceeded out 
 of his mouth. What a number of converts 
 will be his joy and crown " in the day of the 
 Lord Jesus." What a number of souls en- 
 compassed the mouth of his grave, and by 
 their tears acknowledged — "There lies the 
 man that turned my feet into the path of 
 peace." " My father, my father, the chariots 
 of Israel, and the horsemen thereof." 
 
 Other ministers have gone to churches al- 
 ready formed and established, but he had to 
 form and establish one. Some plant, and 
 others water, but he planted and watered, 
 though it was God that gave the increase. 
 Some lay the foundation, and others rear the 
 building, but he laid the foundation, and with 
 united patience and zeal, from time to time, 
 added " the lively stones that grew unto an 
 holy temple in the Lord." It could not be 
 said to him — " other men have laboured, and 
 ye have entered into their labours." He did 
 not move " in another man's line of things 
 made ready to his hand ;" but he could say — 
 S 12* 
 
 "I have strived to preach the gospel, not 
 where Christ was named, lest I should build 
 on another man's foundation; but as it is 
 written, To whom he was not spoken, they 
 shall see ; and they that have not heard shall 
 understand." — Thus he practised himself, 
 what in a poem he has recommended to 
 another : — 
 
 Be you no parly man : but strive to bring 
 New subjects daily to your heav'nly King. 
 A gospel preacher shoulil bo apt to tench, — 
 And where the gospel is not pieach'd — to preach. 
 
 Mr. Clark was a man by no means de- 
 ficient in literature. He had been early 
 placed at a good grammar school, where he 
 made proficiency in the Latin. He became 
 also familiar with Greek and Hebrew. He 
 had a very strong attachmemt to the arts and 
 sciences through life. Mechanics, astronomy, 
 electricity, chemistry, music — these were 
 his delight, and employed the moments he 
 could save from his secular and sacred en- 
 gagements. In music he was a good per- 
 former on several instruments. He was 
 also a composer; and published a volume of 
 tunes, which were revised by a very skilful 
 hand. He had a soul formed for melody. 
 Besides an organ in the Tabernacle, he had 
 two in his own mansion — one in a large 
 stair-case, surrounded with a gallery pre- 
 pared to receive it; and one in another 
 apartment, which was entirely of his own 
 construction, as well as a spinnet, and a vio- 
 loncello. Many curious and useful works 
 remain as proofs of his delight and ingenuity 
 in mechanism. I cannot imagine that I am 
 sinking a biographical sketch, in mentioning 
 things like these, especially in such an ex- 
 ample. Knowledge of every kind is orna- 
 mental and valuable. The skill of Bezalcel 
 is noticed by God himself as one of his own 
 gifts: "I have filled him with my spirit in 
 wisdom and in understanding, and in all 
 manner of workmanship: to devise cunning 
 works ; to work in gold, and in silver, and in 
 brass, and in cutting of stones, to set, and in 
 carving of timber." — It may be proved from 
 the case of Mr. Clark, that evangelical and 
 serious religion is not, as some suppose, ne- 
 cessarily combined with rudeness, and dull- 
 ness. He was not a gospel savage. In his 
 dwelling, in his gardens, in his walks; taste 
 and elegance were seen leading along piety, 
 who instead of churlishly refusing their of- 
 fer, accepted it with a smile, and walked 
 hand in hand with them. You were cheer- 
 ful without being vain ; and serious without 
 being sad : you were instructed and im- 
 proved, while you were attracted and charm- 
 ed. On a large sun dial, another work of his 
 own hands, you saw Pro temj'ore tantam. 
 On the front of one of his own made instru- 
 ments, you read Manu, Ore, CorJe. On an 
 apparatus which he formed to exhibit the 
 
138 
 
 MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 revolutions of the celestial bodies, " The 
 heavens declare the glory of God, and the 
 firmament showeth his handy work." And 
 here I cannot omit a circumstance which is 
 characteristic of the man, and serves to show i 
 how knowledge may be rendered useful, even i 
 in a way of charity. In the time of the scar- 
 city of corn, in addition to what he gave him- 
 self, he devised this kind of orrery, and lec- 
 tured at the tabernacle on astronomy ; and 
 obtained, by tickets of admission of half-a- i 
 crown each, a considerable sum to distribute i 
 among the poor. i 
 
 None that knew him will deny that he 
 was a man of great ingenuity, and endowed 
 with superior talents. This, I allow, is not 
 easily inferred from his own memoir. In 
 writings of this kind there is an established 
 mode, from whicli it would seem there is to 
 be no deviation. Even those who are capa- 
 ble of improving it, are restrained by custom, 
 or some unaccountable principle; so that the 
 degree of genius they possess, instead of 
 actuating their piety, is chilled and checked 
 by it. Hence all religious journals are pre- 
 cisely alike. They tell something, but omit 
 that which we are most anxious to know. 
 We see indeed the goodness of the man, but 
 not the individuality. We view the mind, 
 but it is through a strait and contracted pas- 
 sage, like the pendulum of a clock through 
 a circle of glass, in the body of the frame : 
 we see it is going, but all the motion we ob- 
 serve, is vacillation. We have repetitions 
 of the same feelings, and the same phrases. 
 A work of this class might be rendered, by 
 a man of talent and remark, as well as devo- 
 tion, a very interesting, a very instructive, 
 and a very useful publication. Mr. Clark 
 had made one improvement. He did not 
 keep a diary, but wrote a weekly retrospect ; 
 and did it in the silence and sacredness of the 
 sabbath-day morning. But it must be con- 
 fessed this is all ; and I have witnessed more 
 intellect from him in one hour's conversation, 
 or in one of his free addresses from the 
 pulpit, than I found in going over all these 
 papers. He had a fine imagination, that sel- 
 dom failed to furnish him with the most 
 happy allusions and illustrations. He was 
 able to simplify and bring down to popular 
 apprehension, almost any train of thought. 
 He had a facility in varying a few well- 
 known truths, so as to give to sameness the 
 effect of novelty. He could derive materials 
 for his public discourses from the most com- 
 mon objects and occurrences. He studied 
 men and things rather than pored over books : 
 hence in his sermons there was the freshness 
 of nature rather than the mechanism of art: 
 and thus while engaged in business, he was 
 not only able to preach, but to attract and 
 keep large and constantly increasing au- 
 diences. Though he never thought of study- 
 ing oratory, his address was easy, and fluent, 
 
 and correct ; and though his discourses were 
 not modelled after the forms of the schools, 
 they were so affectionate and experimental 
 as always to excite interest and attention: 
 and they who heard, could not but listen to 
 addresses, which they knew sprang only 
 from a concern for their welfare, and which, 
 instead of flourishing in abstract theory, and 
 general declamation, touched their case, and 
 expressed their pains and pleasures, hopes 
 and fears : addresses which were always 
 adapted to break a whole heart, or to bind up 
 a broken one. 
 
 To conclude: He was an original cha- 
 racter. There was a class to which he be- 
 longed, but he was unique in it. He asso- 
 ciated attributes rarely found blended in the 
 same individual. It would be easy to exem- 
 plify this assertion. 
 
 — Here was a man full of diffidence and 
 reserve, yet distinguished by active exertion ; 
 shrinking from private company, as much as 
 Cowper, and yet apprehensive of no difficulty 
 or danger in his public work, and seeking 
 after opportunities to make known the sa- 
 vour of the Redeemer's knowledge in every 
 place. 
 
 — A pastor, yet in trade ; a minister of un- 
 common zeal, yet attentive to business, and 
 acquiring affluence. 
 
 — A preacher, fixing upon his subjects in 
 the place of worship, and deriving them from 
 the chapters he read, yet never obliged to 
 leave off or to talk nonsense by going on ; 
 always extemporaneous, yet never without 
 order ; and generally seizing a method as na- 
 tural as it was prompt. 
 
 — Connected originally with no denomina- 
 tion, and shunned by the rigid of all parties ; 
 yet at length gaining the good-will and 
 warm approbation of every neighbouring 
 minister and congregation; and departing 
 under their blessing and regret. 
 
 — Preaching out of the church, and giving 
 rise to dissenting congregations; and yet at- 
 tached to the establishment, not only at first, 
 but to the end of life, — and not only as to its 
 doctrine, but its liturgy and forms. 
 
 — Principally labouring among the poor 
 and common people ; often preaching with- 
 out doors in the streets and hedges, and pass- 
 ing with many for a fanatic ; yet a man of 
 substance, countenanced by persons of emi- 
 nent character and reputation in their day,* 
 fond of elegant learning, pursuing philoso- 
 phical experiments, passing his leisure hours 
 in leading forward his son in every branch 
 of knowledge : — his study exhibiting scarcely 
 
 * To mention no more: The late celebrated Dr. 
 Stonehouse, as appears from the Memoir, more than 
 ; countenanced him when he preached without doors in 
 the vicinity of his living. And the Rev. James Roquett, 
 of lamented memory, curate of St. Werbureh's, lecturer 
 ■ of St. Nicholas' churches, and chaplain of St. Teter'a 
 Hospital, Bristol ; also chaplain to the right honoura- 
 ble the earl Deloraine; opened his chapel, and preach- 
 i ed several years on the anniversary of the day. 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 139 
 
 a religious publication, and only containing 
 works of literature and scientific apparatus. 
 
 Who can help seeing, therefore, how 
 prone we are to err in judging of men by 
 outward appearance, by common circum- 
 stances, by the class in which they usually 
 rank. From every general rule there are 
 exceptions. In every community there are 
 characters, that must not be measured by the 
 ordinary standard. Indiscriminate reflections 
 are always foolish and unjust. Many, whose 
 ignorant and illiberal minds are now asking, 
 "Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?" 
 would be astonished if by accident they were 
 to associate for a time with individuals of the 
 bodies they censure in the mass ; and if they 
 could know them personally before they were 
 informed of their canton or their clan, they 
 would value them, they would be attracted 
 towards them, and find a thousand points of 
 amiable and useful contact, where they would 
 otherwise suppose there could be nothing but 
 dissimilarity and mutual repulsion. What 
 pleasure and advantage are often lost in 
 neighbourhoods by the prevalence of preju- 
 dice, that keeps wise and worthy men at such 
 a distance as to prevent their appreciating 
 and loving one another. Surely if certain 
 distinctions are deemed necessary in the pre- 
 sent state, and restrict professional exertions ; 
 they need not forbid personal esteem and in- 
 tercourse. 
 
 And to take a higher view. — As the sub- 
 jects of divine grace, under all the denomina- 
 tions that distinguish us, we belong to one 
 family; and are, therefore, much more inti- 
 mately related, than the votaries of any party 
 can be united. If I am a real Christian, 
 whether an episcopalian, a dissenter, or a 
 methodist, I am your brother in the highest 
 sense God himself can affix to the term: 
 hence you are not at liberty to determine 
 how you shall feel and behave towards me : 
 you are bound to love me ; and without this 
 love, your religion is a dream. " By this 
 shall all men know that ye are my disciples, 
 if ye love one another." " We know that 
 we have passed from death unto life, because 
 we love the brethren." Are we advancing 
 to a world, where, it will not be inquired by 
 what name we were called, but whether we 
 " walked in newness of life :" not whether 
 we served God in a particular place, but wor- 
 shipped him who is a spirit in spirit and in 
 truth'? Should we not endeavour to rise, 
 and approximate this state ? Must not a pre- 
 paration for it consist in a resemblance of it 1 
 Should we lay more stress on that which is 
 ready to vanish away, than on that which is 
 destined to be eternal, and is therefore in- 
 finitely superior in importance? 
 
 If God has promised unity among his own 
 followers, we have reason to believe that it 
 has been accomplished. But we see men 
 equally led by the spirit of God, and devoted 
 
 to his will, differing' from each other on num- 
 berless subjects. So it always has been. 
 And so it always will be. Religion is not 
 injured by it: nor has the Scripture spoken 
 in vain. It never intended any thing more 
 than unity with variety; an accordance in 
 great things, and difference in little ones. If 
 communities or individuals pursue an uni- 
 formity of opinions, ceremonies, discipline, 
 forms and modes of worship, they are first 
 seeking that which is impossible : for the at- 
 tempt has been fairly made, and has proved 
 useless : men may as well be constrained or 
 persuaded into an uniformity of stature — of 
 complexion — of temper. And secondly, they 
 are seeking after that which would be un- 
 profitable. The advantage lies in the pre- 
 sent state of things. The cultivation of such 
 dispositions, and the practice of such duties, 
 as the exercise of humility, forbearance, self- 
 denial, candour, and brotherly love implies, 
 are far more valuable and useful than a dull, 
 stagnant conformity of notions or usages. — It 
 is awfully possible for persons to be very 
 strenuous about the " mint, anise, and cum- 
 min," while they neglect "the weightier 
 matters of the law ;" and to contend for the 
 forms of godliness, while they are destitute 
 of its power. Indeed these are commonly 
 proportioned to each other. The best way to 
 moderate an undue zeal for the external and 
 circumstantial appendages of religion is, to 
 impress the mind more fully with the spirit 
 and the substance of it. As we regard seri- 
 ous and important things, we shall be drawn 
 off from trifling ones : our time will be occu- 
 pied ; our attention will be elevated ; our 
 views will be enlarged. 
 
 Let me conclude the remark in the lan- 
 guage of a man, who was peculiarly qualified 
 to speak on this subject, having so amply 
 illustrated in his preaching and in his life, the 
 happy combination of liberality of feeling, 
 with firmness of conviction ; of friendly inter- 
 course, with attachment to order ; of toler- 
 ance in little things, with zeal in great ones. 
 " The true unity of spirit," says the incom- 
 parable Mr. Newton, " is derived from the 
 things in which those who are taught and 
 born of God agree, and should not be affected 
 by those in which they differ. The church 
 of Christ, collectively considered, is an army ; 
 they serve under one Prince, have one com- 
 mon interest, and are opposed by the same 
 enemies. This army is kept up, and the 
 place of those who are daily removed to the 
 church triumphant, supplied entirely by those 
 who are rescued and won from the power of 
 the adversary, which is chiefly effected by 
 the gospel ministry. This consideration 
 should remind ministers that it is highly im- 
 proper (I might use a stronger expression) to 
 waste much of their time and talents, which 
 ought to be employed against the common 
 foe, in opposing those who, thougli they can- 
 
140 
 
 MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 not exactly agree with them in every small- 
 er point, are perfectly agreed, and ready to 
 concur with them, in promoting their prin- 
 cipal design. A wise statesman, who lias a 
 point much at heart which lie cannot carry 
 without assistance, will gladly accept of help 
 from persons of all parties on whom he can 
 prevail to join with him ; and will not, at such 
 a crisis, preclude himself from this advant- 
 age, by an unseasonable discussion, of more 
 minute concerns, in which he knows they 
 must, and will be against him. When I see 
 ministers of acknowledged piety and respect- 
 able abilities, very busy in defending or con- 
 futing the smaller differences which already 
 too much separate those who ought to be of 
 one heart and of one mind, though, while 
 they are fallible, they cannot be exactly of 
 one judgment; I give them credit for their 
 good intention, but I cannot help lamenting 
 the misapplication of their zeal, which, if 
 directed into another channel, would proba- 
 bly make them much more successful in con- 
 verting souls. Let us sound an alarm in the 
 enemies' camp, but not in our own ! — I have 
 somewhere met with a passage of ancient 
 history; the substance of which, though my 
 recollection of it is but imperfect, I will re- 
 late : — 'Two large bodies of force fell in with 
 each other in a dark night. A battle imme- 
 diately ensued. The attack and the resist- 
 ance were supported with equal spirit. The 
 contest was fierce and bloody. Great was 
 the slaughter on bot h sides, and on both sides 
 they were on the point of claiming the vic- 
 tory ; when the day broke, and as the light 
 advanced, they soon perceived to their as- 
 tonishment and grief; that they had been 
 fighting, not with enemies, as they had sup- 
 posed, but with friends and allies. They had 
 been doing their enemies' work, and weaken- 
 ing the cause they wished to support. The 
 expectation of each party to conquer the other, 
 was founded upon the losses the opponents 
 had sustained; and this was what proportion- 
 ably aggravated their lamentation and dis- 
 tress, when they had sufficient light to show 
 them the mischief they had done.' Ah ! my 
 friends, if shame be compatible with the hea- 
 venly state, as perhaps, in a sense it may, 
 (for believers, when most happy here, are 
 most sensibly ashamed of themselves,) shall 
 we not even then be ashamed to think how 
 often, in this dark world, we mistook our 
 friends for foes ; and that, while we thought 
 we were even fighting for the cause of God 
 and truth, we were wounding and worrying 
 the people whom he loved ; and perhaps in- 
 dulging our own narrow, selfish, party pre- 
 judices, under the semblance of zeal for his 
 glory?" 
 
 — Again. Is it possible to read such a 
 narrative as the foregoing, and not see the 
 falsehood and infamy of reproaching men of 
 
 Mr. Clark's sentiments as Antinomians, or 
 even as persons who lay very little stress on 
 the practical part of the gospel 1 If they are 
 ministers that urge the scandal, I would say 
 — " Candidly examine these materials. I do 
 not expect you to approve of ev ery thing you 
 meet with; but distinguish things that differ. 
 Observe what an attention from the begin- 
 ning and throughout Mr. Clark paid to the 
 moral character and conduct of the members 
 he admitted ; and when under no sway, but 
 the influence of his own principles ; principles 
 which he knew required such sanctity, and 
 would produce it when properly embraced." 
 I would say — "Bring forward your own 
 standard of practical religion, and let us see 
 its elevation and purity. Are all those clean 
 who bear the vessels of the Lord with you 1 
 Would one instance of intoxication lay aside 
 an official character in your community] 
 Would smuggling exclude from the Lord's 
 table with you ! Would domestic broils sus- 
 pend a member from your communion, till the 
 force of reproof was felt, and the justice of it 
 acknowledged ?" 
 
 But it seems to demand an apology to 
 notice sucli cavils, and which I fear oftener 
 originate in malignity than in ignorance. 
 When good men, crucified to the world, and 
 labouring to serve their generation by the 
 will of God, are alarmed, they deserve atten- 
 tion and explanation. They really value the 
 interests of holiness and good works : and it 
 is desirable to remove their fears, by showing 
 them, from reasoning and from facts, that 
 their pious apprehensions are groundless. But 
 where persons give no evidence of their re- 
 gard for the glory of God, or the welfare of 
 man ; where they worship nothing but " the 
 god of tiiis world" all the week, and on the 
 sabbath express their regrets and fears — we 
 feel very differently. They cannot be in 
 earnest; their complaints and clamours are 
 railings or pretences. What are holiness 
 and good works to them 1 We are here re- 
 minded of another objector ; who with a sad 
 face and a pitiful voice exclaimed, when he 
 saw Mary's zeal, " Why is this waste 1 Why 
 was not this ointment sold for three hundred 
 pence, and given to the poor V An ignorant 
 by-stander would have supposed tiiat his heart 
 was full of compassion. But he who knew 
 what was in man, tells us " That he said this, 
 not that he cared for the poor, but because he 
 was a thief, and had the bag, and bare what 
 was put therein." 
 
 — Mr. Clark knew and preached the im- 
 portance of faith ; and it was impossible for 
 him to say more in honour of it than the 
 sacred writers have done before him. But 
 what did he include in his notion of faith, 
 and what did he connect with it 1 An ex- 
 tract from one of his hymns will justly ex- 
 press his sentiment : 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 141 
 
 That we arc saved by faith alone 
 
 God's holy word asserts ; 
 But pride the doctrine will disown, 
 
 And wickedness perverts. 
 
 An empty notion sonic profess, • 
 
 And think they now believe ; 
 As if to see, was to possess, 
 
 To know was to receive. 
 
 — But those who most themselves deceive, 
 
 And sure destruction win, 
 Are such who boast that they believe, 
 
 And yet are slaves to sin. 
 
 — Faith is an all-subduing power. 
 
 All-purifying grace; 
 Of holiness brings forth the flower. 
 
 And fruits of righteousness. 
 
 I wish this circumstance to be the more re- 
 marked, not only because the reflections to 
 which I have alluded have been uncommonly 
 spread and patronized of late, but also because 
 there was nothing in the form and government 
 of this society that was peculiar. Whatever 
 little difference there may be in other things, 
 with regard to this subject, the narrative is but 
 a fair specimen of the attention paid to the 
 religion of the individuals when admitted, and 
 as long as they are continued in all the 
 churches of the orthodox dissenters and me- 
 thodists. It is not pretended that all these 
 members are unfeignedly pious. There is no 
 guarding against the intrusion of hypocrites 
 into any society, however strictly constituted 
 or administered: but moral character and 
 conduct are essential to membership : and it 
 is surely sufficient to exonerate a body of peo- 
 ple from reproach, when its adherents as soon 
 as they are detected are disowned. 
 
 — Let those also look over the memoirs of 
 this man, who suspect that in certain societies 
 a great deal of disaffection to government is 
 always secretly working and cherished. What 
 seditious practices will they find in the pro- 
 ceedings here related ! What of a dark and 
 a suspicious nature will they discover in any 
 of these public or private meetings ? If they 
 pronounce the exercises in whicli these de- 
 luded creatures engaged foolish, they cannot 
 say they were dangerous. They were not of 
 a political character or tendency. If ever these 
 people and their minister had a reference to 
 public affairs, it was purely religious; it was 
 for the purpose of humiliation and prayer; and 
 while many of their enemies were drinking, 
 and swearing, and defaming, to show their 
 loyalty, they were individually and conjointly 
 mourning over the sins of the land, and sup- 
 plicating the throne of grace for protection 
 and deliverance. 
 
 By inspecting these papers a man may see 
 how Christian societies are formed, where no- 
 thing but toleration is expected from the secu- 
 lar power. He will see that in these commu- 
 nities there is nothing compulsory ; all is 
 founded in conviction, in choice, in spiritual 
 friendship. He will see that the calling of the 
 Christian does not sacrifice, but ratify and 
 sanctify the rights of the man. — He may 
 
 compare these societies with the primitive 
 churches, when no system was established or 
 endowed. He may observe the adaptation 
 there is in them to diffuse themselves, and to 
 multiply; their fitness for missionary exer- 
 tions; their simple, unperplexed, unembar- 
 rassed mode of operation in evangelizing a 
 heathen country. He may compare them with 
 the profit of the individuals composing them 
 — with the injunctions of Scripture to watch 
 over one another, to consider one another, to 
 provoke one another to love and to good works 
 — with the admonition of the apostle, " Com- 
 fort yourselves together, and edify one an- 
 other, even as also ye do." " Warn them that 
 • are unruly, comfort the feeble-minded, sup- 
 port the weak, be patient unto all men" — with 
 the exercise of brotherly reproof, the support 
 of discipline, the purity of the Lord's table, 
 and our Lord's rule — "If thy brother shall 
 trespass against thee, go and tell him his fault 
 between thee and him alone. If he shall hear 
 thee, thou hast gained thy brother. But if 
 he will not hear thee, then take with thee one 
 or two more, that in the mouth of two or three 
 witnesses every word may be established. 
 And if he shall neglect to hear them, tell it 
 unto the church : but if he neglect to hear 
 the church, let him be unto thee as a heathen 
 man and a publican." — He may take occasion 
 from hence to inquire, whether there is any 
 thing like mystery in church government. 
 He may ask whether it was necessary for the 
 Scripture to frame any particular or definite 
 system upon the subject. He will see whether 
 the influence which the gospel supplies, and 
 the general laws it lays down, are not suffi- 
 cient to guide us in all circumstances ; and 
 whether, as where there is no law there is 
 no transgression, any injury can result from 
 different administrations, varying with times 
 and circumstances, and equally allowing of 
 communion with God and social edification. 
 
 But some may be ready to ask what au- 
 thority had such a man to preach at all 1 And 
 the question is easily answered. — With re- 
 gard to his own people ; their choice and ap- 
 probation. — With reo-ard to the country in 
 which he resided ; the law of the land ac- 
 knowledging, sanctioning, and protecting his 
 labours. — With regard to God; command, in- 
 clination, capacity, opportunity, success. 
 
 Some things are usually, and some things 
 are usefully, connected with the ministerial 
 office, that are by no means inseparable from 
 the essence of it. Mr. Clark was not regu- 
 larly inducted, nor had he an academical en- 
 trance. We are far from despising order; or 
 supposing that learning is of little importance. 
 Institutions established to prepare men for 
 their public work, are of great utility ; and as 
 God has, in the course of his providence, fur- 
 nished our churches with them, we would 
 earnestly recommend, that those who are en- 
 couraged to give up themselves to the minis- 
 
142 
 
 MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 try of the word, should avail themselves of 
 the advantage. At the present season we 
 should the more urge it, not only for the in- 
 valuable benefits derivable from them, but to 
 suit the character of the times, and the state 
 of many congregations, in which mere zeal 
 would not, as formerly, secure attention ; and 
 also to keep back many, who, as one justly 
 observes, while they declaim against men- 
 made preachers, are fond enough of self-made 
 preachers, and go forth with no advice but 
 from their ignorance ; with no consultation 
 but with their own presumption, by which so 
 many settled ministers have thorns planted in 
 their nests, and schisms formed and upheld in 
 their neighbourhoods. 
 
 Of old in Israel, there were " schools of the 
 prophets," from which God generally took his 
 servants : and thus he honoured the use of 
 means. But he occasionally called a messen- 
 ger from a different condition; and by en- 
 dowing and succeeding him, showed that he 
 was not bound to the use of them. And he 
 does the same now. He gives us rules to go 
 by ; but he will not confine himself. While 
 he discountenances the fanatic, he can pour 
 contempt upon the formalist ; and teach those 
 who love means not to idolize them. And 
 when he produces exceptions, the circum- 
 stances will justify them; and the general 
 rule will be confirmed rather than invalidated. 
 It should therefore be remembered, that Mr. 
 Clark was a man of education and knowledge : 
 he had been prepared for his work, though in 
 a peculiar way ; and made every source of 
 his improvement contribute to aid his public 
 work. — It will be well if some of those who 
 deny the validity of his claim to the office he 
 filled, are able to produce the same number 
 of seals to their ministry as we have reason 
 to believe will authenticate his: or, as all 
 who are alike called, are not equally success- 
 ful, if they are happy enough to hear the 
 same commendation — " Well done, good and 
 faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy 
 Lord." While many differ about trifles; 
 while they are disputing how the work shall 
 be done, and who shall do it, and do nothing ; 
 such a man as this steps forward, and bears the 
 burden and heat of the day, and is dismissed 
 to receive a reward dispensed by a rule too 
 frequently overlooked : " They that be wise 
 shall shine as the brightness of the firmament ; 
 and they that turn many to righteousness, as 
 the stars for ever and ever." Solomon tells 
 us " He that winneth souls is wise." And 
 our friend, in admonishing a young minister 
 has said — 
 
 Seek to be useful more than to excel; 
 Who does his work effectual, does it well. 
 — Whatever curious critics may commend, 
 Sure that's done best that answers best the end : 
 And preachers would be gainers on the whole, 
 To mar a period, and to save a soul. 
 
 But was not Mr. Clark an enthusiast 1 De- 
 
 fine the term, and we shall be able to answer. 
 If you mean by enthusiast, a man that pre- 
 tends to new revelations from Heaven, and 
 governs himself by impulses regardless of the 
 written word ; if you mean a man that takes 
 it for granted he is a favourite of Heaven, and 
 riots on high in the privileges of the gospel, 
 neglectful of the low claims of duty and com- 
 mon sense : who consults his imagination in- 
 stead of his judgment; who, void of humility 
 and caution, never supposes himself fallible — 
 never doubts his rectitude or his wisdom, and 
 therefore never pauses or inquires : who only 
 thinks of his mark, but never examines the 
 road he is to go, or the ground he is to tread : 
 who is indifferent to the rationality of his con- 
 duct, insensible to the proprieties of life, and 
 so engrossed with a favourite point as to re- 
 semble a man walking in his sleep, naked 
 and staring, yet feeling and seeing nothing 
 but the dream that inspires and disturbs 
 him. — 
 
 — If this is to be an enthusiast, Mr. Clark 
 was unworthy of the name — no person could 
 pass a day or an hour with him and not be 
 convinced of this. Such a man would never 
 have placed as a motto to one of his works 
 the aphorism of Young. — 
 
 Reason pursu'd is faith : and unpursu'd 
 Where proof invites, 'tis reason then no more. 
 
 Or have given to a preacher such advice as 
 this: 
 
 And if in public you would useful be, 
 Make use of all you hear, and all you see. 
 Observe men's tempers, weaknesses, complaints ■ 
 You may improve by sinners and by saints. 
 To learn from fools and idiots condescend ; 
 And on your brethren's labours oft attend. 
 What you in them approve e'er make your own, 
 Still imitate the best, but mimic none. 
 Let every science your attention prove ; 
 And to converse with humble Christians love. 
 — Then study nature, nature best will please, 
 What comes from nature always flows with ease. 
 — Sound authors too with profit may be read : 
 But still the Scriptures are the fountain-head. 
 Yet ever search them with unbiass'd mind, 
 Take them, not as you wish, but as you find; 
 Nor seek to bend, and thus profanely choose 
 What only suits your predetermined views; 
 Or act the part of that prepost'rous fool 
 Who rashly dyed his pattern to his wool.* 
 
 Is the following too, the language of a 
 wrong-headed enthusiast ? or even of a man 
 who has more zeal than knowledge 1 
 
 — Fickle professors you will also find, 
 Who change about with every turn of wind ; 
 From place to place, from sect to sect they stray, 
 As fancy, or as interest leads the way : 
 The last with them is right, all else condemn'd. 
 All truth's within their present party hemm'd: 
 Bigots to any sect that suits their will, 
 And change they ne'er so oft are bigots still. 
 
 —With real Christians too you've much to bear, 
 Those are not always wise, who are sincere : 
 Their tempers, manners, likings often clash, 
 Some too remiss you'll find, and some too rash. 
 
 * Alluding to the folly of a man, who being employed 
 to dye a furnace of wool to the colour of a pattern, not 
 being able to bring the wool to the colour of his pat- 
 tern, in order to make them match, put the pattern 
 into the furnace with the wool. 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 143 
 
 And when a conscientious man goes wrong, 
 
 He's hard to turn — his prejudice is strong. 
 
 Much wisdom, therefore, you, my friend, will need, 
 
 To judge between the motive and the deed: 
 
 To show a just severity to sin, 
 
 And yet with tender love th' offender win. 
 
 — Of love unfeign'd to all the pattern give. 
 
 And teach with meekness, and with meekness live. 
 
 Those doctrines preach that prove your Maker just, 
 And bring the haughty sinner to the dust. 
 
 Set forth th' experience of the christian man, 
 And urge obedience on the gospel plan. 
 Of " legal preacher," never fear the cry, 
 Or ought, to please a sickly taste, deny. 
 The pious hearer will your plan approve, 
 And edify by all your work of love. 
 
 But cav'Iing coxcombs you can ne'er content, 
 Though pure your doctrine, and your zeal well spent: 
 Such pow'r to mortal man was never giv'n ; 
 Nor could an angel, though sent down from heaven. 
 
 It surely ill accords to deal in strife 
 
 While you are dealing forth the bread of life. 
 
 Some make the pulpit like the wrangling bar; 
 The vehicle of peace, a seat of war: 
 But scolding in a sermon, with hard names, 
 No good will cherish ; but it oft inflames. 
 Then you, O man of God, let these alone; 
 By setting up the truth, pull error down : 
 Like arms of a true balance, one must drop 
 Just in proportion as the other's up. 
 
 — But what makes christian discipline so rare ? 
 
 Our christian churches are not what they were. 
 
 In former days, the shepherds led their sheep; [keep: 
 
 Taught them what paths to shun— what paths to 
 
 To go before their flock was then their pride ; 
 
 But now, too oft, the sheep their shepherds guide. 
 
 Church management is rated too by pay. 
 
 And pride and passion love to bear the sway : 
 
 A spirit of democracy prevails, 
 
 And thus authority and order fails. 
 
 — As all the world acknowledge the same sun, 
 
 In former days all churches were but one: 
 
 A general cause they all combin'd to make; 
 
 If one dismiss'd, the rest refused to take. 
 
 To gain most members now each party strives, 
 
 And by the loss of other churches thrives. 
 
 To excommunicate no way alarms, 
 
 Some other church receives with open arms. 
 
 But what accession does religion gain 
 
 By these divisions and distinctions vain ? 
 
 Has Christ in his true church one member more? 
 
 Or is the man more holy than before ? 
 
 Does it not oft'ner minister to strife. 
 
 And draw th' attention from the christian life? 
 
 — But if by enthusiasm is intended the ap- 
 plication to divine things — of that energy, 
 that fervour of mind, which, it is supposed 
 always attends genius, and is essential to 
 distinction in the arts and sciences : if, as a 
 term of reproach, it is to decry a man who 
 gives religion the most decided preference to 
 every rival claim ; who feels such a powerful 
 devotedness to it, that difficulties rather in- 
 crease than diminish his attachment ; who is 
 so alive to its excellency that he complains 
 more of his defects than of his proficiencies ; 
 who is so united to its welfare, that he sym- 
 pathizes in all its varieties, and rejoices or 
 weeps with it — who is so governed by it, as 
 to make it the centre of attraction, the end to 
 which he renders every thing subordinate 
 and subservient ; I would say — How is it that 
 a term generally used with approbation, 
 should become in a particular case ignomini- 
 ous'! Why should warmth be allowed and 
 admired in every other subject, and condemn- 
 
 ed in that which beyond all comparison de- 
 serves and justifies it? Why should it not 
 only excuse but extol the painter and the 
 poet, and degrade the Christian, whose objects 
 and pursuits are as superior to those of all 
 other men, as the soul is more valuable than 
 the body, and the heaven is higher than the 
 earth? I would inquire — Whether it is pos- 
 sible to consider religion as important at all, 
 without regarding it as all-important '! Whe- 
 ther we can have fairly weighed eternal things 
 against temporal, unless we see that there is 
 no proportion between them ? Whether we 
 are required in the Scripture to attach our- 
 selves to God a little, or to " love him with 
 all our heart, with all our mind, and with all 
 our strength?" Whether we are to obey him 
 partially and formally, while the heart is far 
 from him; or we are to be fervent in spirit 
 while serving him ? Whether that moderation 
 which some so highly applaud, as adjusting 
 precisely the medium between being too little 
 religious, and righteous over much, and which 
 attempts to reconcile and to satisfy the due 
 claims of the world and of conscience, is not 
 the very thing the word of God brands as 
 most incompatible with our Christian profes- 
 sion ? " So then, because thou art hike warm, 
 and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out 
 of my mouth." In the latter sense of the word, 
 Paul was an enthusiast. He felt such a com- 
 manding interest in the cause of the Re- 
 deemer, as gave an unity to his active and 
 diversified life, and produced that excellency 
 in his Christian profession for which he is 
 commended by many, who yet ridicule every 
 practical approach to it in others. In this 
 sense too, Mr. Clark deserves the honourable 
 reproach. But justice requires that we make 
 one concession. It regards some of Mr. 
 Clark's thoughts and expressions, which, in 
 appearance, at least, and especially when 
 presented to those that knew not the man, 
 are exceptionable. There is, perhaps, nothing 
 in the narrative that he could not have ex- 
 plained rationally and satisfactorily, had op- 
 portunity been given him : but as they now 
 stand, there are several things that deserve 
 notice, and I shall speak freely. 
 
 With regard to the remarkable circum- 
 stance mentioned in a preceding page, and by 
 which he was encouraged to go on at a 
 moment when he determined to renounce 
 preaching, I shall hardly hazard an opinion. 
 I leave it to the judgment of the reader, and 
 conclude that it will be viewed variously. It 
 may be proper however to remark, that I was 
 unwilling to admit the marvellous part of the 
 event, till I had fully examined the case; 
 fearing that some crude and ill-informed re- 
 ligionists are occasionally tempted to trench 
 slightly on the demands of honesty and truth, 
 to carry points for the glory of God ! But in 
 this instance, every character stood fair ; and 
 I am fully persuaded from what has come 
 
144 
 
 MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 under my investigation, that there was no 
 collusion, and that there could have been none. 
 The fact is as well authenticated, as the over- 
 ruled result of it was happy and useful. 
 
 Mr. Clark, in a preceding' page, speaks of his 
 going to preach at some place ; and tells us 
 that " He ventured to trust entirely on the 
 promised assistance of the Holy Ghost ; and 
 without any previous study or arrangement 
 of the subject, preached from Mark xvi. 16." 
 And adds, " This I was enabled to do with so 
 much ease and comfort to myself, and satis- 
 faction to the audience, that thenceforward I 
 never made use of any notes ; but was ena- 
 bled to cast myself entirely on the divine 
 goodness." Here we presume is an allusion 
 to the promise given by our Saviour to his 
 disciples, and which has frequently been mis- 
 taken and abused : — " When they deliver you 
 up, take no thought how or what ye shall 
 speak ; for it shall be given you in that same 
 hour what ye shall speak. For it is not ye 
 that speak, but the Spirit of your Father 
 which speaketh in you." Here it may be 
 proper to observe : first, that the text has no 
 reference to preaching at all ; as appears from 
 the words preceding : — " But beware of 
 men: for they will deliver you up to the 
 councils, and they will scourge you in their 
 synagogues. And ye shall be brought before 
 governors and kings for my sake, for a testi- 
 mony against them and the Gentiles." Se- 
 condly, if it had such a reference originally, 
 the justness of the application in the present 
 instance would be questioned. Modern minis- 
 ters are not apostles. The miraculous and 
 ordinary assistance of the Holy Ghost are 
 very distinguishable. There is nothing that 
 as preachers we have to be inspired with. 
 We want ability to communicate what is al- 
 ready revealed, and to impress it upon the 
 hearts of our hearers : and God forbid that we 
 should ever think mere study, or reasoning, 
 or eloquence can succeed in securing the 
 objects of the Christian ministry without 
 "the ministration of the Spirit." But if "the 
 preacher be wise," as Solomon remarks, " he 
 will find out acceptable words, as well as 
 words of truth :" he will see that activity and 
 dependence, instead of being incompatible, 
 require each other; and that instrumentality, 
 so far from excluding agency, supposes it. In 
 this case, the advice of Paul to Timothy is 
 worthy of our regard. Timothy was ordained 
 "according to the prophecies which went be- 
 fore on him," and possessed extraordinary 
 qualifications and assistance — yet says his 
 zealous, but judicious admonisher, " Give at- 
 tendance to reading, to exhortation, to doc- 
 trine." " Neglect not the gift that is in thee." 
 "Meditate upon these things; give thyself 
 wholly to them, that thy profiting may ap- 
 pear to all ;" or as it is in the margin, in " all 
 things." 
 
 Knowing Mr. Clark's views, I am certain 
 
 he did not intend by the expression he used, 
 all the meaning some will attach to it: nor 
 would he plead for any thing like inspiration 
 according to the common acceptation of the 
 word. But here is a mad enthusiast : — here 
 is a young unfurnished preacher, who takes 
 up the memoir, and justifies his ignorance, 
 his incapacity for thought, his idleness, his 
 love of gossipping by an expectation of divine 
 and immediate assistance. I think Mr. Clark, 
 as far as he could have acted otherwise, 
 erred : but before we exculpate another as far 
 as we justify him, let the imitator be as ob- 
 viously called to preach, let him be as much 
 and as unavoidably engaged, let him possess 
 the same education and talents, the same 
 fancy and fluency ; let him also be equally 
 devoted to general improvement. For Mr. 
 Clark — and it is but just to observe it, after 
 mentioning that he preached habitually with- 
 out writing or premeditating his sermons, 
 adds, " I considered, however, that this by no 
 means excused me from studying, in a gene- 
 ral way, God's holy word, and wonderful 
 works ; but rather enforced the necessity of 
 it so much the more, that I might lay up a 
 stock of things, new and old, ready, when 
 called, to bring forth to the public. My bu- 
 siness also being with persons of different 
 descriptions, especially the working poor, 
 gave me an opportunity of knowing the real 
 manners of men,' and seeing more into the 
 depravity of human nature. My philosophi- 
 cal researches also, to which I was exceed- 
 ingly attached, served to enlarge my ideas of 
 things as well as of men." I would also ob- 
 serve, that Mr. Clark, unlike too many of this 
 class, was never heard to censure those who 
 preached in a way different from his own. 
 He exceedingly enjoyed the labours of his 
 brethren, and not only commended their ser- 
 vices, but the preparations for them. " In the 
 following lines," says he in the preface to his 
 Novitius, "the reader may trace somewhat 
 of the method wliich the author himself has 
 been led to adopt ; and which he hopes it has 
 pleased God to own, to the conversion and 
 edification of many. — But he would be far 
 from limiting his brethren in the ministry to 
 any particular method : let every one consult 
 his proper gift, and employ it in the best 
 manner he is able — but all to the use of edi- 
 fying. Some have a brilliant imagination, 
 some a solid judgment, some a fluent utter- 
 ance, and some a strong memory. I censure 
 none but those who bury their talent, and 
 those who misemploy it ; those who seek to 
 please themselves; and those who seek to 
 please men." In the same liberal strain, are 
 the following lines from the work itself : 
 
 —Next for your study might I drop a hint ? 
 With no dull rules would \ your genius stint. 
 Some preachers arc with fertile fancies bless'd, 
 To rove at larce, o'er nature, suits them best. 
 From every object they can catch a theme, 
 And the whole universe their study deein ! 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 145 
 
 Others there are more moderate limits keep, 
 
 Their subjects fewer, but they dive more deep. 
 
 In either case retirement may befriend 
 
 To methodize the thought — the language mend. 
 
 But study too intense brings many a grief; 
 
 It dulls the spirits— makes the manners stiff. 
 
 Too studious, some their native ardour damp 
 
 With massy volumes, and the midnight lamp : 
 
 The frame 's enervated, too much confin'd ; 
 
 And gloomy vapours overspread the mind. 
 
 But you, Novitius, take the middle course, 
 
 Nor be remiss, nor yet your genius force : 
 
 On no one study too intensely fix, 
 
 But evercise and air discreetly mix 
 
 Should you prefer to preach extempore, 
 
 You may be less correct, but much more free. 
 
 This was the way our good forefathers taught, 
 
 Till, learning scarce, illit'rate men were sought : 
 
 Now learned doctors keep the custom still, 
 
 To ease their sloth, or else to show their skill. 
 
 — To preach by notes can be no sin indeed, 
 
 Or read your sermons if you find you need : 
 
 But wherefore then should you conceal the book, 
 
 Or look on it as if you did not look? 
 
 —An honest, warm effusion from the heart, 
 
 Must sure exceed the nicest forms of art: 
 
 — Ideas will spring up as you go on, 
 
 And honest zeal for many faults atone; 
 
 Thoughts new enkindled set your soul on fire, 
 
 And heavenly eloquence your tongue inspire. 
 
 — But though your doctrine should be e'er so sound, 
 
 Doctrine unfelt is seldom useful found. 
 
 Not at the head take aim, with notions dry, 
 
 Nor o'er the head let useless bullets fly 
 
 Of learned lore ; but level at the heart 
 
 Your whole artillery, and strike that part. 
 
 And from your heart, Osend them burning too, 
 
 For balls red hot most execution do. 
 
 If in the pulpit you appear unmoved, 
 
 Your sermon does small good, howe'er approved. 
 
 Yet do not rant enthusiastic stuff, 
 
 How weak no matter, so 'tis loud enough ! 
 
 But temper zeal with wisdom and with love, 
 
 So men shall profit, and your God approve. 
 
 — Then for your language, be it chaste and pure, 
 
 Above contempt, though level to the poor. 
 
 Yet not in phrases quaint, and vulgar speech 
 
 Attempt to play the buffoon, but to preach. 
 
 Know that your place a dignity demands. 
 
 For in God's name a gospel preacher stands. 
 
 — A striking simile you'll sometimes find 
 
 T' illustrate truth, and fix it on the mind : 
 
 Or with an anecdote attention move, 
 
 Lest dull monotony an opiate prove. 
 
 — Nor yet, my friend, affect the orator 
 
 In pompous diction, sounding metaphor. 
 
 Disguise not truth, prond eloquence to nourish, 
 
 As school boys lose Ihe letter in the flourish; 
 
 Enticing speech may loud applauses gain 
 
 From shallow hearers, and make preachers vain; 
 
 A feather this to tickle itching ears ; 
 
 But 'tis warm truth must melt a soul to tears : 
 
 'Tis this, w hen aided by th' Almighty arm. 
 
 Will wonders work, and miracles perform. 
 
 — Whate'er your subject be, let heavenly zeal 
 
 And love to souls direct your method still : 
 
 Nor let strict rules, which pedagogues may teach, 
 
 Divert you from the end for which you preach. 
 
 Method, we grant, is proper, but 'tis cold, 
 
 If not attended with a pathos bold. 
 
 In nice particulars to waste your time 
 
 When souls are perishing, account a crime. 
 
 Some preachers cut the bread of life so small, 
 
 The greater part does through the basket fall : 
 
 All their divisions subdivided yet, 
 
 'Twere task enough the numbers to repeat ; 
 
 So full of heads that nothing else there seems — 
 
 No room is left for body, life, or limbs. 
 
 — Some, day and night upon a subject pore, 
 
 And rack invention till it yields no more ; 
 
 To show how much they can bring forth at will 
 
 From a small text, and thus display their skill : 
 
 Whate'er the text, the sermon still must be 
 
 A little body of divinity. 
 
 These in the study quench that ardent fire 
 
 Which in the pulpit should their souls inspire ; 
 
 Exhausting so their subjects when alone, 
 
 That when they bring them forth, the savour 's gone. 
 
 — Nor less, my friend, should you bethink your time, 
 
 While in a work so useful, so sublime. 
 
 T 13 
 
 Sweet is the gospel, and it well beseems 
 
 To dwell with rapture on its glorious themes ; 
 
 Yet some discourses would be full as good 
 
 If they were more compress'd in latitude: 
 
 They lose in substance what they gain in length, 
 
 As thread spun out too fine impairs its strength. 
 
 — Some are more garrulous the more they're lost, 
 
 And when they've least to say, enlarge the most. 
 
 I hope I need not apologize for the inser- 
 tion of these extracts. They contain import- 
 ant hints, many of which are expressed in 
 language that shows a considerable talent for 
 poetry. They are, therefore, specimens of the 
 kind of composition in which the author de- 
 lighted. They also deliver his sentiments 
 with regard to preaching ; and will serve to 
 qualify some passages in the memoir. They 
 fully prove, that while he pleaded for ease 
 and fervour, he did not oppose propriety and 
 decorum. And surely it ought to be inquired, 
 whether many of his strictures are not just; 
 and whether all the evils to be dreaded are 
 found on one side of the question, and nothing 
 is to be apprehended from the opposite ex- 
 treme 1 If the whisper could only be heard 
 by some — we might suggest — Whether there 
 is not an over-doing, as well as an under- 
 doing 1 Whether habitual thought is not com- 
 monly preferable to the appointment of parti- 
 cular times for study 1 Whether general 
 meditation is not more advantageous than 
 textual reflection, which, while it gives a 
 man skill in dividing and explaining words 
 and phrases, adds but little to his intellectual 
 stores ? 
 
 A man who is always attentive and observ- 
 ing; who is well versed in general know- 
 ledge; who has amassed ideas upon every 
 subject on which he is called to teach ; who 
 has rendered himself very familiar with the 
 language of Scripture; and who speaks out 
 of the abundance of the heart — such a man 
 will rarely be at a loss, or preach amiss. His 
 thoughts will easily find their proper places, 
 and suitable language will clothe them, if 
 he does not consume that enormous quantity 
 of time expended by some in their sermonic 
 preparations, to the injury of their health, 
 and the neglect of social duties. In all 
 other cases, where men have similar qualifi- 
 cations, we are not afraid of every thing 
 they deliver on the spur of the occasion, or 
 conclude that it must be incoherent and 
 foolish. 
 
 We more than once in the narrative meet 
 with a casual presentation of passages of 
 Scripture, and a seasonable occurrence of ad- 
 monitions or promises on which some consi- 
 derable stress was laid. I do not remember 
 indeed any incongruous application of this 
 kind ; and Mr. Clark had too much wisdom to 
 be led into any improprieties by such a sanc- 
 tion — Yet it must be confessed, the practice 
 is perilous; and I have known many cases 
 in which it has been very injuriously in- 
 dulged. The text read, or recollected just 
 at the time, has determined the person as to 
 
146 
 
 MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 the state of his soul, or the patli of duty : it 
 has operated to the removal of his distress, 
 or the solution of his doubt. But though all 
 the Scripture is true in itself, many parts of 
 it may be erroneous in their application to 
 the present case of any individual. The suita- 
 bleness of the part occurring, is commonly 
 supposed to prov e that it is immediately from 
 God: but this suitableness is the question; 
 and the man who decides it, is the party in- 
 terested, and therefore the most liable to mis- 
 take. The will of God may really call us 
 off from a pursuit, when by this means the 
 word of God is urging us on. Jonah probably 
 was encouraged when he came down to the 
 sea side, to rind a ship just ready to sail : 
 when a man is in a wrong course, a piece of 
 Scripture unexpectedly met with, may keep 
 him much in the same way. The angel of 
 the Lord commissioned Gideon to go and de- 
 liver Israel as he was threshing wheat: a 
 man engaged in the same work feels an in- 
 clination to go forth and preach, but has some 
 little doubt as to his sufficiency and success 
 — when lo ! these words came to his mind, 
 " Arise, for the Lord is with thee thou mighty 
 man of valour :" and his doubts are scattered 
 like dust before the wind. A pious female 
 meets with an eligible suitor, but has some 
 conflict between inclination and conviction, 
 founded on religious character : but she is re- 
 solved to yield, by opening the Bible, and 
 casting her eye on the admonition, "Arise 
 therefore, and get thee down, and go with 
 the men, doubting nothing : for I have sent 
 them."* A person thinks of engaging in 
 some enterprise ; and it may be his duty not 
 only to undertake it, but to undertake it im- 
 mediately : but he is determined by the ad- 
 dress of our Saviour suddenly starting into 
 his mind, though not originally delivered quite 
 on a similar occasion, " What thou doest, do 
 quickly." I have read of a good old man 
 who used to exhort people to live by the ten 
 commandments, and not by impulses : and he 
 used to tell how he got free from delusion 
 himself. When he was a lad, he was poor 
 and pious, and thought that all suggestions 
 in scripture style came from heaven. Walk- 
 ing in the field in want of fireing, by the side 
 of a neighbour's hedge, he wished for some 
 of it to burn: instantly the word came — In 
 all this Job sinned not, and in faith of this, 
 he began to make free with his neighbour's 
 wood. But happily he discovered his error ; 
 tried the application of the text by the com- 
 mand — Thou shall not steal, or, as the in- 
 genious relater remarks, the word of God 
 might have led him out of the church into 
 the jail. 
 
 After all, this is only specifying the danger 
 
 * Let no one object Uiat the passage is not quite the 
 thing : the difference between the lingular and plural 
 number; between him and them, is nothing in these 
 sublime cases : for the greater includes the less: and 
 trifles cannot be seen when we soar. 
 
 on one side, though it is by far the most com- 
 mon side. But the word of God has awful 
 passages ; and there are persons of a melan- 
 choly temperament, or labouring under de- 
 jection from temporary causes. Such per- 
 sons, by a principle of association, are always 
 prone to attract towards themselves every 
 thing of a dreadful nature. What wonder, 
 therefore, when a threatening of Scripture 
 strikes the mind in such a case, if the man 
 viewing it as a divine intimation, is plunged 
 into distraction or despair. We cannot love 
 the word of God too much, nor consult it too 
 often. But we are to " search the Scrip- 
 ture ;" and it is " to dwell in us richly in 
 all wisdom." We are not to turn it into a 
 kind of lottery, or to use it as a spell, or a 
 charm ; but to " understand what we read." 
 We are not to take it separately, but con- 
 nectedly : and if we would be directed by it 
 as to our duty, or satisfied by it as to our 
 state, we are to peruse its contents with dili- 
 gence, humility, and prayer ; to observe the 
 passages that refer to persons of our charac- 
 ter or condition ; that describe the temptations 
 to which we are exposed, or the trials under 
 which we labour. In this way we shall find 
 that the word of God is not only designed, 
 but calculated for general and perpetual use, 
 and has such an infinite affluence in it as to 
 subserve " all things that pertaineth to life 
 and godliness." Whether we are rulers or 
 subjects, masters or servants, parents or 
 children, husbands or wives : whether we are 
 young or old, rich or poor, it lends us the 
 most appropriate assistance ; and is " a lamp 
 unto our feet, and a light unto our path." 
 
 I most cordially subscribe to the doctrine 
 of divine influence, not in the lax sense in 
 which it is admitted by all that make any 
 pretensions to religion; but in the stricter 
 meaning of the word. I believe that all 
 good is derived from, and perpetuated by, the 
 agency of the Holy Spirit. Yet this doctrine 
 is frequently expressed by preachers and 
 writers in a way that is not perfectly just. 
 Every thing is referred not efficiently, but 
 immediately to God. We are wrought upon, 
 not employed. We are passively blessed, 
 not actuated to exertion. The means which 
 idolatrously keep some from the God of all 
 grace, are too much discarded by others. 
 The motive in many cases we are aware 
 cannot be too much praised ; as it is designed 
 to secure the glory of God. But if it needs 
 not to be purified, it requires to be enlight- 
 ened. It should be remembered, that God 
 does not operate less really, because he ope- 
 rates instrumentally. The means are his 
 own, as well as the success of them. And 
 the production of an effect by a series of 
 means, deriving their operation and their 
 beinff from God, instead of detracting from 
 his glory, displays it, much more than a sud- 
 den result without any intervention. The 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 147 
 
 one is a volition of God — the other an action. 
 The one proves his omnipotence — the other 
 shows also his wisdom and his condescension. 
 The one astonishes — the other instructs. 
 The one requires nothing — the other calls 
 for prayer and obedience. — We are not 
 wrought upon in religion as masons' work 
 on stone, or as carpenters' on wood ; we are 
 rational and moral subjects : God works by 
 setting us to work ; he " works in us to will 
 and to do of his good pleasure." He does 
 not repent, but he enables us to repent : he 
 does not believe, but he enables us to believe. 
 He not only works in us, but even by us. 
 He does not give me wisdom, without making 
 me wise: he informs me; and while he is 
 the teacher, I am the learner. I am not 
 carried forward like a man asleep in a ship : 
 he leads me, he aids me : I cannot go a step 
 without him, but / go with him. In doing 
 good, I am not moved by mechanism, but 
 motive. Renewing grace does not destroy 
 the order, the subordination, the use of our 
 spiritual powers, but restores them, establishes 
 them, sanctifies them. 
 
 There are some who seem to view the 
 means of grace as mere tests of obedience 
 to the will of God ; as mere arbitrary expe- 
 dients, which however used, leave it perfectly 
 uncertain whether any advantage can be 
 derived from them. We are to regard them 
 as a way in which we are to stand, in case 
 God should go by and leave a blessing ; not 
 as a road leading to an eud which we cer- 
 tainly and naturally approach, if we walk on 
 in it. The labours of the husbandman are 
 vain without the divine blessing : but there 
 is a vast difference between his sowing flints, 
 and his sowing corn : a crop, by the influence 
 of Heaven, not only attends the seed, but 
 grows out of it : the means of grace have a 
 passive suitableness in them ; they are adapted 
 to do us good by their very nature ; and the 
 blessing is made to flow from the use of them, 
 as well as to be obtained in it. They are 
 not spoken of in Scripture as experiments ; 
 nor should we employ them just to try, whe- 
 ther it be possible to gain any benefit : the 
 promise is more encouraging — " Blessed is 
 the man that heareth me, watching daily at 
 my gates, waiting at the posts of my doors." 
 " Then shall we know if we follow on to know 
 the Lord." " Ask, and it shall be given to 
 you. Seek, and ye shall find. Knock, and 
 it shall be opened unto you. For every one 
 that asketh, receiveth ; and he that seeketh, 
 findeth ; and to him that knocketh it shall 
 be opened." 
 
 We may here also notice the doctrine of i 
 divine providence. We believe in its uni- : 
 versality and minuteness. With men an at- 1 
 tention to little things prevents an attention i 
 to great things; and an attention to great i 
 things prevents an attention to little things. < 
 But it is otherwise with God. The heaven i 
 
 of heavens cannot contain him ; but lie conde- 
 • scends to dwell with man upon the earth. 
 He wings an angel, and he teaches the spider 
 to weave his web : nor can it be unworthy 
 i of him to sustain what was not beneath him 
 ; to create. There is dignity as well as truth 
 : in the language of our Saviour; " a sparrow 
 falleth not to the ground without your 
 Heavenly Father ; yea, the very hairs of 
 your head are all numbered." Yet I do not 
 think we are justified in accustoming our- 
 selves to such phrases as these, " The Lord 
 broke my leg;" "The Lord set my house 
 on fire ;" " The Lord blighted my apples." 
 
 Nor are we friendly to many of those ex- 
 pressions which seem to intimate, that the 
 Lord often steps out of his ordinary course to 
 indulge us. It savours of self-importance, 
 while the acknowledgment may really issue 
 from gratitude. Our speech should always 
 be with grace ; but it should be seasoned only 
 with salt. The frequent use of the name 
 of God, connected with things by no means 
 uncommon or peculiar, but which have 
 hereby an air of wonder and mystery given 
 them, produces in religion the effect of the 
 mock-heroic in poetry : and may not only 
 diminish veneration, but excite ridicule. 
 For things that are the same with regard to 
 God, are not so with regard to us. 
 
 In reference to any event in life, we are 
 more than authorized to say, "If the Lord 
 will :" but it is the sentiment that renders 
 the diction valuable : and as the mind may 
 feel the sentiment when the lips are silent, 
 so the tongue may utter the words, when the 
 mind feels nothing : yea, the individual may 
 even render the language more than insig- 
 nificant : it may become " as the body with- 
 out the spirit," which is not only dead but dis- 
 agreeable and offensive. I have heard of a 
 preacher, among a certain class of Christians, 
 who were formerly much more renowned 
 than they now are for disturbing the audience 
 by their frequent and noisy assents in prayer. 
 Conceiving that it was generally, at least, an 
 idle, unmeaning usage, in order to convince 
 them, he said as he was going on in his de- 
 votion, " Lord, take me immediately to hea- 
 ven ;" by the force of custom, " Amen" was 
 kindly exclaimed from many a worthy bro- 
 ther and sister, that would have been shock- 
 ed at the thought of wishing him dead. And 
 I knew a clerk, who was very conscientious 
 in giving out any intimation from the desk, 
 who once said, " There will be no preaching 
 here next Thursday, God willing.'" — But " a 
 preacher should be sparing of his smile ;" 
 and never indulge it to expose, but to recti- 
 fy. I wish to be understood. It is not ha- 
 bitual piety we oppose; it is not the intro- 
 duction of it into all our concerns ; for whe- 
 ther we eat or drink, or whatever we do, 
 we are to do all to the glory of God. But 
 it may be proper to suggest to some, that aa 
 
148 
 
 MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 there is " a form of godliness," so is there " a 
 form of knowledge," and " a form of words ;" 
 that genuine religion deals more in things 
 than in terms; that it induces us to be more 
 concerned for the reality than the appearance 
 of devotion; that though we cannot be right- 
 eous over-much as to principle and disposi- 
 tion, we may as to ostentatious display, un- 
 timely exertions, and irregular actings out 
 of our place and beyond our power. A Chris- 
 tian, like the sun, is to do good, not by noise, 
 but by shining; he is to operate principally 
 not by his tongue, but by his life ; by the 
 consistency, the holiness, and the charms of 
 his example. " For so is the will of God, 
 that with well doing ye may put to silence 
 the ignorance of foolish men." " Let your 
 light so shine before men, that they may see 
 your good works, and glorify your Father 
 which is in heaven." 
 
 A man should study the dispensations of 
 Providence. " Whoever is wise, and will ob- 
 serve these things, even they shall under- 
 stand the lovingkindness of the Lord." But 
 of the events befalling us, two views may be 
 taken. — First. These events may be very 
 distinguishing ; and our privileges peculiarly 
 great. In this case, though they may be no- 
 ticed by others, they can hardly be so well 
 announced by ourselves. Humility seems to 
 require the concealment, rather than the expo- 
 sure. Paul said, if I must needs glory, I will 
 glory in things that concern my infirmities. 
 He had visions and revelations of the Lord; 
 and once he was caught up into the third 
 heaven, and heard unspeakable words. After 
 such a distinction, some would not have been 
 able to contain themselves for a week or a 
 day. They would have gone forth and have 
 said to every one they met; " Where do you 
 think I have been"!" — Why "in the third 
 heaven." " And what do you think I have 
 heard?" — Why "unspeakable words, which 
 it is not lawful for a man to utter." But 
 Paul does not divulge the honour for more 
 than fourteen years — and then he was urged 
 by slander ; and mentions it, not in his own 
 praise, but in his own vindication, and to 
 magnify his office in the eyes of those that 
 unrighteously degraded him. — While he is 
 candid enough to acknowledge at the same 
 time, that it had nearly proved too much for 
 him ; and that he would have been exalted 
 above measure, but for a thorn in the flesh, a 
 messenger of Satan to buffet him. — Secondly. 
 We will suppose these events nothing more 
 than common occurrences. In this case, 
 though they may be worthy of attention and 
 review to the individual himself, they can 
 hardly be interesting or useful to others. 
 Thus, while in the one case publication may 
 be improper, in the other it becomes need- 
 less. As things diminish by distance, so they 
 are enlarged by nearness. Here persons are 
 liable to err ; and good men indulge in self- 
 
 consequence without knowing it. A work 
 that appears the offspring of pride, only re- 
 sults from contracted views; from peculiar 
 associations and habits ; from a real wish to 
 glorify God. If this be not taken into the 
 account when writings of a certain kind are 
 perused, we may censure the motive, as 
 much as we condemn the execution. I would 
 observe also, that in addition to these circum- 
 stances, we should endeavour to comprehend 
 their language. It is to be lamented that 
 many of our authors should use a lexicon pe- 
 culiar to themselves; but since this is the 
 case, to judge them we must examine it: 
 and yet many have it not at hand. When 
 Mr. Clark says " Such a day I had a call to 
 London ;" a stranger to his dialect may con- 
 clude that he was referring to some kind of 
 voice, or impulse, or be puzzled to understand 
 his meaning, when all that he intended was, 
 that circumstances rendered it his duty. 
 
 And here, before I conclude, I would remark 
 the propriety of a decisive and intelligible mode 
 of expression in religious concerns. It is not 
 enough for a man to render it possible to under- 
 stand his language ; he should render it easy : 
 he should endeavour to render it obvious, not 
 only to the initiated, but to those that are 
 without. He knows not who may hear him, 
 or read him beyond his own circle. Some 
 good men are not aware of the injury they 
 have done their cause by the use of certain 
 terms and phrases. Some of these being 
 early met with in a work, have led the reader 
 to prejudge and throw down the book, which 
 he might otherwise have been induced to 
 read to advantage. It is useless for the au- 
 thor to say he was misunderstood ; and that 
 the reader appears to have been full of preju- 
 dice. Who would use language so dark or 
 so dangerous, that numbers have not views 
 to comprehend or to qualify 1 A man who 
 has eyes can step over a stone, but who 
 would throw stumblingblocks in the way of 
 the blind ? — The figurative language of Scrip- 
 ture has often been rendered very exception- 
 able. Such words as resurrection, creation, 
 regeneration, or the new birth, are finely ap- 
 plied by the sacred writers to the subject 
 of religion: but instead of taking in the sim- 
 ple reference of the passage, the metaphor 
 has been pushed to excess, and the mis- 
 taken declaimer has supposed that whatever 
 is true of the image, is true of the doctrine. 
 Hence, such expressions have been used as 
 would lead many to imagine, that in our 
 renovation we are perfectly passive ; hence, 
 some of their readers seem to feel a kind of 
 diabolical acquiescence in their present con- 
 dition, as if their remaining in it was their 
 misfortune, and not their crime. The same 
 may be said of such declarations as these — 
 " Whatsoever is not of faith is sin." " They 
 that are in the flesh cannot please God." 
 " The prayer of the wicked is an abomina- 
 
MEMOIRS OF 
 
 tion." These, separate from the positions 
 and references which would explain and vin- 
 dicate them, are often delivered so abstract- 
 edly, as to become erroneous and hurtful : 
 men who are not conscious of religion, con- 
 cluding- that all their actions are the same ; 
 and that it matters not whether they go to 
 the house of God, or remain at home ; em- 
 ploy the Sabbath in reading the Scripture, 
 or the news of the week. — " This is not our 
 intention." Why then incur the danger? 
 Why occasion an abuse which you could so 
 easily escape'! 
 
 It is worthy of remark, how much of the 
 impression that a very celebrated review 
 aimed some time ago to make against me- 
 thodism, was derived from this kind of mate- 
 rials. Though we have no reason to believe 
 that the writers in question would be friendly 
 to evangelical truth, however soberly and ju- 
 diciously explained; yet the weapons they 
 wielded were certainly furnished not so much 
 by the doctrine of the two magazines, as the 
 quaint phrases, the cant terms, the low con- 
 ceits, the mystical jargon, the spiritual pro- 
 digies, the unqualified and abrupt decisions 
 with which, it must be confessed, they have 
 too much abounded. And surely nothing of 
 this was necessary in these publications. As 
 far as the extracts from them contained real 
 and valuable truth, neither the statement, nor 
 the effect, would have been injured by a dif- 
 ferent and unexceptionable representation. — 
 There are authors firmly attached to the doc- 
 trines of the gospel, and who have written in 
 the illustration and defence of them, that we 
 should not fear trusting in the hands of any 
 class of readers. We do not mean to intimate 
 that they would find nothing but what they 
 approved ; but the subject, and not the author 
 would offend : the displeasure would be " the 
 offence of the cross;" it would be the re- 
 proach of faith, and not of folly — of the former 
 we should never be ashamed : in the latter we 
 should never glory. 
 
 The reader will perceive that I have wan- 
 dered a little in some of these remarks ; and 
 that much of what I have advanced applies 
 but very partially and indirectly to the worthy 
 author and subject of the memoir we have re- 
 viewed. But from inferior faults, I have taken 
 occasion to deliver myself, without reserve 
 upon faults of the same species, appearing in 
 their more enlarged and extreme forms. It is 
 possible, it is probable, that by the use of this 
 liberty censure will be incurred. It was not 
 courted. It is not dreaded. The editor has 
 followed the convictions which he has felt 
 from an attentive survey of a certain portion 
 of the religious world for some years, and in 
 circumstances not unfavourable to observa- 
 tions. Under infirmities which remind him 
 that his breath is in his nostrils, he has endea- 
 voured to write in the fear of God. He pre- 
 sumes that none wish to be considered as in- 
 13* 
 
 JOHN CLARK. 149 
 
 fallible; that much harm has been done by 
 injudicious defence and indiscriminate ap- 
 plause; that useful bodies of men may be 
 rendered more useful ; that while attached to 
 the excellency of a cause, we yet should be 
 impartial enough to see what is erroneous, and 
 magnanimous enough to concede what is un- 
 tenable. Love need not, and should not be 
 blind. I admire the person of a friend, but 
 surely this does not require me to praise a 
 stain his face has accidentally contracted : 
 rather let me endeavour gently to wipe it off, 
 and not suffer strangers to identify it with the 
 figure. 
 
 As additional specimens of Mr. Clark's 
 manner of writing, and for the sake of the 
 useful hints they contain, I here insert a 
 hymn — a versification of a psalm, which, 
 though so exquisitely beautiful, Dr. Watts 
 has omitted to notice — and an address to 
 parents and tutors. The editor presumes the 
 propriety of his uniting to this work, the ad- 
 dress he delivered at the mournful funeral of 
 his friend, will not be questioned. 
 
 THE BREVITY OF LIFE. 
 Swift as an arrow cuts its way 
 
 Through the soft yielding air ; 
 Or as the sun's more subtle ray, 
 
 Or lightning's sudden glare; 
 Or as an eagle to the prey, 
 
 Or shuttle through the loom ;— 
 So haste our fleeting lives away, 
 
 So rush we to the tomb. 
 Like airy bubbles, lo! we rise, 
 
 And dance upon life's stream ; 
 Till soon the air that caus'd, destroys 
 
 Th' attenuated frame. 
 Down the swift stream we glide apace, 
 
 And carry death within ; 
 Then break, and scarcely leave a trace 
 
 To show that we have been. 
 The man the wisest of our kind, 
 
 Who length of days had seen; 
 To birth and death a time assign'd, 
 
 But none to life between. 
 Yet lo ! what consequences close 
 
 This transient state below ; 
 Eternal joys, or, missing those, 
 
 Interminable wo. 
 
 THE CXXXVII PSALM PARAPHRASED. 
 
 By Babel's streams we sat and wept ; 
 
 For Zion's woes our hearts did rend : 
 Our harps, in tune no longer kept, 
 
 Upon the willows we suspend. 
 For there our foes insult us still, 
 
 And taunting, aggravate our wrongs — 
 " Captives display your boasted skill ; 
 
 Come sing us one of Zion's songs." 
 The songs of Zion are the Lord's, 
 
 And his are all the notes we raise ; 
 We will not touch the tuneful chords 
 
 Till we can sound them in his praise. 
 While Zion lies in ruin still, 
 
 Dare we her dear remembrance leave? 
 No, first these hands shall lose their skill, 
 
 These tongues shall to our palates cleave. 
 Remember, Lord, how Edom's sons 
 
 Proudly contemn'd us in our woes; 
 Triumph'd o'er Zion's scatter'd stones, 
 
 And urg'd to rage her cruel foes. 
 But God will Babylon destroy. 
 
 Her righteous doom shall none retard: 
 And happy he who sees the day, 
 
 When she shall meet her due reward. 
 
150 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 TO PARENTS, &c. 
 Parents, and all who have in charge 
 
 To form the rising race, 
 Your duties numerous are and large ! 
 
 And awful is your place. 
 The honour of your Maker's name, 
 
 The welfare of mankind; 
 Your children's happiness and fame- 
 Are all to you consign'd. 
 O then invoke the aid of heav'n, 
 
 Superior wisdom ask ; 
 That love and prudence may be giv'n 
 
 To undertake the task. 
 And would you much relieve your toil? 
 
 Then meet their tempers right: 
 False tenderness is sure to spoil : 
 
 And harshness to affright. 
 Nor yet neglect restraint too long, 
 
 Till nature 's wild and rude: 
 Habits of vice may grow so strong 
 
 As scarce to be subdu'd. 
 The garden of the youthful mind 
 
 Must not be left alone: 
 Some work therein you 'II daily find 
 
 Is needful to be done. 
 The useful plant and pleasant flow'r 
 
 Are rais'd with care and toil : 
 But noxious weeds too oft o'erpower ; 
 
 Congenial with the soil. 
 
 While green the twig, and pliant still, 
 
 Then bend it to its place; 
 While warm the wax, impress the seal, 
 
 Which time will not efface. 
 And first, unto the great Supreme 
 
 Direct their high regard: 
 Whith solemn awe to speak of him, 
 
 His name, his works, his word. 
 And ever let them rev'rence yield 
 
 To his appointed day: 
 Not saunt'ring o'er the streets or fields 
 
 In idleness or play ; 
 But to the temples of his grace, 
 
 Your young immortals lead ; 
 And what they hear, at home impress, 
 
 And there the Scriptures read. 
 
 Next, to the pow'rs which God ordains, 
 
 Enjoin submission due; 
 Obedience to superiors gains 
 
 Authority to you. 
 Teach them with equals to forego, 
 
 All bickerings and strife; 
 
 JOHN CLARK. 
 
 Peace and good nature often know 
 
 A long and happy life. 
 From savage cruelty, O turn 
 
 Betimes the lender mind! 
 Who torture insects, soon may learn 
 
 To butcher human kind ! 
 But eveiy kind and gentle deed 
 
 Should your applauses meet: 
 Sure those who kindness always need, 
 
 Should others kindly treat. 
 To make distress their merriment, 
 
 Deserves severest blame: 
 The wanton crime God may resent, 
 
 And make your child the same! 
 
 Immodest speeches, songs obscene, 
 
 Teach them to shun and hate; 
 With what is vulgar, low, or mean. 
 
 In language or in gait. 
 But let their minds retain and prize, 
 
 More than their daily food, 
 The choicest sayings of the wise, 
 
 And maxims of the good. 
 Dishonest practices, and mean, 
 
 Discountenance always: 
 Nor let a knavish trick be seen, 
 
 E'en in their childish plays. 
 To hate a lie, to love the truth, 
 
 Inculcate all you can : 
 These make an amiable youth, 
 
 And a respected man. 
 
 Though now their labour needless seems, 
 
 To industry inure : 
 What may befall in future times, 
 
 No mortal can be sure. 
 
 Let them not idly pass a day, 
 
 Some useful study find, 
 Or innocent and healthful play, 
 
 To recreate the mind. 
 
 But with what play-mates ere you trust 
 
 Your darling, O beware ! 
 Example, like corroding rust, 
 
 Will tarnish all your care. 
 
 Who would be wise, must with the wise 
 
 Associate day by day: 
 Oft, deeds that manhood signalize 
 
 Are learned in youthful play. 
 
 Thus taught to act their part aright 
 
 On life's important stage, 
 They now will prove your heart's delight, 
 
 And soothe your drooping age. 
 
 AN ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE INTERMENT. 
 
 — These are the remains of the Rev. John 
 
 Clark ; once — alas ! what language death 
 
 compels us to use ! — once — the kind neigh- 
 bour arid friend of these mourning connexions 
 who are bedewing his memory with their 
 tears; — once the affectionate father of this 
 beloved son who is raising his streaming eyes 
 to a nobler relation, and saying "thou art the 
 guide of my youth;" — once — the tender 
 husband of this pious widow who is endea- 
 vouring to say, " the Lord gave and the Lord 
 hath taken away, and blessed be the name 
 of the Lord ;" — once — the faithful pastor of 
 this bereaved people who are "mourning 
 most of all that they shall see his face and 
 hear his voice no more." 
 
 And for what purpose are we assembled 
 together] — Not to flatter. Who could in- 
 dulge in adulation with a grave yawning 
 under his eye? — Not even to eulogize the 
 dead ; — not to enlarge on the excellency of 
 
 his character, his intellectual powers, his ac- 
 quired endowments, the originality of his 
 preaching, or the success of his labours in 
 the conversion of souls, and the formation 
 and enlargement of a flourishing Christian 
 church. And the reason is — not because we 
 deem funeral eulogy improper. The memo- 
 ry of the just is blessed ; and we ought to 
 hold up to view examples of divine grace and 
 to glorify God in them. — Not because we feel 
 a disinclination to speak of the deceased. It 
 would exceedingly gratify the feelings of 
 him who is now addressing you if he were 
 favoured with an opportunity to do justice to 
 a character he has always held in the highest 
 esteem. — But it would violate order by anti- 
 cipating what custom has rendered more 
 proper to bring forward in a funeral sermon, 
 and which will be delivered within these 
 walls on the Lord's-day morning by our 
 young friend and brother, who now fully sue- 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 151 
 
 ceeds to the office of the departed man of 
 God. — May a double portion of the spirit of 
 Elijah rest on Elisha. 
 
 — What then has drawn us around this 
 vault, and how shall we occupy the few mo- 
 ments sacred to this service 1 We are come 
 hither to see that creatures are nothing ; that 
 man in his best estate is altogether vanity ; 
 that human distinctions and advantages are 
 precarious and vanishing. Here the rich and 
 the poor meet together. The small and the 
 great are here. And how dieth the wise 
 man ] Even as the fool. " The voice said, 
 cry ; and I said, what shall I cry — All flesh 
 is grass and all the goodliness thereof is as 
 the flower of the field." 
 
 We are called hither to contemplate the 
 evil of sin. It is this that has turned us out 
 of paradise into a wilderness ; it is this that 
 has cursed the ground and sown it with 
 thorns and briers ; it is this that has stored 
 the elements with mischief ; it is this that 
 has produced earthquakes, famine, pestilence, 
 war ; it is this that has infected the constitu- 
 tion with numberless diseases, that breaks in 
 pieces the human frame, that tears asunder 
 the bonds that attach so closely together the 
 various relations of life, that reduces the lovely 
 form to putrefaction, that compels us to bury 
 our dead out of our sight, " where they say 
 to corruption, Thou art my father ; and unto 
 the worm, Thou art my mother and sister." 
 And do you — can you love sin ? Can you 
 serve a monster stained with the blood of 
 every dear relation, and of all mankind ! Can 
 you roll that as a sweet morsel under your 
 tongue which is infinitely more poisonous 
 than the gall of asps 1 — If there was no other 
 consideration to excite an abhorrence of sin, 
 this is surely sufficient — that it " brought 
 death into the world and all our wo." 
 
 We are called together to learn what we 
 are so prone to forget, that we are dying, and 
 by an instance of mortality in another to be 
 reminded of our own. We are all partakers 
 of the same nature : we are all under the ope- 
 ration of the same sentence, " dust thou art 
 and unto dust shalt thou return." Death is 
 the " way of all the earth :" the grave " the 
 house appointed for all living." In other 
 wars there are exemptions, there are dismis- 
 sions, but in this "there is no discharge." 
 The solemnities and services that we see at- 
 tending our neighbours, friends, and relations, 
 will be required for us: — will be required 
 certainly ; and will be required soon. " For 
 what is our life ] It is even a vapour that ap- 
 peareth for a little time and then vanisheth 
 away." " Our days are swifter than a wea- 
 ver's shuttle." Every image that art and na- 
 ture can supply is employed in the Scriptures 
 to hold forth the brevity of our duration upon 
 earth : but no language can express, no ima- 
 gination can conceive the importance at- 
 tached to the termination of it. And yet it is 
 
 as true as it astonishing — that the principal 
 care of thousands is only to keep this most in- 
 teresting of all subjects from their thoughts ! 
 But if there are any such deluded creatures 
 hearing me this morning, let me remind you 
 — that shutting your eyes against danger is 
 not providing for your security : that your 
 putting the evil day far off is not putting it 
 away ; that your forgetfulness of the event 
 does not even retard its approach. — While I 
 speak you die. Every breath you draw, every 
 pulse you beat brings you nearer the hour 
 that will demonstrate the insufficiency of the 
 world to succour you, and lay open to your 
 view those states of immortal existence that 
 await you beyond the grave. And can you 
 deem it improper or needless to realize this 
 truth? and make this awful fact the subject 
 of serious reflection ! Would it not be rea- 
 sonable and useful to say individually to your- 
 selves — " Suppose my body was nailed up in 
 this coffin, in what region, and with what as- 
 sociates would my soul now be found 1 — 
 Should I be joined to the spirits of just men 
 made perfect, or have my portion with the 
 devil and his angels 1" Would it not be 
 pious, would it not be blessed to pray, " Make 
 me to know my end and the measure of my 
 days what it is, that I may know how frail 1 
 am. So teach us to number our days that 
 we may apply our hearts unto wisdom 1" 
 
 We are come hither to inquire what can 
 prepare us to meet the king of terrors, and 
 make us more than conquerors over the last 
 enemy that is to be destroyed. And here, by 
 every thing that is awful and interesting, let 
 me beseech you to guard not only against in- 
 difference but against mistake. For there is 
 a way that seemeth right unto a man, but it 
 ends in the most dreadful disappointment. 
 The consequences of delusion are remediless; 
 the possibility of it is obvious ; the frequency 
 of it is certain. There are many whose hope 
 is as the spider's web — curiously wrought 
 but easily destroyed. Search the Scriptures 
 therefore, and pray that the spirit of God may 
 lead you into all truth. You will then be 
 directed to Him in whom our absent friend 
 alone trusted, and in whom he found " right- 
 eousness and strength :" to Him who presents 
 himself to us under every form of kindness 
 and love, and cries "Come unto me all ye 
 that labour and are heavy laden and I will 
 give you rest:" to Him who even among 
 these desolations and triumphs of mortality 
 appears, " the resurrection and the life," and 
 promises " He that believeth in me though 
 he were dead yet shall he live ; and whoso- 
 ever liveth and believeth in me shall never 
 die." — Belie vest thou this 7 — Are you con- 
 vinced that he is the only foundation on which 
 a sinner can build with safety 1 That he is 
 the way, the truth, and the life ; and that no 
 man cometh unto the Father but by him 1 
 That he once suffered for sins the just for the 
 
152 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 unjust, that he might bring us unto God] 
 That he is our peace ; and that by his stripes 
 we are healed ! Have you ever addressed 
 him in the language of Peter, " Lord save or 
 I perish !" Have you ever committed your 
 eternal concerns into his hand, knowing in 
 whom you have believed ! Is the life that you 
 now live in the flesh by the faith of the Son 
 of God who loved you and gave himself for 
 you ! Is he every thing to you, and is he 
 every thing with you ! Is the same mind in 
 you that was also in Christ Jesus ! Does the 
 same blood that speaks peace to your troubled 
 consciences purify them also from dead works 
 to serve the living and true God 1 — Such a 
 man is prepared for life with all its events ; 
 for death with all its importance. Let him 
 die how lie will — where he will — when he 
 will ; to die is gain. The consequences of 
 death being so tremendous, and the uncer- 
 tainty of life being so manifestly great, no 
 man, while unfit to leave this world, can pos- 
 sibly enjoy any happiness, but from ignorance 
 or diversion : the moment he reflects, his 
 peace and pleasure melt away. But what a 
 source of tranquillity and satisfaction has he, 
 — who possesses a good hope through grace 
 that he is " accepted in the beloved ;" that 
 he has " redemption through his blood even 
 the forgiveness of sins ;" that " God has given 
 to him the earnest of the spirit:" — who 
 knows that while " the earthly house of this 
 tabernacle is dissolving, he has a building of 
 God, a house not made with hands, eternal 
 in the heavens :" — who can say " Yea though 
 I walk through the valley of the shadow of 
 death I will fear no evil, for thou art with 
 me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me" 
 — " I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord." 
 This man alone is worthy of our envy. " Let 
 me die the death of the righteous, and let my 
 last end be like his." 
 
 We are called hither to weep and mourn. 
 It would argue a criminal insensibility if 
 when the righteous perished no man laid it 
 to heart. It would defeat the moral pur- 
 poses of Heaven in the dispensation. " By the 
 sadness of the countenance the heart is made 
 better." On such an occasion as this — 
 " Our grief becomes us and our tears are just." 
 
 Not indeed with regard to the deceased. He 
 is released, indulged, enriched, dignified, ex- 
 ceeding abundantly above all we could ask or 
 think: and with subordinate propriety he 
 could say to survivors with our Lord " If ye 
 loved me ye would rejoice, because I said I go 
 unto the Father." But his gain is our loss. 
 We lose by his removal, a benefactor, a de- 
 fender, an advocate, an example : and when 
 we look, and see reason weeping, mercy 
 weeping, truth weeping, religion weeping, 
 can we avoid the sympathy, and refuse to 
 weep too ! — As such men, such Christians, 
 such ministers withdraw, what a melancholy 
 
 JOHN CLARK. 
 
 hue they cast around — how they impoverish 
 our world — how they come "over us like 
 clouds to cool our brain less arduous" — how 
 they wean us 
 
 From these low grounds where sorrows grow 
 And every pleasure dies. 
 
 — How they allure us upwards, and induce 
 us to say with Thomas, " Let us go away that 
 we may die with him." 
 
 We are called hither to pay the last token 
 of respect to the revered remains now lying 
 before us. What though these eyes that once 
 beamed intelligence are closed in darkness ; 
 what though these lips are silent that once 
 proclaimed the Saviour's love ; what though 
 this body be now deserted of its immortal in- 
 habitant, and is reduced to a senseless clod — 
 yet it is not to be despised — it was the work- 
 manship of God — it was the temple of the 
 Holy Ghost — it did accompany the soul in 
 every trial and duty — it is the Redeemer's 
 purchase — it shall be " changed and fashioned 
 like his own glorious body, according to the 
 working whereby he is able even to subdue 
 all things unto himself." — In the belief of this 
 truth we commit this precious seed to the 
 dust. — 
 
 [Here the corpse was laid in the grave.] 
 
 — " It is sown in dishonour; it is raised in 
 glory: it is sown in weakness; it is raised in 
 power : it is sown a natural body ; it is raised 
 a spiritual body. There is a natural body, and 
 there is a spiritual body. And so it is writ- 
 ten, the first man Adam was made a living 
 soul ; the last Adam was made a quickening 
 spirit. Howbeit that was not first which is 
 spiritual, but that which is natural ; and af- 
 terward that which is spiritual. The first 
 man is of the earth, earthy : the second man 
 is the Lord from heaven. As is the earthy, 
 such are they also that are earthy ; and as is 
 the heavenly, sucli are they also that are hea- 
 venly. And as we have borne the image of 
 the earthy, we shall also bear the image of the 
 heavenly. Now this I say, brethren, that 
 flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom 
 of God ; neither doth corruption inherit incor- 
 ruption. Behold, I show you a mystery ; we 
 shall not all sleep, but we shall all be chan- 
 ged, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, 
 at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, 
 and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, 
 and we shall be changed. For this corrupti- 
 ble must put on incorruption, and this mortal 
 must put on immortality. So when this cor- 
 ruptible shall have put on incorruption, and 
 this mortal shall have put on immortality, 
 then shall be brought to pass the saying that 
 is written, death is swallowed up in victory. 
 O death, where is thy sting 1 O grave, where 
 is thy victory ! The sting of death is sin ; 
 and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks 
 | be to God, which giveth us the victory 
 
MEMOIRS OF JOHN CLARK. 
 
 153 
 
 through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, 
 my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, immove- 
 able, always abounding in the work of the 
 Lord ; forasmuch as ye know that your labour 
 is not in vain in the Lord." 
 
 And now servant of God farewell. We turn 
 away from thy tomb to mingle with thy spirit, 
 and to transcribe the excellencies of thy life 
 into our own. We hail thee. Thy warfare 
 is accomplished. Thy tears are wiped away. 
 Thou hast reached him who was the end of 
 thy conversation, " Jesus Christ, the same yes- 
 terday, to-day, and for ever." We rejoice 
 that no man has taken thy crown. We rejoice 
 that thou hast left a profession unstained by 
 error or by vice. We rejoice that we have 
 nothing to conceal, nothing to extenuate 
 when thy name, mentioned in public or in 
 private, awakens the attentions it deserves. 
 — Thy dying pillow was not perplexed with 
 
 those anxious forebodings that have tried the 
 faith of many ; the objects of thy regard are 
 amply enriched by the bounty of providence, 
 and are disposed to honour the Lord with 
 their substance. The wife of thy bosom is 
 following hard after thee : and the son of her 
 womb, and the son of her vows is resolving, at 
 thy hallowed grave, that she shall not travel 
 alone — her people shall be his people, and her 
 God his God. Thine eyes have seen the good 
 of Jerusalem ; a numerous church undivided 
 and peaceful, blessed with a pastor after thine 
 own heart " who shall feed them with know- 
 ledge and understanding ;" and who, though 
 " young and tender," is looking to that grace 
 that is sufficient for him. — 
 
 Our separation is only temporary ; a time of 
 re-union is hastening on. Farewell, Farewell. 
 — We shall soon meet thee in that world 
 where the sound will be heard no more. 
 
 U 
 
PREFACE 
 
 LIFE OF MRS. SAVAGE. 
 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 In November last, going to Shrewsbury to 
 preach for the Swan Hill Sunday-school, I 
 called upon my amiable and worthy friend, 
 the editor of the following sheets. He 
 showed me a number of manuscript volumes, 
 filled with the diary and remarks of Mrs. 
 Savage; and intimated some design of pub- 
 lishing a selection from them. I was so im- 
 pressed and delighted, after hearing various 
 extracts, indiscriminately taken, that I ap- 
 plauded the wish, and endeavoured to accele- 
 rate the accomplishment of it. Having there- 
 fore rendered myself in some measure re- 
 sponsible for the publication, by my opinion 
 and advice, I the more readily comply with 
 his desire in writing a few words by way of 
 introduction. 
 
 The relationship of this good woman will 
 deservedly bespeak some peculiar attention 
 to the following pages : for who, without sen- 
 timents of love and veneration, can think of 
 PHILIP HENRY, her Father, and of MAT- 
 THEW HENRY, her Brother ? 
 
 The daughter and the sister was worthy 
 of her excellent kindred. She possessed 
 much of their piety, and no inconsiderable 
 share of their talent. She had their familiar 
 acquaintance with the Scripture; their prompt 
 remembrance of its significant phrases ; and 
 their easy and pertinent accommodation ofthem 
 to events. She had the same devoutness of 
 remark ; the same sprightliness of observation ; 
 the same degree of quaintness — just sufficient 
 to awaken notice, and aid recollection, but 
 not enough entirely to offend good taste. 
 
 She was " a gracious woman, and she re- 
 tains honour." By the providence of Him 
 who has said, " Them that honour me I will 
 honour," after serving her generation accord- 
 ing to the will of God, and falling asleep, her 
 memory, at the distance of more than a cen- 
 tury, is blessed ; and her works, written in 
 the closet, praise her in the gate. 
 
 The species of writing in which she so 
 largely indulged, was far more common in her 
 days than it is in ours. It has been abused, 
 and rendered ridiculous by its minuteness and 
 too frequent publication: yet properly con- 
 
 ducted, it would prove eminently conducive 
 to usefulness. It would promote communion 
 with Providence, and bring a man within the 
 reach of the promise, " Whoso is wise, and 
 will observe these things, even they shall un- 
 derstand the lovingkindness of the Lord." 
 It would secure the habit of retirement, and 
 the practice of self-inspection. It would en- 
 able the writer, in review, to compare him- 
 self with himself, and awaken humiliation and 
 repentance, when, instead of growing in grace 
 and in the knowledge of his Lord and Sa- 
 viour, he found that he was standing still, or 
 had left his first love. — And though we have 
 not the formality of the thing in the Scrip- 
 ture, we have many indications of the princi- 
 ple : as in the names which Joseph and Moses 
 imposed upon their children; in the stone 
 which Samuel reared and called Ebenezer ; 
 in the pot of manna, and Aaron's rod that 
 budded, laid up in the ark; in the command — 
 " Thou shall remember all the way which the 
 Lord thy God led thee these forty years in the 
 wilderness:" in the reproof— "Of the rock 
 that begat thee thou art unmindful, and hast 
 forgotten the God that formed thee :" in the 
 resolution — " Bless the Lord, O my soul, and 
 forget not all his benefits." 
 
 Some diaries were written, either for the 
 express purpose of meeting the public eye, 
 or in the apprehended probability of it. When 
 this is known to be the case, we cannot pe- 
 ruse them with the same degree of pleasure 
 and freedom as when they seem written for 
 their own sake, and betray no wish to produce 
 effect. Nothing was further from the mind 
 of Mrs. Savage, than the public exhibition of 
 what she wrote. It was solely inscribed for 
 her own use and edification. Her views in it 
 she has thus recorded. "It is in my thoughts 
 to do something in the nature of a diary, 
 being encouraged by the advantage others 
 have gained thereby, and the hope that I 
 might be furthered by it in a godly life, 
 and be more watchful over the frame of my 
 heart, when it must be kept on record. I 
 would approve myself to God, who alone 
 knows the sincerity of my heart. To him I 
 154 
 
PREFACE TO THE LIFE OF MRS. SAVAGE. 
 
 155 
 
 have made known my request herein, and I 
 heartily beg, that what I shall at any time 
 put down, may be the workings of my heart, 
 and that in nothing I may bear witness against 
 myself." In this temper of mind the whole 
 seems to have been penned : and nothing can 
 be more pleasing or edifying than the peru- 
 sal of such unstudied, undisguised represent- 
 ations of her conscience and her character. 
 
 The inspection shows us, that a dissent from 
 the National Church may be founded in con- 
 viction, as well as education ; and does not 
 necessarily imply a fastidious, or a factious 
 disposition ; that it does not render its subject 
 blind to what is good or excellent in the 
 doctrine and liturgy of the establishment, or 
 prevent prayer for its success, or rejoicing in 
 its welfare. It shows us too, how little it en- 
 courages disaffection to civil obedience, or 
 forbids " rendering to Caesar the things that are 
 Caesar's." Could the diaries of Mrs. Savage's 
 times be explored, what a contrast would be 
 found between the sentiments such worthies 
 confessed before God in their most sacred 
 moments, and those charged upon them by 
 their calumniating adversaries. Take the 
 following extract from the journal of her ho- 
 noured father, when deprived of his living for 
 conscience' sake : — 
 
 " 1663, May 29th. A thanksgiving day for 
 the king's return ; a mercy in itself, for which 
 the Lord be praised, though I, and many more, 
 suffer by it." 
 
 We perceive in these pages, that evangeli- 
 cal principles do not lead to licentiousness, 
 but are friendly to every duty we owe to 
 God, our fellow-creatures, and ourselves. 
 Where do we here see any traces of — that 
 bold familiarity with the Supreme Being — 
 of that contempt of others, which cries, Stand 
 by, I am holier than thou — of that relaxation 
 of vigilance ; that carelessness of conduct ; 
 that presumptuousness of hope, which in the 
 minds and languages of many, seem for ever 
 identified with the doctrines of grace 1 
 
 We may see here somewhat of the nature 
 and value of Christian experience. We are 
 accustomed to speak of doctrine, experience, 
 and practice ; but though these are in a measure 
 different, they are not separable : they resem- 
 ble the colours in the rainbow ; you can dis- 
 tinguish them, but you cannot limit; they 
 imperceptibly melt into each other. Christian 
 experience results from enlightened views of 
 divine things, which is no other than doctrinal 
 belief: and it issues in the conversation and 
 life — which is nothing less than practical 
 godliness. Yea these operate mutually, as 
 cause and effect : for as our perceptions in- 
 fluence our feelings, and these our conduct ; 
 so practice increases our feelings, and these 
 aid our judgment ; for the exemplification of 
 our religious views in our dispositions and 
 actions, renders them more clear, and more 
 powerful. Hence the meaning of the term ; 
 
 for experience signifies knowledge derived 
 from trial, in contradistinction to conjecture 
 and theory. A Christian does not at first adopt 
 religious sentiments, or engage in religious 
 exercises, with a view to make experiments ; 
 yet a reception of the former, and an atten- 
 tion to the latter have this effect. They put 
 these things into a state of trial ; and a new 
 kind of evidence is obtained by the individual. 
 He that believeth hath the witness in him- 
 self; and though it may not be convincing to 
 others, it is very satisfactory to his own heart, 
 and lie is neither to be ridiculed, or argued 
 out of it. Hence, says our Lord, " Ye shall 
 know the truth, and the truth shall make you 
 free." Hence men are invited to " taste and 
 see that the Lord is good." Hence Christians 
 are represented as having " tasted that the 
 Lord is gracious." Hence David says, " Be- 
 cause thou hast been my help, therefore under 
 the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice :" and 
 Paul exults, " I know whom I have believed, 
 and am persuaded that he is able to keep that 
 which I have committed to him against that 
 day." 
 
 I here look into Mrs. Savage's heart, and I 
 see this satisfaction — yet not excluding many 
 anxious and painful feelings : and the Chris- 
 tian is pourtrayed in the Scripture, by his fear, 
 as well as by his confidence ; by his weeping, 
 as well as rejoicing. A stone remains the 
 same all the year ; but what changes does 
 the living tree feel, and what different aspects 
 does it exhibit in the four seasons ? I see in 
 this subject of divine grace, no vain, no proud 
 pretensions ; she nowhere says, " I have made 
 my heart clean, I am pure from my sin ;" " I 
 have already attained, I am already perfect :" 
 but in every page she cries, " This one thing I 
 do, forgetting the things that are behind, and 
 reaching forth unto those that are before, I 
 press toward the mark for the prize of my 
 high calling of God in Christ Jesus." Amidst 
 all her complaints of the want of more con- 
 formity and devotedness to God, we still see 
 her — differing from others — a new creature 
 — God's workmanship: and we see reason 
 why Christians, under all their acknowledged 
 imperfections, are called "righteous," and 
 " godly," and " holy," and " spiritual :" — for 
 we see the complete state to which she 
 aspired powerfully at work in its principles ; 
 already commenced in its preparations; al- 
 ready insured in its earnests ; already en- 
 joyed in its foretastes. We see " the path of 
 the just, which is as the shining light, that 
 shineth more and more unto the perfect day." 
 
 The experience of Mrs. Savage shows us, 
 that religion is not always begun abruptly, or 
 in a manner bordering on prodigy. It is often 
 derived, under the divine agency, from pious 
 education, family worship, parental instruc- 
 tion, holy example. Mr. Baxter goes so far 
 as to say, that if these were discharged as 
 they ought to be, even the preaching of the 
 
156 
 
 PREFACE TO THE LIFE OF MRS. SAVAGE. 
 
 word would not be the most common means 
 of conversion. It is certain that many of the 
 most eminent and useful ministers among 
 the puritans and nonconformists were not 
 converted from a course of profligacy, but 
 were trained up in the nurture and admonition 
 of the Lord; from children knew the holy 
 Scriptures : and the change in them was as 
 gradual in its progress, as it was proved to be 
 real and divine in its effects. 
 
 Many, I fear, are tempted to think suspici- 
 ously or loweringly of the acquisition of reli- 
 gion in this humble and unostentatious mode : 
 and deem it far preferable, that a man should 
 have been led from the depths of Satan into 
 the way everlasting; have felt a sudden vio- 
 lence ; and, after enduring insufferable terror 
 and anguish, be elevated into confidence and 
 rapture. We are not to limit the Holy One 
 of Israel ; yet ought we to be careful, not to 
 draw universal conclusions from particular 
 cases, or convert exceptions into general 
 rules. It is one of the golden sentences of 
 Mr. Henry, her brother, " God is sometimes 
 found of them that seek him not, but he is al- 
 ways found of them that seek him." It is a 
 mercy if God calls us by his grace in any 
 way ; but where the certainty of the change 
 is so extremely obvious, the subject is too 
 prone to rest convinced of the fact, instead of 
 praying " create in me a clean heart, O God, 
 and renew a right spirit within me." From 
 the apparent magnitude of the change, he is 
 too prone to feel, as if it had finished a work 
 which it only began. From the superior 
 notice and wonder it excites, the more temp- 
 tation is there to spiritual vanity and pride. 
 The suddenness of the illumination frequent- 
 ly dazzles, while it enlightens ; and the man 
 is likely to feel and retain a partial attach- 
 ment to some one religious doctrine, accord- 
 ing to the first direction his mind takes under 
 such a novel and powerful impression: and 
 for want of those relative views, which should 
 accompany and qualify and direct his fervour, 
 his zeal is seldom according to knowledge. 
 Often too, coarseness and freedom of manners 
 result from former viciousness, of which the 
 individuals themselves are not aware, but 
 which expose them in their social, especially 
 female intercourse. I never knew a professor 
 of religion, or a preacher of the word, who 
 fell by certain temptations, but had been, pre- 
 viously to his connexion with the Christian 
 world, the victim of vice. Moral and virtuous 
 habits produce delicacy and impose restraint. 
 Former scenes of guilt will often revive in 
 the imagination; and though they are not 
 entertained there, yet by passing through the 
 mind, they defile it, and distress it. I have 
 heard more than one pious character confess 
 the pain and injury he has suffered from this 
 quartc - , even in his public and retired devo- 
 tions, and who would have given the world 
 to be free from the shocks he received from 
 
 the hauntings of the ghosts of his old iniqui- 
 ties. To which he may add, that though 
 morality is not religion, yet it is a social be- 
 nefit — but the man called from the dregs of 
 profaneness, has to look back upon the injury 
 he has done to others, and to mourn over ef- 
 fects which he cannot repair. He has led astray 
 many that he may never be able to reclaim ; 
 and seeing those running the downward road, 
 whom he led into it and encouraged by his 
 vices, influence, and example, how often, as 
 he advances towards heaven, which he is 
 almost ashamed to enter, must he sigh and 
 pray, " Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, O 
 God of my salvation." 
 
 These reflections are not designed to ex- 
 clude any from hope, however deeply they 
 have transgressed ; or to withhold esteem and 
 confidence from those who have obtained 
 mercy ; but to remove a mistake by no means 
 uncommon; and to induce those who have 
 been preserved from vice, to be peculiarly 
 thankful, that they were moral before they 
 were converted ; and to bless God for those 
 early advantages which led them into con- 
 nected and consistent views of religion ; and 
 that their characters were formed after 
 models of excellency, placed constantly in 
 sight, and endeared by all the claims of na- 
 ture. They are designed also to call upon 
 parents, not to leave their children to a kind 
 of religious chance ; or to suppose that divine 
 grace is a thing perfectly independent of 
 rational and pious means, instead of being 
 connected with them and conveyed by them, 
 and in them. Let the command and the pro- 
 mise be ever in their mind : " Train up a 
 child in the way that he should go, and when 
 he is old he will not depart from it." Not 
 that means are ever sufficient of themselves 
 without the divine blessing, (and therefore 
 there is as much need of prayer as of exer- 
 tion,) but when God has appointed the means, 
 and engaged to bless them, our hope is well 
 founded; and in the proper use of them 
 we may expect success with as much cer- 
 tainty, as in nature, the sower expects to 
 reap. 
 
 Finally. I have no wish to hinder the 
 humbling sense of inferiority, which persons 
 acquainted with themselves will feel in read- 
 ing these papers. There are certainly de- 
 grees of religious excellency. Even the 
 good ground brought forth in the varied pro- 
 portions of thirty, sixty, and an hundred fold. 
 What a difference do we see between Abra- 
 ham and Lot, with regard to lowliness of 
 mind, self-denial, and a spirit of conciliation. 
 What a difference between the centurion, 
 who took our Saviour at his word, and Thomas, 
 who required every kind of sensible evidence. 
 — And Christians are in honour to prefer one 
 another. Yet it should be remembered, that 
 what is written in such diaries as this, is the 
 fruit of retirement and reflection, and the 
 
PREFACE TO THE LIFE OF MRS. SAVAGE. 
 
 157 
 
 summary of the best feelings called forth in 
 the presence of God. And whatever modern 
 Christians think of themselves, I love not for 
 others to view them as a race, very inferior 
 to those who lived in an earlier period. We 
 know who has said, " Say not thou, what is 
 the cause that the former days were better 
 than these? for thou dost not inquire wisely 
 concerning this." 
 
 There may be the same degree of religious 
 principle, while yet it is put forth in different 
 ways. Even the constitutional temper will 
 have some influence, as we see in the case 
 of Martha and Mary. There was the same 
 regard to our Saviour in each; but Martha 
 was cumbered about much serving, while 
 Mary sat at his feet to hear his words ; and 
 when, after the death of the brother, he was 
 coming into Bethany, Martha went out to 
 meet him, but Mary sat still in the house. — 
 Nor should we forget, that the providence of 
 God often diversifies the direction of religious 
 principle. At one time it peculiarly calls 
 forth the passive, at another, the active graces 
 of the Christian: at one season it requires 
 more of the private exercises of godliness, at 
 another, more of its public efforts: winter 
 leads the sap down into the roots, while sum- 
 mer calls it up into the branches, and dis- 
 plays it in the blossoms and the fruit. 
 
 We readily acknowledge, that with regard 
 to the more private and retired influence of 
 religion, they who lived in the days of Mrs. 
 Savage were superior to the generality of 
 modern Christians; but we make no scruple 
 to say, many modern Christians are far 
 superior to them in public spirit and active 
 exertions. If the river spreads wide, or flows 
 in various fertilizing currents, it cannot be 
 expected to roll so deep. How little work- 
 ing, comparatively, do we find even in the 
 feelings of many of these worthies towards 
 the cause of God at large ! Their own souls, 
 their families, their particular churches — 
 these drew forth their concern, but too much 
 restricted it too. The present day exhibits 
 a very different scene: and from a thousand 
 public assemblies, convened for the very pur- 
 pose, and evincing their sincerity and fer- 
 vency by their efforts and sacrifices, we hear 
 the exclamation, " Let the whole earth be 
 filled with his glory." There is indeed a 
 danger, that keeping other men's vineyards 
 we should not be attentive to our own : and 
 that our zeal should expend itself so much 
 abroad, as to be extinguished before it reaches 
 home : on the other hand it is true (though 
 liable to perversion and abuse,) that if we 
 mind God's affairs he will mind ours; and 
 that, while doing his work, he that watereth 
 shall be watered also. In the unprofitable- 
 
 ness of those ministers, the barrenness of 
 those churches, and the deadness of those 
 professors, who from their selfishness, or sloth, 
 or any doctrinal restraint, come not up to the 
 help of the Lord, may be found at this hour 
 illustrations of the truth of David's words: 
 " Pray for the peace of Jerusalem, they shall 
 prosper that love thee." 
 
 Had many Christians now living been 
 cotemporaries with Mrs. Savage, they would 
 have devoted that time and attention to re- 
 ligion in its retreats, which seemed not so 
 much called for abroad. And had many who 
 lived in her days been born in ours, they 
 would have sprung forth at the call of those 
 institutions which we have witnessed ; and, 
 following the direction of Heaven, have fallen 
 in with a state of things which demands the 
 utmost co-operation and activity ; and which 
 not only allows, but demands that every sub- 
 ject of divine grace should be also its instru- 
 ment and its agent : and when by teaching 
 poor children and adults to read and write, 
 by dispensing tracts, by aiding Bible and 
 Missionary Societies, and by endeavouring to 
 evangelize our own dark villages, Christians, 
 as well as preachers, shall be named the 
 " Priests of the Lord ; and men shall call 
 them the ministers of our God :" when the 
 promise made to the church shall be fulfilled, 
 "They that be of thee shall build the old 
 waste places; thou shalt raise up the founda- 
 tion of many generations ; and thou shalt be 
 called the repairer of the breach, the restorer 
 of paths to dwell in." 
 
 This is the glory of our day : and let not 
 Christians be comparatively undervalued be- 
 cause they obey the obvious will of Provi- 
 dence, and are workers together with God. 
 The period so long prayed for is arrived ; and 
 we are required to rise, even from our devo- 
 tions, and serve. We could employ the hours 
 in songs of praise ; but the voice cries " Work 
 while it is called to-day :" and you shall soon 
 rest from your labours, and join those who 
 dwell in his house above, and arc still prais- 
 ing him. Christians are now required not to 
 sit still and record their feelings, but to en- 
 deavour to communicate them. They must 
 not abide by the stuff. The field calls them. 
 The harvest is come, and it is harvest wea- 
 ther, and the ears ungathered in, will soon 
 full and perish. " Say not ye, there are yet 
 four months, and then cometh harvest 1 be- 
 hold, I say unto you, lift up your eyes, and 
 look on the fields ; for they are white already 
 to harvest, and he that reapeth receiveth 
 wages, and gathereth fruit unto life eternal : 
 that both he that soweth and he that reapeth 
 may rejoice together." WM. JAY. 
 
 Bath, May 2d, 1818. 
 
 11 
 
PRAYER FOR THE SUCCESS OF THE GOSPEL: 
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED AT TOTTENHAM-COURT CHAPEL, BEFORE THE MISSIONARY SOCIETY; 
 ON THURSDAY EVENING, MAY 12, 1796. 
 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 Jlnd let the -whole earth be filled -with his glory ; 
 amen and amen. The prayers of David, 
 the son of Jesse, are ended. — Psalm lxxii. 19, 
 20. 
 
 In reviewing the Scriptures at large, and 
 the book of Psalms in particular, we see good 
 men exemplifying different views and disposi- 
 tions, according to the various objects which 
 excited and engaged their attention. 
 
 It is a happy frame of mind which converts 
 every event and every contemplation into 
 prayer. — Such was the happy frame of David's 
 mind when he composed this psalm. Survey- 
 ing the grandeur of Solomon's reign, he per- 
 ceives " a greater than Solomon," and by a 
 beautiful transition, passes to the reign of 
 " Messiah the Prince, whose kingdom is an 
 everlasting kingdom, and whose dominion 
 endureth from generation to generation." 
 After a striking representation of the proper- 
 ties and advantages of the Saviour's govern- 
 ment, he breaks forth in these sublime and 
 animated strains. — " Blessed be the Lord God 
 of Israel, who only doeth wondrous things. 
 And blessed be his glorious name for ever : 
 and let the whole earth be filled with his 
 glory ; amen and amen. The prayers of Da- 
 vid the son of Jesse are ended." Behold the 
 grand desire which actuated this man of God. 
 He prays that " the whole earth may be filled 
 with his glory." At present the earth is void 
 of God's glory. To a gracious mind nothing 
 is more painful than to reflect upon the mil- 
 lions of mankind still " lying in wickedness" 
 — " having no hope and without God in the 
 %vorld." — Who does not unite in this request 1 
 And who does not pray that " the glory of the 
 Lord may be revealed," and " that all flesh 
 may see it together." 
 
 David not only prays, but prays with fer- 
 vency ; and, to draw your attention to a 
 point with which I would animate this vast 
 
 assembly — see how much his heart was set 
 upon this object. For, having expressed his 
 desire, he exclaims, " Amen and amen" — so 
 be it, so be it. Again and again I say it, and 
 let others say it too — let men, let angels re- 
 peat it — success to my prayers, and success 
 to the prayers of all who breathe the same 
 wishes. — With this he would " finish his 
 course." " The prayers of David, the son of 
 Jesse, are ended." This was the last psalm 
 he ever composed. He wrote it on his dying 
 bed. The last words of dying men, espe- 
 cially if they have been men of illustrious 
 character, have peculiar weight in them. — 
 Let, says David, resigning his spirit into the 
 hands of God, let but the kingdom of Jesus 
 Christ be established, and all the nations and 
 the families of the earth be blessed in him, 
 and I have enough, I desire no more ; — and 
 " now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, 
 according to thy word." — "Even so, come 
 Lord Jesus, come quickly." 
 
 Was this fervour too great 1 My brethren, 
 here all the excellencies of prayer are com- 
 bined. Here devotion is wrought up to its 
 highest perfection. And at once to justify 
 David's zeal, and to excite your admiration 
 of it — to lead you to adopt this prayer, and to 
 adopt it with the glowing emotions of " the 
 man after God's own heart," let us examine 
 five things. 
 
 1. What can be more important and inter- 
 esting than the matter of this prayer 1 — It is 
 the diffusion of the Divine glory. The word 
 glory, when applied to God, denotes that 
 manifestation of himself by which his rational 
 creatures are capable of knowing him, for in 
 himself he is incomprehensible, " dwelling in 
 the light which no man can approach unto ; 
 whom no man hatli seen or can see." This 
 manifestation appears in various degrees. 
 
 His glory shines in the works of nature, 
 158 
 
PRAYER FOR THE SUCCESS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 159 
 
 and behold a universe starting into existence 
 to teach us " his eternal power and godhead." 
 David was no unaffected spectator of the 
 wonders of creation : " O Lord, our Lord, how 
 excellent is thy name in all the earth. I 
 consider the heavens, the work of thy fingers, 
 the moon and the stars which thou hast or- 
 dained." "The heavens declare the glory 
 of God ; and the firmament showeth his handy- 
 work. Day unto day uttereth speech, and 
 night unto night showeth knowledge. There 
 is no speech nor language, where their voice is 
 not heard. Their line is gone out through all the 
 earth, and their words to the end of the world." 
 
 A watchful eye will perceive the glory of 
 God shining through the dispensations of his 
 providence, — in preserving the world which 
 he has made — in supplying the wants of his 
 creatures — in maintaining the vicissitudes of 
 the seasons — in establishing such regulations 
 in society as, notwithstanding the violence 
 of men's passions, and oppositions of their in- 
 terests, enable us to live upon earth in toler- 
 able peace and safety, enjoying a thousand 
 comforts — in administering encouragements, 
 supports, and rewards to the righteous — in 
 restraining, disappointing, and punishing the 
 wicked, especially when they become dan- 
 gerous to community — in the connexion which 
 is found to exist between moral and natural 
 evil — in the pleasure which always attends 
 the exercise of virtue, and the pain which 
 always accompanies the practice of vice. In- 
 deed, in the moral government of mankind, 
 besides the general evidences of his wisdom, 
 power, and goodness, we behold some traces 
 of his righteous character, as the "judge 
 of the whole earth." 
 
 " He has magnified his word above all his 
 name," and he peculiarly discovers himself 
 in the gospel, which we emphatically, and by 
 way of distinction, call revelation. All other 
 displays of God are defective. They are par- 
 tial, uninfluential, unintelligible, abstracted 
 from the Scriptures. They are partial — 
 they hold forth the divine perfections sepa- 
 rately ; they teach us nothing of their har- 
 mony, extent, and limitations. So that, ad- 
 mitting we could prove that God was just and 
 merciful, we could not determine where the 
 exercise of justice would stop, and the opera- 
 tion of mercy would begin. They are unin- 
 fluential. That they were never the means 
 of bringing men to repentance and holiness, 
 appears from an observation of the heathen 
 world. Even their wise men, " when they 
 knew God, they glorified him not as God, 
 neither were thankful; but became vain in 
 their imaginations, and their foolish heart 
 was darkened. Professing themselves to be 
 wise, they became fools, and changed the 
 glory of the incorruptible God into an image 
 made like to corruptible man, and to birds, 
 and fourfooted beasts, and creeping things. 
 Wherefore God also gave them up to un- 
 
 cleanness through the lusts of their own 
 hearts, to dishonour their own bodies between 
 themselves : who changed the truth of God 
 into a lie, and worshipped and served the crea- 
 ture more than the Creator, who is blessed 
 for ever." And what are our modern philo- 
 sophers, who have rejected the Christian sys- 
 tem to adore the idol of reason, and worship 
 the goddess of nature 1 They are unintelli- 
 gible. Creation is a book, and its various 
 works constitute the alphabet, but what con- 
 nects the letters, and teaches us to read. 
 Without the Bible, it is utterly impossible to 
 give a probable account of the origin of the 
 world, or the appearances of nature ; of the 
 events that have already taken place, or of 
 those which are every day presenting them- 
 selves to our view. " But when," to use the 
 language of an author whose name I should 
 mention, were I not forbidden by his presence, 
 " when reason kindles her feeble lamp with 
 fire from God's altar, and supplies it continu- 
 ally with fresh oil from the sacred stores ; 
 what was dark becomes clear, what was per- 
 plexed becomes regular, and the dim and 
 scattered fragments become legible and intel- 
 ligible." And though we may in some mea- 
 sure discern what God is, by observing what 
 he does, his glory is obscured by numberless 
 difficulties; " righteousness and judgment are 
 the habitation of his throne ;" but " cloud and 
 darkness are round about him." " His way 
 is in the sea, and his path in the deep waters, 
 and his footsteps are not known." I love to 
 assert the importance of the gospel, especially 
 at a time when " science, falsely so called," 
 would depreciate its value, and more than 
 question its necessity. The gospel exhibits 
 God in all his excellencies. The entrance 
 of sin is a dark ground, on which God is dis- 
 played to advantage ; it has given occasion for 
 the exercise of the divine perfections in a man- 
 ner which will eternally astonish the universe. 
 
 In the law given at Sinai, and " written in 
 tables of stone," we behold awful rays of the 
 glory of God; but here we see that "law 
 magnified and made honourable." Jesus 
 Christ is the law of God alive, the ten com- 
 mandments incarnate. 
 
 In Jesus Christ we have a personal repre- 
 sentation of Deity. Would you know what 
 God is ] Behold " the brightness of his glory, 
 and the express image of his person." It 
 pleased him to assume human nature, and, 
 softening down the effulgence of divinity by 
 the veil of flesh, to appear in our world. Men 
 are called to " behold a new thing in the 
 earth" — a mind inhabiting a fleshly taberna- 
 cle like our own, unpolluted with any earthly 
 defilement, unseduced by theobjectsof sense, 
 unmoved by satanic influence, adorned with 
 the most lovely graces — all calmness and 
 gentleness — full of pity to the miserable — all 
 occupied in doing good — unprovoked by inju- 
 ries, unsubdued by sufferings. Ah, the infa- 
 
160 
 
 filAYER FOR THE SUCCESS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 tuation of the world ! They might have seen 
 that "God was in very deed come down to 
 dwell with men upon the earth." I do not 
 wonder that Jesus Christ should say, " He 
 that hath seen me hath seen the Father." I 
 do not wonder that the apostle should say, 
 " God who commanded the light to shine out 
 of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give 
 the light of the knowledge of the glory of God 
 in the face of Jesus Christ." And here it is 
 that his glory shines forth with a lustre not 
 only grand, but encouraging and inviting. 
 How it dissolves my doubts, how it dissipates 
 my fears, how it attracts me to " his throne 
 for mercy and grace to help in every time of 
 need." God in nature, is God above me ; God 
 in providence, is God beyond me ; God in law, 
 is God against me ; but God in Christ, is God 
 with me and for me. 
 
 In the plan of salvation by a crucified Sa- 
 viour, not only men, but angels obtain the most 
 glorious idea of Jehovah. We never read of 
 their being naturalists or astronomers, but 
 they are Christian students ; they mingle with 
 us at the foot of the cross, " desiring to look 
 into these things :" for here all the divine per- 
 fections come forward and assert their claims, 
 and here they are all satisfied and honoured. 
 Man's redemption is God's glory. Hence the 
 exclamation of the prophet, " Sing, O ye 
 heavens, for the Lord hath done it ; shout, ye 
 lower parts of the earth; break forth into 
 singing, ye mountains : O forests and every 
 tree therein : for the Lord hath redeemed Jacob, 
 and glorified himself in Israel." Hence the 
 song of the " heavenly hosts praising God," 
 and saying, " Glory to God in the highest, 
 and on earth peace, goodwill towards men." 
 
 The gospel displays the glory of God in 
 " renewing us after his image in righteous- 
 ness and true holiness." I remember the 
 words of our Saviour at the grave of Lazarus, 
 " Martha, said I not unto thee, that if thou 
 wouldest believe, thou shouldest surely see 
 the glory of God V Did the glory of God ap- 
 pear in the re-animation of a breathless body J 
 And shall it not much more appear in the 
 resurrection of a soul " dead in trespasses and 
 sins!" Upon this principle God promises to 
 place salvation in Zion for Israel his glory." 
 
 I would not hastily pass over this part of 
 our subject. Man was originally created in 
 the likeness of God; but he lost it by sin. 
 The law still requires this resemblance, but 
 it is the gospel that effects it." " If any 
 man be in Christ, he is a new creature." i 
 "Beholding as in a glass the glory of the 1 
 Lord, we are changed into the same image I 
 from glory to glory, even as by the spirit of I 
 the Lord." Every thing in the gospel reflects | 
 power upon God. Its doctrines, its precepts, i 
 its threatenings, its promises, are all worthy i 
 of God; but they are its effects, which 1 
 most clearly decide its superiority over every 1 
 other system. Plato, with all his diligence, I 
 
 i and with all the celebrity his philosophy ac- 
 ) quired him, was unable to bring out the in- 
 t habitants of one city, or one village to walk 
 ! by his rules. The law only describes duty, 
 [ and enforces obligation, by proposing rewards 
 , and punishments. But, "the spirit of life in 
 ; Christ Jesus," makes us "free from the law 
 i of sin and death." " The gospel is the power 
 ! of God, to salvation to every one that believ- 
 ; eth." By an admirable method God puts his 
 word into the heart. The apostle James 
 speaks of it under a very familiar allusion. 
 You all know the process of grafting a tree. 
 The scion inserted, receives the juices, and 
 changes them into its own quality, and causes 
 the stock to bring forth new fruit — such is 
 " the engrafted word which is able to save 
 the soul." It produces an internal assimila- 
 tion, evidenced by the " fruit of the spirit; love, 
 joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, good- 
 ness, faith, meekness, temperance." This 
 changes the nature, and fills the understand- 
 ing with right sentiments, and the heart with 
 right dispositions. This, by its all-powerful 
 energy, subduesdeeprooted prejudices, sensual 
 passions, worldly interests. This, by its all- 
 cheering consolation, rescues the mind from 
 despair, and makes us "joyful in tribulation," 
 and triumphant in the hour of death. I ap- 
 peal to fact. In the first ages of the church, 
 did not the gospel make men wise, and holy, 
 and happy, and useful ? Did it not " teach 
 them to deny all ungodliness and worldly 
 lusts, to live soberly, righteously, and godly 
 in this present world ; looking for that bless- 
 ed hope, and the glorious appearing of the 
 great God, and our Saviour Jesus Christ." 
 And does it not to this day produce the same 
 effects when it is faithfully preached ? The 
 world cannot be ignorant of this, nor can the 
 promoters of erroneous systems, amidst the 
 unprofitableness of their ministry, be unac- 
 quainted with it. Blessed be God, we fre- 
 quently see the drunkard becoming sober, the 
 swearer learning to " fear an oath," the covet- 
 ous expanding with liberality. Yes, there are 
 living examples of persons who were once a 
 terror to themselves, a curse to their families, 
 a judgment to their neighbours, delivered by 
 the preaching of the cross, from the anguish 
 of a guilty conscience, and the tyranny of 
 vicious passions ; becoming peaceable, gentle, 
 " easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good 
 fruits." "The wolf also dwells with the 
 lamb, and the leopard lieth down with the kid ; 
 and the calf and the young lion and the fat- 
 ling together: and a little child shall lead 
 them." However unbelievers may suspect 
 the truth of the gospel, it would seem im- 
 possible for them to deny its utility. They 
 may call it a fable, but this fable has been 
 more efficacious in reforming the world, than 
 the most serious truths of philosophers, and 
 the most severe laws of magistrates. What 
 they despise as a human invention, was more 
 
PRAYER FOR THE SUCCESS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 161 
 
 beneficial to mankind in a few years, than all 
 other boasted schemes through a succession 
 of ages. No other collection of doctrine aims 
 so high as the Christian dispensation. It af- 
 fects nothing less, than to turn fallen men 
 into angels, and to form societies below, like 
 the "general assembly of just men made 
 perfect in heaven." Chasing away error, 
 vice, enmity, discord, and all the malignity 
 with which sin has filled the earth; it dif- 
 fuses light, love, and harmony, and unites 
 men first to God, and then to each other in 
 one divine and heavenly fraternity. Imagine 
 for a moment the gospel universally diffused, 
 and mankind at large living under its benign 
 influence, what a lovely scene would this 
 distracted earth exhibit, compared with 
 present prospects 1 — "Nations learning war 
 no more" — "swords beaten into plough- 
 shares, and spears into pruning hooks" — "de- 
 structions come to a perpetual end" — " men 
 living as brethren," and " loving one another 
 out of a pure heart fervently." The prophets, 
 delighted with the glorious change which 
 they foresaw as the consequence of the gospel 
 dispensation, have ascribed it in all the glow- 
 ing style of eastern imagery. Sometimes 
 they take the comparison from the human 
 body, and behold, says Isaiah, a multitude of 
 misery; the blind, the deaf, the lame, the 
 dumb : but, " then the eyes of the blind shall 
 be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be 
 unstopped — then shall the lame man leap as 
 an hart, and the tongue of the dumb shall 
 sing." Sometimes they take the image from 
 the natural world, and behold, says the same 
 prophet, " a parched desert, where no water is, 
 where the thirsty traveller pants and dies, 
 where cattle cannot live, where grass cannot 
 flourish ; behold, on a sudden, the appearance 
 reversed, waters springing out of the hills ; 
 and murmuring along the vallies, the fields 
 standing thick with corn, sheep covering the 
 plains, and trees crowning the tops of the 
 mountains." " The wilderness and the soli- 
 tary place shall be glad for them ; and the 
 desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. 
 It shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice, even 
 with joy and singing : the glory of Lebanon 
 shall be given unto it, the excellency of Car- 
 mel and Sharon, they shall see the glory of 
 the Lord, and the excellency of pur God." 
 
 II. The prayer appears still more excel- 
 lent, if we consider the principle from which 
 it proceeds. It is piety and benevolence; 
 these are not two dispositions, but two refer- 
 ences of the same disposition. We cannot 
 separate what the Scripture has joined toge- 
 ther ; and if a man say, " I love God and hateth 
 his brother, he is a liar ; for he that loveth not 
 his brother whom he hath seen, how can he 
 love God whom he hath not seen 1" 
 
 The prayer comes from a soul penetrated 
 with a love to God, and alive to his interest 
 in the world. This concern divine grace al- 
 X 14* 
 
 ways produces in the breasts of the godly. 
 A Christian loves " God with all his heart, with 
 all his mind, and with all his strength." 
 Reason requires this supreme affection. We 
 ought to regard objects in proportion to their 
 real worth, and God is the perfection, the 
 source of all excellency. We ought to love 
 without bounds an object infinitely lovely. 
 And what is the language of all the mercies 
 we have received from God — blessings of 
 birth, of infancy, of youth, of mature age — 
 blessings pertaining to this life: "spiritual 
 blessings," " wisdom, righteousness, sanctifi- 
 cation, redemption" — where shall I end? — 
 All these surround us, and with one voice cry, 
 " O love the Lord, all ye his saints." By the 
 mercies of God present your body a living 
 sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which 
 is your reasonable service." He, at an ex- 
 pense which angels cannot compute, has 
 served you — be all devotion in serving Him. 
 " Whether ye eat or drink, or whatever ye 
 do, do all to the glory of God." The Chris- 
 tian feels his obligations — he lives to God. 
 He cannot be indifferent to his honour. See 
 that man — " his eyes run down with tears." 
 Has* he lost his fortune! Has he heard God 
 saying, "Son of man, behold I take from 
 thee the desire of thine eyes with a stroke." 
 No : he has heard a swearer ; he has seen a 
 Sabbath-breaker. — " His eyes run down with 
 tears because men seek not God's law." Elijah 
 is praying to die. What disappointments 
 have embittered his life ? " Lord they have 
 broken thy covenant and digged down thine 
 altars, and killed thy prophets," and I cannot 
 survive thine expiring cause. Behold the 
 venerable Eli upon a seat by the wayside, 
 watching, while the messenger brings him 
 heavy tidings. And first, he tells him of the 
 defeat of his countrymen by the Philistines, 
 " Israel is fled." Mournful intelligence. Next 
 he tells him that his " two sons, Hophrii and 
 Phineas, are slain" — more awful still. But 
 " his heart trembles for the ark of God," and 
 when he hears that the ark of God is taken, 
 he drops and dies. The charge of enthusiasm 
 has been frequently brought against Chris- 
 tians, for want of distinguishing properly be- 
 tween the abuse of truth in certain instances, 
 and its genuine influence and effects. It is 
 impossible for us to believe the Gospel as we 
 ought, without being zealous for the Lord of 
 Hosts; and zeal for God is charity towards 
 men. 
 
 The prayer before us springs from benevo- 
 lence. To pray for ourselves is a duty — a 
 duty, too, which perhaps some of you never 
 performed : of some of you, perhaps, God 
 never said, " Behold he prayeth." But it re- 
 quires no great degree of virtue to be desir- 
 ous of our own welfare. To be solicitous for 
 the good of others, argues disinterested affec- 
 tion. That this is highly pleasing to God, 
 appears not only from his enjoining us to re- 
 
162 
 
 PRAYER FOR THE SUCCESS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 member others at his throne, but from the 
 peculiar reward with which he honoured the 
 exercise in the experience of Job. Job was 
 a man of sorrows — trials drive us to prayer. 
 This afflicted saint had, no doubt, under his 
 calamities, frequently made supplication unto 
 God : but the prayer which achieved his de- 
 liverance was not a prayer for himself. " The 
 Lord turned the captivity of Job, when he 
 prayed for his friends." That we do not love 
 our neighbours as ourselves, appears from the 
 disproportionate share we devote to our own 
 interest in our petitions. There is a visible 
 want of warmth in spreading the cases of 
 others before the Lord. In the formality of 
 worship, the condition of the heathen has 
 been generally mentioned ; but not with that 
 feeling becoming the solemn thought that 
 multitudes are " perishing for lack of know- 
 ledge." The person who confines all his at- 
 tention to himself, deserves not the name of 
 a man ; by what means he persuades himself 
 that he is a Christian, it is difficult to con- 
 ceive. The Christian religion is founded in 
 the compassions of God, and it must fill us 
 with compassion. It must destroy the selfish- 
 ness common to our depraved nature. It must 
 produce a unity of interest with our fellow- 
 creatures, and teach us to " look not every 
 man on his own things, but every man also 
 on the things of others." What a lovely, 
 what a noble disposition does the religion of 
 Jesus Christ require and produce ! Does the 
 Christian weep 1 It is not only for the sins 
 which he commits, and the troubles he en- 
 dures. Does he rejoice ! It is in another's 
 prosperity as well as in his own. Does he 
 prayl See how he expands beyond himself 
 — " Brethren, my heart's desire and prayer 
 to God for Israel is, that they might be 
 saved." "For I could wish that myself were 
 accursed from Christ for my brethren, my 
 kinsmen according to the flesh." For Zion's 
 sake " will I not hold my peace ; and for Je- 
 rusalem's sake I will not rest until the right- 
 eousness thereof go forth as brightness, and 
 the salvation thereof as a lamp that burnetii." 
 " Yet now if thou wilt forgive their sin — 
 and if not, blot me, I pray thee, out of thy 
 book which thou hast written." 
 
 III. Consider the universal extent of this 
 request. Little minds confine their zeal 
 within a contracted circle, which excludes 
 all but the adherents of their own class. For 
 a party they labour, and in the success of a 
 party they rejoice. If they pray for rain, it 
 is only to refresh and fructify their own gar- 
 dens. They are strangers to the sublime and 
 diffusive spirit of the gospel. Wretched 
 bigotry — allow me a figure of speech — allow 
 me to suppose, for a moment, that Being in 
 existence whose death we have attended, and 
 whose epitaph we have sung — wretched 
 bigotry, what is thy language] Let the es- 
 tablished Church prosper — let the Dissenting 
 
 interest prevail — let the Independents mul- 
 tiply — let the Baptists swell their annual lists 
 with numbers — let the Methodists spread on 
 every side — let Tottenham-court chapel be 
 "filled with his glory." But give me the 
 language of the text — " And let the whole 
 earth be filled with his glory. Amen and 
 Amen." I love to see an expansion of soul, 
 which, free from the shackles of party rage, 
 includes all like the goodness of God. 
 
 I pass from religious denominations to 
 countries. — It does not satisfy us to say, let 
 England " be filled with his glory." It has 
 frequently been charged upon the Scripture 
 as a defect, that it does not sufficiently incul- 
 cate patriotism, or a love to a particular coun- 
 try; a virtue celebrated among all nations 
 of the globe; a virtue which so long secured 
 Greece, and so highly exalted Rome; a vir- 
 tue practised in former times, and professed 
 in our own ; a virtue of which we have no- 
 thing left "but loaves and fishes." — The 
 charge is partly false and partly true, and as 
 far as it is true it will be found not a reproach, 
 but an honour to the gospel. If we look 
 into the Old Testament, we shall find this 
 sacred injunction : " Pray for the peace of Je- 
 rusalem, they shall prosper that love thee." 
 Never was love more sincere and ardent than 
 that which the Jews exercised towards their 
 native land. Jerusalem was the centre of 
 their happiness, the seat of all the endear- 
 ments of life. To adorn it they esteemed 
 nothing too costly ; to defend it they cheer- 
 fully shed their blood. Its prosperity satis- 
 fied them, its welfare made them forget their 
 sorrows. When they saw it destroyed by 
 the hands of the Babylonians, they abandoned 
 themselves to grief and found life a burden ; 
 " they hung their harps upon the willows," 
 " the voice of mirth was heard no more, and 
 all the daughters of music were brought low." 
 But even in its reduced state they retained 
 the same affection, prizing its ruins above 
 the superb palaces of Babylon ; they " took 
 pleasure in her stones, and favoured the dust 
 thereof," each saying, " If I forget thee, O Je- 
 rusalem, let my right hand forget her cun- 
 ning. If I do not remember thee, let my 
 tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth ; if I 
 prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy." 
 And where does the New Testament en- 
 force the wild idea that the whole world is 
 to be our country, and mankind our fellow- 
 citizens] Jesus Christ was a patriot ; he 
 loved his country, notwithstanding the ingra- 
 titude and cruelty of his countrymen. He 
 first w r ent " to the lost sheep of the house of 
 Israel." As he drew near the devoted me- 
 tropolis, "he wept over it." He commanded 
 his apostles " to preach repentance and re- 
 mission of sins to all nations, beginning at 
 Jerusalem." The gospel does not destroy 
 the useful feelings of nature, but corrects 
 and sanctifies them; it inspires us with 
 
PRAYER FOR THE SUCCESS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 163 
 
 sentiments becoming our condition, and ne- 
 ver forgets that we are creatures of limit- 
 ed faculties. But after all what is patriot- 
 ism ? Is it such a partial attachment to a 
 particular country as leads us to disregard 
 the liberty and happiness of every other 
 nation ! Is it such an exclusive attachment 
 as would lead us to oppress every other coun- 
 try, for the sake of our own, and destroy 
 thousands who would not acquiesce in our 
 opinion of avarice and ambition ! — What was 
 a Roman ? A proud, unfeeling tyrant, who 
 placed right in power, who triumphed re- 
 morselessly over undefended weakness, who 
 gloried in proportion to the number of cities 
 and provinces he had taken or destroyed. — 
 What was the patriotism of a Roman ] A 
 false virtue, the destruction of all justice 
 and benevolence — and this false virtue has 
 always been admired because it conceals 
 self-interest under the mask of public spirit, 
 and gives license to inflict injuries not only 
 with impunity but with applause. It is the 
 glory of the gospel to say nothing of such 
 patriotism. It is the glory of the gospel to 
 set us above the prejudices which have so 
 long and so unhappily kept men at variance 
 — and to teach us that God has made of one 
 blood all the nations of the earth — that men 
 are not our enemies because they live at the 
 other side of a channel, or a mountain — that 
 they are not to be bought and sold as slaves 
 because the sun has jetted their complexions 
 — that we are "debtors to Jews and Greeks" — 
 and that "as we have opportunity" without 
 any exceptions " we are to do good unto all 
 men." Christianity commands us to love all 
 the human race, and to regard as our neigh- 
 bours the inhabitants of the remotest regions, 
 when their distresses require our aid, and it 
 is in "the power of our hand to give it." 
 
 IV. We observe the divine resemblance 
 of this prayer — God feels the same desire, 
 and has the same object in view — we are 
 acting according to his pleasure, " we are 
 workers together with him." This appears 
 from the precepts he has given, and the pro- 
 mises which he has made. 
 
 God's authority is interposed, and there are 
 two injunctions in particular which deserve 
 more attention than we have hitherto given 
 them. Our duty appears from the words of 
 the apostle to the Thessalonians, "brethren 
 pray for us that the word of the Lord may 
 have free course and be glorified." The al- 
 lusion is beautiful, whether it respects a con- 
 quering army bearing down all opposition, 
 marching from victory to victory ; or an un- 
 obstructed river fertilizing its banks, spread- 
 ing plenty over the country through which it 
 passes, and augmenting as it rolls along till it 
 becomes an ocean. Hear the language of 
 God by the prophet, " I have set watchmen 
 upon thy walls, O Jerusalem, which shall 
 never hold their peace day nor night: ye 
 
 that make mention of the Lord, keep not si- 
 lence, and give him no rest, till he establish 
 and till he make Jerusalem a praise in the 
 earth." W T hat importunity is here expressed ! 
 
 The promises respecting this subject are 
 "exceeding great and precious." I would 
 repeat a few of them. " And it shall come 
 to pass in the last days that the mountain of 
 the Lord's house shall be established in the 
 top of the mountains, and shall be exalted 
 above the hills; and all nations shall flow 
 unto it." " And it shall be in that day that 
 living waters shall go out from Jerusalem ; 
 half of them toward the former sea, and half 
 of them toward the hinder sea, in summer 
 and in winter shall it be, and the Lord shall 
 be king over all the earth : in that day shall 
 there be one Lord, and his name shall be 
 one." "For the earth shall be full of the 
 knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover 
 the sea." I might enlarge quotation, but it 
 will be of more importance to remove an 
 objection taken from the supposition that 
 those prospects have been already realized. 
 This, if admitted, would damp our zeal, and 
 weaken our hands. We contend, therefore, 
 that nothing has taken place in any past ex- 
 perience of the church, whether Jewish or 
 Christian, to substantiate those pleasing de- 
 scriptions; that there has been nothing in 
 the conduct of God to this day sufficient 
 in extent, in duration, in glory, to imbody 
 the hopes which his word has excited. 
 When have these promises been accom- 
 plished .' — In vain we look into the Jew- 
 ish nation for a fulfilment. Much of their 
 prosperity was diminished before many of 
 these prophecies were given — they were in 
 a distracted and suffering state under the 
 reign of the kings of Judah and Israel — their 
 city and temple were destroyed by the Chal- 
 deans — though they returned from captivity, 
 and rebuilded the city and temple, they con- 
 tinued a dependent people, and were tributa- 
 ries to the Persian, Macedonian, and Roman 
 power. Rejecting the Messiah, and impre- 
 cating his blood upon themselves and their 
 children, they were "destroyed with a very 
 sore destruction," and to this hour they re- 
 main " scattered and peeled," unable by their 
 situation and circumstances, to perform the 
 ceremonies of their own ritual. 
 
 In vain we look into the Christian church 
 for a fulfilment. Since the apostle's days the 
 boundaries of Zion have been altered, but 
 never enlarged. Is not the greatest part of 
 the earth to this day unacquainted with the 
 name of God our Saviour ? What is Christen- 
 dom itself compared with the globe 1 A con- 
 siderable part of Europe, almost the whole of 
 the other three continents, with the numer- 
 ous isles in the eastern and southern oceans, 
 are covered with "gross darkness." It is 
 thus that all men shall be blessed in him, 
 " all nations shall call him blessed !" It is 
 
164 PRAYER FOR THE SUCCESS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 thus that " from the rising of the sun even to 
 the going down of the same, his name shall 
 be great among the Gentiles, and in every 
 place incense shall be offered to him and a 
 pure offering." The extent of God's cause, 
 therefore, has never been adequate to pre- 
 diction. — And what has been the duration 
 of its peace and prosperity 1 Sometimes 
 the influences of divine grace attending 
 the preaching of the word have been re- 
 markable. The church of Christ has had 
 blessed revivals, but they have never been 
 of long continuance. — " The people of thy 
 holiness have possessed it but a little while : 
 our adversaries have trodden down thy sanc- 
 tuary." But faith assures us that " there 
 shall be abundance of peace so long as the 
 moon endureth :" " that Zion shall be an 
 eternal excellency, the joy of many genera- 
 tions." " Thy sun shall no more go down ; 
 neither shall thy moon withdraw itself: for 
 the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and 
 the days of thy mourning shall be ended." 
 
 A glory is spoken of which has never 
 been realized. " For brass I will bring gold, 
 and for iron I will bring silver, and for wood 
 brass, and for stones iron : I will also make 
 thy officers peace, and thine exactors right- 
 eousness. Violence shall no more be heard 
 in thy land, wasting nor destruction within 
 thy borders ; but thou shalt call thy walls 
 Salvation, and thy gates Praise. The sun 
 shall be no more thy light by day : neither 
 for brightness shall the moon give light unto 
 thee : but the Lord shall be unto thee an ever- 
 lasting light, and thy God thy glory. Thy sun 
 shall no more go down; neither shall thy 
 moon withdraw itself : for the Lord shall be 
 thine everlasting light, and the days of thy 
 mourning shall be ended. Thy people also 
 shall be all righteous." The more minutely 
 we examine prophecy, the stronger is the con- 
 firmation of our hope, that a day will come 
 " when wars shall cease to the ends of the 
 earth ;" when the animosities which have so 
 long prevailed amongst Christians shall sub- 
 side; when idolatry and superstition shall 
 vanish ; when truth and holiness and the 
 pure worship of God shall abound. — We are 
 authorized to expect that a period will come, 
 when not only individuals in different nations 
 of men shall be devoted to Christ, but also po- 
 tentates of every state, whose example is in- 
 fluential, and whose authority gives them a 
 peculiar advantage, shall own their subordi- 
 nation to him and make their dominion sub- 
 servient to his. Considering themselves in 
 their different departments as delegated to 
 rule by him, they will rule for him. View- 
 ing themselves as subjects of his sovereign 
 sway, " all kings shall fall down before him," 
 and far from being distressed at any inquiries 
 concerning his kingdom, they shall rejoice 
 and " praise him." In all things shall He 
 have the pre-eminence, who amongst other ti- 
 
 tles will be acknowledged "King of kings, 
 and Lord of lords." Has all this been veri- 
 fied 1 How readest thou ! These days are to 
 come, the prospect is before us. And this 
 prayer, 
 
 V. Is certain in its success. It must be ac- 
 complished. The world was made for the 
 Son of God, and he shall have " the heathen 
 for his inheritance, and the uttermost parts of 
 the earth for his possession." The enlarge- 
 ment of his kingdom is the uniform design of 
 all the events of Providence. To this, all the 
 commotions and changes which are taking 
 place in the nations of the earth, and which 
 so exceedingly perplex and confound the 
 views of politicians, are tending ; to this, a fu- 
 ture day will show us, they were all subser- 
 vient. These agitations are " shaking not the 
 earth only, but also heaven," and will con- 
 tinue till " the removal of those things that 
 are shaken as of things that are made, that 
 those things which cannot be shaken may 
 remain." " I will overturn, overturn, over- 
 turn it — until He come whose right it is, and 
 1 will give it him." 
 
 Nothing comes to pass by chance, and God 
 never acts without a design worthy of him- 
 self. In the midst of apparent confusion and 
 uproar, he guides the whole movement; "he 
 makes the wrath of man to praise him." 
 Things which we in our ignorance and rash- 
 ness imagine unfavourable may be the most 
 proper means which Supreme Wisdom could 
 employ. Whatever our opinion may be re- 
 specting present occurrences, his plan is 
 fixed, "his counsel shall stand, and he will do 
 all his pleasure." The word is gone out of 
 his mouth, and " hath he spoken and shall he 
 not do it]" What he has promised he is 
 able to perform. Impediments are nothing to 
 him ; " before Zerubbabel every mountain 
 shall become a plain." 
 
 Do we stagger at the promise of God 
 through unbelief! Let us remember we have 
 a sufficient pledge of the whole in what he 
 has already done. The joyful sound has al- 
 ready extended far, notwithstanding all the at- 
 tempts of its enemies to restrain it. Multi- 
 tudes from age to age have heard the glad 
 tidings, and obtained salvation through our 
 Lord Jesus Christ. What a happy change 
 has this highly favoured island experienced 
 since the invasion of Julius Cffisar. Suppose 
 a Christian had landed with the Roman army, 
 and after examining the state of the country, 
 had heard a prophet predicting all the advan- 
 tages we have long enjoyed. — Are we at- 
 tempting any thing more improbable 7 — But 
 what is every instance of conversion 7 — Some 
 of you are not strangers to " the day of God's 
 power." You know that "the exceeding 
 greatness of his mighty power," which has 
 been exerted in you, is sufficient to ensure 
 success to our labours amongst the heathen 
 — I consider every sinner as a little pagan 
 
PRAYER FOR THE SUCCESS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 165 
 
 world in himself ; and the grace which renews 
 him, is all the encouragement we desire. 
 
 Draw no improper inference from this rea- 
 soning. Say not God will support his own 
 cause, and execute his own purposes, and 
 therefore we may sit down at our ease ; we 
 have nothing to do — He will maintain his 
 own cause, and he will accomplish his own 
 designs ; but if you are properly affected, you 
 will be desirous of becoming instruments in 
 his hands. The certainty of the event, instead 
 of relaxing diligence, should increase it; in- 
 stead of preventing the use of means, should 
 encourage us in the use of them ; and if Da- 
 vid's prayer be the prayer of your hearts, it 
 will excite activity, it will lead you in pro- 
 portion to its warmth to exert yourselves 
 according to your stations, your talents, your 
 opportunities. Without this our prayer is 
 hypocrisy, and our pity resembles the charity 
 of those verbal philanthropists, who say, "be 
 ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give 
 them not those things which are needful." 
 
 We ought to lament that we have done so 
 little to prove, I will not say the fervency, 
 but even the sincerity of our prayers; and 
 upon such an occasion as this, rather than 
 embarrassing our minds with the conduct of 
 God in the contracted limits of the gospel, it 
 becomes us to examine ourselves to see whe- 
 ther we are not very guilty. The church of 
 Christ should have burned with zeal while 
 there was one heathen nation or town to con- 
 vert. The Friend of sinners said to his apos- 
 tles, " Go ye into all the world, and preach 
 the gospel to every creature." They were 
 not to desist till they had fulfilled their ex- 
 tensive commission. The apostles understood 
 this, they flew like angels, "having the ever- 
 lasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell 
 on the earth." The disciples dispersed; the 
 gospel spread in every direction, and "mighty 
 grew the word of God and prevailed." Pious 
 men after them followed the noble example ; 
 carrying the gospel from city to city, and 
 from province to province. This course should 
 have been continued — but successors forgot 
 the common object, stopped without endea- 
 vouring to make further progress, divided 
 into parties, and contended with acrimony 
 for their respective peculiarities. How little 
 of the knowledge of the gospel have the hea- 
 thens for ages derived from their connexion 
 with evangelised nations ? It has been justly 
 observed, that this is the crying sin of Chris- 
 tian lands ; a sin too of which they have been 
 quite insensible ; a sin never lamented in our 
 sermons for national humiliation. Without 
 using the means to save men, are we not 
 chargeable witli their blood? Is it not owing 
 to our criminal indifference that millions are 
 "sitting in darkness, and in the region of 
 the shadow of death." Viewing ourselves in 
 a national capacity, as Englishmen, the provi- 
 
 dence of God has furnished us with peculiar 
 advantages for this service. Our arms and 
 commerce have opened us a passage to the 
 most distant parts of the globe — but our de- 
 signs have not been formed with a view to 
 benefit the heathens, while our conduct has 
 left a bad impression of the Christian name. 
 We have all been culpable; too long have 
 we stood idle ; we have not sought occasions, 
 we have neglected opportunities. May our 
 repentance obtain forgiveness, and produce 
 diligence. — Let us with one heart and voice 
 pray that the whole earth may be filled with 
 the glory of our God. Let us spend our days 
 and our lives in this blessed service. — It is 
 better that it be in our heart to attempt the 
 work, should our endeavours fail of success, 
 than that we should be as indifferent to it as 
 the supine Jews were to the rebuilding of the 
 house of the Lord, which had long lain in 
 ruins, under the notion that "the time is 
 not come, the time that the Lord's house 
 should be built." 
 
 We rejoice that a considerable number is 
 formed into a society to make proof of the 
 will of God respecting the conversion of the 
 heathens. We rejoice that the well formed 
 plan receives such general countenance and 
 assistance. We rejoice in the harmony, liber- 
 ality, prudence, and vigour which have been 
 displayed. We rejoice that there are those 
 whose zeal for the Lord of Hosts disposes 
 to renounce the comforts of civilized life, to 
 devote themselves to the service of savage 
 tribes. We rejoice that there are those whose 
 hearts have inclined them to engage in con- 
 ducting them to the place of their destination 
 — give commandment, O God, concerning 
 their bones — say to the roaring winds and 
 waves, " touch not mine anointed, and do my 
 prophets no harm." We rejoice that, in a 
 business of such moment, so many favourable 
 circumstances concur to strengthen our hands 
 and enliven our hopes. We will treat our 
 discouragements with neglect, and our en- 
 couragements with gratitude. We have be- 
 gun in the strength of the Lord, and his 
 spirit enabling us, we will patiently endure. 
 While others "despise the day of small 
 things," " we will get our faith strengthened 
 by the testimony of Jesus," and expect that 
 " the little one shall become a thousand," and 
 that the cloud, no bigger than a man's hand, 
 shall increase and pour down showers upon 
 the desert lands. — And thou, O God, whose 
 mercies are over all thy works, and hatest no- 
 thing that thou hast made. O thou that lovest 
 prayer, receive and answer our united suppli- 
 cations. "Be merciful unto us, and bless us; 
 and cause his face to shine upon us. That 
 thy way may be known upon earth, thy 
 saving health upon all nations. Let the peo- 
 ple praise thee, O God, let all the people 
 praise thee." 
 
THE MUTUAL DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES: 
 
 A SERMON, 
 
 OCCASIONED BY 
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF R S , ESQ,. OF M, 
 
 PREACHED IN ARGYLE-CHAPEL, BATH, AUGUST 16, 1801. 
 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 It may be asked Why is this Sermon published! 
 
 The Author has never been afraid to preach on moral subjects. — He despises the charge of 
 Legality, and exceedingly dislikes the exclusive application of the term Evangelical, to 
 doctrinal preaching. 
 
 He has also been accustomed to seize events, and circumstances, as they arise, to enliven 
 attention, and diversify public instruction. — His much esteemed Friend, whose name he 
 has been compelled to suppress in the title-page, having engaged to worship in his con- 
 gregation, on the Sabbath previous to his espousals with an amiable young Female who had 
 resided some months in the Author's family — he resolved to select a portion of Scriptrure 
 suitable to the occasion. The occasion was particular, but the subject was general ; he 
 therefore enlarged, and delivered the following Discourse. — The same day he received a 
 pressing solicitation from his friend to publish ; soon after arrived a request, signed by a 
 number of his people, in the name of the rest. The author respects their judgment, and 
 owes much to their kindness and esteem. The peculiar delicacy and elegance with which 
 these applications are drawn up, would induce him to expose them at length, did not their 
 flattering relation to himself forbid. 
 
 It is hoped the Sermon will appear impartial ; it was delivered without fear, and without 
 flattery. Long as the discourse will be found, it was all spoken ; the Preacher desiring 
 the audience to exercise a little more patience than usual. He chose to address both at 
 the same time, rather than reserve the duties of either husband or wife to another op- 
 portunity. As the author always preaches without notes, and had written only a general 
 sketch of the subject, some few words and phrases may differ from those delivered in the 
 pulpit ; but the sense is completely, and the language nearly the same. Had the Sermon 
 been designed for publication, or studied free from some peculiar interruptions and engage- 
 ments, it might have been less unworthy of perusal. 
 
 Bath ; August 24, 1801. 
 
 166 
 
A SERMON. 
 
 Likewise, ye -wives, be in subjection to your 
 own husbands, that if any obey not the -word, 
 they also may without the word be won by 
 the conversation of the wives, while they 
 behold your chaste conversation coupled 
 with fear. Whose adorning; let it not be that 
 outward adorning, of plaiting the hair, and 
 of wearing of gold, or of putting on of ap- 
 parel : but let it be the hidden man of the 
 heart, in that which is not corruptible, even 
 the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, 
 which is in the sight of God of great price. 
 For after this manner in the old time, the 
 holy women also who trusted in God adorned 
 themselves, being in subjection unto their 
 own husbands : even as Sarah obeyed Abra- 
 ham, calling him lord : whose daughters ye 
 are as long as ye do well, and are not afraid 
 with any amazement. Likewise, ye hus- 
 bands, dwell with them according to know- 
 ledge, giving honour unto the wife as unto 
 the weaker vessel, and as being heirs to- 
 gether of the grace of life ; that your pray- 
 ers be not hindered. — 1 Pet. iii. 1 — 7. 
 
 The Governor of the universe is perpetu- 
 ally varying and determining our duties, by 
 the dispensations of his providence, the con- 
 ditions in which he fixes us, and the connex- 
 ions he leads us to form. Thus the whole 
 Scripture is examined in succession, and every 
 truth of the gospel obtains an application ap- 
 propriate and impressive. 
 
 Marriage is an institution of peculiar im- 
 portance. It is of divine ordination, and al- 
 most coeval with the existence of the human 
 race. It is the origin of families ; the source 
 of the continuance and welfare of nations. 
 It distinguishes man from the brute creation, 
 excludes the disorders of licentiousness, and 
 cherishes the sweetest affections of the heart. 
 There is no union, the quality of which is so 
 intimate, the obligation of which is so bind- 
 ing, the consequences of which are so mo- 
 mentous. It even surpasses natural relation, 
 " and for this cause shall a man leave his fa- 
 ther and his mother, and shall cleave unto his 
 wife, and they two shall be one flesh ; what 
 therefore God hath joined together let not 
 man put asunder." 
 
 Hence the opinion of those who would 
 either banish or degrade marriage, has al- 
 ways been held by the wise and the virtuous, 
 as a sentiment the most vile and injurious, 
 equally destructive of morals and of social 
 happiness. Hence many of the philosophers 
 and legislators, even in the heathen world, 
 were peculiarly solicitous to establish, to 
 
 sanction, to encourage, and to regulate this 
 institution. But in this, as well as in every 
 other instance favourable to the welfare of 
 mankind, the " gospel of our salvation" has 
 the pre-eminence. It classes the prohibition 
 of the ordinance with "the doctrine of devils," 
 — assures us " marriage is honourable in all" 
 — leads us back to its commencement in pa- 
 radise — renders the bond indissoluble — places 
 it under the jurisdiction of Heaven — takes 
 from it an image to prefigure the union of 
 Christ and his people — and often makes it 
 the subject of particular instruction. It has 
 given us advice, it has given us law — and 
 where is this law so beautifully and largely 
 expressed as in the passage I hold up to view 
 this morning'! 
 
 Part L In the delineation of the duties 
 resulting from marriage, our divine Instruc- 
 tor begins with wives — and to animate their 
 attention to the rules he prescribes, he re- 
 minds them of the probability of their use- 
 fulness to their husbands in a case of all 
 others the most interesting: "If any obey 
 not the word, they may, without the word, 
 be won." 
 
 Religion is not always universal, even in 
 small detached portions of society. In the 
 same house, there may be an heir of glory, 
 and a son of perdition, natural alliance and 
 spiritual disunion, persons living together in 
 this world between whom, in eternity, there 
 will be a great gulf fixed. 
 
 The instance of infidelity and ungodliness 
 is taken from the man ; and the apostle marks 
 the piety of the wife, rather than of the hus- 
 band. — Is this mentioned without design 1 ? 
 Do not history, experience, and observation 
 favour the probability ? Have not women in 
 all denominations, in all ages, in all coun- 
 tries, in all ranks, been more disposed to 
 religion, than men 1 — From how many vices 
 are females restrained by considerations 
 which bear, much less forcibly, on the minds 
 of men'! — Who depends so much on opinion 
 and esteem, or feels so many motives to pre- 
 serve reputation unblemished 1 — Denied so 
 often the liberty of divulging their emotions, 
 Who so ready to seize the privilege of pray- 
 er, and to " pour out the heart before- God !" 
 — Who so susceptible of lively impressions t 
 — Who feels so powerfully the thrilling of 
 sympathy, or melts down so easily into all 
 the tendernesses of benevolence 1 — While we 
 think, they feel — while we deliberate, they 
 relieve. What woman was ever destitute 
 167 
 
168 
 
 THE MUTUAL DUTIES 
 
 of commiseration ! — It was not a woman that 
 unfeelingly, " looked on," or " passed by on 
 the other side," when the poor traveller lay, 
 wounded, bleeding;, half-dead. — Who so ac- 
 customed to self-denial, the first, the last les- 
 son, in the school of Christ ! — Who feels 
 such vicissitudes of health, or passes through 
 scenes of pain and hazard so adapted to ex- 
 cite an entire dependence upon God, and to 
 awaken solemn thought by bringing another 
 world nearer the view"! — Less occupied in 
 the distracting concerns of business, she has 
 more time for solitude and reflection. Her 
 general sphere of action, is much more pro- 
 pitious to innocency and devotion. Her joys 
 are more immediately derived from her vir- 
 tues. Home is the chief place of her amuse- 
 ments. The tenderest cares of nature charm, 
 as well as employ her. The mother is happy 
 to press to her lips and to her bosom the babe 
 she has borne — to feel the stroking hand 
 of her suckling at her breast — to sit by 
 the cradle of her infant daughter — to view 
 from the window the manly exploits of her 
 boy — or 
 
 " Delightful task, to rear the tender thought. 
 To teach the young idea how to shoot, 
 To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, 
 To breath th' enlivening spirit, and to fix 
 The generous purpose in the glowing breast." — 
 
 Hence, how often do we see the sister, 
 traveling a road, in which her brother re- 
 fuses to accompany her ; and the wife, living 
 under the power of the gospel, while the 
 husband neglects to hear, or hears with in- 
 difference. It were indeed to be wished that 
 real Christians would never contract affinity 
 with the irreligious : they are required to 
 " marry in the Lord." The necessity of this 
 law is more than justified, by the discords 
 and miseries in which those involve them- 
 selves, who refuse to be governed by it. 
 Therefore no countenance is here given to 
 the practice of being " unequally yoked to- 
 gether with unbelievers." But a change 
 may be effected subsequent to marriage. 
 The wife may become religious, while the 
 husband remains a stranger, or a foe. Now 
 that which should prevent marriage, is not 
 to dissolve it. The relation continues ; and 
 the wife, so far from being absolved from her 
 obligation, is furnished with an additional 
 motive to discharge it. " For what knowest 
 thou, O wife, whether thou shalt save thy 
 husband'!" Let it excite all thy concern. 
 The salvation of a soul! the salvation of a 
 husband ! of one endeared by so many ties ! — 
 O lose not each other in the " valley of the 
 shadow of death." Let your friendship sur- 
 vive the desolations of time, and be renewed 
 to infinite advantage beyond the grave. 
 Think, O wife, of the happiness — the honour 
 that awaits you. What is the triumph you 
 have acquired over him by your charms, 
 compared with the victory you will obtain 
 
 over him by your religion 1 — What pleasure 
 will attend the remainder of your days — 
 now you are " of one heart and of" one mind :" 
 now you "take sweet counsel together." 
 The privileged language of prayer now is 
 our Father — of every motion made " to go 
 and seek the Lord of Hosts," there is a 
 ready acceptance — "I will go also." And 
 what will "be your joy and crown of re- 
 joicing" in that day when, before assembled 
 men and angels, he will say, " O blessed be 
 the Providence which attached us in yonder 
 world, and has still more perfectly united us 
 in this. The woman thou gavest to be with 
 me" led me not to " the tree of knowledge 
 of good and evil," but to V the tree of life, 
 which is in the midst of the paradise of 
 God." 
 
 To encourage those who feel the painful 
 affliction of ungodly relations, I ■would ob- 
 serve that, ultimately, we seldom see one 
 individual only in a household called by 
 grace. She may have the honour of being 
 the first-fruits; but more, commonly follow. 
 She may be long exercised before any fa- 
 vourable indications appear — but how often 
 at last, are all her prayers heard, and her en- 
 deavours crowned with success, prejudices 
 the most inveterate gradually give way; 
 each is successively disposed to hear, till we 
 see them all " going to the house of God in 
 company." It is not possible for persons to 
 be much together even in the exercises of 
 common friendship, without impression and 
 effect : we soon imbibe each other's disposi- 
 tions, and assimilate : " he that walketh with 
 wise men shall be wise, and a companion of 
 fools shall be destroyed." But of all the 
 causes which form our manners, none ope- 
 rates so powerfully as female intercourse. If 
 confined entirely to their company, we be- 
 come effeminate — if constantly excluded from 
 it, we contract a roughness of temper, and a 
 negligence of person ; our behaviour assumes 
 a ruder form, our voice a harsher tone ; our 
 sensations are less delicate, our passions more 
 brutal. Who has so many avenues to the 
 heart as a woman ? — What influence affects 
 like hers'? By means of a connexion the 
 most attractive, an intercourse the most fa- 
 miliar — the persuasion of words, the elo- 
 quence of tears, an example the most lovely 
 and always placed in view — a wife has a 
 thousand opportunities of removing prepos- 
 sessions, of fixing impressions, of engaging 
 attention, of insinuating goodness. — The gos- 
 pel was spread over a large proportion of 
 Europe, and established in several countries 
 where it prevails to this day, chiefly by wo- 
 men, who, not satisfied with gaining thrones 
 by their charms, rendered their attractions 
 subservient to their religion, and drew over 
 monarchs to the Christian faith. These are 
 public, splendid achievements, immortalized 
 in history. How many private instances of 
 
OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 
 
 169 
 
 this sanctified influence are there, unknown 
 to the world, hut recorded " in the book of 
 God's remembrance." And if, my sisters, 
 your example succeeds in the conversion of 
 a husband from irreligion, shall it not be ef- 
 fectual to reclaim him from inferior mistakes 
 and improprieties! — Shall it not advance 
 godliness, where it is already found ] Warm 
 it where it is chilled ! Polish it where it is 
 rough] And, Finish it where it is outline] 
 And how is all this to be accomplished ] 
 Not by eccentric efforts — not by starting out 
 of your sphere, but by exemplifying religion 
 as you move orderly in it — not by preaching, 
 but by living — addressing the eye rather 
 than the ear — employing the eloquence 
 which flows from subjection, conversation, 
 chastity and fear — the manner in which you 
 adorn yourselves — the models you design to 
 imitate. 
 
 1. Nothing will increase your influence, 
 and secure your usefulness, more than " being 
 in subjection to your own husbands." This 
 must, doubtless, be limited and qualified. If 
 the demands of a husband oppose the will of 
 God, you are pre-engaged by a law of uni- 
 versal operation, and " ought to obey God ra- 
 ther than man." In other cases, perhaps, it 
 will not be so easy to furnish exceptions. 
 "Therefore, as the church is subject unto 
 Christ, so let the wives be to their own hus- 
 bands in every thing." 
 
 There is a general rule, the spirit of which 
 would easily settle every relative claim: 
 " submitting yourselves one to another in the 
 fear of God." But it cannot be denied, that 
 a peculiar subjection is in the Scriptures re- 
 quired of the wife — not indeed the submis- 
 sion of slaves to their masters, or of subjects 
 to their sovereign, or even of children to a 
 father. — It has more of equality in it — ac- 
 cords with the idea of a helper, companion, 
 friend — springs originally from choice — and 
 is acquiesced in for the sake of propriety and 
 advantage. For none of the determinations 
 of God are capricious : all are founded in rea- 
 son, and all are designed to promote both in- 
 dividual and social welfare. In this regula- 
 tion has God acted partially] Has he 
 sacrificed the happiness of the woman to the 
 dignity of the man ] Has he not equally re- 
 garded the interest of the wife, the children, 
 and the connexions] In all communities, 
 whether more or less extensive, there can be 
 no happiness without peace, no peace with- 
 out order, no order without subordination, no 
 subordination without subjection. Perpetual 
 strife would originate from equality, or con- 
 tested superiority. Numberless contentions 
 would arise, from diversity of views, from dif- 
 ference of temper, and perverse adherence 
 to opposite plans, destroying the harmony 
 and tranquillity of families. The only me- 
 thod by which these disorders can be either 
 precluded or removed, is by establishing pre- 
 Y 15 
 
 eminence and authority, and enjoining sub- 
 mission and acquiescence. This being in- 
 dispensably necessary, the only question is, 
 Where shall the power of decision be 
 lodged ] 
 
 From many considerations, expressive of 
 the Divine will, the Scripture assigns this pre- 
 rogative to the man. — Witness the priority 
 of his creation: "For Adam was first formed, 
 then Eve." Witness the manner in which 
 he derived his being : " The man is not of 
 
 the woman, but the woman of the man." 
 
 Witness his destiny: "For the man was not 
 created for the woman, but the woman for 
 the man." " And the Lord said, it is not 
 good for man to be alone, I will make him a 
 help meet for him." Witness his relation : 
 "The man is the image and glory of God, 
 but the woman is the glory of the man." 
 Witness the entrance of sin : " Adam was 
 not deceived, but the woman being deceived, 
 was in the transgression." Witness the ma- 
 lediction denounced upon the woman : " Thy 
 desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall 
 rule over thee." There was nothing origi- 
 nally like a curse in this demand. In Para- 
 dise, nothing oppressive or unreasonable, 
 would have appeared in the requisition : and 
 nothing mortifying, would have attended the 
 performance. But the fall has shed the poi- 
 son — sin has rendered it irksome. — The wo- 
 man is disinclined to obey, while the man is 
 often absurd in his designs, capricious in his 
 temper, tyrannical in his claims, and degra- 
 ding in his authority. But, my sisters, while 
 you have reason, much reason to complain, 
 remember, it is the consequence of sin, the 
 sin of your own sex. Turn the curse into a 
 blessing — derive real honour from seeming 
 disgrace. You cannot dispense with this sub- 
 jection, without opposing the express will of 
 God, and violating the laws of marriage to 
 which you have acceded by a voluntary en- 
 gagement, and promised obedience in a man- 
 ner the most solemn. 
 
 2. Much depends upon your " conversa- 
 tion." By this you are to understand all 
 your behaviour, the whole course of your 
 lives. Little is to be done by a single action, 
 or an individual solitary excellence, while 
 other things in the character, so far from aid- 
 ing its impressions, counteract its tendency, 
 or mar its effects. There is a connexion be- 
 tween duties and virtues : they enliven and 
 enforce — they sustain and recommend each 
 other. The strength of this moral chain to 
 draw, depends upon the concatenation of the 
 links; and the force of this spiritual beauty 
 to strike and captivate, results from the union, 
 harmony, and proportion of all the lineaments. 
 One handsome feature all surrounded with 
 ugliness, would excite disgust, or render de- 
 formity the more observable. 
 
 3. Your conversation is to be always dis- 
 tinguished by "chastity and fear," and 
 
170 
 
 THE MUTUAL DUTIES 
 
 these are to be " coupled." How natural, 
 how necessary the alliance ! 
 
 The apostle deems it needless to descend 
 to the grossness of vice, or actual infractions 
 of the marriage covenant. He would inti- 
 mate, that where there are no such infamous 
 degradations in your sex, there may be an 
 audacity of countenance, a boldness of look, a 
 levity of discourse, a freedom of manners, a 
 forwardness of behaviour, a challenging, ob- 
 trusive, advancing air — very unbecoming the 
 sacred decorum which should appear in all 
 the female character. He therefore requires 
 "fear." — It intends the reverse of every 
 thing seen in too many of our modern females 
 — diffidence, bashfulness; the blushings of 
 reserve ; the tremulous retiring of modesty ; 
 the sensation which arises from the union of 
 innocency and danger ; the carefulness which 
 leads you to "avoid the appearance of evil ;" 
 the apprehension, that to be suspected is al- 
 most as bad as to be guilty ; the prudence 
 which keeps you far, very far from the extre- 
 mities of permission; the vigilance which 
 discerns and announces danger, while yet a 
 great way off ; the caution that never suffers 
 the outguards to be called in, or the enemy to 
 approach even near enough to reconnoitre. 
 This, my fair hearers, will diffuse a glory 
 over you, which never fails to charm, and 
 upon all the glory will be a defence. 
 
 4. Much depends on the manner in which 
 you adorn yourselves; whether you appear 
 the votaries of vanity ; or prize your souls ; 
 improve your minds ; and govern your tem- 
 pers. " Whose adorning, let it not be that 
 outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of 
 wearing of gold and apparel : but let it be 
 the hidden man of the heart, in that which is 
 not corruptible ; even the ornament of a meek 
 and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God 
 of great price." 
 
 The sex which rendered clothing neces- 
 sary, has always been too much disposed to 
 glory in the memorial of our shame. Wo- 
 men have not the same mediums of address 
 with men. They must succeed by means 
 more silent and disguised. Discovery would 
 often frustrate intention. They know their 
 force lies in their beauty, and seize dress as 
 an auxiliary; they increase natural attrac- 
 tions by artificial assistance. " Can a maid 
 forget her ornaments, or a bride her attire !" 
 
 Peter knows what is too characteristical 
 in the sex. What he despairs to alter, he 
 labours to improve. Women must be fine ; 
 will be fine — He indulges them ; only turn- 
 ing their attention from external decoration 
 to internal accomplishment. — Not that he 
 forbids a proper attention to the body. No- 
 thing can be so despicable and disgusting as 
 a slattern ; though it has been remarked, that 
 a propensity to it, is often found connected 
 with a love of finery. The body is the work 
 of God— the structure is " fearfully and won- 
 
 derfully made." — It is a part of our nature — 
 but it is the inferior part ; and this should re- 
 gulate the degree of attention. A woman of 
 good sense, will always possess a better stand- 
 ard of dress in her own taste, than is to be de- 
 rived from any precise rules. 
 
 She will avoid whatever would appear 
 light and wanton. The apparel of " a wo- 
 man professing godliness," should not be the 
 attire of a woman of the world, much less, 
 " the attire of a harlot." Females sometimes 
 wear a label, on which indecency and indeli- 
 cacy are written, and then appear to be of- 
 fended because observers can read. I would 
 not always infer too much of the disposition 
 from these outward hints — but in the name of 
 a blush, on what principle can we explain 
 the invention or adoption of certain modes 1 
 — I describe nothing. 
 
 She will beware of exceeding her rank, 
 and her circumstances, or even of reducing 
 her means of beneficence. Shall I here avaU 
 myself of the season ] How many miserable 
 objects are there around you ! — What an in- 
 sult on the wretchedness of the times, is the 
 dress of many extravagant females ! My fair 
 hearers, escape this censure. Remember 
 Dorcas; enter yonder " upper chamber" — see 
 the " widows standing and weeping, and 
 showing the coats and garments which she 
 made while she was with them." — What will 
 afford you most pleasure when you come to 
 die — the recollection of the property you em- 
 ployed in clothing the naked, or of that 
 which you expended on costly folly? What 
 satisfaction, resulting from the applause of 
 finery, can equal the joy of benevolence a fe- 
 male feels, while moving among the tears, 
 prayers, and benedictions of gratitude 1 — 
 " When the ear heard me, then it blessed me 
 — and when the eye saw me, it gave witness 
 unto me." 
 
 She will keep it from engrossing too much 
 of the mind ; she will not suffer it to be either 
 her business or delight — she will not render 
 herself responsible at the bar of God for the 
 awful waste of hours, weeks, months — shall I 
 add, years ! detached from a life as short as it 
 is important, and the whole of which ought to 
 be redeemed ! 
 
 The apostle speaks comparatively. — He 
 would teach women that they have souls — 
 that they are made capable of greater beauty 
 than the body yields — that they ought to 
 adorn the mind — that their endeavours to de- 
 corate their persons should be infinitely sur- 
 passed by their attention to intellectual ac- 
 complishments — that they should be ambitious 
 of moral endowments, and above all tilings, 
 pay an attention to the " heart." — For what 
 are talents unsanctified 1 — " Knowledge puff- 
 eth up, but "charity edifieth." — What are 
 notions the most sublime, and sentiments the 
 most admired, if the disposition be not under 
 the bias of religion ? How defective will the 
 
OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 
 
 171 
 
 whole figure appear, without " the ornament 
 of a meek and quiet spirit?" — What so un- 
 sightly, so odious, as a discontented, fretful, 
 foaming, boisterous, scolding woman 1 " A 
 continual dropping in a very rainy day, and a 
 contentious woman are alike." "It is better 
 to dwell in the corner of a house-top than with 
 a brawling woman in a wide house." " It is 
 better to dwell in the wilderness than with a 
 contentious and an angry woman. Whoso 
 hideth her, hideth the wind and the ointment 
 of his right hand, that bewrayeth itself." The 
 Graces were female : so were the Furies too. 
 Much depends on the cultivation of the mind ; 
 more on the regulation of the temper. The 
 necessity of this qualification, in family con- 
 nexion, is inconceivable. In managing the 
 concerns of a household, how many things 
 will perpetually arise to disappoint, to ruffle, 
 to unhinge, to vex, and to provoke ! — These 
 require the command of temper. And there 
 are wives, and there are wives in this assem- 
 bly, who in " patience possess their souls" — 
 who can feel, but retain their composure — 
 who can calmly remonstrate, but know not 
 to insist — who can yield and accommodate 
 — who are "not easily provoked" — but 
 " easily entreated :" who are disposed rather 
 to endure than complain — and to suffer in 
 secret, rather than disturb others with their 
 grief. 
 
 Suffer me then, my fair hearers, to recom- 
 mend this exchange, this preference of de- 
 coration. Like " the king's daughter, be 
 all glorious within." Let the Bible be the 
 mirror at which you dress ; and while others 
 are weightily engaged in catching a fashion, 
 or adjusting a curl, let the object of your 
 cultivation be the understanding, the memory, 
 the will, the affections, the conscience. Let 
 no part of this internal creation be unadorned : 
 let it sparkle with the diamonds of wisdom, 
 of prudence, of humility, of gentleness. 
 These ornaments alone will confer dignity, 
 and prepare for usefulness. If destitute of 
 these, can you imagine it possible to obtain 
 real durable regard ? Need you be told, that 
 these skin-deep perfections, these exterior 
 senseless appendages, imply no excellency in 
 the wearer, and are only admired by the weak, 
 or the worthless] Are you ignorant that 
 men often despise a soul lodged in a form they 
 adore, and admire nonsense, because it is 
 poured from handsome lips'! Are you de- 
 signed for toys, or rational beings ? the play- 
 things ofthe senses, or improving companions? 
 Would you in company keep your husbands 
 on thorns, while they wish you to be seen, 
 and hope you will not be heard ; knowing 
 how much more likely you are to strike by 
 the quality and pattern of your robes, than 
 by the insipidity and inanity of your dis- 
 course? — Adorn yourselves in the newest 
 mode, in the richest attire, plait your hair, 
 deck yourselves with pearls — will these ren- 
 
 der you valuable? — Will these qualify you to 
 manage the concerns of a family, " to give 
 a portion to your maidens," to train up your 
 children in wisdom and virtue, to be a help- 
 meet for your husband ! — What ! are you 
 endued with reason and immortality, only to 
 be enamoured with a piece of embroidery, or 
 to pay your devotions to the colour of silk ? 
 — Are you sublimely resolved never, never 
 to leave the world of fans, and enter the 
 region of intelligence and of mind? 
 
 These decorations are "not corruptible." 
 All other ornaments " perish in the using." 
 All other attire gives place to the shroud. 
 " Beauty consumes away like a moth" — the 
 sparkling eye " is closed in darkness" — the 
 body is " laid in the grave — death shall feed 
 upon it." The charmer, looking in vain for 
 admirers, says " to corruption, Thou art my 
 father: to the worm, Thou art my mother 
 and my sister." — Prolong life. Accidents 
 may disfigure, and diseases corrode. — How 
 quickly time changes the countenance ! — 
 How transient the empire of colours and of 
 tints ! — How soon wrinkles and gaudy attire 
 disagree ! — Having laid in no stock of mental 
 influence, and sober entertainment against 
 the evil day, what becomes of these delight- 
 ful creatures ? — A few years reduce them to 
 insignificance, leaving them only the humi- 
 liating claims of pity, or the uncertain returns 
 of gratitude. — But an accomplished pious 
 woman, can never be the object of neglect — 
 she will attract notice, and confer happiness, 
 even when descending into the vale of years. 
 The ravages of time cannot reach the soul : 
 death cannot strip off the habits of immor- 
 tality : it will only change her " from glory 
 to glory :" only remove her from earth, un- 
 worthy of continuance, and place her among 
 " the innumerable company of angels." 
 
 In adorning ourselves, the opinion of others 
 is very influential ; especally if the admirers 
 discover taste, possess sway, or can give law 
 to fashion. This decoration is in the sight 
 op Gon of great price." " Not" she " who 
 commendeth herself is approved, but whom 
 the Lord commendeth." What is " the 
 honour that cometh from man ?" How waver- 
 ing, how vain, how debasing ! — But " the ho- 
 nour that cometh from God only," is purifying, 
 satisfying, enduring. It is impossible to feel 
 a complacency in ourselves, while conscious 
 that we are disesteemed by a Being of infi- 
 nite wisdom, excellency, and goodness. His 
 "judgment is always according to truth." 
 " In his favour is life ;" on his applause our 
 happiness depends — and in vain we approach 
 him with any of those distinctions which 
 dazzle and deceive mankind ; for " the Lord 
 taketh pleasure" only " in them that fear 
 him, in them that hope in his mercy." 
 
 5. Much depends on the models you 
 choose for imitation. The apostle would 
 have you conform, not to the flutterers of 
 
172 
 
 THE MUTUAL DUTIES 
 
 fashion, not to the triflers of a day, who live 
 only to please, and derive all their conse- 
 quence from vanity — but an illustrious com- 
 pany of female worthies, who drew towards 
 them the eye of God, who served their gen- 
 eration according to his will — who obtained 
 a distinguished place in the annals of inspira- 
 tion — whose names have been long glorified, 
 and will be "had in everlasting remem- 
 brance." " A gracious woman retaineth 
 honour." "Favour is deceitful and beauty 
 is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord, 
 she shall be praised : give her of the fruit of 
 her hands, and let her own works praise her 
 in the gates." — " For after this manner in 
 the old time, the holy women also who trust- 
 ed in God adorned themselves, being in sub- 
 jection to their own husbands : even as Sarah 
 obeyed Abraham, calling him lord, whose 
 daughters ye are as long as ye do well, and 
 are not afraid with any amazement." The 
 honour of this alliance awaits you — however 
 inferior in talents — however obscure in your 
 stations — however poor in your circumstances 
 — here is a passage, by which you may ob- 
 tain a place in this glorious assembly, and sit 
 down by the side of a Lydia, a Mary, a Han- 
 nah, a Deborah, a Sarah, " in the kingdom 
 of God." For by what are these pious wo- 
 men distinguished 1 — By excellencies which 
 fall within the reach of general imitation — 
 by preferring the soul to the body — by meek- 
 ness and gentleness — by modesty and reserve 
 — by a ready submission to the demands of 
 their stations. — Thus Sarah, though of the 
 same family with her husband, and distinguish- 
 ed by peculiar honours, never rose above the 
 most humble duties of her situation — never 
 suffered even the princess, to injure the wife 
 — and, willingly yielded Abraham reverence 
 and obedience. 
 
 But in all these instances, you will never 
 " do well," and become the " daughters" of 
 Sarah, unless you maintain a holy magna- 
 nimity ; " NOT BEING AFRAID WITH ANY 
 
 amazement" — so as to be staggered, con- 
 founded, dismayed, in the course of prescrib- 
 ed duty. There can be no impartial obedi- 
 ence, or unwavering perseverance in religion, 
 without courage and confidence. The man 
 needs it, the woman needs it : the husband 
 requires it, and the wife equally requires it. 
 It would be rendered still more necessary, 
 were a period to arrive, in which every airy 
 speculation would be preferred to practice ; 
 things important, because plain and of old 
 standing, would be lightly esteemed ; and 
 nothing would strike, nothing be relished, 
 unless dressed up in novelty, and seasoned 
 with extravagance. Such, my female friends, 
 is the period in which we live. Many of the 
 things which we have been recommending 
 on sacred ground, would be considered as 
 barbarous notions, as ignorance of the world, 
 prejudices which philosophy would cure, the 
 
 airs of hypocrisy, the effects of prudishness. 
 Can you form yourselves by these rules ] Can 
 you encounter opinion 1 Can you bear the 
 charge of singularity ! Can you abandon the 
 multitude, laughing or lampooning as you 
 retire ! Can you live according to the dic- 
 tates of reason, of conscience, and of God? — 
 Be principled — be decided — be resolved — be 
 firm. Having formed your views in the di- 
 vine presence, and feeling all your motives, 
 go forth, and be steadfast and unmoveable, in 
 the execution ; " always abounding in the 
 work of the Lord." 
 
 There is another instance in which these 
 pious women exercised confidence — depend- 
 ing on the providence of God, staying them- 
 selves by faith on his promises ; and thus look- 
 ing forward with a firm unruffled mind to- 
 wards those trying, painful, perilous events 
 •which were expected to befall them. The 
 Scripture, with its usual tenderness, furnishes 
 the woman with this soothing, tranquillizing 
 hope, in prospect of a season the most anxi- 
 ous — "Notwithstanding she shall be saved in 
 child-birth, if they continue in faith and 
 charity, and holiness, with sobriety." 
 
 Part II. Men and Brethren, you have 
 been hearing my address to the companions 
 of your lives. But I hope you deem instruc- 
 tion equally necessary for yourselves. I hope 
 you are not inclined to take advantage of the 
 subject, to abuse your authority or your 
 claims. Be assured they are not unqualified. 
 If the wife is to be governed by you, you are 
 to be governed by reason and religion. If 
 she is to submit, you are to honour. If in 
 some' things there is a difference, in others, 
 and those too the most interesting and 
 durable, there is an equality. " Likewise, 
 ye husbands, dwell with them according to 
 knowledge, giving honour unto the wife, as 
 unto the weaker vessel ; and as being heirs 
 together of the grace of life ; that your pray- 
 ers be not hindered." Observe, my bre- 
 thren, 1st, the representation of your duty; 
 and, 2dly, the motives by which it, is en- 
 forced. 
 
 The representation of your duty compre- 
 hends two things. 
 
 1. You are to " dwell with them accord- 
 ing to knowledge." This intends nothing 
 less than residence, opposed to absence and 
 roving. It is absurd for those who have no 
 prospect of cohabitation to enter this state, 
 and those who are already in it, should not 
 be unnecessarily abroad. Circumstances of 
 various kinds will doubtless render occasional 
 excursions unavoidable ; but let a man return 
 as soon as the design of his absence is accom- 
 plished, and let him always travel with the 
 words of Solomon in his mind, " As a bird 
 that wandereth from her nest, so is a man 
 that wandereth from his place." Can a man 
 while from home, discharge the duties he 
 owes to his household 1 Can he discipline 
 
OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 
 
 173 
 
 his children ] Can he maintain the worship 
 of God in his fan:ily 1 — I know it is the duty 
 of the wife to lead the devotion in the ab- 
 sence of the husband ; and she should take it 
 up as a cross, if not for the time as a privi- 
 lege. Few however are thus disposed, and 
 hence one of the sanctuaries of God, for 
 weeks and months together is shut up. — I am 
 sorry to say, that there are some husbands 
 who seem fonder of any society than the com- 
 pany of their wives. It appears in the dis- 
 posal of their leisure hours. How few of 
 these are appropriated to the wife ! The 
 evenings are the most domestic periods of 
 the day. To these the wife is peculiarly 
 entitled — she is now most free from her nu- 
 merous cares, and most at liberty to enjoy 
 reading and conversation. It is a sad reflec- 
 tion upon a man when he is fond of spending 
 his evenings abroad. It implies something 
 bad, and it predicts something worse. 
 
 But though the apostle intends nothing 
 less than residence, he designs much more. 
 Residence is required with a view to the 
 performance of all the duties of the state — 
 and is used to express them. In the dis- 
 charge of these obligations, the husband is to 
 act " according to knowledge" — to " behave" 
 himself " wisely," to regulate all his proceed- 
 ings, by a holy discretion. O ye husbands, 
 show that you are capable of the relation in 
 which you are placed ! If you will be the 
 head, remember the head is not only the seat 
 of government, but of knowledge. If you 
 will have the management of the ship, see 
 that a fool is not placed at the helm. Shall 
 the blind offer themselves as guides] To 
 enable you to live as a Christian husband, in 
 how many instances will the exercise of an 
 enlightened prudence be found necessary ! 
 By this you are to ascertain the temper, the 
 excellencies, the foibles of your associates. 
 This is to teach you, how to accommodate. 
 This is to show you, when to see as if you 
 saw not, and to hear as if you heard not. 
 This is to tell you how to extinguish the 
 torch of discord ; how even to prevent the 
 kindling of strife — when to give up, when to 
 recede from a lawful claim for the sake of a 
 greater good. This is to teach you also 
 when you are not to yield. — Adam, to in- 
 dulge the solicitation of his wife, disobeyed 
 the commands of Heaven. By the same soft, 
 seducing instrumentality, the heart of Solo- 
 mon was turned aside from " God." Their 
 sad examples have been unhappily, too often 
 followed. But would she force upon you her 
 antipathies — would she embroil you in all the 
 resentments of caprice, or rivalry — would 
 she allure you towards scenes of dissipation 
 and gaiety — would she urge you to extrava- 
 gance in appearances, dress, table, furniture 
 — would she chill you with suspicions, and 
 render you less generous — the importunity 
 of woman, " lovely woman," is to be in vain. 
 
 15* 
 
 "He that loveth" even — "his wife more 
 than me, is not worthy of me." 
 
 2dly. You are to " give honour unto the 
 wife." — What honour'! 
 
 The honour of esteem. This is to arise 
 from a consciousness of her worth, and a 
 knowledge of her importance in the com- 
 munity — in the family — and to yourselves — 
 by polishing your character, dividing your 
 cares, soothing your sorrows, affording you 
 in a peaceful home a refuge from the storm, 
 an asylum from the mortifications of an un- 
 friendly world. 
 
 The honour of attachment. This affec- 
 tion is to be peculiar, undivided, unrivalled. 
 Nothing is to wear it away — nothing to di- 
 minish it : no length of time, no discovery of 
 imperfection. Children are parts of your- 
 selves, but your wives are yourselves. "No 
 man ever yet hated his own flesh:" — but 
 many a monster has done so. I disdain to 
 notice those miscreants, who can have re- 
 course to blows ; but those who can indulge 
 in a churlishness of behaviour — a sharpness 
 of language — an unkindness of looks, would 
 do well to consider how far they are comply- 
 ing with the divine command — " Husbands, 
 love your wives, and be not bitter against 
 them." 
 
 The honour of attention. Nothing is so 
 intolerable to a female as neglect; and upon 
 what principle can a man justify indifference, 
 omissions of observance, and heedless man- 
 ners towards a wife? Has he not chosen 
 her] — Has he not declared his preference ] — 
 Are not the vows of God upon him ] — Is she 
 not the chief relation he possesses on earth] 
 
 The honour of confidence. You are not 
 to proceed without their knowledge and ad- 
 vice. In many cases their opinion may be 
 preferable to your own. Their judgment 
 may be less clouded by interest : they stand 
 back from the object, you are too near ; they 
 are cool and calm, you, by being in the scene, 
 are ruffled, and inflamed. An eminent minis- 
 ter of the gospel has published to the world, 
 " That he had never in any particular busi- 
 ness acted contrary to the suggestions of his 
 wife, without having reason afterwards to re- 
 pent of it." I believe there are many who are 
 restrained from similar acknowledgments 
 only by a want of candour. Some husbands 
 never consult their wives ; or even deign to- 
 inform them : and their wives have often to- 
 learn from others, or from events, things in 
 which perhaps they are most deeply con- 
 cerned. 
 
 The honour of maintenance. You are to 
 provide for them, and enable them to appear 
 becoming their rank and situation in life. — 
 What can we think of the man who squan- 
 ders away his substance upon his lewd or his 
 drunken appetites, reduces his wife to a 
 drudge, and suffers her with her babes to 
 struggle with the hardships of penury, unable 
 
174 
 
 THE MUTUAL DUTIES 
 
 to procure a sufficiency of food, or raiment ? 
 — " If any provide not for his own, and espe- 
 cially for those of his own house, he hath de- 
 nied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." 
 
 The honour of benevolence. You are to 
 enable her to do good. — Every man should 
 devote a proportion of his property to chari- 
 table uses, and he should not by his distribu- 
 tion of the whole, draw towards himself all 
 the regards of the relieved and obliged. His 
 wife should command a share of the means 
 and of the honour. — Husbands ! give your 
 wives these proofs of regard which reason 
 and revelation demand for them, and we shall 
 soon hear less of your reflections and com- 
 plaints. 
 
 Observe, 2dly, the motives by which this 
 duty is enforced. They are three. 
 
 The first is taken from the natural condi- 
 tion of the sex. " She is the weaker ves- 
 sel." If this be mentioned as a reason to 
 excite a becoming behaviour towards the 
 wife, there can be nothing in the expression 
 degrading, nothing that tends to diminish the 
 honour we are bound to show them — nothing 
 that is not adapted, when properly considered, 
 to promote it. No invidious comparisons are 
 here justified between the powers of the mind. 
 Whether there would be any disparity, were 
 females placed in the same circumstances — 
 indulged with the same advantages — and al- 
 lowed to feel the same motives with their 
 brethren, it would be needless to determine. 
 They have taken good care often to prove, 
 that the difference is not so vast as some 
 male-monopolists are willing to suppose. — 
 The reference is obvious and striking. Na- 
 ture is always wise. It gives more strength 
 where it is necessary — and less, where other 
 qualities supersede it. Milton has finely ex- 
 pressed the difference in the original pair : 
 
 " For contemplation he and valour form'd, 
 For softness she and sweet attractive grace." 
 
 Her bodily strength is inferior, her consti- 
 tution less firm and vigorous, her frame more 
 tender, her temper more yielding, her cir- 
 cumstances more generally depressing. A 
 rose, a lily, allows of no rough usages. Ten- 
 derness demands gentleness: delicacy, care : 
 pliancy, props. Has a condition fewer re- 
 sources, and is there much in it of the afflict- 
 ive and humbling ? The more does it need 
 succour, and the more necessary is every as- 
 sistance to maintain and increase the conse- 
 quence of it, especially where so much 
 depends upon the respectability of the cha- 
 racter who fills it. — Where is the man who 
 is not alive to this consideration 1 — Where is 
 the husband, who reflecting on her peculiar 
 circumstances, would not be disposed by 
 every possible means to promote the dignity, 
 and the satisfaction of a wife 1 — What is the 
 language of these circumstances'! — " Honour 
 us; deal kindly with us. From many of the 
 
 opportunities, and means by which you pro- 
 cure favourable notice, we are excluded. 
 Doomed to the shades, few of the high places 
 of the earth are open to us. Alternately we 
 are adored, and oppressed. From our slaves, 
 you become our tyrants. You feel our beauty, 
 and avail yourselves of our weakness. You 
 complain of our inferiority, but none of your 
 behaviour bids us rise. Sensibility has given 
 us a thousand feelings, which nature has 
 kindly denied you. — Always under restraints, 
 we have little liberty of choice. Providence 
 seems to. have been more attentive to enable 
 us to confer happiness, than to enjoy it. — 
 Every condition has for us fresh mortifica- 
 tions ; every relation new sorrows. We enter 
 social bonds ; it is a system of perpetual sacri- 
 fice. We cannot give life to others, without 
 hazarding our own. We have sufferings 
 which you do not share, cannot share. — If 
 spared, years and decays invade our charms, 
 and much of the ardour produced by attrac- 
 tion departs with it. — We may die. — The 
 grave covers us, and we are soon forgotten : 
 soon are the days of your mourning ended, 
 soon is our loss repaired : dismissed even from 
 your speech, our name is to be heard no more ; 
 a successor may dislike it — Our children, 
 after having a mother by nature, may fall 
 under the control of a mother by affinity, and 
 be mortified by distinctions made between 
 them, and her own offspring. — Though the 
 duties which we have discharged invariably, 
 be the most important and necessary, they do 
 not shine: they are too common to strike: 
 they procure no celebrity : the wife, the mo- 
 ther fills no historic page. Our privations, 
 our confinements, our wearisome days, our 
 interrupted, our sleepless nights, the hours 
 we have hung in anxious watchings over your 
 sick and dying offspring." — 
 
 Behold a second motive. It is derived from 
 the dignity of the wife as a mutual partaker 
 of the privileges of the gospel. — No inequality 
 reigns here. It is a " common salvation." 
 Are you, O man, an " heir of the grace of 
 life V So are they — heirs together with 
 you — in the same degree — having the same 
 claims — the same hopes — the same rever- 
 sions. "There is neither Jew nor Greek, 
 there is neither bond nor free, there is neither 
 male nor female, for ye are all one in Christ 
 Jesus." — Can a woman be an infidel! — 
 What self-degradation. Need she be told 
 her obligations to Christianity ? What has 
 raised her so high in the scale of importance 1 
 What system has done such justice to her 
 claims'? In what country have the provi- 
 sions of legislation lost sight of the distinc- 
 tion of male and female ; looked at both with 
 the same aspect, rendered the one as person- 
 ally responsible as the other, and entitled 
 them equally to the same rights and privi- 
 leges 1 — When a woman steps on this sacred 
 I ground, she becomes free — she is her own ; 
 
OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 
 
 175 
 
 she is a party, she treats for herself. Here, 
 my sisters, your reproach is rolled away. We 
 see one of your sex bringing forth " Imma- 
 nuel, God with us." We see the angels of 
 heaven bringing you messages, and perform- 
 ing for you miracles. We see you last at 
 the cross, and first at the tomb of our com- 
 mon Lord. We see Jehovah listening to 
 your supplications, and maintaining your 
 cause. We see you " the daughters of" the 
 Lord Almighty." We see you redeemed 
 with an infinite price — destined to possess a 
 " far more exceeding and eternal weight of 
 glory," and hastening to partake of a resur- 
 rection in which they " neither marry nor are 
 given in marriage, but are as the angels of 
 God in heaven." 
 
 A third reason is drawn from those devo- 
 tional exercises which cannot be properly 
 performed where relative duty is not observed 
 — " That your prayers be not hindered." It 
 is impossible for a Christian to live without 
 prayer. He prays alone, and he prays with 
 others. The field, the temple, the closet, the 
 family, are all with him places "where 
 prayer is wont to be made." 
 
 flow necessary is prayer in the marriage 
 state. How does social devotion sweeten 
 social life ! It obtains strength for its duties, 
 and succour for its trials. It gives a direc- 
 tion to the mind, by which we escape num- 
 berless snares ; an elevation, by which we 
 rise above a thousand vexations. How it 
 sanctifies our comforts ! How it prepares the 
 soul for disappointment or success ! How it 
 calls down the blessing of Heaven to " attend 
 the labour of our hand !" How it attracts the 
 divine presence, and places Him within our 
 reach " who is nigh unto all them, that call 
 upon him; to all that call upon him in truth" 
 — Of a prayerful habitation it may be said, 
 How glorious is this place ! " This is none 
 other than the house of God, and this is the 
 gate of heaven !" " The voice of rejoicing 
 and of salvation is in the tabernacles of the 
 righteous." O happy mansion ! where all 
 the members of the family " dwell together 
 in unity" — living with each other here, as 
 those who expect to be associates for ever ; 
 maintaining a friendship the centre of which 
 is religion, the duration of which is eternity, 
 the bonds of which are " faith and love which 
 are in Christ Jesus." 
 
 Guard, therefore, against every thing in- 
 jurious to the service of God in your fami- 
 lies. Let nothing hinder its exercise. Let 
 nothing prevent its fervour. Let nothing de- 
 stroy its freedom. Let nothing frustrate its 
 efficacy. Let nothing limit, or even delay 
 its success. Let your whole conversation 
 be consistent with devotion, or preparatory 
 to it Avoid whatever renders an introduc- 
 tion into the Divine presence less easy, or less 
 delightful. Keep open a passage wide enough 
 to advance together to the throne of grace. 
 
 Go hand in hand into his presence : " Agree, 
 touching the things you shall ask, and it shall 
 be done for you of our heavenly Father." 
 
 In reviewing the subject, I would beseech 
 you, my dear hearers, to remember — That 
 those who make light of moral and relative 
 duties, contemn the will of God. " He knows 
 what is in man," and what is necessary to 
 him. Every condition lies open to his view. 
 He sees how things blend, and how they 
 issue ; how they oppose, or how they aid each 
 other. Though invisible to us, he sees the 
 worm that lies at the root of our social hap- 
 piness : we wonder at the effect, he sees the 
 cause, and would remove it. He has conde- 
 scended to speak : we have his judgment re- 
 lative to every station and relation in life. 
 He speaks as a sovereign who has authority 
 to command, and he speaks as a friend who 
 consults your welfare, and " takes pleasure 
 in the prosperity of his servants." 
 
 Again. We have reason to lament, that 
 there is such a general deficiency among 
 professors of religion, with regard to those 
 duties which they owe to each other. Many, 
 to show their love to the gospel, testify their 
 indifference to the law. Numbers are too 
 orthodox, or too devotional, to be moral. Mo- 
 rality is below their faith, or their raptures. 
 Various things their system has taught them ; 
 but one thing it has not taught them, one 
 thing it does not require them to learn — " to 
 deny all ungodliness and worldly lusts, and 
 to live soberly, righteously, and godly in the 
 present world." Shall ministers, by their si- 
 lence, be accessary to this corruption of man- 
 ners, this awful perversion of religion 1 — Let 
 them " affirm, constantly, that they which 
 have believed in God, must be careful to 
 maintain good works. These things are good 
 and profitable unto men." 
 
 Let those who stand already in the mar- 
 riage relation, be willing to know, and to 
 practise the duties which spring from it. — 
 Enter, my brethren and sisters, the temple of 
 revelation — bow before the divine oracle — 
 say, " Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" 
 " Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth." Ex- 
 tract from the Scripture, the mind of God 
 concerning yourselves individually. Take 
 home the words I have been explaining. 
 Read. Compare. Resolve. Reform. Let not 
 husbands take away the duties of the wife, 
 nor wives the duties of the husband ; but let 
 both take respectively their own, and say, 
 " O that my feet were directed to keep thy 
 statutes." " I have chosen the way of truth, 
 thy judgments have I laid before me." 
 " Through thy precepts I get understanding, 
 therefore I hate every false way." " I have 
 sworn, and I will perform it, that I will keep 
 thy righteous judgments." 
 
 Let the young think of this, and let it in- 
 fluence their choice. Let those think of it, 
 who are approaching this holy state. By 
 
176 
 
 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 
 
 many it is totally overlooked ; and they con- 
 tract marriages on considerations purely ac- 
 cidental, or worldly — as if they wished to 
 marry, not to be happy; to gain each other, 
 not to enjoy. Who forms this alliance as a 
 Christian! Who enters it with those views 
 and motives the gospel supplies'! Who con- 
 sults God in the undertaking"! Who has the 
 banns published in heaven to ascertain what 
 impediments are pleaded there J Thus per- 
 sons are often unsuitably bound together 
 by an engagement, which can only be dis- 
 solved by death, that comes to release them 
 from one prison, and conduct them into 
 another. — 
 
 But may I not congratulate others ? — My 
 beloved Friends, in this important concern, 
 you have done nothing without asking coun- 
 sel of the Lord. By faith and prayer, I am 
 persuaded you have engaged that Saviour 
 who was present at the marriage of Cana in 
 Galilee, to honour your approaching nuptials ; 
 
 and under the influence of his gracious Spi- 
 rit, your mutual affections shall increase with 
 time, and shine bright to all eternity. — I look 
 forward and see you blessing and blessed. I 
 see you " walking in all the commandments 
 and ordinances of the Lord blameless." I 
 see your " children like olive-plants around 
 your table." I see you endeavouring to form 
 them into characters, and to " train them up 
 in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." 
 I see you resigning each other with the feel- 
 ings and hopes of Christians. — " For this I 
 say, the time is short: It remaineth, there- 
 fore, that both they that have wives, be as 
 though they had none ; and they that weep, 
 as though they wept not; and they that re- 
 joice, as though they rejoiced not; and they 
 that buy, as though they possessed not ; and 
 they that use this world, as not abusing it : 
 for the fashion of this world passeth away ;" 
 and you are hastening from the altar to the 
 tomb. 
 
REFLECTIONS ON VICTORY : 
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED IN ARG YLE-CHAPEL, BATH, DECEMBER 5, 1805; 
 
 Being the day appointed for a general Thanksgiving ; for the Signal Victory obtained 
 under the late Lord Viscount JSelson, over the Combined Fleet of the Enemy. 
 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 A Sermon presented to the eye from the Press, is submitted to a severer test than a Ser- 
 mon only heard from the Pulpit. 
 
 A Sermon impressive in the delivery is generally less interesting in the perusal, having 
 no longer the advantage of a number of auxiliary feelings and circumstances. 
 
 These obvious reflections would have hindered the Author from sending abroad a dis- 
 course composed in haste, and with no view to publication, had it not been for two counter 
 motives. 
 
 One of which is taken from the expediency of seizing events as they occur, and of turning 
 to utility present impressions. 
 
 The other is derived from importunity. It is no easy thing to refuse a people endeared 
 by a thousand attentions and kindnesses. — The Author, therefore, has yielded to the warm 
 and unanimous solicitations of a large and highly esteemed congregation : and begs leave 
 only to observe — that the sermon they will now read, is more than substantially the same 
 with the sermon they have lately heard : few sentences are altered : the free and popular 
 style of the pulpit is retained. 
 
 The substance of the prayer is also inserted by desire. 
 
 PRAYER BEFORE SERMON. 
 
 O God thou art very great, thou art 
 clothed with honour and majesty ; thou cover- 
 est thyself with light as with a garment ; thou 
 ridest upon the wings of the wind. When 
 we reflect upon the glory of thy majesty, we 
 are astonished at thy infinite condescension 
 in designing to notice creatures so mean and 
 so vile as we are. What is man that thou 
 art mindful of him, and the Son of man that 
 thou visitest him. We have thought of thy 
 lovingkindness, O Lord, in the midst of thy 
 temple ; and are again assembled together to 
 call upon our souls, and all that is within us, 
 to bless and praise thy holy name. 
 
 We rejoice that thy throne is in the hea- 
 vens, and that thy kingdom ruleth over all ; 
 that we are under the empire of a Being not 
 only almighty, but perfectly righteous and 
 wise and good ; that all things in our world 
 are appointed and arranged by thee ; that thy 
 
 Providence numbers the very hairs of our 
 head ; and that a sparrow falleth not to the 
 earth without our heavenly Father. 
 
 Hitherto hath the Lord helped us. We 
 bless thee for personal mercies. If we are 
 called, it is by thy word. If we are renewed, 
 it is by thy Spirit. If we are justified, it is 
 freely by thy grace through the redemption 
 that is in Christ Jesus. It is in thee we live, 
 move, and have our being. Thy goodness has 
 been always to listen to our complaints, to 
 soothe our sorrows, and to rescue us from 
 dangers. And numberless are the instances 
 of lovingkindness that now, from ignorance 
 or inattention, escape our notice, the discov- 
 ery of which will awaken our songs when 
 we mingle with those that dwell in thy 
 house above, and are still praising thee. 
 
 We thank thee for relative mercies; for 
 blessings on our families, blessings on our 
 
 177 
 
178 
 
 PRAYER BEFORE SERMON. 
 
 churches, and blessings on the country to 
 which we belong. We confess that we are 
 not worthy of the least of all the mercies 
 and of all the truth which thou hast shown 
 us. Sins of every kind and degree have 
 reigned among us ; have spread through all 
 ranks; and continued through all warnings 
 and corrections; and if thou shouldest deal 
 with us after our sins, or reward us according 
 to our iniquities, we should no longer have 
 a name and a place among the nations of the 
 globe. 
 
 But while to us belong shame and confu- 
 sion of faces, to thee, the Lord our God, be- 
 long mercies and forgiveness. All thy dis- 
 pensations towards us have said with a ten- 
 derness that ought to penetrate our hearts, 
 How shall I give thee up, O England ! Our 
 privileges never improved, and forfeited 
 times without number, have been continued. 
 We still behold our Sabbaths, and our eyes 
 see our teachers. Our constitution, endeared 
 by comparison, has been preserved ; our civil 
 liberties and laws, marked by their justice 
 and mildness, have not been subverted ; and 
 still we sit under our own vines, and under 
 our own fig trees, none daring to make us 
 afraid. Thou hast given us rains and fruitful 
 seasons; thou hast filled us with the finest 
 of the wheat ; our garners have been full, af- 
 fording all manner of store ; our oxen have 
 been strong to labour ; our sheep have brought 
 forth thousands and ten thousands in our 
 streets. Thou hast spread thy wing, and 
 sheltered us from the pestilence that walketh 
 in darkness, and the destruction that rageth 
 at noonday. We have not been permitted to 
 hear the confused noise of warriors, nor to 
 see garments rolled in blood — it has not come 
 nigh us. Our enemies have often threatened 
 to swallow us up, but thou hast frustrated their 
 designs; and brought into conflict, thou hast 
 given us a succession of victories — the great- 
 est of which we have the happiness this day 
 to acknowledge. 
 
 O ! that men would praise the Lord for his 
 goodness and for his wonderful works to the 
 children of men ! By these cords of love 
 draw us to thyself. By thy mercies may we 
 present our bodies a living sacrifice holy and 
 acceptable, which is our reasonable service. 
 After such a deliverance as this, may we no 
 more break thy commandments. May we 
 never convert our blessings into instruments 
 of provocation, by their nourishing pride and 
 arrogance, and self-confidence, and presump- 
 tion ; so as to compel thee to complain. — Do 
 
 ye thus requite the Lord, O foolish people, 
 and unwise ! I have nourished and brought 
 children, and they have rebelled against me. 
 
 With all our gratitude and joy may we re- 
 member what reasons we have also for sor- 
 row and humiliation. O give us that repent- 
 ance that is unto life. O reform our manners 
 and forgive our sins. And suffer us to plead 
 for a continuance of thy goodness. On thee 
 we depend for our preservation and deliver- 
 ance. O ! disperse the clouds that hang over 
 us. Mingle not a perverse spirit in the midst 
 of us, but in such a period of danger may we 
 feel as the heart of one man. May we not 
 grow impatient under the pressure of needful 
 burdens ; nor ever suffer our trials to make 
 us insensible to our comforts. 
 
 Let the king live before thee. Upon his 
 head may the crown long flourish. Be his 
 consolation and support under the weight of 
 growing years, of bodily infirmities, and of 
 national anxieties. Bless him in his royal 
 consort ; and in all the branches of his illus- 
 trious family. Bless him in his counsels. Im- 
 part to those who are at the helm of public 
 affairs, that wisdom that is profitable to di- 
 rect ; and let all who are in stations of public 
 trusts be faithful to public interests. May all 
 the various classes of our community pursue 
 that righteousness which exalteth a nation, 
 and forsake that sin which is a reproach to 
 any people. And as all events are under thy 
 control, and all hearts are at thy command, 
 open, we beseech thee, a way for the termi- 
 nation of hostility, and the restoration of 
 peace. 
 
 For, O God, we would always deplore the 
 necessity of war ; we would weep over its cala- 
 mities, we would sigh even over its successes. 
 We must bedew our own victory with tears, 
 in the loss of so many of our fellow-creatures 
 and of our fellow-citizens, and in the mourn- 
 ful death of our distinguished leader. God 
 of peace wipe away our tears. Cause the 
 triumphs and the horrors of war to cease. 
 Return, O Lord, how long t and let it repent 
 thee concerning thy servants. O satisfy us 
 early with thy mercy ; that we may rejoice 
 and be glad all our days. Make us glad accord- 
 ing to the days wherein thou hast afflicted 
 us, and the years wherein we have seen 
 evil. Let thy work appear unto thy servants, 
 and thy glory unto their children. And let 
 the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us ; 
 and establish thou the work of our hands 
 upon us ; yea, the work of our hands establish 
 thou it. Our Father which art in heaven, &c 
 
REFLECTIONS ON VICTORY. 
 
 And the victory that day -was turnedinto mourn- 
 ing. — 2 Sam. xix. 2. 
 
 " Man that is born of a woman is of few 
 days, and full of trouble." Even our joys as 
 well as our sorrows proclaim, " this is not 
 your rest," and call upon us to "arise and 
 depart." For 
 
 " Roses grow on thorns, 
 
 And honey wears a sting." 
 
 There are two great diminutions of all our 
 present enjoyments. The one arises from 
 change and disappointment. Have we health'? 
 To-morrow we may be laid on " a bed of lan- 
 guishing." Have we substance ? " Riches 
 make to themselves wings and flee away." 
 Have we honour] Our laurel withers in 
 wearing, or is torn off from the brow. Alas ! 
 how many in speaking of their possessions 
 and comforts are constrained to refer to them 
 TLSjtast. One cries, I had a business — an- 
 other, I had a father — a third, I had a child. 
 
 The other springs from imperfection and 
 alloy. Even allowing certain objects to be 
 attained and secured ; on how many condi- 
 tions depends the pleasure of enjoyment'! 
 The absence of one agreeable quality ; or the 
 presence of one disagreeable circumstance, 
 will be sufficient to spoil all the relish of our 
 bliss; and even to excite vexation and dis- 
 gust. A favour was shown me, and had it 
 been given tenderly, it would have been 
 pleasing : had it come earlier — it would have 
 been useful : but it was given ungraciously ; 
 it came too late. There we see a man who 
 has large estates to leave behind him — but 
 he goes childless. Here we behold a numer- 
 ous offspring — but the means of subsistence 
 fail. And when Haman " came home he sent 
 and called for his friends, and Zereshhis wife. 
 And Haman told them of the glory of his 
 riches, and the multitude of his children, and 
 all the things wherein the king had promoted 
 him, and how he had advanced him above the 
 princes and servants of the king. Haman said 
 moreover, Yea, Esther the queen did let no 
 man come in with the king unto the banquet 
 that she had prepared but myself ; and to-mor- 
 row am I invited unto her also with the king. 
 Yet all this availeth me nothing, so long as I see 
 Mordecai the jew sitting at the king's gate." 
 The Israelites went three days from the bor- 
 ders of the Red Sea, and " found no water :" 
 they came to Marah, " and could not drink 
 of the water because it was bitter." A true 
 
 representation, says Bishop Hall, of a wilder- 
 ness state, where we are always complaining 
 even of our trials or of our indulgences ; and 
 where Providence so taxes every happiness, 
 that our fruitfulness differ but little from our 
 wants. 
 
 "No; 'tis in vain to seek for bliss, 
 For bliss can ne'er be found — 
 'Till we arrive where Jesus is, 
 And tread that heavenly ground." 
 
 My brethren, I have read a sentence from 
 the sacred history that affords another exem- 
 plification of this truth, whether we consider 
 its original reference, or its present applica- 
 tion. 
 
 And the victory was turned that day 
 into mourning. — Victory is our present sub- 
 ject; and we invite your attention while we 
 consider — I. Those victories that terminate 
 in joy — and II. Those that are attended with 
 sorrow. 
 
 Yes — my brethren, there are victories that 
 terminate in joy ; and such was 
 
 First. Our Redeemer's victory over all his 
 enemies and ours. Ah ! what a struggle had 
 he, to conquer those who had ruined man- 
 kind, and spread misery over the creation of 
 God. "He looked and there was none to 
 help ; and he wondered that there was none 
 to uphold: therefore his own arm brought 
 salvation unto him ; and his fury upheld him." 
 He interposed and succeeded — and his suc- 
 cess was the more remarkable, as it seemed 
 to spring from actual defeat. In fighting he 
 fell. The enemy, sure of victory, shouted. 
 But his triumph was short. How often and 
 how truly have we exclaimed, 
 
 " I sing my Saviour's wonders, death 
 He conquered when he fell, 
 ' 'Tis finished' — said his dying breath, 
 And shook the gates of hell." 
 
 "Now is the judgment of this world: 
 now is the prince of this world cast out." 
 And this victory issued in joy to himself. 
 He had his eye upon it all through the con- 
 flict: for "the joy that was set before him, 
 he endured the cross, despising the shame, and 
 is set down at the right hand of the throne of 
 God." It was the assured reward of his suf- 
 ferings ; " He shall see of the travail of his 
 soul and shall be satisfied : by his knowledge 
 shall my righteous servant justify many: for 
 he shall bear their iniquities. Therefore 
 will I divide him a portion with the great, 
 and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; 
 because he hath poured out his soul unto 
 179 
 
180 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON VICTORY. 
 
 death : and he was numbered with the trans- 
 gressors ; and he bare the sin of many, and 
 made intercession for the transgressors." It 
 is thus " he draws all men unto him :" It is 
 thus he gains the hearts and the praises of 
 all those for whom he bled and died ; who, 
 while here, glory only in h is cross ; who, in hea- 
 ven behold " his scars of love, and kindle to 
 a flame" — and who, through endless ages 
 will adore " saying with a loud voice, Worthy 
 is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, 
 and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and ho- 
 nour, and glory, and blessing." For it ends also 
 in joy to his people. — What days of suspense 
 and despair were those that passed, while he 
 was silent in the tomb! For he had gone 
 to assail the King of terrors in his own dark 
 dominions, and he said as he entered, "O 
 death I will be thy plagues, O grave I will 
 be thy destruction, repentance shall be hid 
 from mine eyes." And will he return? said 
 his angels and desponding followers. Yes. 
 On the third hallowed morning he comes 
 forth all life and immortality. " Then were 
 the disciples glad when they saw the Lord." 
 " The Lord is risen indeed" was their song, 
 and their salvation. And they went forth 
 and said, " We declare unto you glad tidings, 
 how that the promise which was made unto 
 the fathers, God hath fulfilled the same 
 unto us their children, in that he hath raised 
 up Jesus again ; as it is also written in the 
 second psalm, Thou art my Son, this day 
 have I begotten thee. And as concerning 
 that he raised him up from the dead, now no 
 more to return to corruption, he said on this 
 wise, I will give you the sure mercies of 
 David." 
 
 And how was the intelligence received ? 
 Not coldly, but with gladness of heart. How 
 was it heard in Samaria ? " There was great 
 joy in that city." How did the Galatians re- 
 ceive it ] With blessedness ; " where is the 
 blessedness, says the apostle, ye spake of? 
 For I bear you record, that if it had been possi- 
 ble ye would have plucked out your own eyes 
 and have given them to me." How did the 
 Thessalonians embrace it? They "received 
 the word in much affliction with joy of the 
 Holy Ghost." And why do not you give it 
 the same welcome? Is it not of the same 
 importance to you, as it was to them ? Does 
 it not abound with the same exceeding great 
 and precious promises? Does it not open the 
 same prospects to your hopes ? Does it not 
 bring the same reflection to your necessi- 
 ties ? — Why then does not this victory equal- 
 ly enliven and rejoice you ? 
 
 What would have been the consequence, 
 if he had not fought ; if he had not conquer- 
 ed ? We should have become a prey to the 
 teeth. And the miseries they would have in- 
 flicted upon us, infinitely surpass all the evils 
 we can endure from the successes of our foes. 
 These combined enemies would have robbed 
 
 us of all spiritual liberty and property; of 
 every divine relation and enjoyment: they 
 were sworn to destroy both body and soul for 
 ever. " But be of good cheer, He has over- 
 come the world !" " The Lion of the tribe of 
 Judah has prevailed !" " His right hand and 
 his holy arm have gotten him the victory." 
 Proclaim it to the ends of the earth. Let 
 it reach, O Christian, every wretched corner 
 of thy trembling soul. 
 
 "Hell and thy sins resist thy course, 
 But hell and sin are vanquish'd foes; 
 Thy Jesus nailed them to the cross, 
 And sung the triumph when he rose. 
 
 Let there be " light in all your dwellings." 
 Let every tongue be filled with rapture. 
 " Sing unto him, sing psalms unto him : talk 
 ye of all his wondrous works. Glory ye in 
 his holy name : let the hearts of those rejoice 
 that seek the Lord." 
 
 " How beautiful upon the mountains are 
 the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, 
 that publisheth peace; that bringeth good 
 tidings of good, that publisheth salvation ; that 
 saith unto Zion, thy God reigneth !" Let us 
 pass from the victory of Christ to the victory 
 of the Christian. For the Christian is a sol- 
 dier, and he wars "a good warfare." His 
 cause is righteous, his alliance is almighty, his 
 success is sure, and he "joys before the Lord 
 as men rejoice when they divide the spoil." 
 
 Nothing perhaps strikes us more power- 
 fully than military grandeur. Johnson has 
 somewhere remarked, that were you in a 
 room with a company of philosophers, and 
 there came in Charles XII. of Sweden, or 
 Frederick the Great, every eye would instant- 
 ly be drawn off from the former, and fastened 
 on the latter. Indeed the glory that attends 
 the conqueror is so dazzling, that it unhappily 
 prevents our observing sufficiently the wicked- 
 ness of his character, the injustice of his 
 means, and wretchedness of his exploits. But 
 it is the moral hero the Scripture calls upon 
 us to admire ; it is the man that subdues him- 
 self. " He that is slow to anger is greater 
 than the mighty, and he that ruleth his own 
 spirit, than he that taketh a city." There is 
 no skill like this; no valour like this; no 
 glory like this; no joy like this. Have you 
 ever been enabled by Divine grace to subdue 
 a rebellious passion? For instance, when 
 stimulated to revenge, have you resisted 
 and "overcome evil with good?" what a 
 serenity filled the mind? what a delicious 
 sensation of kindness spread through the 
 heart? It was a proof by dignified feeling, 
 that " it is the glory of a man to pass by a 
 transgression." It was a little approximation 
 to Deity, to him, who is "slow to anger, and 
 plenteous in mercy." 
 
 We may say the same of every moral con- 
 quest. Such victory nothing can embitter. 
 It yields a pleasure the most pure, the most 
 generous, the most durable. It will bear 
 
REFLECTIONS ON VICTORY. 
 
 181 
 
 examination and review. It will abide a 
 dying hour. It will live in eternity. It is 
 an angel that brings the wreath. It is God 
 himself that approves and applauds. "He 
 that overcometh shall inherit all things, and 
 I will be his God, and he shall be my son." 
 
 Here, indeed, the believer's victory is im- 
 perfect: he will be annoyed even to the end 
 of life ; and hence his happiness is proportion- 
 ably incomplete: "while without are fight- 
 ings, within are fears." But a full and a final 
 triumph awaits him. The last enemy, (O 
 blessed termination of the war) the last ene- 
 my shall be destroyed — and he shall "always 
 triumph in Christ." "This corruptible 
 must put on incorruption, and this mortal 
 must put on immortality. So when this cor- 
 ruptible shall have put on incorruption, and 
 this mortal shall have put on immortality, 
 then shall be brought to pass the saying that 
 is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. 
 O death, where is thy sting 3 O grave, where 
 is thy victory. The sting of death is sin ; and 
 the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be 
 to God, which giveth us the victory, through 
 our Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 Happy Christian ! the victory of that day 
 shall never be turned into mourning. Thou 
 art more than a conqueror through him that 
 loved thee. "There shall be no more death, 
 neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall 
 there be any more pain : for the former things 
 are passed away." " Sing, O daughter of 
 Zion; shout, O Israel; be glad and rejoice 
 with all the heart, O daughter of Jerusalem. 
 The Lord hath taken away thy judgments, 
 he hath cast out thine enemy : the king of 
 Israel, even the Lord, is in the midst of thee : 
 thou shalt not see evil any more." 
 
 Are all such victories? 
 
 No, my brethren ! — not such are the victo- 
 ries of the young man, who overcomes the force 
 of a pious education, the scruples of a tender 
 conscience, the admonitions of friendship, the 
 restraints of fear and shame. 
 
 Not such are the victories of the seducer, 
 who accomplishes, O cruel success ! the infa- 
 my and ruin of innocence and weakness; and 
 forces a wretched and defenceless being to 
 groan " and I, whither shall I cause my shame 
 to go i" 
 
 Not such are the victories of the infidel, 
 who can boast, O hellish triumph ! of the 
 number of victims whose principles he has 
 poisoned, whose hearts he has corrupted, and 
 whose comforts he has destroyed. 
 
 Are all such victories ] No, my brethren ; 
 there are some that are attended with sorrow. 
 And to approach more nearly to the business 
 of the day, such was the victory of Joab — 
 such, in some respects, are all national victo- 
 ries — and such, in a memorable circum- 
 stance, is the victory we are assembled to 
 improve. 
 
 First. David by the skill and valour of his 
 16 
 
 troops under the command of Joab, had gained 
 a complete victory. Nothing could be more 
 seasonable or important. It crushed the wide- 
 spread rebellion, and reduced his subjects to 
 their allegiance. — But behold the king, all 
 suspense, sitting between the two gates, wait- 
 ing for intelligence, two messengers run to 
 announce the victory. " And Ahimaaz called, 
 and said unto the king, All is well. And he 
 fell down to the earth upon his face before 
 the king, and said, Blessed be the Lord thy 
 God, which hath delivered up the men that 
 lifted up their hand against my lord the king. 
 And the king said, Is the young man Absalom 
 safe ] And Ahimaaz answered, When J oab sent 
 the king's servant, and me thy servant, I saw a 
 great tumult, but I knew not what it was." 
 "And behold, Cushi came; and Cushi said, 
 Tidings, my lord the king : for the Lord hath 
 avenged thee this day of all them that rose up 
 against thee. And the king said unto Cushi, 
 Is the young man Absalom safe ? And Cushi 
 answered, The enemies of my lord the king, 
 and all that rise against thee to do thee hurt, 
 be as that young man is." Nothing could have 
 been more wise and delicate than the manner 
 in which the truth was insinuated — but like 
 a sword it pierced through David's soul. " And 
 the king was much moved, and went up to 
 the chamber over the gate, and wept : and 
 as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom, 
 my son, my son Absalom ! would God I had 
 died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son !" 
 
 David was doubtless in some measure to 
 blame. It was surely wrong in him not to 
 notice as they returned, the brave men who 
 had jeoparded their lives in the high places 
 of the field for his safety. But O ! who can 
 help — at least what parent can help excusing, 
 if not justifying his conduct. David stood in 
 a double relation. He was not only the king, 
 but the father. And though Absalom had 
 been undutiful, still — he was a child — and 
 for children to be cut off, not only in the midst 
 of his days — but in the midst of his sins ! 
 Excuse David or condemn, the event was the 
 same — " The people gat them by stealth that 
 day into the city, as people being ashamed 
 steal away when they flee in battle ; and the 
 victory that day was turned into mourning." 
 
 And, secondly, my brethren, this is true in 
 some respects of every national victory. In 
 order to see this, it is necessary for us to se- 
 parate off the utility, and also what is called 
 the glory of the business, and contemplate the 
 circumstances that attend it, and the effects 
 that follow it. Many of these indeed are ne- 
 ver published, and some of them cannot ea- 
 sily be imagined. But without difficulty we 
 may apprehend more than enough to verify 
 our observation. When a victory is obtained 
 on land, why — I use the language of Scrip- 
 ture — " the land mourns," " the earth lan- 
 guished :" fields are ravaged, fences are laid 
 waste, houses are demolished ; and a garden 
 
182 REFLECTIONS 
 
 of Eden is trampled into a wilderness. 
 There is often also much slaughter among 
 the brute creation, especially in the useful, 
 the generous horse. And " God takes care 
 for oxen," and tenderly mentions the loss of 
 very much cattle in the destruction of Nine- 
 veh. But let us refer to our own species only. 
 
 Mournful is the infliction of pain — while 
 thousands are agonizing and groaning toge- 
 ther, and not a few long left with their wounds 
 bleeding and undressed. 
 
 Mournful is the loss of limbs. How we 
 feel when a neighbour by disease or accident 
 is compelled to submit to a single amputation ! 
 How we are affected, even to this hour, with 
 the case of Mephibosheth. Poor babe ! — His 
 nurse hearing the approach of battle, fled, 
 and he dropped from her frighted arms, and 
 became " lame in both his feet." But how 
 many individuals by one action are maimed 
 and return home leaving parts of themselves 
 behind moving or carried about, mangled and 
 dismembered ; one without an eye, another 
 without an arm, and so of the rest. 
 
 Mournful is the loss of lives. For where is 
 the human being that is not of importance to 
 some one 1 — On the late news, Edinburgh 
 was illuminated ; but not entirely : one street 
 refused its lustre — in this lived the widowed 
 wife of the gallant Captain Duff. It was a 
 striking exception. Darkness best suited an 
 anguished mind, whose hope was fled. But 
 social attachments and usefulness do not de- 
 pend upon rank and office. How many a 
 poor widow in Spain, in France, in England, 
 whose name will never be announced in the 
 public papers, is now weeping over a husband 
 she will see no more ! How many a child 
 is at this hour crying, " my father, my fa- 
 ther." 
 
 Mournful above all is the loss of souls. 
 We are far from supposing that all warfare 
 is unlawful ; and that a good man cannot be 
 a soldier. Who has not read the life of Col. 
 Gardiner slain by the rebels in the battle of 
 Preston Pans. Was there ever a mind more 
 purely and ardently pious"! And blessed be 
 God, we have a few centurions " devout 
 men, and who fear God with all their house." 
 A man may ascend to heaven from the field 
 of battle. — But the moral state of armies and 
 navies is too well known to be a secret. At 
 any time the generality of those that compose 
 them are ill prepared to die. How dreadfully 
 affecting then is it to think of so many of our 
 fellow-creatures being cut off in a moment, 
 and sent, with all their sins upon them, to ap- 
 pear before the Judge of all ! — So many ways 
 is victory turned into mourning. 
 
 But let us finally observe whether there be 
 nothing to render our remark significantly 
 true on the present occasion. Let none 
 imagine that we are going to depreciate the 
 value of the victory with which Providence 
 has crowned his majesty's arms, and which 
 
 ON VICTORY. 
 
 we are assembled to acknowledge. Never 
 was there a victory more seasonable. Never 
 was there a victory more complete. Never 
 was there a victory more wonderful, when 
 we consider the number of ships compelled 
 to strike to such an inferior force ; the anni- 
 hilation of so large a portion of the naval 
 power of the enemy at a blow ; the preser- 
 vation of our own vessels through the tre- 
 mendous gales that rendered it necessary to 
 destroy so many of the prizes. As a victory 
 was never more bravely won, so never was 
 there a victory more modestly, more piously 
 announced. In perusing the dispatch, we 
 seem to be reading the language of a divine, 
 and the gazette charms us as well as the re- 
 sult of the battle. O my country! were 
 this the disposition of all thy sons ; were all 
 thy rulers, thy magistrates, thy officers, thus 
 boldly and openly to acknowledge God in 
 all their ways, and to walk before others 
 in the profession of truth, and the practice 
 of devotion— we need " not fear : what 
 can man do unto us I" Never was there a 
 victory more important. Events have in- 
 deed since taken place which have not 
 only distressed, but alarmed many. The 
 strides of the enemy in Germany have been 
 rapid and discouraging. But not to observe 
 that his situation every day seems to become 
 more critical, and that in that corner too at 
 " eventide it may be light," we should re- 
 member that all the continental successes of 
 the enemy add to the importance of our vic- 
 tory ; for if we are to be deprived of other 
 resources of assistance, and compelled under 
 God to depend alone upon ourselves, every 
 reduction of their means of annoyance and 
 invasion, becomes, in the same proportion, 
 more valuable. 
 
 But still we acknowledge that the more 
 difficult the period is, the more need have 
 we of extraordinary wisdom, decision, and 
 courage. Frequently much, yea every thing 
 depends on one man into whom nature has 
 infused those elements of greatness which 
 events combine, draw forth, and complete. 
 And such a man was our departed hero. It 
 cannot be denied — that a man who was a host 
 in himself ; a man whose very name struck 
 terror into the foe ; a man whose success in- 
 spired the most absolute confidence in those 
 he commanded, and whose orders would 
 stimulate them to the most dangerous enter- 
 prises — no — it cannot be denied that, in the 
 present circumstances of our country — that 
 such a man can ill be spared : and therefore 
 that though our success has been glorious, it 
 has demanded a costly sacrifice. 
 
 It is remarkable, that the ship in which he 
 fell was The Victory, and thus the words 
 we have chosen were circumstantially ac- 
 complished: "the victory was turned that 
 day into mourning :" the cabin boy and the 
 captain wept; the groan spread from the 
 
REFLECTIONS 
 
 ship through the whole fleet: villages and 
 cities shared the grief ; till the tears of the 
 sovereign blended and mingled with those 
 of the people. — Nelson, farewell ! Thou 
 hast more than repaid the confidence thy 
 king and thy country reposed in thy patriot- 
 ism and thy talents. Thy warfare is accom- 
 plished — but long shall thy fame live; long 
 shall thy example stimulate. Thy memory 
 shall be embalmed in our grateful affections; 
 and history shall record, that a whole nation, 
 sensible of their obligations to thee, by their 
 presence or their sympathy attended thy 
 funeral, and followed thy awful remains to 
 their august and final abode. 
 
 What then, you say ; what is it that 
 
 you wish from us on the present occasion ? — 
 Are we not called together to rejoice, and do 
 you expect us to mourn 1 Not absolutely. — 
 I would wish even to inspire you with joy. 
 There is nothing more hateful than a certain 
 disposition that curdles every thing it touches. 
 There are some fretful beings that sour every 
 enjoyment by discontent. Mention any thing 
 joyous — and their evil genius looks only 
 after exceptions ; speak of any thing com- 
 commendable — and their sagacity is exerted 
 to make deductions. They never fix upon 
 pleasing and cheerful circumstances, but 
 turn round the dark side of every object, till 
 they are surrounded only with gloomy aspects, 
 and become a burden to themselves and a 
 kind of terror to their connexions. 
 
 Be not ye like unto them. Be not insen- 
 sible to the numberless blessings we enjoy, 
 or regardless of the several hopeful indica- 
 tions that brighten our condition. Rejoice, 
 therefore, but let your joy be tempered. 
 
 First, with seriousness. Indeed the times 
 require it. God has absolutely a controversy 
 with us. Our difficulties are great and in- 
 creasing. We are engaged with a foe 
 formidable by his means and malice. Our 
 sins testify against us. And to this hour, 
 neither the displays of his wrath nor his 
 mercy have made any due impression upon 
 the public mind. " Shall I not visit for these 
 things, saith the Lord ? Shall not my soul 
 be avenged on such a nation as this !" Is it 
 not as true of nations as of individuals ] " He 
 that being often reproved hardeneth his neck 
 shall suddenly be destroyed, and that with- 
 out remedy." Where now are the empires 
 of antiquity] Where now are the famous 
 churches of Asia 1 Where are his once pe- 
 culiar people, the Jews ? — " And if he spared 
 not the natural branches, take heed, lest he 
 spare not thee." 
 
 Secondly, with prayer. Every thing de- 
 pends upon the Lord of Hosts. It is as easy 
 for him to help with few, as with many ; we 
 should therefore never despair. On the 
 other hand, without him " vain is the help of 
 man." Vain are the best appointed and com- 
 manded armies and navies. He can take 
 
 ON VICTORY. 183 
 
 wisdom from the wise, and courage from the 
 brave. Sickness is his, and dissention. "He 
 holds the winds in his fist ;" let him open his 
 hand, and the storm roars, and our defence 
 sinks like lead in the mighty waters. And 
 prayer has power with God, especially the 
 prayer of those that love and fear him. The 
 Bible is a history of its exploits. But no- 
 thing is more suitable or encouraging than 
 the fate of Sennacherib. He had overrun 
 many countries; and going from conquering 
 to conquer, ascribed all his surprising success 
 to the wisdom of his own understanding, 
 and the vigour of his own arm. He poured 
 into Judea. Every thing seemed to give 
 way before him — and he deemed himself 
 perfectly sure of taking Jerusalem. But 
 Hezekiah discomfited him — not by fighting — 
 but praying. He went up into the temple, 
 and spread the letter before the Lord, and his 
 vast army dispersed and disappeared, like 
 chaff before the wind. "Trust in him at all 
 times, ye people pour out your hearts before 
 him ; God is a refuge for us." 
 
 Thirdly, with praise; that praise that will 
 pass by instrumentality, and confess the hand 
 of God ; that praise that will ascribe nothing 
 to our worthiness, but all his undeserved 
 goodness. Had he dealt with us after our 
 sins, or rewarded us according to our iniqui- 
 ties, instead of saying " the Lord hath done 
 great things for us, whereof we are glad," we 
 should now be sitting in sackcloth and ashes. 
 " Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto 
 thy name give glory, for thy mercy, and for 
 thy truth's sake." 
 
 And surely, my dear hearers, we cannot 
 suppose that we have done justice to the de- 
 sign of the day, by indulging a warm, mo- 
 mentary impression or exclamation. This is 
 only to imitate the Jews, of whom it is com- 
 plained, "he saved them from the hand of 
 them that hated them, and redeemed them 
 from the hand of the enemy. And the wa- 
 ters covered their enemies: there was not 
 one of them left. Then believed they his 
 words; they sang his praise. They soon 
 forgat his works, they waited not for his 
 counsel." Let us "keep these things for 
 ever in the imaginations of our thoughts, and 
 prepare our hearts to seek God." Let us 
 daily ask, " what shall I render to the Lord 
 for all his benefits towards me 1" And let us 
 consecrate to him our time, our talents, and 
 our property. 
 
 For in the last place we require you to 
 blend with your joy, beneficence. " Let all 
 your works," says the apostle, " be done with 
 charity." — What said Isaiah of a fast ! " Is not 
 this the fast that I have chosen ? to loose the 
 bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy bur- 
 dens, and to let the oppressed go free, and 
 that ye break every yoke ! Is it not to deal 
 thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring 
 I the poor that are cast out to thy house 1 when 
 
REFLECTIONS ON VICTORY. 
 
 184 
 
 thou seest the naked, that thou cover him ; 
 and that thou hide not thyself from thine own 
 flesh J" And what said Nehemiah to the peo- 
 ple upon a festival 1 " This day is holy unto 
 the Lord your God, mourn not nor weep. Go 
 your way, eat the fat, and drink the sweet, 
 
 AND SEND PORTIONS UNTO THEM FOR WHOM 
 NOTHING IS PREPARED." 
 
 Men and brethren. It is scarcely necessary 
 for me to mention the particular purpose, 
 for which your liberality is to be exercised 
 this morning'. You well know that a col- 
 lection is voluntarily to be made this day, 
 through the whole kingdom, for the relief of 
 the families of those who suffered in the late 
 
 action. While all our fellow-citizens are 
 
 coming forward, I am sure this congregation 
 will readily co-operate with them. The claim 
 made upon you, is a claim of humanity, of 
 gratitude, of justice. It addresses you as 
 Christians, as Britons, as men. Suppose all 
 
 these victims of bereavement were now as- 
 sembled before you, dressed in mourning, and 
 wiping their weeping eyes. — Could you be 
 insensible "! 
 
 Ah, ye brave countrymen, who fought to 
 defend us, and who generously perished that 
 we may continue in the possession of all our 
 comforts — ye, descending wounded and gory 
 into your watery graves — ye — ye said " we 
 lament not our own destiny ; we have fallen 
 at our post — But to you we commend our 
 mothers, our wives, our children, our babes. 
 Deprived for ever of our support, let them 
 find succour in you." Valiant sailors ! there 
 is not a British heart but awakes and melts 
 at your call. Ye have indeed done your duty ; 
 and we hasten to perform ours. 
 
 " Pure and undefiled religion before God 
 and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless 
 and the widows in their affliction, and to keep 
 ourselves unspotted from the world !" 
 
AN 
 
 ESSAY ON MARRIAGE, 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE DUTY OF CHRISTIANS TO MARRY RELIGIOUSLY : 
 
 WITH A FEW REFLECTIONS ON IMPRUDENT MARRIAGES. 
 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 We, the ministers of the Wiltshire Association, assembled together at Melksham this day, 
 October 22, 1806, — deploring the little regard of late years paid by too many professors 
 of religion, to the Christian rule of marriage: and deeming it desirable that the attention of 
 the public in general, and our own churches in particular, should be called to this subject, 
 do unanimously request the Rev. Wm. Jay to publish some strictures upon it ; and the more 
 so, as he has already set forth a Sermon on the Duties of Husbands and Wives, which has 
 met with great acceptance. 
 
 Signed, 
 
 On behalf of the Association, 
 
 George Mantel, Chairman. 
 
 ESSA 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 The peculiarity and importance of the Mar- 
 riage relation. The possibility of kndiving 
 the -will of God in this affair. The law laid 
 down. 
 
 How wonderful is it, that two persons, who 
 perhaps never met before, should, by a train 
 of circumstances be brought together, obtain 
 a peculiar propriety in each other, and form 
 one absolute communion of wishes, joys, and 
 sorrows. 
 
 If we compare this relation with other con- 
 nexions, we shall find that it surpasses them 
 all. — Are other unions optional ? They may 
 be limited in their continuance, or terminated 
 at pleasure. But this is permanent, and in- 
 dissoluble. You cannot marry for a given 
 period. It is for life. — Are other unions 
 natural? Intimate indeed is the relation be- 
 2 A 16* 
 
 Y, &c. 
 
 tween brother and sister : tender is the rela- 
 tion between parents and children, especially 
 between the mother and the son of her womb. 
 But for this shall a man leave his father and 
 mother, and shall be joined unto his wife, and 
 they two shall be one flesh. What God hath 
 joined together, let no man put asunder. 
 
 The marriage connexion therefore, is the 
 most singular, and the most important. Hence, 
 it can never be viewed with indifference. It 
 cannot be carelessly contemplated by legisla- 
 tors, by politicians, by moralists, by divines — 
 And can it be slightingly regarded by the in- 
 dividuals themselves? The effects extend to 
 families and communities — but how much 
 more powerfully must the consequences affect 
 the parties immediately concerned 1 — can the 
 Scripture, always alive to the welfare of man 
 — Can the Scripture pass by such a relation ? 
 Impossible ! It shows us its divine institution 
 185 
 
186 
 
 ESSAY ON MARRIAGE. 
 
 and benediction in Paradise. It shows us our 
 Saviour gracing with his presence the cele- 
 bration of a marriage at Cana in Galilee, and 
 displaying his glory by working a miracle to 
 preserve the new-married couple from em- 
 barrassment and mortification. It shows us 
 in this condition, characters the most emi- 
 nent and distinguished for piety and useful- 
 ness ; witness Enoch, and Peter, and James, 
 and John. It brands with infamy the doc- 
 trine that forbids to marry. It often employs 
 the connexion as the image of the union sub- 
 sisting between Christ and the church. It 
 assures us that marraige is honourable in all, 
 and the bed undefiled : but whoremongers and 
 adulterers God will judge. 
 
 It is obvious therefore that the Scripture 
 is far from discouraging marriage. But what 
 it does not condemn, it is careful to regulate. 
 Let us then, my Christian friends, look after 
 the will of God in this momentous and inter- 
 esting subject. 
 
 If ever we err, it is not from any defect in 
 the Scripture, but because there is some 
 occasion of stumbling in us : some inatten- 
 tion that hinders examination, or some pre- 
 judice that perverts it. His word is a lamp 
 unto our feet, and a light unto our paths. 
 There is a sufficiency in it for all the useful 
 purposes of life and godliness. Can a man 
 ask at these lively oracles how he is to con- 
 duct himself in prosperity or adversity ; can 
 he inquire how he is to govern his family, 
 and train up his children and be at a loss for 
 an answer 1 He may run that readeth. So 
 it is in the case before us. If Christians are 
 really desirous of knowing with whom in 
 marriage alliance they are to unite them- 
 selves, we make no scruple to say, the reveal- 
 ed will of God is decisive and clear: It re- 
 stricts their choice to religious character 
 only. 
 
 SECTION n. 
 
 This Laiv argued and established. 
 
 If nothing express had been said on this 
 subject, the conclusion might fairly have 
 been drawn from these general commands, 
 which forbid all chosen and needless associa- 
 tion with the irreligious founded on the dan- 
 ger of contamination. 
 
 The case may be confirmed in no incon- 
 siderable degree from the state of the Jews. 
 It is scarcely necessary to mention, that the 
 Jews were forbidden to marry with the sur- 
 rounding nations. But it may be proper to 
 state two objections. 
 
 First. It may be said that the prohibition 
 was confined to the seven accursed nations 
 of Canaan. But this was not the case. Am- 
 monites, Moabites, and Egyptians are reckon- 
 ed by Ezra, among these from whom the re- 
 turned Israelites were to be separated ; and 
 
 none of these belonged to the race thus de- 
 voted to extermination. 
 
 Secondly. It may be supposed that this 
 law was political, and regarded this people 
 only in their civil and national capacity. 
 But the futility of this will be demonstrated 
 by remarking, First, that they were allow- 
 ed to marry with individuals of any of the 
 neighbouring countries, when they became 
 proselytes. This shows that the interdic- 
 tion regarded not their nation but their re- 
 ligion. And secondly, that the reason always 
 assigned as the ground of the prohibition is 
 not political but moral — and therefore uni- 
 versally and constantly binding. Thus we 
 find Moses saying " neither shalt thou make 
 marriages with them; thy daughter thou 
 shalt not give unto his son, nor his daughter 
 shalt thou take unto thy son. For they will 
 turn away thy son from following me, that 
 they may serve other gods; so will the 
 anger of the Lord be kindled against you, 
 and destroy thee suddenly." 
 
 But to come nearer. Have we not in the 
 New Testament a prohibition the most ex- 
 plicit ! Be ye not unequally yoked together 
 with unbelievers. We are aware that some 
 are disposed to take this Scripture in a larger 
 sense, as forbidding to join with such persons 
 in church communion. But in answer to 
 this — not to remark, what we think cannot 
 be denied, that the expression of yoke-fellow 
 is more used in reference to marriage than 
 to church communion : the former application 
 of it being the natural and original, the latter 
 of course only the borrowed and secondary ; 
 I say not to avail ourselves of this circum- 
 stance, we observe, that we have nothing to 
 fear from admitting the explanation proposed. 
 For if Christians are forbidden to join with 
 unbelievers in church communion, surely 
 they are equally enjoined not to enter with 
 them into marriage contract. What ! were 
 the converted Corinthians commanded to 
 come out from among them : and yet be per- 
 mitted to enter into the closest affinity with 
 them ] Were they ordered to be separate, 
 and not to touch the unclean thing : and yet 
 be allowed to become one body 1 Was there 
 to be no fellowship between righteousness 
 and unrighteousness, between light and dark- 
 ness: and yet were these to be united for 
 ever'! Was he that belie veth to have no 
 part with an infidel, and yet suffer them to 
 be partners for life 1 Was the temple of 
 God to have nothing to do with idols, and yet 
 were idols to be set up within its walls] 
 
 But if this be not deemed sufficient to 
 establish our doctrine, let us attend to the 
 language of the Apostle, when speaking ex- 
 pressly of marriage. "The wife," says he, 
 " is bound by the law as long as her husband 
 liveth; but if her husband be dead, she is at 
 liberty to be married to whom she will; only 
 in the Lord." Now though this be stated, 
 
ESSAY ON MARRIAGE. 
 
 187 
 
 as the occasion of the words required, in 
 reference to a widow, the limitation unques- 
 tionably extends to all Christians in the same 
 relative circumstances. This then is the law 
 of the house. This is the indispensable con- 
 sideration. — Only in the Lord. — Thus the 
 will of God is fully made known, and there 
 are two things we ought to remark with re- 
 gard to it. 
 
 First. He cannot err in his decision. His 
 judgment is always according to truth. His 
 understanding is infinite. He views a sub- 
 ject in all its bearings, in all its consequen- 
 ces, in all the possibilities of its operation. 
 He sees effects in their causes. He knows 
 the end from the beginning. He perceives 
 how we should think, feel, and act in every 
 untried state of being. How qualified there- 
 fore is he to undertake to direct us 1 And to 
 what implicit respect and absolute compli- 
 ance is the determination of such an adviser 
 entitled'! 
 
 But secondly, we should remember that 
 his council is not advice but command. Con- 
 sidered indeed as speaking from a regard to 
 our welfare, a love to our souls — he is the 
 friendly monitor, but as to our obligation to 
 obey, and the danger we incur by transgres- 
 sion — there he is nothing less than a Sove- 
 reign. It is at your peril, to cast any of his 
 words behind your back. See that ye refuse 
 not him that speaketh. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 The evils of transgressing it variously viewed. 
 
 If people were as easily satisfied in receiv- 
 ing truth as they are in opposing it ; if no 
 more was needful to influence practice than 
 to produce conviction, it might be unneces- 
 sary to enlarge after the adduction of the 
 preceding arguments. But alas ! in spiritual 
 concerns, men venture their souls on such 
 trifling evidence, as, were it to govern them 
 in their temporal affairs, would lead their 
 fellow-creatures to conclude that they were 
 either madmen or idiots. Here we need 
 line upon line, precept upon precept. Let 
 us then specify some of the disadvantages 
 and injuries that arise from an infraction of 
 this law among professors of religion. And 
 here we may observe, 
 
 — That it scandalizes others. It counter- 
 acts, discourages, and confounds ministers. 
 It injures the minds of your fellow-Christians. 
 It proves a distress to the strong and a stum- 
 bling-block to the weak. It turns that which 
 is lame out of the way. To your pious rela- 
 tions it occasions the most painful regret and 
 anxiety. " And Esau was forty years old 
 when he took to wife Judith the daughter of 
 Beeri the Hittite, and Bashemath the daugh- 
 ter of Elon the Hittite : which were a grief 
 of mind unto Isaac and to Rebekah." " And 
 
 Rebekah said to Isaac, I am weary of my life, 
 because of the daughters of Heth : if Jacob 
 take a wife of the daughters of Heth, such as 
 these which are of the daughters of the land, 
 what good shall my life do me V 
 
 — It excites suspicion of your own religion. 
 At least it shows that you are not alive to its 
 principles and privileges: that if you ask its 
 advice you can follow your own opinion ; and 
 that if you profess to please it, you are not 
 afraid to offend it. Would you marry an ene- 
 my of your own, before you believed there 
 was a change of disposition wrought in him 1 
 And why] Because you love yourselves — 
 this would prevent it. And if the love of God 
 prevailed in your hearts, would you marry an 
 enemy to God before you discerned in him an 
 evidence of conversion. Do not I hate them, 
 O Lord, that hate thee, and am not I grieved 
 with those that rise up against thee 1 I hate 
 them with perfect hatred. I count them mine 
 enemies. What do ye more than others 1 
 Should not the line of distinction between the 
 church and the world be not only real but 
 visible] Should not the Christian univer- 
 sally appear 1 Are not his choice and refusal, 
 as well as his sorrow and joy, to evince the 
 empire of religion] Whatsoever ye do, in 
 word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord 
 Jesus. Whether therefore ye eat or drink, or 
 whatever ye do, do all to the glory of God. 
 These are the injunctions of God. And we 
 are to esteem all his commandments concern- 
 ing all things to be right, and to hate every 
 false way. 
 
 Again. We call upon you to remember 
 the duties enjoined upon Christians with re- 
 gard to their households. The discharge of 
 these duties in married life requires union, 
 countenance, assistance. They cannot be 
 performed to advantage, if at all, where in the 
 heads of the family, there is a contrariety of 
 convictions, dispositions, and pursuits. Peter 
 therefore enforces his admonition upon hus- 
 bands and wives by this motive, that your 
 prayers be not hindered. For, imagine the 
 case we are condemning. Does the man 
 seek the glory of God in all he does, and the 
 woman her own glory. Does the woman 
 make the will of God her rule, and the man 
 his own will] Instead of striving together, 
 they draw adversely, and the design of the 
 union is defeated. Are there children ] Some 
 will be likely to adhere to the father, some to 
 the mother. Are there servants! Some 
 will be likely to attach themselves to the 
 master, some to the mistress. Thus the 
 household and wife will probably keep a per- 
 petual watch over each other, unwilling to 
 lose any of their respective influence ; and the 
 house will be divided against itself. 
 
 We observe also, that we personally need 
 every assistance we can receive in our pas- 
 sage to heaven. There is surely enough in 
 ourselves, and in the way we travel, to keep 
 
188 ESSAY ON 
 
 us back, without engaging any one constantly 
 to retard our progress, either by opposition or 
 .diversion ! What need often have we of 
 counsel in spiritual darkness and doubts 1 of 
 comfort in soul-trouble 1 of stimulation, by re- 
 proof or example, in our religious languors ? 
 " Two are better than one ; because they have 
 a good reward for their labour. For if they 
 fall, the one will lift up his fellow : but wo 
 to him that is alone when he falleth ; for he 
 hath not another to help him up." He is a 
 friend indeed who knows the road, will jour- 
 ney with us, and afford us seasonable succour : 
 but what assistance is to be derived from one 
 who has no eyes, or hands, or who is going in 
 a contrary direction J Is it enough when we 
 want daily and hourly support that a compa- 
 nion will not try to interrupt us ] 
 
 For here — and this is another consideration 
 — here not to help is to hinder. The very 
 attraction of the mind from high and holy 
 things, by continual discourse about other 
 subjects, will be no inconsiderable detriment. 
 For it is by the frequent recurrence of divine 
 things in our thoughts and in our conversa- 
 tion, that we become spiritually-minded, and 
 continue so. Pious emotions may be starved, 
 where they are not assassinated. Fire will 
 be extinguished immediately by water; but 
 it will go out in time, even for want of fuel. 
 
 But we do not go too far when we say, that 
 an irreligious connexion is likely to prove the 
 most effectual instrument in the world to in- 
 jure us, not only by weakening impressions, 
 chilling our affections, and drawing us off by 
 degrees from various duties, but also by per- 
 verting the judgment, and enticing to sin. 
 They were mingled with the heathen, and 
 learned their works ; and they served their 
 idols which became a snare unto them. Evil 
 communications corrupt good manners. And 
 here several additional things should be se- 
 riously considered. For instance, 
 
 — The example is near — is always in sight. 
 
 — Evil has more power over us than good. 
 An oath when heard will make a deeper im- 
 pression than a prayer. Profane images are 
 more easily retained in the mind than pure 
 ones. Evil falls in with our depravity ; and 
 always finds in us a friend to welcome and to 
 strengthen it. 
 
 — The danger is greater if the unconverted 
 party be the husband, as he has the advan- 
 tage of superior authority and influence. 
 
 — The more attachment there is, the 
 greater the hazard of moral injury : for affec- 
 tion is wonderfully assimilating. Like fire, 
 it reduces every thing it seizes into its own 
 nature. We are always in a great measure 
 the same v/ith the object of our regard. The 
 image by its frequent entrance into the mind, 
 and°by its residence there, leaves its impres- 
 sion and resemblance. 
 
 But if you should escape unhurt morally— 
 which would be little less than a miracle — 
 
 MARRIAGE. 
 
 still you may experience bitter trials: and 
 under these crosses you will not be able to 
 look up to God for support and deliverance, 
 with the same cheerfulness and confidence 
 you would feel, if they were afflictions of his 
 sending.— But you have chosen them. — Hence 
 painful reflections of mind. Hence you may 
 expect to hear as the inquiry of conscience, 
 and as the censure of Providence. — Hast thou 
 not procured this unto thyself. — Thou hast 
 done foolishly, from henceforth thou shalt 
 have wars. Yea, something of this kind must 
 be expected. — "If my children forsake my 
 law, and walk not in my judgments ; if they 
 break my statutes, and keep not my com- 
 mandments ; then will I visit their transgres- 
 sion with the rod, and their iniquity with 
 stripes." He has said, if ye walk contrary to 
 me, I also will walk contrary to you. And 
 he is a faithful God. And he is able to make 
 good his word. He can take satisfaction out 
 of our chosen delights. He can remove them 
 in his anger. He can leave them to produce 
 leanness in our souls. Though he forgives 
 the iniquities of his people, he taketh ven- 
 geance on their inventions. 
 
 To which we may add — and these are na- 
 tural and unavoidable consequences — the 
 painful anxiousness of living with those from 
 whom you fear that you shall be separated for 
 ever; and the peculiar disagreeableness of 
 being connected with those who are incapa- 
 ble of the principal part of your affection. 
 Love them you may, indeed, as husband or 
 wife ; but not as believers ; not as followers 
 of our Lord, to whom you are allied by 
 stronger ties than human, and which can 
 never be dissolved. Must not this be a vast 
 deduction of happiness, a bitter ingredient in 
 the cup ; a kind of daily death 1 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 The mischief historically considered. 
 
 We may take another view of the breach 
 of this law, and see the evils that resulted 
 from it, as natural effects, or as judgments 
 from God, as they are held forth in the Scrip- 
 tures of truth. 
 
 This was the particular sin for which God 
 drowned the old world. 
 
 Some of Lot's daughters married in Sodom, 
 and perished in the overthrow. Both Ish- 
 mael and Esau married irreligiously, and 
 both were rejected and turned persecutors. 
 
 The first blasphemer that was stoned by 
 God's command, is marked as an offspring of 
 one of these marriages — his mother had es- 
 poused an Egyptian. 
 
 The first captivity of the Jews, after their 
 settlement in the Holy Land, is ascribed to 
 this cause. The whole passage is very in- 
 structive. It is said that the remains of the 
 nations " were to prove Israel to know whe- 
 
ESSAY ON 
 
 ther they would hearken unto the command- 
 ment of the Lord, which he commanded their 
 fathers by the hand of Moses.". "And the 
 children of Israel dwelt among' the Canaan- 
 ites, Hittites, and Amorites, and Perizzites, 
 and Hivites, and Jebusites: and they took 
 their daughters to be their wives, and gave 
 their daug-hters to their sons, and served their 
 gods. And the children of Israel did evil in 
 the sight of the Lord, and forgat the Lord 
 their God, and served Baalim, and the groves. 
 Therefore the anger of the Lord was hot 
 against Israel, and he sold them into the hand 
 of Chushan-rishathaim king of Mesopotamia : 
 and the children of Israel served Chushan- 
 rishathaim eight years." 
 
 David married the daughter of Talmai, 
 king of Geshur, by whom he had Absalom — 
 the disgrace and curse of his family. 
 
 The case of Solomon is a warning to all 
 ages. His son Rehoboam, that lost the ten 
 tribes, sprang from one of these forbidden 
 marriages — his mother was an Ammonitess. 
 
 The marriage of Ahab is thus awfully no- 
 ticed — " And it came to pass, as if it had been 
 a light thing for him to walk in the sins of 
 Jeroboam the son of Nebat, that he took to 
 wife Jezebel the daughter of Ethbaal king of 
 the Zidonians, and went and served Baal, and 
 worshipped him." " But there was none like 
 unto Ahab, which did sell himself to work 
 wickedness in the sight of the Lord, whom 
 Jezebel his wife stirred up." 
 
 What was it that Ezra so grievously la- 
 mented and so sharply reproved] It was 
 that "the holy seed had mingled themselves 
 with the people of the land." 
 
 And what says the zealous reformer, Ne- 
 hemiah! "Their children spake half in the 
 speech of Ashdod, and could not speak in the 
 Jews' language, but according to the lan- 
 guage of each people. And I contended with 
 them, and cursed them, and smote certain of 
 them, and plucked off their hair, and made 
 them swear by God, saying, Ye shall not 
 give your daughters unto their sons, nor take 
 their daughters unto your sons, or for your- 
 selves. Did not Solomon king of Israel sin 
 by these things'! yet among many nations 
 was there no king like him, who was beloved 
 of his God, and God made him king over all 
 Israel : nevertheless even him did outlandish 
 women cause to sin. Shall we then hearken 
 unto you to do all this great evil, to trans- 
 gress against our God in marrying strange 
 wivesl" "Now these things were our ex- 
 amples to the intent we should not lust after 
 all things as they also lusted." 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 Excuses to justify deviation from it examined. 
 In the history of the church, recorded in 
 
 MARRIAGE. 189 
 
 the New Testament, wo find no instances 
 similar to those which have been remarked 
 in the preceding chapter. The rule was too 
 clearly understood, and the reasons on which 
 it was founded were too powerfully felt to 
 allow of its violation by the primitive Chris- 
 tians : and indeed one would suppose that a 
 godly character would stand in need of no 
 positive prohibition in such a case as this. It 
 must be expected that his very feelings would 
 secure him. For surely a kind of violence 
 must be offered to his dispositions and princi- 
 ples before such a step can be taken : accord- 
 ingly something of this nature is often plead- 
 ed. They feel religious reluctance, but speak 
 as if it were to be and must be. Let us ex- 
 amine this, and see whether it be their fate 
 or their folly. 
 
 Sometimes they plead peculiar circum- 
 stances, which seem to countenance it. As 
 this is a very common excuse, and by which 
 many are deluded, it demands some notice. 
 And for ever to check all encouragement 
 derived from this quarter, let the following 
 things be maturely considered : 
 
 That such prognostics are rarely, if ever, 
 remarked, but when they fall in with our de- 
 termination, or at least with our propensity — 
 That when a man receives not the love of 
 the truth, God may give him up to strong 
 delusion to believe a lie — That " thus saith 
 the Lord God ; Every man of the house of 
 Israel that setteth up his idols in his heart, 
 and putteth the stumbling-block of his iniqui- 
 ty before his face, and cometh to the prophet ; 
 I the Lord will answer him that cometh ac- 
 cording to the multitude of his idols ; that I 
 may take the house of Israel in their own 
 heart, because they are all estranged from 
 me through their idols." That after he has 
 expressly said to Balaam, go not, and he finds 
 him still longing for the enterprise, he can 
 say, by an irony, which the eager mind will 
 mistake for reality, go. — That Jonah was de- 
 ceived, if he supposed that when fleeing from 
 the presence of the Lord, it was very provi- 
 dential for him to find a vessel just ready to 
 sail for Tarshish — That circumstances and 
 events are equivocal, having occurred at dif- 
 ferent times with the most contradictory as- 
 pects — That the word of God is our only 
 guide, and that only while walking by this 
 rule shall mercy and peace be upon us — That 
 we are to lay stress on nothing* however sin- 
 gular or striking that opposes the revealed 
 will of God— That the death of the prophet, 
 slain by a lion, was written to teach us this 
 very truth : he had received an express com- 
 mand, in which he could not be mistaken; 
 and he yielded to another specious sugges- 
 tion, as coming from God, concerning which 
 he could not be sure. 
 
 But there is another justification often 
 urged. It is the prospect of being useful. 
 This also is common, and has often ensnared 
 
190 
 
 ESSAY ON MARRIAGE. 
 
 those who ought to walk circumspectly, not 
 as fools but as wise. Here permit me to ask 
 you the following' questions : 
 
 Are we to do evil, that good may come ? 
 It is desirable for a generous Christian to 
 have property; he will do good with it: but 
 is he to steal or rob in order to obtain it ? 
 
 Is marriage to be considered as one of the 
 means of grace ? Is it ever spoken of in the 
 Scripture, as intended for the conversion of 
 souls ? Is it any where prescribed for this 
 purpose? 
 
 Promises and appearances may induce a 
 pleasing hope during the formation of the 
 connexion ; but may not these be very falla- 
 cious ? To admit this, it is not necessary to 
 suppose that the individual is vile enough to 
 deceive wilfully : yet this has frequently been 
 the case, and a regard to the forms of evan- 
 gelical religion has been a mere pretence, 
 gradually thrown off as the inducement for 
 using it ceased. But it is not necessary to 
 charge a man with hypocrisy. There are 
 many powerful emotions that are very sin- 
 cere, and yet not durable. The mind may 
 be softened by affection, and view every 
 thing in reference to its favourite purpose. 
 Men know not themselves; they are not 
 aware how they may feel in new and untried 
 situations. The godliness which they seem 
 even to admire in the general indistinct no 
 tion, and while at a distance, may become 
 very irksome, when brought near and acted 
 upon in every instance of life. Yea, it must 
 be offensive at least in all its more spiritual 
 parts and exercises to every natural man 
 Who that is not alive to his religious im- 
 provement is likely to love an example that 
 continually admonishes and condemns. Who 
 that is trying to go to sleep loves a noise? 
 Who that wishes to remain in darkness can be 
 fond of light, especially placed so near ? 
 
 Is it not more consistent with a becoming 
 diffidence of yourselves, to fear that you 
 should be injured by the irreligious, rather 
 than that the irreligious should be benefited 
 by you ? We have already shown the danger 
 of this in fact, and which has led an ingenu- 
 ous author to remark, that he would pull an- 
 other out of a pit, had need stand firm, or he 
 may be pulled in. We have already men- 
 tioned Solomon. Whether Solomon hoped to 
 bring over Pharoah's daughter to worship the 
 true God, we know not ; but we do know that 
 she brought him over to worship a false one. 
 But we have now to do only with the appre- 
 hension and impression of this truth. Is it 
 consistent with humility, to suppose that you 
 can stand where others, and some of them far 
 superior to yourselves, have fallen? Is it con- 
 sistent with a proper sense of your own weak- 
 ness, to rush into extreme perils, confident 
 not only that you shall be secure there, but 
 even do good ? The very imagination fore- 
 bodes ill. It looks like the pride that goes 
 
 before destruction, and the haughty spirit 
 that precedes a fall. Indeed it is righteous 
 in God to suffer us to fall, when disobeying 
 his command, we renounce his protection 
 and venture to proceed without him. 
 
 Again. As you conclude that your com- 
 panion being ungodly, will not be able to 
 make you irreligious, what authorizes you to 
 think that your being godly will be able to 
 make him religious? Surely, out of your 
 own mouth you are condemned ; for the very 
 principle upon which you proceed with re- 
 gard to yourself, should reduce the confidence 
 you indulge with regard to him. If you have 
 no fear that he can impress and influence you, 
 you should have no hope that you can im- 
 press and influence him. If you believe that 
 your love to him will not alter you, you 
 ought not to believe that his love to you will 
 alter him. 
 
 And do you consider what human nature 
 is ? Do you consider what real religion is ? 
 If so, surely you would not think so lightly 
 of accomplishing the conversion of a soul as 
 you now seem to do. If the process be so 
 easy, why are so few converted at all ? Why 
 do not all those who have dear connexions 
 convert those whom they love and by whom 
 they are beloved ? 
 
 But you say, you do not expect the result, 
 independent of God's influence and blessing. 
 But is not he able to convert them ? He is. 
 And we have reason to believe he has in some 
 cases employed his power. For we cannot 
 go the length of Dr. Doddridge, who has re- 
 marked, that where Christians have know- 
 ingly espoused irreligious characters, he never 
 knew an instance of the conversion of one of 
 them afterwards. But, I ask, would you take 
 up an affair so important, on a ground so slen- 
 der? On a mere possibility ? For probability 
 there is none. You would not like to marry 
 a condemned criminal because he may be 
 pardoned or reprieved. God can make a beg- 
 gar a gentleman, and yet I presume you would 
 not like to take him on this presumption ; you 
 would rather reckon certainly upon a little 
 wealth. Why, then, marry an unconverted 
 sinner, because God may, because God can, 
 call him by his grace ? 
 
 Besides : if the acceptance and success of 
 all our endeavours depend wholly upon his 
 favour, can it be a rational way to attain our 
 wishes to slight his authority, and to provoke 
 his anger by disobedience? 
 
 But to conclude. Even if God should over- 
 rule such a connexion for good, you will re- 
 member that this is his work, and the glory . 
 belongs to him. It does not prove that you 
 have done right ; nor can it free the mind 
 from distress in review. For you cannot be 
 so ignorant as not to be able to distinguish 
 between your unrighteousness, and the divine 
 goodness that has thus blessed you, notwith- 
 standing all your desert. 
 
ESSAY ON MARRIAGE. 
 
 191 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 
 In what cases this lata is not broken ; though 
 both the parties be not religious. 
 
 We have thus endeavoured, by placing the 
 subject in various points of light, to prove 
 that Christians, in the business of marriage, 
 ought to confine their choice to pious charac- 
 ters only. But to relieve the minds of some 
 who deserve pity rather than censure, let me 
 remark two or three instances in which the 
 rule laid down is not transgressed. 
 
 First. It sometimes happens that both par- 
 ties are ignorant of divine things at the time 
 of marriage, and one is called afterward. 
 When this is the case, the blame does not 
 attach. But the individual renewed by di- 
 vine grace, now feels pains and anxieties to 
 which he was before a stranger. It is the 
 nature of grace to excite with a concern for 
 our own welfare a concern for the salvation 
 of others, especially of those to whom we are 
 tenderly connected by blood, friendship, or 
 affinity. How can I endure the thought of 
 being severed for ever from her in whom my 
 happiness is so much bound up 1 How can 
 I bear, will such an Esther say, to see the 
 destruction of my kindred 1 — She will there- 
 fore pray, and use every persuasive method 
 to allure. She will endeavour to render her 
 religion lovely and attractive. It is what the 
 Scripture enjoins — " Ye wives be in subjection 
 to your own husbands ; that, if any obey not 
 the word, they also may without the word be 
 won by the conversation of the wives ; while 
 they behold your chaste conversation coupled 
 with fear." And for the consolation of such, 
 be it remembered, that after a trial, and per- 
 haps a long one, of their faith and patience, 
 God has frequently heard their petitions and 
 succeeded their endeavours. And after per- 
 forming religious exercises alone, they have 
 gone to the house of God in company ; and 
 have walked together as heirs of the grace 
 of life. 
 
 Secondly. Persons may be mistaken after 
 due examination. Every thing admits of 
 counterfeit. There is a species imitation of 
 every Christian grace as well as of every 
 moral virtue. But we are not accountable 
 for our inability to read the heart. This is 
 the prerogative of God only. By their fruits 
 we are to know them. If the profession be 
 fair, and the life blameless, there is no objec- 
 tion upon this ground to hinder choice. 
 
 Thirdly. There is another case which 
 perhaps to some will not carry the same force 
 of conviction. Yet we do not express our- 
 selves without due deliberation and counsel — 
 It is this. Two individuals, both at the time 
 of promise destitute of religion, may solemnly 
 pledge themselves to each other, and before 
 the actual accomplishment of the covenant 
 engagement one of them may become pious 
 — We will suppose it to be the man — In this 
 
 case we affirm, that he would not be at liberty 
 to violate his promise under the pretence of 
 looking out for a character congenial with 
 his present views. If some contend that 
 marriage be nothing more than a civil con- 
 tract, all must allow that it is nothing less : 
 and not to observe the coercion of the case — 
 not to observe that the law could enforce the 
 claim — the insufficiency of justifying a civil 
 offence by a religious reason — and the ridicu- 
 lousness of the attempt — what a dishonour 
 would be done to the cause of the gospel by 
 such prevaricating morality? For such it 
 must appear to the world. Whereas we are 
 to have our conversation honest among the 
 Gentiles ; we are not to suffer our good to be 
 evil spoken of ; we are to avoid the very ap- 
 pearance of evil — such is the holy delicacy 
 of the gospel ! 
 
 This seems to be one of those cases in 
 which a good man sweareth to his own hurt 
 and changeth not. And trying as the scene 
 may be, if by the consent of the other party 
 he be not honourably disengaged, we should 
 advise him to a plain strait-forward policy ; 
 and to expect that, in a combination of cir- 
 cumstances so peculiarly providential, all will 
 be overruled for good, either by way of use- 
 fulness or trial. 
 
 And if even this solemn consideration be 
 not sufficient to discharge a man honourably 
 from one to whom he has contracted himself 
 — Will any thing else 1 Can any thing 
 else ? What ! is he to trifle with a sacred 
 engagement, and to wound the affections, the 
 respectability, the health, the peace of a fe- 
 male ! because another object comes in view 
 subsequently in his opinion more eligible for 
 person, for fortune, for address ? If a man 
 wished to sink the honour of religion, and to 
 disgrace the value of the Christian; how 
 much more should it ever be the ministerial 
 character! he could not take a step that 
 would more effectually accomplish his purpose. 
 
 SECTION VII. 
 
 The disregard of this principle lamented. But 
 piety, though essential to choice, not sufficient 
 alone to justify it. Ministers under peculiar 
 obligation to marry discreetly. Prudence 
 needful, and recommended. 
 
 Happy those who have formed a union 
 founded in true godliness, the bonds of which 
 are faith and love in Christ Jesus. They are 
 pleasant in life, and in death not divided. 
 But how deplorable is it that this Christian 
 rule of marriage is so frequently trampled 
 upon. The violation is in the degree of it 
 at least peculiar to our own age. Our pious 
 ancestors, especially among the non-comfbrm- 
 ists, would have been shocked at the practice, 
 as appears from their invaluable writings. 
 And I am persuaded it is very much owing 
 
192 ESSAY ON 
 
 to the prevalence of these indiscriminate and 
 unhallowed connexions that we have fallen 
 so far short of those men of God who are 
 gone before us, in our seclusion from the 
 world, in the simplicity of our manners, in the 
 uniformity of our profession, in the discharge 
 of family worship, and the training up of our 
 households in the nurture and admonition of 
 the Lord. Howcould it have been otherwise'! 
 Is there not a connexion between causes and 
 effects ] Do we sow one kind of grain and 
 reap another'! Can men gather grapes of 
 thorns, or figs of thistles'! 
 
 Guard, therefore, my Christian friends, 
 against every pretence that would draw you 
 into this forbidden path ! Establish the un- 
 lawfulness and perniciousness of such alli- 
 ances as a principle in your minds, that when 
 the evil day of temptation comes, it may find 
 you ready to resist steadfast in the faith. 
 You should not have your weapons to seek 
 when you want them to use. O woman, do 
 not accept a man who has all the wisdom of 
 the world, if a stranger to the excellency of 
 the knowledge of Christ Jesus our Lord. Do 
 not, it is the rough image of an old divine, 
 do not choose a swine because he has a gol- 
 den trough. Whatever a man possesses, re- 
 member he has nothing, if he has not the one 
 thing needful. O man, be not reconciled to a 
 weak or ugly mind because it wears a hand- 
 some body. " Favour is deceitful, and beauty 
 is vain : but a woman that feareth the Lord, 
 she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of 
 her hands ; and let her own works praise her 
 in the gates." 
 
 But a marriage that is not sinful may be 
 improper. The apostle himself distinguishes 
 between what is lawful and what is expe- 
 dient. Religion is indeed indispensable, but 
 does not alone constitute the propriety of the 
 action. Religion is indeed essential, but is 
 not abstracted from all other considerations 
 sufficient to justify choice. To exemplify 
 this a little. 
 
 — The admission of the piety of the parties 
 does not destroy the indecorum of haste in 
 marrying immediately after the death of a 
 husband or wife. 
 
 The admission of the piety of the parties 
 does not hinder the censure due to a great 
 disparity in years. How unnatural, how in- 
 decent is it to see an old man surrounded 
 with infants and babes which he can scarcely 
 see or hear for the infirmities of age ! How 
 unnatural, how odious is it to see a young 
 man fastened to a piece of antiquity — so as to 
 perplex strangers to determine whether he is 
 living with a wife or a mother ! 
 
 The admission of the piety of the parties 
 does not render in all cases a difference of 
 sentiment and of denomination unimportant. 
 It is not lovely for the husband and wife to 
 repair on the Sabbath-day morning to sepa- 
 rate places of worship. It is not pleasant in 
 
 MARRIAGE. 
 
 remarking what they have heard after their 
 return home, for the one to censure what the 
 other approves. It is not edifying in the 
 dedication of the common offspring to God by 
 baptism to disagree, not only as to the im- 
 portance, but also as to the validity of the ordi- 
 nance. The observation cannot be considered 
 as founded in bigotry, since it will equally ap- 
 ply to both sides of the question in a number 
 of cases in every religious community, and 
 is derived from the unalterable nature of 
 things. Indeed, to have a preference from 
 conviction, and to adhere to the distinctions 
 arising from it, without condemning others, 
 can never be conformed with illiberally, but 
 by a weak or a vicious mind. 
 
 The admission of the piety of the parties 
 cannot preclude the necessity of suitableness. 
 Indeed religion being supposed, suitableness 
 seems to be the chief requisite to the duty, 
 the respectability, and the happiness of con- 
 nected life. This fitness takes in an adapta- 
 tion to each other personally, and also to the 
 situation in which they are called to move. 
 It has commonly been said that no class of 
 men err so much in this article as ministers. 
 But surely this cannot be admitted. It can- 
 not be supposed that those who have oppor- 
 tunities to make the best choice, commonly 
 make the worst. It cannot be supposed that 
 those whose office it is to inculcate prudence 
 should be themselves proverbial for indiscre- 
 tion. It cannot be supposed that those whose 
 incomes are limited, and whose circumstan- 
 ces demand economy, would bring into the 
 management of them those who have been 
 trained up in delicacy and extravagance, and 
 are helpless and profuse. It cannot be sup- 
 posed that men whose office is respectable 
 and productive of social intercourse would 
 select vulgarity and ignorance, unfit to be 
 either seen or heard, merely because it is 
 pious. — A minister is to inculcate order and 
 regularity, and would he marry a female that 
 would render his house a scene of confusion 
 and tumult 1 ! A minister is to show how the 
 claims of life and religion harmonize, and to 
 assign to the duties of each their own place 
 and season — and would he marry a rattlebrain 
 who, instead of being a keeper at home, has 
 been always rambling after some new preach- 
 er; who instead of quietly glorifying God 
 in her proper sphere of action, has been en- 
 deavouring to excite public attention: who 
 has been zealous in matters of doubtful dis- 
 putation, but has treated as beneath her re- 
 gard common and relative obligations? — 
 Need he be told that a becoming behaviour 
 in a lower and private station is the surest 
 pledge of, and the best preparation for a pro- 
 per behaviour in a higher and more public 
 situation ! — A minister is to recommend neat- 
 ness and all the decencies of life — and would 
 he marry a slattern T A minister is to show 
 that the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit 
 
ESSAY ON MARRIAGE. 
 
 193 
 
 is in the sight of God of great price — and 
 would he marry a scold ? A minister is to 
 stand in the same relation to all his people 
 who demand his love and service — and would 
 he marry a female who would fondly attach 
 herself to a few cronies, listen to all their 
 secrets and divulge her own, and form cabals 
 and schisms which will render his residence 
 unpleasant, or occasion his removal ? 
 
 " The attention of ministers," says Mr. 
 Gilpin, " in choosing such companions as may 
 not hinder their success, is of so great import- 
 ance ; that in some countries the conduct of a 
 pastor's wife, as well as that of the pastor 
 himself, is supposed to edify or mislead the 
 flock. Nay the minister himself is frequently 
 condemned for the faults of his wife : thus in 
 the protestant churches of Hungary they de- 
 grade a pastor whose wife indulges herself in 
 cards, dancing, or any other public amusement 
 that bespeaks the gaiety of a lover of the 
 world rather than the gravity of a Christian 
 matron. This severity springs from the sup- 
 position that the woman, having promised obe- 
 dience to her husband, can do nothing but 
 what he either directs or approves. Hence 
 they conclude that example having a greater 
 influence than precept, the wife of a minister, 
 if she be inclined to the world, will preach 
 wordly compliance with more success, by her 
 conduct, than her husband can preach worldly 
 renunciation by the most solemn discourses." 
 And certainly the scandal of many will al- 
 ways be the result of that deplorable incon- 
 sistency which is sometimes seen between 
 the serious instruction of a godly minister, 
 and the trifling behaviour of a woman with 
 whom he is so intimately connected. If the 
 wives of the deacons are to be grave, not 
 slanderous, sober, faithful in all things, what 
 less can be required of the wives of pastors ! 
 " A bishop then must be blameless, the hus- 
 band of one wife, vigilant, sober, of good be- 
 haviour, given to hospitality, apt to teach; 
 not given to wine, no striker, not greedy of 
 filthy lucre ; but patient ; not a brawler, not 
 covetous ; one that ruleth well his own 
 house, having his children in subjection with 
 all gravity ; for if a man know not how to 
 rule his own house, how shall he take care 
 of the church of God !" 
 
 Things said indeed concerning the wives 
 of ministers should generally be received 
 with caution. Owing to a line in life, the 
 peculiarity of which is often very little known 
 or considered, their actions and motives may 
 be sometimes condemned, when perhaps in- 
 stead of deserving censure they merit praise. 
 By their union with persons of some distinc- 
 tion and influence, they are in a state to 
 awaken envy and ill-natured remark. By 
 their occupying a conspicuous station they are 
 more liable to observation than many in more 
 common life. This renders it needful for 
 them to be peculiarly circumspect and exem- 
 2 B 17 
 
 plary. And it must be confessed, that such 
 females are placed in a situation very diffi- 
 cult and trying. But at the same time, if this 
 situation be filled up properly, they have an 
 opportunity to render themselves truly re- 
 spectable and useful. In a superior degree 
 they may serve their generation according to 
 the will of God. In such circumstances, ex- 
 amples of prudence, economy, order, neat- 
 ness, temper, amiablcness, domestication, will 
 not tail to strike and impress the minds of 
 numbers. 
 
 But there is another view, in which we 
 ought to consider such an help-meet. It is 
 the advantage which her husband derives 
 from her, not only personally but officially, 
 and by which she is rendered a blessing to 
 others. Are his life and exertions and repu- 
 tation of importance! And does she, by the 
 excellency of her character, reflect honour 
 upon his choice, and secure deference to his 
 judgment ? Does she, by her attentions to 
 his personal appearance, the state of his 
 family, and the decorum of his children, add 
 to his respectability and acceptance ? Does 
 she, by seasonably aiding his remembrance, 
 contribute to the punctuality of his engage- 
 ments, his visits, and his correspondence! 
 Does she, by allowing her husband to trust 
 safely in her, discharge him from secular 
 concerns, and keep him free to pursue his 
 work with undivided attention? Does she, 
 by soothing him under distress, and tranquil- 
 lizing him under irritation, preserve his mind 
 in a frame favourable to reflection and study ! 
 Docs she, by taking care of his health and 
 spirits, enlarge the number and lengthen the 
 course of his labours? Such a female de- 
 serves the esteem and applause of a congre- 
 gation, a neighbourhood, a coimtry. 
 
 Of what avail are reflections like these, to 
 such as have already taken unguarded steps. 
 Are not the consequences irretrievable .' 
 They are — but yet they may be improveable. 
 I know it is cold comfort, to tell a man in- 
 volved in difficulty and distress, that all this 
 might have been avoided, and to upbraid him 
 with the warnings which he refused to take. 
 But will it not be useful for him to ascertain 
 the cause of his mistake, and to review the 
 progress of his infatuation ? May he not turn 
 to some good account, the lessons of painful 
 experience, and the corrections of maturer 
 judgment? Ought he not to increase in 
 self-knowledge, and self-diffidence? "Surely 
 it is meet to be said unto God, I have borne 
 chastisement, I will not offend any more: 
 That which I see not teach thou me: if 
 I have done iniquity, I will do no more." 
 " Search me, O God, and know my heart : 
 try me, and know my thoughts : and see if 
 there be any wicked way in me, and lead me 
 in the way everlasting." 
 
 But there are others whose escape is pos- 
 sible, and for whose preservation we are con- 
 
I 
 
 ESSAY ON MARRIAGE. 
 
 194 
 
 cerned. I hope that my younger brethren 
 in the sacred office, and those who are un- 
 der a course of preparation for it, will not 
 be offended at my taking advantage of this 
 address, to introduce these free remarks on 
 ministerial marriage : and by concluding, in 
 calling upon them to show how undeserv- 
 edly their body has been reproached. — 
 Let them beware, let them see how ne- 
 cessary it is, not only that piety, but pru- 
 dence should guide them. Let them remem- 
 ber how much their comfort, their honour, 
 
 their usefulness depend upon a wise as well 
 as a religious choice. A wrong step here 
 may involve them in embarrassments ; make 
 them go mourning down to the grave ; strip 
 them of their glory, and take the crown from 
 their head. 
 
 A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hid- 
 eth himself, but the simple pass on, and are 
 punished. Keep sound wisdom and discretion ; 
 so shall they be life unto thy soul, and grace 
 to thy neck. Then shalt thou walk in thy 
 way safely, and thy foot shall not stumble. 
 
AN ADDRESS 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE INTERMENT OF THE 
 
 REV. WILLIAM HUMPHRYES, 
 
 OF HAMMERSMITH; 
 
 IN THE BURIAL GROUND OF BUNHILL- FIELDS, OCTOBER 6, 1808. 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 Death is a familiar subject, rendered so 
 by the frequency of the event; for in one 
 way or another it is perpetually visiting our 
 world, and removing our neighbours, frienas, 
 and relations from our view. It would be 
 well if the familiarity of it did not destroy 
 the solemnity of it, and hinder those serious 
 reflections with which it should always be 
 accompanied. There are indeed few who 
 will not exclaim on such an occasion as this : 
 " Ah ! see to what we must all be brought" — 
 " We must all die." But it is to little pur- 
 pose to reflect upon death as an universal 
 and an unavoidable event. We must con- 
 sider the cause of it ; the consequences re- 
 sulting from it ; and the nature of a scriptu- 
 ral preparation for it. We can never have a 
 better opportunity for this, than when we 
 are assembled around the mouth of the 
 grave, and behold the emblems of mortality 
 before us. 
 
 The cause is sin : and if there were 
 
 no other consideration to excite our abhor- 
 rence of it — this would surely be sufficient — 
 it " brought death into the world and all our 
 wo." It is the decision of the apostle : " By 
 one man sin entered into the world, and death 
 by sin ; and so death passed upon all men, 
 for that all have sinned." And therefore 
 death is not, as it is commonly phrased, a 
 debt due to nature, but to the justice of God : 
 and hence, though all creatures in this lower 
 world die, we only call man mortal ; and the 
 reproach is just — because he alone became 
 subject to dissolution, and chose to die; they 
 are mortal by destiny, but he by guilt. 
 
 The consequences of death are vari- 
 ous; and they are affecting. — Death is a 
 solemn event, as it is the termination of our 
 worldly affairs. It disconcerts every scheme 
 our busy minds had formed ; it breaks off the 
 purposes of our hearts ; it bids the labourer 
 
 leave his spade, and the author his pen ; it 
 orders the preacher to descend from his pul- 
 pit, and the king from his throne. However 
 attached to scenes and businesses to which 
 we have been long accustomed, it tells us to 
 take a farewell of fields and vallies, house 
 and garden ; and excludes us for ever from 
 all the concerns beneath the sun. — Death is 
 a solemn event, as it breaks asunder all the 
 tender and endearing ties formed between 
 parent and child, husband and wife, benefac- 
 tor and friend, pastor and people ; and reduces 
 us to a state in which new and strange affini- 
 ties commence; and we "say to corruption, 
 Thou art my father, and to the worm, Thou 
 art my mother and my sister." — Death is a 
 solemn event, as it degrades and destroys 
 that fine piece of divine workmanship, the 
 body. However fearfully and wonderfully 
 made, it weakens our strength in the way, 
 and consumes our body like a moth ; the eye 
 sparkles no more, the hand forgets her cun- 
 ning, the tongue is silent, the blood congeals; 
 our flesh becomes loathsome, and however 
 valued or loved before, survivors are thank- 
 ful for a grave to bury their dead out of their 
 sight. 
 
 But death is a much more solemn event 
 when considered in relation to another world. 
 For, my dear hearers, you will observe, that 
 death is not the extinction of being, but only 
 the termination of one mode of it: it is a tran- 
 sition from a temporal to an eternal state, from 
 a state of trial to a state of decision and re- 
 tribution. For while " the dust returns to the 
 dust as it was, the spirit returns to God who 
 gave it," and the divine fiat runs, " He that 
 is unjust, let him be unjust still: and he 
 which is filthy let him be filthy still : and he 
 that is righteous, let him be righteous still : 
 and he that is holy, let him be holy still." 
 
 Death, therefore, is beyond all comparison, 
 195 
 
196 
 
 ON THE INTERMENT OF 
 
 the most momentous event that can ever be- 
 fall us — for " after this is the judgment : a 
 judgment so impartial, that every one shall 
 receive according to the deeds done in the 
 body whether they be good or whether they 
 be evil :" a judgment so dreadful, that the 
 impenitent shall " call to the rocks to fall on 
 them, and the mountains to cover them :" and 
 yet a judgment so certain, that God has not 
 only revealed it in his own word, but attested 
 it in the sinner's conscience — hence his back- 
 wardness to self-inspection ; his dread of soli- 
 tude, his regrets and fears after the commis- 
 sion of sin. Whatever he pretends, he is no 
 stranger to those feelings through life; but 
 he is much more subject to them when he 
 comes to die : the former diversions cease, 
 the delusions of imagination subside, and the 
 eyes, as they close on external things, open 
 interiorly and begin to penetrate the secrets 
 of an invisible world. It is called " the king 
 of terrors ;" and what fear has such torment 
 in it ? It is called an " enemy," and if it be 
 allowed to come against us with all the force 
 sin gives it, instead of being overcome by us, 
 it will be more than a conqueror over us. 
 
 But from among these desolations and tri- 
 umphs of death — how numerous are they all 
 around ! — we hear a voice saying, " I am the 
 resurrection and the life ; he that believeth 
 in me, though he were dead, yet shall he 
 live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in 
 me shall never die. Bdievest thou this?" 
 Yes, blessed Saviour of the world, we be- 
 lieve that thou hast " remembered us in our 
 low estate," we believe that thou hast inter- 
 posed on our behalf, and said, " Deliver them 
 from going down into the pit, I have found a 
 ransom ;" we believe that " in thy love and 
 pity thou hast redeemed us." "Thou hast 
 once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, 
 to bring us unto God !" 
 
 My brethren, He is said to die : we as his 
 followers are only said to sleep. Death stung 
 him ; but, as it is fabled of the bee, left his 
 sting in him : we may therefore safely defy 
 the harmless foe, and exult in the language 
 of the apostle, " O death, where is thy sting?" 
 yea, death is not only deprived of a power 
 of injuring us, but has obtained a power of 
 doing us good : " to die is gain." No won- 
 der therefore, Dr. George often said, he had 
 two friends in the world, Christ and Death : 
 "Christ," said he, "is my first friend, and 
 Death is my second." It is impossible for 
 the Christian at present to estimate the ex- 
 tent of his obligation to death. Deatli de- 
 livers him from all the evils he feels or fears ; 
 it grants him the full possession of all the 
 promises of God. It is the day when the 
 tempest-tossed mariner reaches the desired 
 haven; the day when the weather-beaten 
 traveller arrives at home ; the day when the 
 heir of immortality comes of age and gains 
 "the inheritance which is incorruptible and 
 
 fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for 
 him." It is the angel that draws back the 
 veil, shows him the path of life, and intro- 
 duces him into his " presence, where there is 
 fulness of joy and pleasure for evermore." 
 
 But are all who die thus blessed] Far 
 from it. In order to enjoy these immunities 
 and advantages, we must be found in a cer- 
 tain state. Let me briefly explain it. Ac- 
 cording to the sacred writers, it consists in 
 our being found in Christ; that is, in a state 
 of union and communion with him. In con- 
 sequence of this, we partake of his righteous- 
 ness for our justification, and his grace for 
 our sanctification : the one giving us a title 
 to heaven, the other a meetness for it. These 
 always go together; and the one is as ne- 
 cessary as the other. Hence our Saviour 
 has told us, " Except a man be born again he 
 cannot enter into the kingdom of God." It 
 is in vain, therefore, to deny, to question, to 
 philosophize. — It is the decision of one who 
 cannot be deluded and who cannot deceive : 
 the nature of heaven demands it ; the work 
 of heaven demands it; the joy of heaven 
 demands it ; and hence he adds, " Except a 
 man be born again he cannot see the kingdom 
 of God." — It would be impossible for him to 
 enjoy it, even were he to possess it ; for hap- 
 piness results not only from the excellency 
 of the object, but from its adaptation to the 
 subject ; from its suitableness to his faculties, 
 its congeniality with his dispositions, its ac- 
 complishment of his hopes and wishes. 
 " Marvel not therefore that I said unto you, 
 ye must be born again." Found in this state 
 we are secure, we are happy. According to 
 the voice from heaven, " Blessed are the dead 
 that die in the Lord." Arid thus blessed 
 we are fully persuaded is our departed bro- 
 ther, whose remains we are consigning " to 
 the house appointed for all living." — Not as 
 to a place where the body will be lost, but a 
 quiet dormitory, in which it will rest till the 
 morning of the resurrection, when waked by 
 the archangel's trump, it will arise and shake 
 itself from its dust, and put on its beautiful 
 garments, and arise to meet the Lord in the 
 air : or, to vary the image ; we commit this 
 seed to the earth where it will not be de- 
 stroyed, but will revive and flourish : " It is 
 sown in corruption ; it is raised in incorrup- 
 tion : it is sown in dishonour ; it is raised in 
 glory : it is sown in weakness ; it is raised in 
 power : it is sown a. natural body ; it is raised 
 a spiritual body. There is a natural body, 
 and there is a spiritual body." 
 
 It would be needless, not to say improper, 
 to anticipate what will be much more suita- 
 bly delivered next Lord's-day afternoon, by 
 our reverend friend and brother, who has en- 
 gaged to deliver a sermon appropriated to 
 the subject. But I cannot resist what my 
 convictions and feelings equally prompt me 
 to remark, that I now lay my hand on the 
 
THE REV. WILLIAM HUMPHRYES. 
 
 197 
 
 mortal remains of one of the most amiable of 
 men — one of the most holy and consistent 
 professors of religion — and a distinguished 
 minister of the gospel, whether we consider 
 his qualifications or his usefulness. 
 
 We are called to " mark the perfect man, 
 and behold the upright; for the end of that 
 man is peace." And in such an age of re- 
 buke and blasphemy, when so many fail of 
 the grace of God, and dishonour the Redeem- 
 er's name ; and when so many, even in the 
 ministerial office, fall by their iniquity, to the 
 disgrace of their character and station, it is 
 a delightful satisfaction to attend the con- 
 cluding scenes of one whose reputation was 
 unsullied ; at whose funeral there is nothing 
 to conceal, nothing to palliate ; and concern- 
 ing whom, the spectators, however numerous, 
 are all ready to acknowledge, " He was a 
 good man, and full of the Holy Ghost and of 
 faith." — I do not wonder to see you weep. 
 " This grief becomes you, and these tears are 
 just; not to mourn would argue the guilty 
 insensibility of the Jews, condemned by the 
 prophet, who, when the righteous perished, 
 and merciful men were taken away, laid it 
 not to heart." He is indeed, disposed of infi- 
 nitely to his advantage — his warfare is ac- 
 complished — he has entered the joy of his 
 Lord : but his gain is our loss. We have lost 
 a protector, an intercessor, a benefactor, a 
 teacher, an example. The world sustains a 
 loss, the country sustains a loss, the church 
 feels a loss ; religion feels a loss, and comes 
 and mourns along with us. The sons and 
 daughters of indigence and affliction are be- 
 reaved : friends sigh 1 feel it easier to 
 
 weep than to address you. Forgive the ego- 
 tism, I have lost a friend — a long known, a 
 tried friend — with whom I have taken sweet 
 counsel — whose advice has directed me — 
 whose approbation has stimulated me — and 
 with whom, from my first intercourse with 
 him, I felt a peculiar oneness of mind, which 
 every succeeding interview has only in- 
 creased. At the grave of a parent, not by 
 birth, but adoption, I lately cried, " My father, 
 my father!" I now cry "alas, my brother!" 
 — " I am distressed for thee, my brother Jo- 
 nathan, very pleasant hast thou been to me." 
 O ! how earth is impoverished ! O ! how hea- 
 ven is enriched by such removals as these ! 
 How they loosen us from the world, and ena- 
 ble us to enter into the spirit of Thomas, 
 when he said, " Let us go away that we may 
 die with him !" Well, we shall join them 
 again. They will soon receive us into ever- 
 lasting habitations. Even now the interrup- 
 tion of our union is in appearance rather than 
 reality. 
 
 17* 
 
 " 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." 
 
 The close of the life of this man of God 
 corresponded with its course, and is worthy 
 of our notice. He had retired to Canterbury 
 after the rupture of a blood-vessel ; but find- 
 ing at length that his recovery was despaired 
 of, he expressed a wish to be taken home to 
 expire among his people. He conceived that 
 he ought to edify them in death as well as in 
 life, and hoped to be able to bear a final tes- 
 timony to the truth and importance of those 
 doctrines which he had publicly preached. 
 This wish was indulged. He reached home 
 on the Tuesday and died on the Wednesday ; 
 professing a hope full of immortality, and ad- 
 dressing pertinent instructions and admoni- 
 tions to those around him. " Blessed is that 
 servant whom his Lord when he cometh shall 
 find so doing !" 
 
 It may be useful to inquire what the senti- 
 ments were, that formed a life so beneficial, 
 and produced a death so happy. And some, 
 perhaps, may be surprised to learn, that they 
 were those principles which of late have in- 
 curred so much reprobation ; and to suppress 
 which, an appeal has been made to the legis- 
 lature ! 
 
 We here see the excellency of the religion 
 described and recommended in the gospel. 
 It always appears profitable ; but how does 
 its glory shine forth in those dark scenes 
 which nothing else can illuminate; nothing 
 else can cheer ; nothing else can gild ! O ! 
 how desirable is it, when nature is dissolv- 
 ing, to be able to say with Jacob, " I have 
 waited for thy salvation, O Lord !" — when 
 the body is mouldering back to dust, to 
 exclaim with Job, " I know that my Re- 
 deemer liveth;" — with Simeon, to feel a 
 Saviour in the arms of our faith, raising us 
 above the love of life and the fear of death; 
 to look backward, to look forward, and ex- 
 ult with Paul, " I am now ready to be of- 
 fered, and the time of my departure is at 
 hand. I have fought a good fight, I have 
 finished my course, I have kept the faith : 
 henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of 
 righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous 
 Judge, shall give me at that day !" Where 
 is the individual that will not withdraw from 
 these mansions of the dead, and immediately 
 and earnestly pray, " Let me die the death 
 of the righteous, and let my last end be like 
 his!!" 
 
THE JUBILEE: 
 
 A SERMON, 
 
 DELIVERED SUNDAY, OCTOBER 22, 1809, IN ARGYLE-CHAPEL, BATH. 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 It shall be a jubilee unto you. — Lev. xxv. 10. 
 " He that winneth souls is wise." This 
 wisdom is from above, and is first pure, then 
 peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated, full 
 of mercy, and good fruits, without partiality, 
 and without hypocrisy. No person ever pos- 
 sessed more of this excellency than Paul. His 
 prudence appears in the selection and varia- 
 tion of the means he employed to accomplish 
 his end. He considered the circumstances, 
 the tempers, the prejudices of his hearers. 
 He addressed every principle, and every pas- 
 sion of human nature. He reasoned; he de- 
 claimed. He reproved ; he admonished ; he 
 warned; he encouraged. He compassed sea 
 and land to furnish himself with illustrations 
 and assistance. He borrowed from the insti- 
 tutions of Judaism. He borrowed from the 
 usages of Heathenism. He borrowed from the 
 manners of the age. He borrowed from the 
 festive games. — Not a wrestling or a race 
 passed by unnoticed or unimproved. — Any oc- 
 currence, however accidental or transitory, he 
 seized, to guide the attention which it awak- 
 ened, to some wise and important purpose. 
 
 " And as a bird each fond endearment tries, 
 To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies ; 
 He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, 
 Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way." 
 
 Hear his own language — " Though I be 
 free from all men, yet have I made myself 
 servant unto all that I may gain the more. 
 And unto the Jews I became as a Jew, that I 
 might gain the Jews ; to them that are under 
 the law, as under the law, that I might gain 
 them that are under the law ; to them that 
 are without law, as without law (being not 
 without law to God, but under the law to 
 Christ,) that I might gain them that are with- 
 out law. To the weak became I as weak, 
 that I might gain the weak : I am made all 
 things to all men, that I might by all means 
 save some." 
 
 My brethren, your preacher does not intend 
 a comparison ; but he wishes to feel the sti- 
 mulus of an example so excellent. He does 
 not challenge praise; but hopes for approba- 
 tion, in a particular instance. — If Paul be 
 worthy of imitation, I am more than justified 
 in the choice of my subject this evening. As 
 our venerable and virtuous sovereign enters 
 
 the fiftieth year of his reign on Wednesday 
 next, an observance is intended, called — Ju- 
 bilee; and I am going to lead back your 
 minds to the origin of the name. My design 
 is, not to indulge in applauding or censuring 
 the measure, but to enable you to improve it, 
 especially in aid of religious reflection. 
 
 Let me explain the nature of the Jubilee — 
 make some remarks on the design of it — and 
 examine what there is in the gospel to corres- 
 pond with it. Consider what I say, and may the 
 Lord give you understanding in all things. 
 
 I. It is hardly necessary to take up any of 
 your time, by inquiring after the etymology 
 of the word Jubilee ; in Hebrew, Jobel. It 
 signifies, according to some rabbins, a ram's 
 horn, with which the festival was proclaimed. 
 But how, asks the learned Calmet, could a 
 ram's horn, which is crooked, solid, and not 
 hollow, be used as a trumpet 1 It was there- 
 fore probably, says he, a trumpet in the form 
 of a ram's horn. Others derive Jobel from 
 Jubal, who was the inventor of musical in- 
 struments ; and suppose that the year was 
 named after him, because it was a year of re- 
 joicing, of which music is commonly an em- 
 blem : or because it was ushered in with the 
 sound of music through the whole land. Hot- 
 tinger is of opinion, that Jobel does not sig- 
 nify the instrument, but the noise it made ; 
 and that the word is invented to imitate the 
 sound. Patrick espouses this sentiment ; and 
 justifies it by a reference to the passover, 
 which was called Pesach, from the angel's 
 passing over the Israelites, when he slew the 
 Egyptians. There is another conjecture, 
 says Jennings, much more probable, and 
 which supposes that it comes from the verb 
 Hobil, to bring or call back; because then 
 every thing was restored. Accordingly, the 
 Septuagint renders it * remission ; and Jose- 
 phus says it signifies f liberty. 
 
 The learned are not more agreed concern- 
 ing the period in which the Jubilee was cele- 
 brated. Whether it was observed every forty- 
 ninth or fiftieth year, is a question on each 
 side of which, the advocates seem equally 
 numerous and eminent. I shall not trouble 
 you with their respective arguments ; but 
 only remark, that the authors of the Univer- 
 
 *»?«ri t . \i K-ui-.p,*,. 
 
 198 
 
THE JUBILEE. 
 
 199 
 
 sal History have endeavoured to reconcile 
 these two opinions, by observing, that as the 
 Jubilee began in the first month of the civil 
 year, which was the seventh month of the ec- 
 clesiastical, it might be said to be either the 
 forty-ninth or the fiftieth, according as the 
 one or the other of these computations is fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 For a general account of this ordinance, I 
 refer you to the charge which God gave to 
 Moses at the institution. " And thou shalt 
 number seven Sabbaths of years unto thee, 
 seven times seven years; and the space of 
 the seven Sabbaths of years shall be unto 
 thee forty and nine years. Then shalt thou 
 cause the trumpet of the Jubilee to sound, on 
 the tenth day of the seventh month, in the 
 day of atonement shall ye make the trumpet 
 sound throughout all your land. And ye 
 shall hallow the fiftieth year, and proclaim 
 liberty throughout all the land unto all the 
 inhabitants thereof ; it shall be a Jubilee unto 
 you; and ye shall return every man unto his 
 possession, and ye shall return every man 
 unto his family. A Jubilee shall that fiftieth 
 year be unto you ; ye shall not sow, neither 
 reap that which groweth of itself in it, nor 
 gather the grapes in it of thy vine undressed. 
 For it is the Jubilee ; it shall be holy unto 
 you : ye shall eat the increase thereof out of 
 the field. In the year of this Jubilee ye shall 
 return every man unto his possession." Let 
 us arrange and explain the contents of this 
 statement. 
 
 The Jubilee was a season of relaxation, re- 
 pose, and pleasure. The first nine days were 
 spent in festivity. The people indulged in 
 every kind of lawful mirth. They wore 
 crowns on their heads, and decorated their 
 garments with flowers. During the remain- 
 der of the season no servile work was done. 
 There was no ploughing, or sowing. The 
 earth spontaneously yielded her increase, and 
 of the produce all were allowed to partake. 
 The proprietor of a field, or a vineyard, had 
 no more claim to the grapes or the corn than 
 his poor neighbour. They had all things com- 
 mon. 
 
 The Jubilee announced release from bond- 
 age. All slaves were free, with their wives 
 and children. They who had renounced the 
 privilege given to them by the sabbatical 
 year, of recovering their liberty, and whose 
 ears have been bored in token of perpetual 
 servitude, were emancipated from their mas- 
 ters. Even all foreign slaves enjoyed the 
 same privilege of exemption ; and could not 
 be detained another moment in vassalage. 
 
 The Jubilee proclaimed the remission of 
 debts, whether small or great, lately contract- 
 ed or of long standing. It arrested the arm 
 of the merciless creditor, who was taking his 
 fellow by the throat, saying, Pay me that thou 
 owest. It hastily opened the door of the dun- 
 geon, and permitted the light of heaven to 
 
 visit the wretch immured in the cold and 
 gloomy prison; struck oft" his fetters; and led 
 him forth to his relations and friends, anxious 
 to hail him on his release. 
 
 The Jubilee caused the lost inheritance to 
 revert to the original owner. The sale of his 
 estate could only extend to the arrival of this 
 period : but there was no wrong done in this 
 case to the purchaser, because the time of 
 restitution was fixed and known, and he 
 bought accordingly. The joy of recovery 
 is more lively and intense than the calm satis- 
 faction resulting from uninterrupted posses- 
 sion. Things most powerfully strike us when 
 they are viewed and felt in contrast. It is 
 the want that teaches us the worth of our 
 enjoyments. Behold an Israelite, who had 
 been reduced to the condition of a stranger 
 even in his own land ; who had walked like 
 an alien in sight of a house, and by the side 
 of a field and a vineyard which he once called 
 his own — with what pleasure would he feel 
 himself reinstated into his patrimonial herit- 
 age ! Lectured and prepared by all the trials 
 of indigence and exile, and uncertainty ; with 
 what gratitude would he exult, " The lines 
 are fallen unto me in pleasant places ; yea, I 
 have a goodly heritage." 
 
 There is another circumstance which must 
 by no means be omitted. It is the solemnity 
 that immediately preceded the Jubilee. For 
 you will remember that the proclamation was 
 made on the day of atonement. As soon as 
 the victim of expiation was offered, and re- 
 conciliation was made for the sins of the peo- 
 ple — then — and not before, was the command 
 given to the priests to blow. They stood 
 ready with the trumpets in their hands, and 
 their faces turned towards the east and the 
 west, the north and the south, waiting the 
 signal : and no sooner was it given, than their 
 sound went into all the land, and the joyful 
 intelligence was published in every region, 
 and in every village. 
 
 From this representation it appears, that 
 the Jubilee must have been an event of pe- 
 culiar interest to the Jews: and we proceed 
 
 II. To make a few remarks upon the de- 
 sign of it. Our ignorance of a period so re- 
 mote, and of a people so peculiar, will not 
 allow of our appreciating the importance of 
 such an institution in every instance. We 
 do not therefore pretend to develope all the 
 advantages attached to it : but it is easy to 
 see, that whether it be examined with regard 
 to humanity, policy, or religion, it will be 
 found to possess no small degree of utility. 
 
 First. Considered humanely, it was im- 
 portant. It had a merciful and kind aspect 
 on the lower ranks of life, and would tend to 
 keep their spirits from being broken, depress- 
 ed, degraded. Who can bear everlasting ap- 
 plication, or hopeless fatigue"! Incessant 
 and unvaried toil from day to day, from year 
 to year, annihilates all sense of personal 
 
200 
 
 THE JUBILEE. 
 
 dignity. It brutalizes the mind by assimila- 
 tion, produced by a constancy and uniformity 
 of low impressions. Nothing' occurs to re- 
 mind the man that he is a rational and im- 
 mortal being. Every moment being neces- 
 sarily demanded for the cravings of the body, 
 the soul is neglected till it is forgotten. 
 Habits are generated so perfectly material, 
 that he becomes incapable of every mental 
 effort, and dead to every glowing purpose : 
 at best, he is the subject of a sullen quietude, 
 or a cheerless contentment. There is no- 
 thing so provoking to God, who is the lovely 
 Father of all mankind, as the oppression and 
 misery of the poor and needy : " For the 
 sighing of the poor, for the crying of the 
 needy, now will I arise, saith the Lord, now 
 will I show myself" "It is not of the Lord 
 that the people labour in the lire, and weary 
 themselves for very vanity." It is the plea- 
 sure of the Almighty that man should have 
 some active employment. It is the law of 
 his creation. A particular necessity indeed 
 falls on him as the consequence of sin : 
 " Cursed is the ground for thy sake ; in sor- 
 row shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy 
 life; thorns also and thistles shall it bring 
 forth to thee ; and thou shalt eat of the herb 
 of the field; in the sweat of thy face shalt 
 thou eat bread, till thou return unto the 
 ground." But he who pronounced this curse 
 is a father as well as a, sovereign. In the 
 midst of judgment he remembers mercy. 
 He renders the obligation to which vve have 
 subjected ourselves, a physical and a moral 
 blessing: and he limits the degree, the ex- 
 tent of the obligation itself. He ordains la- 
 bour, but never designed that absolute drud- 
 gery should be necessary to acquire a pitiful 
 subsistence. He has prepared of his good- 
 ness for the poor ; and his designs are gra- 
 cious, though men pervert them. Thus, — 
 He gave the Jews occasional relaxation and 
 ease. He allowed them time for rest, and 
 reflection. He resigned them one day in 
 every seven days ; one year in every seven 
 years ; and one year in every fifty years, in 
 addition to both — during which, they could 
 wipe their brows, unload their heavy burdens, 
 and attend to their persons, their children, 
 and the book of God. 
 
 Secondly. Considered politically, it was 
 important. 
 
 Slaves for certain reasons were allowed 
 under the Jewish dispensation ; but, by this 
 law, what was tolerated was qualified, and 
 perpetual slavery was prevented. 
 
 In every well-ordered state it will be an 
 object to fix those who reside in it, not by 
 necessity, but choice and preference. The 
 secret to prevent at once emigration and 
 disaffection, is to cause some flowers to spring 
 up around the cottage, however humble ; to 
 keep the soil from becoming barren and 
 dreary ; to secure some enjoyments, some 
 
 advantages that will render the idea of homo 
 estimable and attractive; and make the indi- 
 vidual feel an interest which he is unwilling 
 to resign, and determined to defend. That 
 which we have a propriety in, we seldom 
 disregard. — This was the case with the Jews. 
 The provision of Jubilee attached them to 
 their own country, and their native soil. 
 They viewed with veneration and affection 
 the estates that had descended from their 
 ancestors, and were to be continued to their 
 posterity. Even when they had no share in 
 possession, they had one in remembrance; 
 they had one in hope ; and could never feel 
 detached from the commonwealth of Israel. 
 
 The levelling of property is impossible, 
 and absurd. Yet a state is never in a pros- 
 perous condition when the community is 
 divided between two classes only, the very 
 rich, and the very poor: and the various 
 intermediate degrees that constitute the 
 strength, the happiness, the glory of a coun- 
 try disappear. The law of Jubilee prevent- 
 ed at once abject poverty, and excessive ac- 
 cumulation of wealth. It was impossible for 
 any to gain very large possessions, either by 
 usurpation, mortgage, purchase, or heirship. 
 The tendency to departure from the original 
 medium of estate, both in deficiency and ex- 
 cess, was seasonably checked, and the ba- 
 lance restored. We read that something 
 like this was established among the Lacede- 
 monians by their famous legislator Lycurgus. 
 He not only banished slavery, but . instituted 
 a kind of equality, or rather mediocrity of 
 fortune. His endeavour was, as far as he 
 was able, to hinder any one from becoming 
 too powerful, or too rich. Such was the 
 design of the ostracism which he introduced. 
 It consisted in expelling citizens whose 
 wealth and influence rendered their aggran- 
 dizement prejudicial to the state. A similar 
 plan also was proposed by Stolo. To repress 
 the avarice of the old Romans, he made a 
 law which forbad any particular person from 
 having more than five hundred acres of land. 
 Fraudulence soon destroyed this wise consti- 
 tution; and he himself was condemned for 
 violating his own statute. 
 
 But to return. Never was there a people 
 upon earth so secure of their liberty and pro- 
 perty as the Israelites were: for while they 
 were protected from the invasion of their 
 enemies by the promise and providence of 
 God ; by the Jubilee they were not suffered 
 to lose these privileges, even by their follies 
 and vices, unless partially and for a time. 
 
 Thirdly. Considered religiously it was 
 important. It established the divine au- 
 thority of Moses — it verified the prophecies 
 with regard to the descent of the Messiah — 
 it was typical of the Christian dispensation. 
 
 It established the divine authority of 
 Moses. For we may boldly affirm, that no 
 legislator, unless conscious of being divinely 
 
THE JUBILEE. 
 
 201 
 
 inspired, would ever have committed himself 
 by enacting such a law. It was founded on 
 a standing miracle. It forbad all agricultu- 
 ral process, on the assurance that the year 
 preceding should render it needless, by yield- 
 ing an abundance sufficient to answer its de- 
 mands without tillage. For this double pro- 
 duce in one season he pledged himself 
 Would an impostor have done this ? How 
 easily would he have been detected ! Had 
 his assertion been false, a people so prone to 
 rebel, and so governed by present appear- 
 ances, would never have submitted to the 
 loss of a year's produce ; neither would the 
 possessors of acquired estates have resigned 
 them. — Their obedience in such circum- 
 stances abundantly proves the truth of his 
 claims. 
 
 It verified the prophecies with regard to 
 the descent of the Messiah. It rendered 
 necessary the continuance of the distinction 
 of every tribe and family: this preserved 
 their genealogies secure and clear : and thus 
 ultimately, and no doubt intentionally, it 
 served to ascertain the birth of our Lord and 
 Saviour from the tribe of Judah, and the 
 family of David. Indeed every dispensation 
 of divine Providence or grace from the be- 
 ginning of the world, regarded the coming 
 of the Messiah, and issued in " the fulness 
 of him that filleth all in all." 
 
 Finally, it was a type of the Christian dis- 
 pensation. Observe, my brethren, the words 
 of the apostle to the Hebrews. " God," says 
 he, "has provided some better thing for us, 
 that they without us should not be made per- 
 fect" Here he compares the law with the 
 gospel, and reminds us that the one is supe- 
 rior to the other ; yea, that the one is the com- 
 pletion of the other. Judaism without Chris- 
 tianity would have been defective — as a dawn 
 without the day : and it would have been un- 
 interesting and unintelligible — like an alle- 
 gory without the clue, or a prefiguration 
 without the reality. The various usages 
 and institutions of the ceremonial economy 
 derive their significancy, their value, their 
 perfection from reference: they were all 
 "shadows of good things to come, but the 
 body is Christ." This renders the Old Tes- 
 tament so delightful and edifying to a Chris- 
 tian. By means of the subsequent explana- 
 tions of the New Testament writers, he can 
 go back and compare promise with accom- 
 plishment; the figure with the substance. 
 He can read the glory of his Redeemer in 
 the patriarchal dignity, in the prophetical 
 wisdom, in the priestly sanctity, in the kingly 
 dominion. He can find him in the sufferings 
 and elevation of Joseph: in the splendour of 
 Solomon: in the burial and resurrection of 
 Jonah. He can see him as the bread that 
 came down from heaven in the manna ; as 
 the water of life in the streams that flowed 
 from the rock in the wilderness; as an offer- 
 2C 
 
 ing for sin in the slaughtered bullock or 
 bleeding lamb. In the brazen serpent he 
 beholds him as dying on the cross, "that 
 whoever believeth on him shall not perish 
 but have everlasting life." He meets him, 
 he hears him in the Jubilee. It is in allusion 
 to this season, that our Lord expresses him- 
 self, in the words of Isaiah ; " The spirit of 
 the Lord God is upon me : because the Lord 
 hath anointed me to preach good tidings 
 unto the meek ; he hath sent me to bind up 
 the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the 
 captives, and the opening of the prison to 
 them that are bound ; to proclaim the ac- 
 ceptable YEAR OF THE LORD." 
 
 Let us therefore, 
 
 III. Inquire what there is in the gospel 
 to correspond with the Jubilee. I am sorry 
 to be obliged to remark that the figurative 
 language of divine revelation has been fre- 
 quently abused by violence, and debased by 
 littleness. Expositors and preachers have 
 too commonly supposed that a conformity 
 was to be sought for in every attribute, and 
 in every circumstance of the subject. Where- 
 as a real and striking degree of similitude is 
 all that is required in any writer ; and the 
 same will hold with regard to the meta- 
 phors, parables, and types of the Scripture. 
 This being premised, we are not afraid to 
 bring the Jubilee and the gospel together. 
 A very superficial examination will decide 
 that there is a wonderful analogy between 
 them. 
 
 Did the Jubilee afford rest? This the 
 gospel realizes. It calls us to cease from 
 Jewish ceremonies, from superstitious rites, 
 from slavish fears, from perplexing anxieties, 
 from worldly disquietudes. It tells us that 
 all things are now ready ; and that we 
 are welcome to partake of the common sal- 
 vation of God's people. The Christian thus 
 finds himself blessed with all spiritual bless- 
 ings in heavenly places in Christ; and by 
 believing enters into rest. He confides also 
 in his providence. He knows from the love, 
 the power, and the promise of his heavenly 
 Father, that though the young lions may 
 lack and suffer hunger, they that seek the 
 Lord shall not want any good thing. He 
 is therefore careful for nothing, but in every 
 thing by prayer and supplication with thanks- 
 giving he makes known his requests unto 
 God, and the peace of God that passeth all 
 understanding keeps his heart and mind 
 through Christ Jesus. 
 
 Did the Jubilee confer liberty ? This the 
 gospel realizes. We had sold ourselves for 
 nought. We were led captive by the devil 
 at his will. We were the slaves of sin. We 
 served divers lusts and pleasures. But 
 "where the spirit of the Lord is there is 
 liberty." " Ye shall know the truth, and the 
 truth shall make you free ; and if the Son 
 make you free, ye shall be free indeed." No 
 
202 
 
 THE JUBILEE. 
 
 longer unable to hearken to the voice of con- 
 science, or follow the dictates of our under- 
 standings ; no longer the vassals of pride, of 
 avarice, of envy, of malice ; no longer under 
 the tyranny of our passions, our appetites, 
 our senses — we are the Lord's free men : we 
 are brought into the glorious liberty of the 
 Sons of God. 
 
 Did the Jubilee insure remission of debts? 
 This the gospel realizes. Did we owe 
 much, and were we able to pay nothing ! 
 Had our iniquities increased over our heads, 
 and became a burden too heavy for us to 
 bear? Was the adversary ready to deliver 
 us to the judge, and the judge to the officer ! 
 " Deliver," said the voice, "from going down 
 into the pit, for I have found a ransom. With 
 the Lord there is mercy, and with him there 
 is plenteous redemption. I even I am he 
 that blotteth out thy transgressions for my 
 own name sake ; and will not remember thy 
 sins." " Let the wicked forsake his way, and 
 the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let 
 him return unto the Lord, and he will have 
 mercy upon him ; and to our God, for he will 
 abundantly pardon." 
 
 Did the Jubilee restore alienated estates. 
 This the gospel realizes. Heaven was to 
 have been our possession — we were origin- 
 ally heirs of it. We forfeited our title; and 
 were left without hope. But behold tiiepoor 
 and the needy enriched. Behold the trea- 
 sures of eternity promised them. See them 
 not only "justified by his grace;" but "made 
 heirs according to the hope of eternal life." 
 " Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, which according to his abund- 
 ant mercy hath begotten us again unto a 
 lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus 
 Christ from the dead, to an inheritance incor- 
 ruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not 
 away, reserved in heaven for you, who are 
 kept by the power of God through faith unto 
 salvation ready to be revealed in the last 
 time." 
 
 Was the Jubilee proclaimed on the day of 
 expiation, and as soon as the atonement was 
 offered 1 This the gospel realizes. No sooner 
 had our Saviour given himself " an offering 
 and a sacrifice to God of a sweet-smelling sa- 
 vour," than the heavens smiled, and the earth 
 rejoiced. The messengers of reconciliation 
 were sent forth to " preach the gospel to every 
 creature." They began in Jerusalem ; but 
 the good news was published in every coun- 
 try : and the message shall continue to spread 
 till it has reached " the ends of the earth, 
 and all flesh shall see the salvation of our 
 God together." 
 
 Let us not hastily pass over this part of our 
 subject. We wish you never to forget, that, 
 as the Jewish Jubilee began in the typical 
 atonement of Aaron, so the Christian Jubilee 
 is founded in the real atonement of Christ. 
 We read of a purpose of grace before the 
 
 world began ; but it was given us " in him." 
 We hear of eternal life ; but it is " in him." 
 We say we have righteousness and strength ; 
 but it is " in him." Examine the scheme of 
 salvation in all its parts, and in all its pro- 
 gress; and the necessity of a mediator is 
 never left out. And how was he a mediator 1 
 Precisely in the same way as the high priest 
 who typified him. It was by sacrifice that 
 Aaron, on the behalf of the people, inter- 
 posed, interceded, blessed. And when Christ 
 came to seek and to save that which was lost, 
 he " gave his life a ransom for many." When 
 he returned, "he entered with his own blood 
 into the holy place, having obtained eternal 
 redemption for us." Hence it is said " in 
 him we have redemption through his blood, 
 even the forgiveness of sins :" we " have bold- 
 ness to enter into the holiest of all by the 
 blood of Jesus:" they who are before the 
 throne, " have washed their robes, and made 
 them white in the blood of the Lamb." 
 
 We learn from hence, that the atonement 
 of Christ is an essential blessing, a compre- 
 hensive blessing; that every thing else de- 
 pends upon it, and results from it ; that to 
 this we owe all our deliverance, and all our 
 hope. No wonder therefore that the apostle 
 should make it a leading object, and even 
 among the polite and learned Corinthians be- 
 gin with it: "I delivered unto you first of 
 all, that which I also received, how that Jesus 
 Christ died for our sins according to the 
 scriptures." No wonder he should make it 
 his last, as well as his first concern — no won- 
 der he should make it his only one ; " I de- 
 termined to know nothing among you save 
 Jesus Christ, and him crucified." No won- 
 der he abhorred the thought of exulting in 
 any thing beside ; and exclaimed " God for- 
 bid that I should glory, save in the cross of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ." No wonder the 
 church of God in all ages, have found their 
 happiest moments to have been those in which 
 they could say, " Unto him that loved us, and 
 washed us from our sins in his own blood, 
 and hath made us kings and priests unto God 
 and his Father, be glory and dominion for 
 ever and ever." No wonder that those who 
 have finished their course with joy, and no 
 longer see through a glass darkly, should 
 sing a new song, saying, " Thou wast slain, 
 and hast redeemed us unto God by thy blood, 
 out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, 
 and nation." . No wonder the angels round 
 about the throne, and the beasts and the el- 
 ders, and whose number is ten thousand times 
 ten thousand, and thousands of thousands, 
 should say with " a loud voice, Worthy is 
 the Lamb that was slain to receive power, 
 and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and 
 power, and glory, and blessing." 
 
 What then can we think of those who con- 
 ceal, who deny, who insult the atoning death 
 of our Lord and Saviour? 
 
THE JUBILEE. 
 
 203 
 
 What are your sentiments and dispositions 
 with regard to this important event? 
 
 Ah my brethren this event becomes a test : 
 a test to try our schemes, our character, our 
 destiny : a test the most awful : a test esta- 
 blished by an authority from which there lies 
 no appeal. " We preach Christ crucified, 
 unto the Jews a stumbling block ; and unto 
 the Greeks foolishness : but unto them which 
 are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the 
 power of God, and the wisdom of God." He 
 that despised Moses' law died without mercy, 
 under two or three witnesses: of how much 
 sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be 
 thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot 
 the Son of God, and hath counted the blood 
 of the covenant, wherewith he was sanctified, 
 an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto 
 the spirit of grace." 
 
 To conclude. Having discovered the na- 
 ture and excellency of the gospel, we learn, 
 my brethren, the way in which it is to be re- 
 garded by us. It demands joy and gladness. 
 It is a Jubilee ; and preachers and hearers 
 should animate each other, and say, " O mag- 
 nify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his 
 name together." " This is the day which 
 the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be 
 glad in it" 
 
 With what satisfaction and pleasure would 
 a Jewish priest proclaim the arrival of the 
 Jubilee ? And shall a Christian minister be 
 cold and senseless, who has " this grace 
 given, to preach among the Gentiles the un- 
 searchable riches of Christ]" O what a 
 privilege to go and publish, that God " has 
 not spared his own Son, but delivered him 
 up for us all, and that with him he will also 
 freely give us all things: that God is in 
 Christ reconciling the world unto himself, 
 not in putting their trespasses unto them." I 
 would rather be employed in announcing this 
 intelligence to sinners, than be destined to 
 blow the trump of the archangel that shall 
 awake the dead. I would rather call you 
 to the feet of the Saviour, than to the tribunal 
 of the Judge. 
 
 It is easy to imagine with what emotions 
 the proclamation of Jubilee was heard by the 
 inhabitants of Judea, and especially by those 
 who were so deeply interested in the mes- 
 sage. And what comparison is there be- 
 tween the concerns of time, and those of 
 eternity ? What is the relief of the body to 
 the welfare of the soul ? Will you not there- 
 fore, with a joy proportionably greater, ex- 
 claim, " How beautiful upon the mountains 
 are the feet of him thatbringeth good tidings, 
 that publisheth peace; that bringeth good 
 tidings of good, that publisheth salvation; 
 that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth !" 
 Thus the gospel was originally embraced. 
 The Thessalonians received it "in much af- 
 fliction," yet " with joy of the Holy Ghost." 
 When by the affecting ministry of the apos- 
 
 tle " before the eyes of the Galatians, Jesus 
 Christ was evidently set forth crucified 
 among" them ; they were " blessed," and 
 " could have plucked out their own eyes, and 
 have given them" to the messenger who 
 brought them such welcome tidings. When 
 Philip went down and "preached Christ in 
 Samaria, there was great joy in that city." 
 And is the nature of the gospel changed ? 
 Is the importance of it diminished ? Are 
 the blessings it communicates, and the hopes 
 it inspires less valuable and necessary ? 
 
 The gospel, my brethren, is not a specula- 
 tion. It is not a matter of idle curiosity. It 
 is not the solution of a problem, or the de- 
 cision of a point in debate, the knowledge of 
 which can merely affect the judgment. It 
 brings us " good tidings of great joy." It is 
 not only wonderful but interesting. It is not 
 only " a faithful saying ;" but " worthy of all 
 acceptation." It is " all our salvation ;" and 
 it should be " all our desire." It is " our 
 glory ;" and should be " our joy." 
 
 There are some who have thus heard the 
 gospel, and whose condition is described by 
 David in these words : " Blessed is the peo- 
 ple that know the joyful sound : they shall 
 walk, O Lord, in the light of thy countenance. 
 In thy name shall they rejoice all the day : 
 and in thy righteousness shall they be exalt- 
 ed." But it is to be feared there are those 
 in this large assembly to whom the intelli- 
 gence is a thing of nought. Ye make " light 
 of it and go your way, one to his farm, and 
 another to his merchandise." What shall 
 we say to your folly, to your wickedness, to 
 your danger, in refusing the advantages 
 which the gospel exhibits to your view, and 
 presses upon your acceptance ? Are these 
 blessings unsuited to your condition] Are 
 they of no value ? Can the world indemnify 
 you for the loss of them ? Can you find a 
 substitute for them — in the distress of con- 
 science — in the season of affliction — in the 
 hour of death — and in the day of judgment? 
 Do you not defy the authority of God? Do 
 you not despise the riches of his goodness ? 
 Do you not judge yourselves unworthy of 
 everlasting life ? Are you not unspeakably 
 criminal ? Will you go unpunished ? " How 
 can you escape if you neglect so great salva- 
 tion !" 
 
 "Now IS THE ACCEPTED TIME: NOW IS 
 
 the day of salvation." And will it last 
 for ever? Will it last long? How know 
 you but that he who has so often addressed 
 you in vain, is ready " to shut to the door" 
 saying, " O that thou hadst known — even 
 thou — at least in this thy day, the things 
 that belong to thy peace — but now — they are 
 hid from thine eyes !" — It is time, it is high 
 time, but blessed be his name it is not at 
 present too late. O ! seek him while he may 
 be found, and call upon him while he is 
 near. 
 
204 
 
 THE JUBILEE. 
 
 From these solemn reflections, I must ad- 
 vert to the occasion of the subject that gave 
 rise to them. And I hope it will not be 
 deemed improper or unimportant, if I give 
 you a few hints of admonition concerning it. 
 
 And first: While you show your loyalty 
 beware of impiety. Many it is to be feared 
 will sadly evince their regard to the king, by 
 sinning against God; and thus augment our 
 national transgression, which is heavy enough 
 already to sink us beyond the hope of a politi- 
 cal resurrection. — You glory in the moral 
 example of your sovereign, " whose life's a 
 lesson to the land he sways" — why then — 
 resemble him, and do not disgrace the event 
 you commemorate, by indulging in every 
 kind of dissipation and intemperance. 
 
 Secondly. " Rejoice with trembling." 
 You ought to rejoice in the virtuous charac- 
 ter, the domestic excellencies, and the mild 
 dominion of our long spared monarch ; but it 
 is not to be denied, that through the awful 
 destinations of Providence, his reign has been 
 peculiarly trying and calamitous. You ought 
 to rejoice in our exemptions and privileges ; 
 they are many and they are great, especially 
 when compared with our desert, or the con- 
 dition of neighbouring nations : but it is not, 
 for any purpose to be concealed, that we live 
 in " a cloudy and a dark day ;" that the com- 
 plexion of our public affairs is gloomy rather 
 than soothing ; and that an impression of hu- 
 miliation, rather than of exultation, should be 
 attempted; or at least that the one should 
 qualify the other. Without this, we may be 
 reminded of the words of Isaiah, on the 
 threatened invasion of Jewry by the Per- 
 sians: "And in that day did the Lord God 
 of Hosts call to weeping and to mourning, 
 and to baldness, and to girding with sack- 
 cloth : and behold, joy and gladness, slaying 
 oxen and killing sheep, eating flesh, and 
 drinking wine : let us eat and drink; for to- 
 morrow we shall die. And it was revealed 
 in mine ears by the Lord of Hosts, surely 
 this iniquity shall not be purged from you, 
 till ye die, saith the Lord God of Hosts." 
 
 Thirdly. Blend prayer with your praises. 
 While you give thanks to the God of our 
 mercies, for the long-continued profusion of 
 blessings that has distinguished our national 
 heritage ; for our insular situation ; for the 
 temperature of our climate ; for the fruitful- 
 ness of our soil and our seasons ; for our ad- 
 mired constitution and code of laws ; for our 
 civil and religious freedom ; for our number- 
 
 less deliverances and preservations — while in 
 particular you bless " the God in whose hand 
 our breath is," for extending the reign of our 
 beloved monarch to a period which so very 
 few of his predecessors ever reached : pray 
 that with "long life he would satisfy him, 
 and show him his salvation." Pray that he 
 would support and comfort him under the in- 
 firmities of years, and the cares of govern- 
 ment. Pray that he would " give the king 
 his judgments, and his righteousness unto the 
 king's son." Pray that it may not be said of 
 us, as it was of Judea, "There is none to 
 guide her of all the sons whom she has 
 brought forth." Pray that he whose preroga- 
 tive it is to make great, would raise up wise 
 and able ministers, " discerning the times, and 
 knowing what Israel ought to do." Pray 
 that our magistrates may be "men fearing 
 God and hating covetousness ;" that our offi- 
 cers may be peace, and our exactors righte- 
 ousness." Pray that dissention may not pre- 
 vail in our councils, or "a perverse spirit" in 
 our country. Pray, that, as all hearts and all 
 events are under his control, he would open 
 a way, and restore to us the blessedness of 
 peace. Pray that his word may have free 
 course and be glorified. Pray that he would 
 be " merciful unto us, and bless us, and cause 
 his face to shine upon us, that we may be 
 saved." To this needful exercise let a por- 
 tion of the day be sacred, in the sanctuary, 
 in the family, in the closet. 
 I only add, 
 
 Fourthly. Let liberality accompany your 
 festivity. Stretch out your hand to the poor. 
 Visit the abode of misery. Contribute to the 
 release of some unfortunate debtor. Cause 
 some widow's heart to sing for joy. Let the 
 blind hail a day they are forbidden to see. 
 Let the aged feel themselves young again, 
 and talk of the things they did in the old 
 time, before many of us. * Some — many — 
 ah ! how many, eat nothing from day to day, 
 but " the bread of sorrows" — Let them taste 
 comfort, and " forget their misery." " Go your 
 way, eat the fat, and drink the sweet, and 
 send portions unto them for whom nothing is 
 prepared : for this day is holy unto our Lord : 
 neither be ye sorry ; for the joy of the Lord 
 is your strength." 
 
 God save the King ; and let all the peo- 
 ple say Amen. 
 
 * Here the preacher had the pleasure to announce, 
 that a comfortable dinner would be provided for all the 
 children of the Sunday -school, the poor of the church, 
 and the poor of the congregation. 
 
THE MINISTER'S REQUEST: 
 
 A DISCOURSE 
 
 DELIVERED AT ST. THOMAS SQUARE, HACKNEY, OCTOBER 31, 1811 ; 
 ON THE SETTLEMENT OF THE 
 
 REV. HENRY FORSTER BURDER, A.M. 
 
 AS ASSISTANT PREACHER TO THE REV. SAMUEL PALMER 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 Brethren, pray for us. — 1 Thess. v. 25. 
 
 From what a trifling elevation will one 
 man look down upon another with conse- 
 quence, if not contempt. God has made of 
 one blood all the nations of the earth ; he has 
 derived the whole human race from one ori- 
 ginal pair ; he has invested them with the 
 same faculties, he has rendered them capable 
 of the same satisfactions, he has subjected 
 them to the same wants and infirmities — and 
 thus he has related and equalized them all. 
 Yet kings do not call their subjects ; masters 
 do not call their servants — Brethren. Even 
 ministers too exclusively appropriate the ap- 
 pellation of Brother to individuals of their 
 own order, as if they were peculiar, if not 
 superior beings. 
 
 But observe Paul. The apostles were the 
 most extraordinary personages the world or 
 the church ever possessed. They stood se- 
 condary in dignity and authority to the Son 
 of God. They received communications im- 
 mediately from heaven. They could pierce 
 futurity, and unveil things to come. They 
 could discern spirits. They could raise the 
 dead. Yet Paul, though an apostle, here 
 calls the Thessalonians, Brethren ; and sup- 
 plicates the prayers of common believers. — 
 Brethren, pray for us. 
 
 And if inspired men, if miraculous men — 
 if apostles were led to ask for the prayers of 
 their people, what wonder if this should be 
 the case with modern ministers, who can 
 make no claims to any thing preternatural? 
 
 This then is the single, but comprehensive 
 request we have to make this morning in the 
 behalf of our venerable friend, who has 
 long borne the burden and heat of the day, 
 and for near half a century has sustained the 
 
 18 
 
 pastoral office in this church; and on the be- 
 half of our amiable brother, who has been 
 unanimously chosen to assist him in holy 
 things, and will in future labour with him, as 
 a son with the father, in the gospel. Imagine 
 them now rising up, and by my lips addressing 
 you in language, which I am sure expresses 
 the feelings and wishes of their hearts — Bre- 
 thren, pray for us : while the preacher, and 
 every fellow-minister attending the service 
 cries — And for me also. 
 
 Let us consider the propriety of the demand. 
 Let us examine it on two grounds. 
 
 I. The ground of necessity. 
 
 II. The ground of equity. 
 
 I. Let us examine it on the ground of ne- 
 cessity. It will be found necessary if you 
 consider 
 
 First, their work. They who imagine that 
 the ministry of the gospel is an idle, or an 
 easy task, are grossly mistaken; and were it 
 not that the honour of God is concerned in it, 
 we should say to them, Make the trial. The 
 experiment, if fairly made, would soon con- 
 vince them of the truth of Dr. Doddridge's 
 words — 
 
 'Tis not a work of small import, 
 
 The pastor's care demands ; 
 But what might fill an angel's heart, 
 
 And fill'd the Saviour's hands. 
 
 Every minister may say with Nehemiah, 
 / am doing a great work. Indeed it regards 
 every thing that is great : the soul ; God ; and 
 eternity. It is a work that cannot be prose- 
 cuted without constant application and la- 
 bour — and such application and labour, as 
 often exhaust the spirits, and bring youth and 
 old age together. 
 
 For the office is not to be judged of by the 
 205 
 
206 
 
 THE MINISTER'S REQUEST. 
 
 manner in which it is frequently filled up. 
 There are too many who make it a sinecure, 
 disregarding its duties, and looking to their 
 own way, everyone for his gain, from his 
 quarter. They are dumb dogs ; they cannot 
 bark ; sleeping, lying down, loving to slum- 
 ber. But how is it represented by him who 
 instituted the high calling? The Scripture 
 defines a minister as a labourer ; a workman 
 that needeth not to be ashamed : it holds him 
 forth as watchman; a fisherman ; a husband- 
 man ; a builder; a soldier; a wrestler; a 
 racer. — What are the obligations of a good 
 minister of Jesus Christ ? He meets the actual 
 and diversified state of his people, and com- 
 mends himself to every man's conscience in 
 the sight of God. He seeks out acceptable 
 words as well as words of truth. By adapta- 
 tion, and not by trimming, he becomes all 
 things to all men. He warns them that are 
 unruly: comforts the feeble-minded ; upholds 
 the weak; reclaims the wandering; and 
 guards the exposed. By a faithful and judi- 
 cious application of the promises and threaten- 
 ings, reproofs and encouragements of the gos- 
 pel, he takes forth the precious from the vile, 
 and is as God's mouth. He levies a tax of 
 improvement for the edification of his hearers 
 upon all events and occurrences. His study 
 is not confined to an hour of constrained, per- 
 turbed thought on a Saturday evening — he is 
 observing and collecting all the week. lie 
 gives himself to the word of God and prayer. 
 He does not sit smoking and trifling in com- 
 pany till the appointed moment of worship 
 arrives ; he is previously, and much with God 
 alone: and when he enters the sanctuary he 
 is like Aaron when the rich oil had been 
 poured upon his head; and the priest was 
 betrayed by the savour as well as by the 
 service. The spirit of devotion rests upon 
 him in the absence of all his official adminis- 
 trations. The parlour does not war with the 
 pulpit: he is the man of God in all his social 
 intercourse. Wherever he is, he produces a 
 religious atmosphere, whose innocent, genial, 
 and improving influence is felt by all who 
 breathe within its reach. He rules well his 
 own house, having his children in subjection 
 with all gravity ; for if a man knows not 
 how to rule his own house, how shall he take 
 care of the church of God 1 He is an ex- 
 ample of believers in word, in conversation, 
 in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity. 
 
 It would be endless to specify all the vari- 
 ous parts of the ministerial function. But the 
 imperfect sketch we have given of them, leads 
 us to exclaim, Who is sufficient for these 
 things ? — Is a fallen creature ? Is a man of 
 like passions and infirmities with yourselves] 
 Is a worm ? Brethren, pray for us. It is 
 necessary if you consider 
 
 Secondly, Their trials. A minister is a 
 truly honourable character; but I fear the 
 employment is often viewed too much on the 
 
 side of the pleasing and attractive. Hence 
 many desire the office of a bishop ; and they 
 certainly desire a good work. But it is at 
 the same time a burden as well as an honour. 
 Its advantages are purchased at the expense 
 of numberless privations and sacrifices ; and 
 therefore it behoves the minister as well as 
 the Christian to count the cost. If this were 
 done, many, instead of pushing themselves 
 forward, would be found, even when called 
 for, hid among the stuff They would require 
 to be drawn forth : and even then would be 
 ready to say, Send, Lord, by whom thou tcilt 
 send. 
 
 I hardly know a greater object of commi- 
 seration, than a minister who enters suf- 
 ficiently into the spirit of his work — to reach 
 and grapple with its difficulties. It is well 
 the scene gradually opens. The Lord draws 
 us on by a sense of our obligation to his re- 
 deeming love, and the value of perishing 
 souls ; but leaves us to acquire the knowledge 
 of what is discouraging by slow degrees. 
 Thus experience rectifies what was errone- 
 ous, and supplies what was defective in specu- 
 lation. Hence the ministry has been compared 
 to John's little book, a bitter sweet; and we 
 have been told that the sweet comes first. 
 The bitter is tasted when we are gone too 
 far to recede with honour or safety : when 
 we know that if we decline the prophet's 
 message, we shall have to encounter the pro- 
 phet's storm : when conscience comes for- 
 ward, and says, Necessity is laid upon me ; 
 yea, wo is unto me if I preach not the gos- 
 pel. 
 
 A minister has trials in common with men ; 
 he has trials in common with Christians ; and 
 in addition to both these, he has trials pecu- 
 liar to himself. No man is so liable to mis- 
 representation. He is the subject of general, 
 and therefore of ignorant criticism. He is 
 often censured when he acts with the great- 
 est wisdom and rectitude, by those who can- 
 not discern the circumstances that guide, or 
 appreciate the motives that sway him. He 
 frequently makes persons his enemies be- 
 cause he tells them the truth. Many are un- 
 steady in their attendance, and fickle in their 
 attachments. Such hearers frequently en- 
 deavour to justify themselves by accusing the 
 preacher: they are not capricious, but can no 
 longer profit under his ministry. After, per- 
 haps, hearing a new preacher every Sabbath, 
 and five sermons a week, and acquiring a 
 fastidiousness and a vagrancy of mind that 
 nothing can satisfy or fix ; they impute to 
 him the effect of a change which has only 
 taken place in themselves. If they cannot 
 undermine his character they will assail his 
 orthodoxy. If he preaches — as he ought to 
 do — the doctrines of the gospel richly and 
 openly, he may be deemed an Antinomian : 
 and if he does justice to the whole scheme of 
 divine truth — and the gospel may be abridged 
 
THE MINISTER'S REQUEST. 
 
 207 
 
 where it is not mangled — and brings for- 
 ward doctrines in their experimental and 
 practical bearings, he may be vilified as a 
 legalist. It is not an unusual thing for those 
 who were once ready to pull out their eyes 
 for his sake, to leave his labours, and to pass 
 him unnoticed in the street. 
 
 This is not the only quarter from which he 
 sutlers. There are, perhaps, individuals in 
 his church of whom lie stands in doubt. With 
 many things in them, that are amiable and 
 useful, there are some things exceptionable 
 and painful. They endure his fidelity ; they 
 are not offended with his reproofs; but go on. 
 He seems neither justified to exclude, or 
 continue them in the fellowship of the church. 
 They give their pastor many proofs of tiieir 
 kindness. — 0 ! that they would give him one 
 more ; and abandon those few inconsistencies 
 which prove his perplexity and his distress. 
 O ! that they would set his heart at rest, and 
 free him from the reflections of the censori- 
 ous, and the complaints of the pious, which he 
 is so often compelled to hear. 
 
 Again observe the preacher. At the time 
 appointed he must appear, whatever be his 
 frame, or his feelings. He must preach, yet 
 seems to have nothing worthy of communica- 
 tion. He must rouse others to zeal, while 
 his own mind is languid; and administer 
 comfort to others, while his own soul is dis- 
 quieted within him: though, like an officer 
 in the field, he is compelled to hide his fears 
 from the men. He often sits down in the 
 pulpit with a blush. He closes the Sabbath 
 in the closet, with the exclamation, Lord, who 
 hath believed our report ! He fears that he 
 has been preaching into perdition many of 
 those he would gladly save ; charged, like 
 Isaiah, with this dreadful commission : Make 
 the heart of this people fat, and make their 
 ears heavy, and shut their eyes ; lest they 
 see with their eyes, and hear with their ears,' 
 and understand with their heart, and convert, 
 and be healed. — How distressing to manure, 
 and plough, and sow, and' never reap. How 
 grievous to see the blossoms covering the tree 
 in the morning, and in the evening strewing 
 the ground.— When he looks back to a little 
 success with which he was indulged at the 
 commencement of his labours, he cries, Wo 
 is me .'for I am as when they have gathered 
 the summer fruits, as the grape gleanings 
 of the vintage : there is no cluster to eat : 
 my soul desired the. first-ripe fruit. — He often 
 suspects that he is a vessel in which the Lord 
 no longer takes pleasure. He dreads stand- 
 ing in the way of another's usefulness. In 
 the bitterness of his soul he kneels and asks 
 permission to retire. 
 
 Ah, my brethren, this is not a fancy piece : 
 it is taken from the life. Many who hear 
 me this morning know, by experience, the 
 truth of the representation: they know the 
 representation falls below the truth. You 
 
 are not capable of entering into some of our 
 trials: and we, are not at liberty to divulge 
 others. No. Like the prophet we must weep 
 in secret places. We must bleed alone. 
 Brethren, pray for its. It is necessary if we 
 consider 
 
 Thirdly, Their danger. One sinner de- 
 stroyeth much good. The fall of a common 
 professor of religion is a judgment on the 
 neighbourhood in which it happens. It causes 
 the worthy name by which we are called to 
 be blasphemed. It hardens and justifies sin- 
 ners in their ungodliness. It proves a stum- 
 bling block to the weak, and a grief to the 
 strong. But the mischief is much greater 
 when a minister falls. He possesses more 
 influence, and is more liable to observation. 
 He cannot be hid. The sins of preachers are 
 the preachers of sin. 
 
 And are instances of ministerial defection 
 so very uncommon, as to excite no alarm, or 
 to render caution needless ? Would to God 
 they were. But how many have we wit- 
 nessed or heard of, even in our day. Some 
 of these have been forced to enter into secu- 
 lar life. Some have crossed the sea, and com- 
 menced the pastor where the sinner is un- 
 known. Some, after a spiritual quarantine, 
 have been admitted again by their former 
 connexions, as wholesome and safe. Some 
 have established a new schismatical interest, 
 and drawing after them a desperate faction, 
 who pretend to be satisfied with their own 
 avowals of innocency or repentance, have 
 become more popular than before. In ge- 
 neral they have become advocates for a 
 higher strain of doctrine, that will not re- 
 proach their laxity of morals; and making up 
 in pride what they want in purity, profess to 
 see things clearly, and decry others as blind. 
 Licentiousness is the liberty wherewith they 
 imagine Christ has made them free. — And is 
 there not in us an evil heart of unbelief, in 
 departing from the living God? Have we 
 no fleshly lusts that war against the soul ? 
 Are not we passing through a world lying in 
 wickedness ! Are not we exposed to an ad- 
 versary, the devil, going about as a roaring 
 lion, seeking whom he may devour? And 
 does not this enemy know his interests well 
 enough to make the head his object; and in 
 issuing his orders, to his instruments to say — 
 Aim not at great or small, but at the King of 
 Israel; smite the shepherd, and the sheep 
 shall be scattered ? — Wherefore let him 
 that thinketh he standeth take heed, lest he 
 fall. 
 
 Has a minister been preserved for a num- 
 ber of years ? He ought to be thankful ; but 
 not to remit his watch, or dismiss his guard. 
 Blessed is the man that feareth ahoays. We 
 are never beyond the reach of temptation 
 while we are out of heaven. Our security 
 in one trial does not warrant our immunity 
 in another. Joab, who was faithful to his 
 
208 
 
 THE MINISTER'S REQUEST. 
 
 sovereign in the rebellion of Absalom, yet 
 turned aside after Adonijah. If a minister 
 be not overcome of vice ; may he not fall by 
 error, by vanity, by indolence, by dulness? 
 If he escapes from gross immorality ; may not 
 his excellencies be tarnished ; his talents be 
 injured ; his usefulness defeated, by impru- 
 dencies ? May there not be indulgences at 
 the table, where there is no gluttony? May 
 there not be tippling where there is no in- 
 toxication ? May there not be levities and 
 liberties where there are no violations of vir- 
 tue? May there not be, especially in the 
 young minister, an assumption of conse- 
 quence, a creation of trouble, an inattention 
 to order and regularity, which, while he sup- 
 poses that it indicates genius, will not fail to 
 lower him in the esteefn and hope of the fa- 
 milies he deranges and disgusts'? If he 
 avoids worldly dissipation, may he not in- 
 dulge in religious ; constantly going into fes- 
 tive circles of spiritual triflers and gossips ; 
 spending his evenings generally from home ; 
 retiring late to rest, and never rising early? 
 If he be not chargeable with filthy conversa- 
 tion, which is not lawful, may he not err in 
 foolish talking and jesting which are not con- 
 venient? May he not be the rattle, or the 
 harlequin of the room ? If he be not inflam- 
 matory, may he not be a mere newsmonger, 
 or a noisy dabbler in party politics ? 
 
 O ! to avoid the very appearance of evil — 
 to give none offence in any thing, that the 
 ministry be not blamed — but in all things ap- 
 proving ourselves the ministers of God in 
 much patience, in affliction, in necessities, in 
 distresses — by pureness, by knowledge, by 
 longsuffering, by kindness, by the Holy 
 Ghost, by love unfeigned — by the word of 
 truth, by the power of God, by the armour of 
 righteousness on the right hand and on the 
 left — to finish our course with joy and ho- 
 nour like those dignified beings who once 
 presided over this church ; a Bates, and a 
 Henry — to lay down our charge unstained 
 — like a Newton and a Winter, and leave 
 nothing that requires defence or extenuation ; 
 nothing but what is lovely, and of good re- 
 port — Brethren, pray for us. It is necessary 
 if we consider 
 
 Fourthly, their dependence. This is abso- 
 lute, and extends to every thing. — It extends 
 to their natural life. The preservation of 
 their health, their strength, their senses, de- 
 pends upon God. — It extends to their intel- 
 lectual powers. The continuance and use 
 of their judgment, their memory, their inven- 
 tion, their fancy, depend upon God. — It ex- 
 tends to their spiritual endowments. The 
 continuance and the exercise of their faith, 
 their hope, their love, their courage, their 
 fidelity, their tenderness in the discharge of 
 their office, depend upon God. — It extends to 
 all their devotional duties. The preparation 
 
 of the heart and the answer of the tongue in 
 man, are from the Lord. — It extends to the 
 success of all their labours. The heart should 
 be the great aim of our preaching ; but this 
 is under a Divine disposal. It is said of 
 Lydia, whose heart the Lord opened, that 
 she attended to the things which were spoken 
 of Paul. Our gospel, says the apostle to the 
 Thessalonians, came to you not in word only, 
 but in power and in the Holy Ghost, and in 
 much assurance. We readily allow that 
 there was something extraordinary in this 
 case ; and we know that miracles have ceased. 
 But God continues to give testimony to the 
 word of his grace ; and the effects that at- 
 tend the dispensation of divine truth require, 
 and demonstrate a divine agency. It is 
 granted, that there is a subjective suitable- 
 ness in the ministry of the word to do good ; 
 as there is in a sword to wound, and in a pen 
 to write. But what is the sword without a 
 hand to wield, or the pen without a hand to 
 guide it? And who is Paul or who is Apol- 
 los, but ministers by whom ye believed even 
 as the Lord gave to every man ? So then 
 neither is he that planteth any thing, neither 
 he that watereth ; but God that giveth the 
 increase. A minister without his master is 
 like Gehazi. He may go with the staff, and 
 lay it upon the dead ; but there will be no 
 life till Elisha himself comes. To refer to a 
 well known anecdote. When Melancthon 
 was first converted, he thought he should 
 soon convert all his hearers. He supposed 
 that others must see what he saw so clearly, 
 and feel what he felt so powerfully. But his 
 success did not correspond with his expecta- 
 tion ; and at length he was compelled to con- 
 fess, That old Adam was too strong for young 
 Melancthon. And this I presume is one of 
 those truths which we grow in the belief of 
 as we advance in years. And therefore, 
 though I hope we do not study less, we pray 
 more : though we are not less active, we are 
 more dependent. The conviction in time be- 
 comes so strong from observation and experi- 
 ence, that we should be completely dis- 
 couraged in our work, did we not read, that 
 as the rain cometh down, and the snow from 
 heaven, and returneth not thither, but water- 
 eth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and 
 bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and 
 bread to the eater ; so shall my word be that 
 goeth forth out of my mouth : it shall not 
 return unto me void, but it shall accomplish 
 that xuhich I please, and it shall prosper in 
 the thing whereto I sent it. 
 
 If therefore you wish us to live; to be 
 strong to labour ; to be spiritual and useful : 
 to preach as with the Holy Ghost sent down 
 from heaven ; to turn many to righteousness ; 
 to help those much who have believed through 
 grace ; and if you would have our addresses 
 I effectual to wound and to heal, to sanctify and 
 
THE MINISTER'S REQUEST. 
 
 209 
 
 establish; and to make ready a people pre- 
 pared for the Lord — Brethren, pray for us. 
 It is necessary, it' we consider 
 
 Fifthly, their responsibility. So then, says 
 the apostle, every one of us shall give ac- 
 count of himself to God. You who are the 
 members of this church and congregation, 
 are not to imagine that you have parted for 
 ever with the Sabbaths through which you 
 have passed ; the sermons you have heard ; 
 the devotional exercises on which you have 
 attended: you will hear of them; you will 
 hear from them again. They are dismissed 
 for the time ; but are like men bailed, and 
 bound to appear and prosecute at the as- 
 sizes. 
 
 But we are concerned in the solemnities 
 of that day, as well as you ; and in a sense, 
 more than you. Those Sabbaths through 
 which you have passed, we have occupied. 
 Those sermons which you have heard, we 
 have preached. Those devotional exercises 
 on which you have attended, we have con- 
 ducted ; and the prospect resulting from our 
 obligation, is awful. Blessed be God we are 
 not answerable for our success. Though Is- 
 rael be not gathered, we may be glorious in 
 the eyes of the Lord. We are unto God, a 
 sweet savour of Christ, in them that are 
 saved and in them that perish. To the one, 
 we are a savour of life unto life ; to the 
 other, we are the savour of death unto death. 
 But there is enough for which we are re- 
 sponsible, to make our faces gather paleness, 
 and our knees to smite one against another. 
 We watch for your souls as they that must 
 give account. Account of what"! — Of these 
 souls ; for if we have not given them warn- 
 ing, and they die in their sins, their blood 
 will be required at our hands — Of this watch- 
 ing : when we have watched ; how we have 
 watched. How we have watched to gain 
 them. How we have watched to form them. 
 How we have watched to keep them. — Of 
 our fidelity ; our zeal ; our influence. — Of 
 our conduct; our aims; our motives. Who 
 does not tremble as we proceed 1 — 
 
 All to the great tribunal haste, 
 
 The account to render there ; 
 And should'st thou. Lord, but mark our faults, 
 
 Lord, how shall we appear? 
 
 Brethren, pray for us. 
 
 Thus far we have addressed ourselves to 
 your compassion. But we shall now appeal 
 to a higher principle — your justice. And 
 having examined the propriety of the demand 
 on the ground of necessity, we shall now 
 consider it on the ground of equity. It is 
 the 
 
 II. part of our subject. Here it will be 
 proper to show — That ministers have claims 
 upon you : and — To inquire in what manner 
 your praying for them will discharge your 
 obligation. 
 
 Every fellow-creature ha3 claims upon 
 2 D 18* 
 
 you. — And you are required to pray for all 
 men. Your fellow-christians of every com- 
 munity have claims upon you. — And you are 
 enjoined to make supplication for all saints. 
 And have your ministers no claims upon you 1 
 Does not the command of God run ; Know 
 them that labour among you, and are over 
 you in the Lord, and admonish you ; and 
 esteem them very highly in love for their 
 work's sake ? — Let me remark three things. 
 
 First, their election. Your ministers are 
 chosen by you. I pity congregations that 
 have officers forced upon them regardless of 
 their wishes, their taste, their profit. There 
 may be in these cases adaptation and accept- 
 ance ; but they are accidental ; and the very 
 imposition will tend to alienate the mind, and 
 keep the people from considering the minister 
 as their own. Your preachers and pastors 
 are the men of your choice. This is the 
 privilege of your churches ; and you are not 
 backward to glory in it. But does not this 
 very choice lay you under peculiar obliga- 
 tions 1 When you voluntarily assume any 
 relation, do you not bind yourselves to the 
 duties pertaining to it ; and are you not justly 
 reproached for the infraction of them 1 
 
 Secondly. Their destiny. These minis- 
 ters are appointed for you. Their very office 
 is founded in a regard to your welfare. They 
 are helpers of your joy. They are to lead 
 you in the way everlasting. They are de- 
 signed to feed you with knowledge and un- 
 derstanding. They are given for the per- 
 fecting of the saints, and for the edifying 
 of the body of Christ ; till we all come in 
 the un ity of the faith, and of the knowledge 
 of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto 
 the measure of the stature of the fulness of 
 Christ. 
 
 To you they wholly and exclusively belong. 
 For you they give up their time and their 
 talents. For you they read, and study, and 
 pray, and preach. They are not their own 
 even in their comforts, and crosses. Whe- 
 ther they be afflicted, or comforted, it is for 
 your consolation and salvation. Why was 
 Jeremiah denied all the pleasures and advan- 
 tages of social life 1 Because the circum- 
 stances in which he exercised his ministry 
 required the sacrifice. Hence says God, 
 Thou shalt not take to thee a wife in this 
 place. And how many are there now, whose 
 situation, and work, and finances, equally de- 
 mand the exercise of the same self-denial ? 
 Ezekiel was blessed with a companion pecu- 
 liarly dear to him. She laboured under no 
 disease ; and might have walked with him 
 for many years as an heir of the grace of 
 life ; had not the welfare of the people re- 
 quired the lovely victim to be offered upon 
 the sacrifice and service of their faith : Son 
 of man, says Heaven, behold, I take from thee 
 the desire of thine eyes, with a stroke : and 
 behold at evening my wife died. And he 
 
210 
 
 THE MINISTER'S REQUEST. 
 
 was forbidden even to assume the appearance 
 of a mourner, in order to be a sign to the 
 people ! Upon this principle, all their enjoy- 
 ments are rendered precarious by you. And 
 to you, as the cause, are to be traced the most 
 painful exercises of their lives. They have 
 been tempted, to know how to succour them 
 that are tempted. They have walked in 
 darkness and have had no light, to know how 
 to speak a word in season to them that are 
 weary. They have struggled with pecu- 
 niary difficulties, to be able to sympathize 
 with the poor of the flock, and to aid them to 
 live by faith on the providence of God. 
 
 Ministers have talents as well as others; 
 and these abilities, employed in other direc- 
 tions, would place them above dependence ; 
 enable them as well as you to provide for 
 their families ; and to enjoy the luxury of 
 beneficence. From all this they are excluded. 
 They do not complain of this. They need 
 not. When the chief Shepherd shall appear, 
 they shall receive a crown of glory that 
 fadeth not away : and having food and raiment, 
 they wish therewith to be content. — But it is 
 for you, they relinquish or refuse every tem- 
 poral emolument, every worldly prospect. 
 And have they no claims upon you 1 That 
 minister who considers the trifling salary 
 given him, or the few gratuities he receives 
 as a kind of benefaction or alms, is not hum- 
 ble, but mean. He ought to feel that he 
 stands on higher ground than a pauper, or a 
 beneficiary. He is surely nothing less than 
 their servant for Jesus' sake. He earns what 
 he receives. The workman is worthy of his 
 meat: and his support is as much an ordi- 
 nance, as baptism, or the Lord's supper : even 
 so has the Lord ordained, that they that 
 preach the gospel, should live of the gospel. 
 Let him that is taught in the word commu- 
 nicate unto him that teacheth in all good 
 things. 
 
 Thirdly.' Their importance. These mi- 
 nisters are beneficial to you. — You think a 
 lawyer has claims upon you for saving your 
 substance. You own the physician has claims 
 upon you for restoring you your health. Nor 
 do we dispute them. But what is the body 
 to the soull Or time to eternity] — Con- 
 science, do thine office. Speak. " There" 
 says one, " There is the man who met me 
 in my mad career, and was the means of 
 turning my feet into the way of peace." 
 "There," says another, "There is the minis- 
 ter, who, when I was perishing for thirst, 
 angel as he was, opened mine eyes, and 
 showed me a well." "There," says a third, "is 
 the teacher, who, after others had withheld 
 from me the remedy, and I waxed worse and 
 worse, told me of the balm in Gilead, and 
 the physician there, by whose stripes I am 
 healed." — Thou owest unto me, says Paul to 
 Philemon, even thine own self. And, but 
 for those who are saying this morning, 
 
 Brethren, pray for us, some of you would 
 have been in hell long ago ; or if spared, 
 would have been only tilling up the measure 
 of your iniquities. To them under God you 
 owe the health that intemperance would have 
 ruined ; and the respectability that vice would 
 have destroyed. Which of you can tell into 
 what mistakes and embarrassments you would 
 have fallen, had not they thought of you 
 when you were asleep, or engrossed in your 
 callings ; and made their discourses to bear 
 on your danger ] 
 
 Did you never observe the words of Isaiah 
 — Though the Lord give you the bread of 
 adversity, and the water of affliction, yet 
 shall not thy teachers be removed into a cor- 
 ner any more, but thine eyes shall see thy 
 teachers : and thine ears shall hear a word 
 behind thee, saying, This is the way, wa'k 
 ye in it, when ye turn to the right hand, and 
 when ye turn to the left. And have you not 
 found the preaching of the gospel, a privilege 
 sufficient to counterbalance all that is defect- 
 ive or painful, in your lot \ Have you not 
 returned from the house of God freed from 
 your burdens ; and reconciled, not only to the 
 duties, but to the trials of life? 
 
 And on them you depend for future advan- 
 tages. To them you look for private admo- 
 nition and encouragement. To them you 
 look for public counsel and comfort. To them 
 you look to spread your personal and domestic 
 afflictions before God in the sanctuary. — It is 
 not long before your minister will come to 
 you with the message — Set thine house in 
 order, for thou shalt die, and not live. He 
 will stand by the side of the bed of languish- 
 ing and anxiety, and say, in the name of his 
 God and your God, Leave thy fatherless 
 children, I will preserve them alive and let 
 thy widow trust in me. With your weeping 
 connexions he will follow your remains to 
 the grave, and deposit them in the house ap- 
 pointed for all living. He will return to the 
 house of mourning, and as it is the end of all 
 men, will teach the living to lay it to heart 
 In a service sacred to your memory, he will 
 hold up your character for the edification of 
 others, and the glory of God. He will teach 
 your offspring to follow your example, and by 
 a thousand pious wishes and endeavours be- 
 come the guide of their youth. 
 
 We have proved that your ministers have 
 claims upon you. Let us inquire 
 
 Secondly. In what way your praying for 
 them will discharge your obligation. 
 
 This mode will be the most satisfactory to 
 their own minds. What they principally 
 desire is to live high in your prayerful re- 
 membrance. They would rather learn that 
 you entered your closets before you came, 
 than commended their sermons after you re- 
 turned. If they are spiritual men, this will 
 please them much better than your silver 
 and gold, your applause and caresses. — 
 
THE MINISTER'S REQUEST. 
 
 211 
 
 Nothing so relieves, nothing so encourages, 
 nothing so animates them in their perform- 
 ances. — Ministers, conscious that they are 
 labouring among a prayerful people, must 
 have some feeling and life; must preach 
 with some pleasure and hope. 
 
 This mode will best promote your attach- 
 ment to them. If love begets prayer, I am 
 sure prayer begets love. Whatever engages 
 much of our time and attention, will soon 
 become interesting. If we cultivate a tree 
 or a flower, we soon feel a propriety in it. 
 If we take an orphan, and feed, clothe, and 
 educate him, he is sure to be endeared. All 
 the affections are increased by exercise: 
 while negligence breeds indifference and in- 
 sensibility. — The easiest way to love an 
 enemy is to begin to pray for him. Meeting 
 him at the throne of grace, and under the eye 
 of Him who is kind to the unthankful and 
 the unworthy, we melt, we pity, we pardon, 
 we embrace. If you pray for your minis- 
 ters, you will think much of them, and at the 
 best time. They will soon possess and retain 
 an importance, and, which is still better, a 
 sacredness in your minds, that will keep your 
 affection from degenerating into servile, or 
 rising into idolatrous. You will never see 
 them without emotion ; nor hear them with- 
 out reverence. 
 
 This mode will most strongly enforce the 
 performance of every other duty. Prayer, 
 when viewed aright, always supposes corres- 
 ponding endeavours. It is mere hypocrisy 
 without a consistent line of conduct. The 
 man that goes to church on the morning of 
 the Sabbath, and when the command for sanc- 
 tifying God's holy day is read, exclaims, 
 " Lord have mercy upon us, and incline our 
 hearts to keep this law;" when he knows 
 that he left his shop door half open, and some 
 of his domestics selling — insults God to his 
 very face. And is he less mocked, by that 
 father who prays for the conversion of his 
 children, and never trains them up in the 
 nurture and admonition of the Lord ? Is he 
 less trifled with, by that professor of religion 
 who prays, not to be led into temptation, and 
 then treads the avenues of dissipation 1 Is 
 he less offended, by that minister who com- 
 mits himself to God for assistance, and never 
 gives himself to reading and meditation ! 
 
 Upon the same principle it may be fairly 
 inferred, that there are many people who 
 never pray for their minister. For can they 
 pray for him, and behave improperly towards 
 him 1 Can they pray for his support, and, 
 according to their ability, refuse to aid him ? 
 Can they pray for his reputation, and speak 
 of him lightly before their children and ser- 
 vants ? Can they pray for his comfort, and 
 grieve him by their walk, their absence, or 
 their inattention? Can they pray for his 
 preaching, and come to sleep, to criticise, or 
 to cavil ? — Out of their own mouths they are 
 
 condemned. If they really and earnestly 
 prayed for their minister, every other duty 
 they owed him, would follow certainly, and 
 of course. 
 
 This mode will be most productive of 
 their advantage. In this way you not only 
 may, but must be useful to your ministers. 
 Does not God hear prayer 1 Has not he ap- 
 pointed it 1 Here is the promise : Ask, and it 
 shall be given you : seek, and ye shall find : 
 knock, and it shall be opened unto you. Here 
 is the experience of his people in every age 
 to exemplify and confirm the promise. He 
 never said to the seed of Jacob, seek ye me 
 in vain. The effectual fervent prayer of a 
 righteous man availeth much. Neither is 
 the efficacy of it hindered by infirmity; Elias 
 was a man subject to like passions as we 
 are, and he prayed earnestly that it might 
 not rain ; and it rained not on the earth by 
 the space of three years and six months. 
 And he prayed again, and the heaven gave 
 rain, and the earth brought forth her 
 fruit. 
 
 Finally. This mode is the most accessible. 
 This way in which you can serve your mi- 
 nisters, does not depend upon talents, office, 
 condition. A man, poor in this world, may 
 be rich in faith: and he that is overlooked 
 even by his neighbours on earth, may have 
 great interest at the court of heaven. Out- 
 ward distinctions are here nothing. He 
 who possesses most of the spirit of prayer, 
 has most power with God, whether he dwells 
 in a palace, or sighs in a workhouse. 
 
 Some of you, perhaps, have no other way 
 of showing to your minister the regard you 
 wish to pay. You have no mansion, and 
 cannot invite him to a well-spread table. 
 You have no substance, and cannot furnish 
 his shelf with the useful volume, or enable 
 him as he enters the hovel of indigence and 
 pain, to accompany his /devotion with relief. 
 Compassionate hearts ! Be not discouraged. 
 Where there is first a willing mind, it is 
 accepted according to that a man hath, and 
 not according to that he hath not. But you 
 may do him good ; great good ; unspeakable 
 good. You have a resource, a mighty re- 
 source in prayer; and how should you re- 
 joice in it, and employ it. You have a friend 
 ever near you who is almighty ; fie will re- 
 gard the prayer of the destitute, and will 
 not despj.se their prayer. He can do for this 
 young minister exceeding abundantly, above 
 all you ask or think. He can give him the 
 zeal of a Whitefield ; the knowledge of an 
 Owen ; the seriousness of a Baxter ; the 
 spirituality of a Leighton; the simplicity 
 and unction of a Henry ; the diligence and 
 amiableness of a Doddridge. Greatly ac- 
 ceptable, and every way promising as he now 
 is, no bounds can be fixed to his improvement 
 or usefulness, you also striving together in 
 prayer to God for him. 
 
212 
 
 THE MINISTER'S REQUEST. 
 
 There is always a delicacy in describing 
 duties of which we are not only the recom- 
 menders, but the objects. I felt it in the 
 prospect of this exercise. Indeed it is al- 
 most impossible to engage in a service like 
 this, without seeming to exalt ourselves, or 
 to magnify our office. 
 
 But if any statement of the subject can 
 secure us from the imputation, it is the view 
 of it we have been taking. You will bear 
 us witness that we have not been calling for 
 an increase of salary, exacting double honour, 
 or assuming pompous names and titles. We 
 have not appeared before you as dignitaries, 
 but as petitioners. Brethren, pray for us. 
 This is all we desire. Think of our wants. 
 Remember our work, our trials, our danger, our 
 dependence, and our responsibility. Candidly 
 weigh the claims which we have upon you. 
 Remember we are the men of your choice ; 
 we are devoted to your service ; and you de- 
 rive important and numberless benefits from 
 our labours. Discharge your obligation by 
 prayer. Remember it is a method the most 
 satisfactory to our minds; it will best pro- 
 mote your attachment to us; it will most 
 strongly influence the performance of every 
 other duty ; it will be the most productive of 
 advantage ; it is within the reach of all. 
 
 In this way prove and cherish your regard. 
 In your social exercises; around your family 
 altars; and when alone bear us upon your 
 minds. This is all the return we implore 
 for our services and sacrifices. According 
 to our power we are mindful of you. The 
 study, as well as the pulpit is witness, and 
 God is witness that we remember you col- 
 lectively, and spread your cases individually 
 before the throne of grace and mercy. And 
 we have you in our hearts, both to live and 
 to die with you. O ! ye who constitute the 
 people of our charge, our mouth is open unto 
 you, our heart is enlarged ; now, for a re- 
 compense in the same, be ye also enlarged. 
 BRETHREN, PRAY FOR US. 
 
 1 have been called peculiarly to address 
 the members of this church. Here are some 
 who are members of no church. I have 
 been addressing those whose duty it is to 
 pray for their ministers. — Here are some — 
 perhaps many ! who never pray for them- 
 selves. I may seem to go out of my way to 
 bespeak the attention of such; but who 
 
 would not go out of his way to attempt to 
 save a soul from death, and to hide a multi- 
 tude of sinsl 
 
 When my dear and honoured friend and 
 tutor, the Rev. Cornelius Winter, was or- 
 dained, two persons, even profligate before, 
 were converted, who lived holy, and died 
 happy in the Lord. It seemed a divine en- 
 couragement; and his gentle spirit viewed 
 it as a token for good. What a satisfaction 
 would it be to the kindred mind of this young 
 divine, on whose head we have been im- 
 ploring so many blessings ! what a time to 
 be remembered would this morning prove, if 
 before the service ends, joy in heaven begins, 
 over one sinner that repenteth ! 
 
 So then it is a truth, that some of 
 
 you, though you are found in his presence 
 this morning, live without God in the world ! 
 .You go forth and return; and God is not in 
 all your thoughts ! You lie down and rise 
 up; but restrain prayer before God! This 
 duty you neglect! This privilege you des- 
 pise ! The Redeemer suffered, the just for 
 the unjust, that he might bring us unto God; 
 but you are resolved to die eternally rather 
 than approach him by that new and living 
 way which he has consecrated for you ! He 
 cries — Turn you at my reproof: behold I 
 will pour out my spirit unto you; I will 
 make known my words unto you. But you 
 set at nought all his counsel ! You despise 
 all his reproof! — You may obtain temporal 
 good things without prayer, but they will 
 prove your curse : and while you congratu- 
 late yourselves on the fine pasture into 
 which you are turned, you are fattening for 
 the day of slaughter. The prosperity of 
 fools shall destroy them. And as to spiritual 
 blessings — those blessings which pertain to 
 the soul and eternity; those blessings, one 
 of which — if you were truly wise, you would 
 desire above the whole world ; these — such 
 is the inviolable order of Heaven — these can 
 never be obtained without prayer. — For all 
 these things I will be inquired of by the 
 house of Israel to do it for them. 
 
 Do not therefore imagine that your end will 
 differ from your course. If you live without 
 prayer, you will die without hope ; and your 
 history, through endless ages, like Ezekiel's 
 roll, will be read lamentation, and mourn- 
 ing, and wo. 
 
CONSOLATION IN DEATH: 
 
 A SERMON, 
 
 OCCASIONED BY 
 
 THE DEATH OF MRS. ELIZA BERRY, 
 
 WIFE OF THE REV. JOSEPH BERRY; 
 
 AND PREACHED IN THE COMMON-CLOSE MEETING, WARMINSTER, MARCH I, 1812. 
 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 Yea, though I -walk through the valley of the 
 shadow of death, I -will fear no evil : for 
 thou art -with me ; thy rod and thy staff they 
 comfort me. — Psalm xxiii. 4. 
 
 Comparison is a method of instruction the 
 most easy, pleasing, and impressive. Hence 
 it has been adopted in all ages, and in all 
 countries. The sacred viriters peculiarly 
 abound with it. They always express spirit- 
 ual subjects by natural ideas ; and hold forth 
 things unseen and eternal, by means of those 
 which are seen and temporal. 
 
 To aid our acquaintance and communion 
 with God, he has condescended to reveal 
 himself under every relation and office that 
 can awaken our attention, and encourage our 
 hope. — Thus he calls himself the shepherd 
 of his people ; and the psalm before us, is a 
 beautiful commentary on the character. — 
 Happy the man who can say, The Lord is 
 my shepherd : I shall not want. He maketh 
 me to lie down in green pastures : he leadeth 
 me beside the still waters — Here David views 
 himself as in a state of prosperity, peace, and 
 pleasure, enjoying every advantage the most 
 favoured situation could afford. — But to re- 
 joice in such indulgences had nothing re- 
 markable in it. He was a man of too much 
 reflection, to conclude that a scene so grati- 
 fying would continue always, or continue 
 long. He knew the instability of every thing 
 human. He knew that he was liable to wan- 
 der, and would often need restoring grace — 
 He restoreth my soul : he leadeth me in the 
 paths of righteousness for his name's sake. 
 He knew that he was mortal, and looked for- 
 ward to a dying hour — at once foreboding the 
 
 worst, and exulting in it Yea, though I 
 walk through the valley of the shadow of 
 death, I will fear no evil: for thou art 
 with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort 
 me. 
 
 It will be necessary to consider three 
 things : — 
 
 I. A condition supposed — Yea, though I 
 walk through the valley of the shadow of 
 death. 
 
 II. A confidence of mind in the contem- 
 plation of it — I will fear no evil. 
 
 III. The foundation of the fortitude— -for 
 thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they 
 comfort me. 
 
 I should always have deemed these words 
 worthy of your attention, but they have this 
 morning been chosen for me ; and will in fu- 
 ture be additionally endeared to many in this 
 assembly, as containing the experience and 
 the desire of our dear and invaluable friend, 
 Mrs. Berry. But before I bring her charac-. 
 ter more prominently forward ; and in order 
 to bring it forward to advantage, I shall at- 
 tempt to illustrate, as briefly as I am able, 
 the doctrine of our text, according to the ar- 
 rangement proposed. 
 
 First, then, David speaks of a passage, 
 deep as a valley, dark as a shadow, and dread- 
 ful as death. It means — a state of affliction 
 — of danger — of terror. It means the ap- 
 proach, and the state of dissolution — it means 
 the passage that, unites this world and the 
 world to come : yea, though I walk through 
 the valley of the shadow of death. This is 
 the condition he supposes : and the supposi- 
 tion is — 
 
 213 
 
214 
 
 CONSOLATION IN DEATH. 
 
 First, natural. The reason is, because the 
 event itself is unavoidable. We can think of 
 many journies which we may never accom- 
 plish: but we must all travel this dreary 
 road : it is the way of all the.earth. By the 
 reduction of the term of human life, a centu- 
 ry now sweeps the globe, and dispossesses of 
 its inhabitants every cottage, every mansion, 
 every palace, every temple. By the univer- 
 sality of the appointment, the world is deliver- 
 ed from those who only seem made to use fans 
 and looking-glasses, from the foolish and the 
 vain, from the wicked and the vile, from the 
 troublesome and the mischievous, from the 
 plagues and curses of the community — but 
 then it also takes away the wise as well as 
 the ignorant, the good as well as the evil, the 
 useful as well as the injurious; private and 
 public benefactors; those who have turned 
 many to righteousness, those who have saved 
 states, those who have adorned families — and 
 often, according to the estimations of reason, 
 those are removed first, who can least be 
 spared. The supposition is, 
 
 Secondly, useful. Death is not only an in- 
 evitable, but a momentous event; and it is 
 well to realize it. The thought of it is indeed 
 irksome to the man of the world, who has his 
 portion in this life, and possesses no hope of 
 a better; he therefore always endeavours to 
 keep it, or to banish it from his mind. And, 
 if your putting the evil day far off, was put- 
 ting it away, the practice might be justified. 
 But the destroyer of the Gentiles is not even 
 to be diverted ; and during every moment of 
 your forgetfulness, it is approaching you. 
 And what if coming suddenly it finds you 
 sleeping 1 A Christian should never be sur- 
 prised in death : neither should he leave 
 things unarranged and unexecuted, which 
 will throw him into tumult, and induce him, 
 when the summons arrives, to pray for pro- 
 tection; O spare me, that I may recover 
 strength, before I go hence, and be no more. 
 Familiar " thoughts," says Young, " will 
 slope the way to death :" so that when you 
 come to the end of your travels, you will find, 
 not a precipice, but a gradual descent. — 
 There are some cases in which the anticipa- 
 tion of death will be found peculiarly proper. 
 For instance. It is peculiarly proper when a 
 fondness for the world creeps upon us. David 
 often refers to the subject of mortality in the 
 Psalms, and applies it commonly as a cure 
 for the pride of life, for man is prone to walk 
 in a vain show. But, says he, how humbling 
 is the reflection? Do they trust in their 
 wealth, and boast themselves of the multitude 
 of their riches ? None of them can by any 
 means redeem his brother ; nor give to God 
 a ransom for him that he should still live for 
 ever and not see corruption. Is he in ho- 
 nour ? He abideth not ; he is like the beasts 
 that perish. Is he a prince? His breath 
 goeth forth; he returneth to his dust — in 
 
 that very day his tho ughts perish. It is pe- 
 culiarly proper, when sickness invades our 
 frame. For what is every bodily indisposi- 
 tion and infirmity, but, according to its de- 
 gree, a gentler or a louder knock at the 
 heart, saying, Behold the judge standeth be- 
 fore the door. In this state Job was, and 
 reckoning on the tendency of his disease said, 
 / know thou wilt bring me to death, and to 
 the house appointed for all living. It is pe- 
 culiarly proper, when the almond-tree flou- 
 rishes, and the grasshopper is a burden, and 
 desire fails, and man is going to his long 
 home, pressed down by the weight of years, 
 and ordered to contemplate the grave, whither 
 he is hastening. — And O! how peculiarly 
 proper is it when we see our neighbours, 
 friends, and relatives withdrawing, and we 
 follow them with weeping eyes. When we 
 are committing to the dust the remains of 
 our dear connexions; should not a solemn 
 awe come over our minds 1 Does not their 
 mortality remind us of our own'! Can we 
 help retiring, and saying, " Ah ! soon — in a 
 scene like this, I shall be the principal figure. 
 All these sad ceremonies will be performed 
 for me. And while my body returns to the 
 dust as it was, my spirit will return to God 
 
 who gave it." 
 
 Thirdly, the supposition is modified. Let 
 us observe what David says of the pros- 
 pect. 
 
 — He calls it the valley of the shadow of 
 death. Can the shadow of a sword wound ! 
 Can the shadow of a lion kill ? — Jesus endured 
 the reality ; for he bore our sins in his body 
 on the tree. It is not therefore without rea- 
 son that the apostle so frequently varies his 
 expression, when speaking of Christ, and of 
 Christians. He died for us, that whether we 
 wake or sleep, we should live together with 
 him. If we believe that Jesus died and rose 
 again, even so them also that sleep in Jesus, 
 shall God bring with him. Hence our Sa- 
 viour said to his hearers, If a man keep my 
 saying, he shall never see death. — What] 
 Do not his disciples die as well as others 1 
 No. There is one event to the righteous and 
 to the wicked ; but it comes so changed, so 
 softened, so blessed to the believer, that it 
 does not deserve the name — call it a removal, 
 a departure, a sleep — call it any thing but 
 what would so misrepresent it— death. He 
 hath abolished death, and brought life and 
 immortality to light by the gospel. 
 
 David speaks of walking through this val- 
 ley. Some are forced through. The wick- 
 ed, says Solomon, are driven away in their 
 wickedness. He shall be driven, says Bildad, 
 from light into darkness, and chased out of 
 the world. Some are carried. These are 
 the deluded, who presume that all is well, 
 while all is ruin : who have no bands in their 
 death, and whose strength is firm: who die 
 like lambs, and become the prey of the devil 
 
CONSOLATION IN DEATH. 
 
 215 
 
 and his angels. But the believer walks 
 through. He is not compelled ; and he is not 
 merely passive. He has something to do 
 there : he has graces to exercise, and duties 
 to perform there : and having honoured God 
 by the life he has led, he is also concerned to 
 glorify him by the death he shall die. 
 
 David speaks of walking through the val- 
 ley of the shadow of death. He does not 
 wander there ; does not remain there ; is not 
 lost there. We soon lose sight of the pas- 
 sengers. We cannot see their egress on the 
 other side — but we know that when absent 
 from the body they are present with the Lord. 
 The cessation of their breath is the signal of 
 their escape : and as soon as we discern it, 
 we exclaim — " They are happily over. They 
 have reached the borders of Immanuel'sland. 
 They are singing as they look backward and 
 forward. We went through fire and through 
 water, but thou hast brought us out into a 
 wealthy place." 
 
 Secondly. Here is a confidence of mind 
 in the contemplation of this condition : yea, 
 though I walk through the valley of the 
 shadow of death, / will fear no evil. 
 
 This confidence is not easily attained. We 
 have asked the question ; Can the shadow of 
 a sword wound 1 Can the shadow of a lion 
 kill I — And we readily answer ; no. But the 
 shadow implies the substance. The sword, 
 the lion whose shadow we stand in, cannot 
 be far off. This makes it trying. There is 
 a reality somewhere : and some are exposed 
 to it. And can we help asking with a shud- 
 der — Who are they 1 The very language of 
 David supposes that' there is much naturally 
 in death to excite fear. And the wonder is, 
 not that any should be afraid, but that any 
 should be without fear. Even many of those 
 who effect to be free from it, are only impo- 
 sing upon others, and deceiving themselves. 
 It is called the king of terrors. It is an un- 
 tried state. No one has returned to tell us 
 what it is. We must go through it alone. 
 If others at the same time are passing it — 
 and how many are passing every moment ! — 
 we cannot see each other. — Death breaks off 
 all the busy and fond purposes of the heart. 
 It deprives us of all our temporal possessions 
 and enjoyments. It breaks up the tender 
 connexions of life. It separates between 
 those intimate companions, the body and the 
 soul. — The forerunners of death are often 
 dreadful, the sinking eye, the trembling 
 limbs, the convulsions of pain, the mortal 
 dew — 
 
 The pains, the groans, the dying strife 
 Fright our approaching souls away ; 
 
 Still we shrink hack again to life, 
 Fond of our prison and our clay. 
 
 When dead, we become so offensive that our 
 dearest friends bury us out of their sight: 
 and we say to corruption, thou art my father; 
 and to the worm thou art my mother and my 
 
 sister. When we reflect on all this ; what 
 wonder, if we groan being burdened, not for 
 that we would be unclothed, but clothed up- 
 on, that mortality might be swallowed up of 
 life. In addition to all this we must observe, 
 that death leaves one relation untouched, the 
 relation of a creature to his Creator, of a sub- 
 ject to his sovereign, of a criminal to his 
 judge : it translates us from a temporal to an 
 eternal mode of being, from a state of action 
 to a state of retribution — for after death the 
 judgment ! And who is not a sinner ] Who 
 has nothing to fear ? 
 
 We would remark also, that this confidence 
 is possessed by the subjects of divine grace in 
 very unequal degrees. There is often a 
 great difference in the constitutional firmness 
 of men. One person shall tremble at the shak- 
 ing of a leaf, while another does not shrink 
 back at the prospect of any danger. Some 
 have clear views of the Christian's safety and 
 privileges; the apprehensions of others, even 
 with regard to the leading truths of the gos- 
 pel, are defective and obscure. Some have 
 hardly faith enough to entitle them to the 
 name of believers ; others are strong in faith ; 
 rich in faith. Hence some are all their life 
 time subject to bondage through fear of 
 death, while others go on their way rejoicing 
 in the Lord always; and saying, The Lord 
 is my light and my salvation, whom shall I 
 fear ? The Lord is the strength of my life, 
 of whom shall I be afraid .' — And thus when 
 the last hour arrives; some meet death with 
 rapturous pleasure; some with tranquillity; 
 while in some, doubts and hopes alternately 
 prevail. 
 
 Yet we would further observe, that this 
 confidence generally increases as the peo- 
 ple of God approach death. Hence Isaiah 
 compares their peace to a river: for as a 
 river rolls deeper and broader as it hastens to 
 the sea, so their peace commonly becomes 
 more solid and more extensive as they draw 
 near eternity. In this view, the change 
 which Doctor Goodwin experienced was re- 
 markable. "Is this dying]" exclaimed he, a 
 little before he expired : " Is this what for so 
 many years I have been dreading ? O, how 
 precious does the righteousness of the Saviour 
 now appear ! — He cannot love me better than 
 he does; and, I think, I cannot love him bet- 
 ter than I do." This is not a solitary instance. 
 How many have we seen ourselves who 
 wept upon the mountains of Zion, but re- 
 joiced in the valley of the shadow of death ; 
 whose harps, long before hung upon the wil- 
 lows, were taken down, and delightfully used 
 in singing the Lord's song, in the most 
 strange part of all the strange land. — We 
 cannot always account for things as effects, 
 which yet we are compelled by observation 
 and testimony to admit as facts. But the case 
 before us sufficiently explains itself. The 
 love of life, having from the will of God no 
 
216 
 
 CONSOLATION IN DEATH. 
 
 longer now any purposes to answer, is suf- 
 fered to die away. By drawing near the bet- 
 ter country, we feel something of its influ- 
 ence, as the perfumes of Arabia, the happy, 
 are blown into the neighbouring provinces. 
 Above all, there is now more of the sim- 
 plicity of faith. During life, some degree of 
 legality attaches to all our performances. 
 Doing continually intermingles with believ- 
 ing : and often insensibly to ourselves we are 
 anxious to make ourselves better, to entitle 
 us to the Divine favour, or to find something 
 in ourselves wherein to hope, if not, whereof 
 to glory before God. But all this is now over. 
 What can he noic do 1 What qualifications 
 can he now acquire ? — What attainments can 
 he propose ! " Let him look back upon 
 a well-spent life." This is impossible. Every 
 review he takes of himself, is humbling. The 
 very sins of his holy things would drive him 
 to despair. One resource remains, one, only 
 — one, which is always equal to our relief — 
 one, whose consolation is only hindered from 
 flowing into us by the want of simplicity of 
 mind — it is looking by faith to the Lamb of 
 God who taketh away the sin of the world ; 
 it is to commit implicitly a lost soul to him — 
 
 A guilty, weak, and helpless worm, 
 
 On thy kind arm 1 fall ; 
 Be thou my strength and righteousness, 
 
 My Jesus, and my all. 
 
 Finally. This confidence is enlightened 
 and ivise. David's fearlessness was not 
 apathy. He was a man of fine feelings. 
 His imagination was lively. He was a 
 lover of poetry and music. No man ever 
 more bewailed his unworthiness and vile- 
 ness ; or was at times nearer despair. — 
 Neither did ignorance raise him above the 
 fear of death. His courage was not the 
 boldness of a man who shuts his eyes, and 
 can see no danger. The peace of many peo- 
 ple will not bear reflection. It would die 
 before thought, and therefore its aim is to 
 elude it. But whatever some may imagine, 
 the religion of a Christian is not a mass of 
 blind feelings. Ignorance is not the mother 
 of his devotion. His privileges are not pic- 
 tures of fancy. His joy is not the ferment 
 of enthusiasm. His confidence results from 
 just views of things: therefore it is said, they 
 that know thy name will put their trust in 
 thee. He is able to give to every man that 
 asketh him, a reason of the hope that is in 
 him. Yes, he has reason to say — though I 
 walk through the valley of the shadow of 
 death, I will fear no evil — for there is no 
 evil in it. — Yea, it has not only lost the 
 power of injuring him, but obtained the 
 power of doing him good. It is not only a 
 conquered foe, but a most munificent bene- 
 factor. Hence Doctor George often said he 
 had two special friends in the world, Christ 
 and Death : " Christ," said he, " is my first 
 friend, but Deatli is my second." And the 
 
 apostle tells us, that to die is gain. Now 
 the heir of immortality comes of age, and 
 gains his inheritance. Now the tempest- 
 beaten mariner gains the desired haven. 
 Now the often wounded soldier gains his 
 victory and triumph. Now the Christian, 
 after all his struggles with darkness, sin, and 
 sorrow, gains admission to a state of perfect 
 light, and purity, and joy. His gain is ever- 
 lasting and infinite ; and therefore inexpres- 
 sible and inconceivable : as it is written, eye 
 hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor have enter- 
 ed into the heart of man the things which 
 God hath prepared for them that love him. 
 But we go one step further ; and say, that 
 death is riot only to the believer productive 
 of advantage in the issue, but also admits of 
 satisfaction and pleasure in the passage. And 
 this has brought us to the 
 
 Third division of our subject, and which 
 leads us to observe the foundation of this 
 fortitude: For thou art with me; thy rod 
 and thy staff, they comfort me. Let us con- 
 sider the reasons themselves, and the cer- 
 tainty of David's mind respecting them. 
 
 The reasons are two. 
 
 First. The Divine presence : For thou art 
 with me. He is every where by the immen- 
 sity of his nature ; but he is peculiarly with 
 his people : he is nigh unto all them that call 
 upon him, to all that call upon him in truth : 
 he will fulfil the desire of them that fear 
 him, he also will hear their cry and will save 
 them. — He is with his people in every state, 
 he never leaves them, nor forsakes them; 
 but he is peculiarly with them in trouble — 
 and he is most peculiarly with them in this 
 trouble. In none do they need it so much ; 
 for if he is not with us there, we must be 
 alone ; every other connexion then leaves us : 
 if he is not with us there, we must sink ; for 
 every earthly dependence on which we have 
 leaned, then fails us. And, if in other cases 
 the child of God cries with Moses, If thy 
 presence go not with us, take us not up 
 from hence — With what awful anxiety will 
 he ask after this conductor, when he comes 
 to the entrance of this dark valley, and looks 
 in. — In this position, the sweet singer in our 
 British Israel represents the believer, and 
 puts this language into his trembling lips — 
 
 O, if my Lord would come and meet, 
 My soul shall stretch her wings in haste ; 
 
 Ply fearless through death's iron gate, 
 Nor feel the terror as she pass'd. 
 
 Well, he indulges this unavoidable wish. 
 He not only comes to the other side to re- 
 ceive us to himself, that where he is there 
 we may be also ; but he comes to r his side 
 — and accompanies us — all through he is 
 with us. 
 
 The second is the Divine attention : Thy 
 rod and thy staff they comfort me. It would 
 be trifling to give each of these terms a sepa- 
 rate import. By an allowance, common in 
 
CONSOLATION IN DEATH. 
 
 217 
 
 all language, but especially in poetry, two 
 words are used for the same thing. This 
 thing means the pastoral crook: and the 
 pastoral crook means the pastoral care. This 
 adds therefore to the former assurance. God 
 will not only be with us, but as a shepherd — 
 as a good shepherd, exercising the care we 
 need in this unfriendly condition — and exer- 
 cising it in such a way, as not only to guide 
 and guard us, but to provide for us where 
 there seemed to be no possibility of pasture 
 to feed us — yea, to comfort us — Thy rod and 
 thy staff, they comfort me. It reminds us of 
 the language of God concerning his church, 
 in the second chapter of Hosea, and the four- 
 teenth and fifteenth verses. • I will allure 
 her and bring' her into the wilderness — and 
 there she will surely be dreary and alone : 
 there she must surely be destitute ; she can- 
 not look after any tiling like a garden in a 
 desert; there she will only nourish despair; 
 or sigh in anguish: nay / will speak comfort- 
 ably unto her : and I will give her her vine- 
 yards — from thence ; and the valley of Achor 
 — for a door of hope ; and she shall sing — 
 there, as in the days of her youth, and as in 
 the day when she came up out of the land 
 of Egypt. Paul speaks of strong consola- 
 tion : and it must be strong indeed, when af- 
 fliction, however depressing, cannot subdue 
 it, or death itself destroy or diminish it. 
 
 But could David reckon upon this ] He 
 could. He had no uncertainty of mind re- 
 specting either the presence or the care of 
 his heavenly Shepherd. But whence did he 
 derive this assurance, that enabled him to 
 say, even in reference to the valley of the 
 shadow of death, Thou art with me; thy rod 
 and thy staff, they comfort me? 
 
 It was derived first from the word of God, 
 which cannot be broken, in which he has re- 
 vealed his designs concerning us, and bound 
 himself by the most solemn engagements, all 
 in unison with this promise ; Fear thou not ; 
 for I am with thee: be not dismayed ; for I 
 am thy God, I will strengthen thee ; yea, I 
 will help thee ; yea, I will uphold thee with 
 the right hand of my righteousness. 
 
 And, secondly, from his own experience. 
 How often does he remember the years of 
 the right hand of the Most High. How often 
 does he remark what God hath done for his 
 soul. How encouragingly and confidently 
 does he reason from the past to the future; 
 from what God had been to what he would 
 be; concluding that he remained the same 
 yesterday, to-day, and for ever; would perfect 
 that which concerned him, and forsake not 
 the work of his own hands. What time I 
 am afraid, I will trust in thee. Because 
 thou hast been my help, therefore under the 
 shadow of thy wings will I rejoice. From 
 the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, 
 when my heart is overwhelmed : lead me to 
 the rock that is higher than I. For thou 
 2E 19 
 
 hast been a shelter for me, and a strong 
 tower from the enemy. I will abide in thy 
 tabernacle for ever : I will trust in the covert 
 of thy toings. — Such is the ground of the 
 believer's hope ; and it maketh not ashamed. 
 
 — But I forbear enlargement, in order to 
 meet the eager expectation of this crowded 
 assembly, in noticing the event that has 
 brought me hither this morning — an event 
 which will afford us a better exemplification 
 of our subject, than any your preacher has 
 been able to afford ; and which cannot fail to 
 strengthen our conviction that we are not 
 following cunningly devised fables. 
 
 I am not fond of funeral eulogies; and in 
 the case before us, an attempt at panegyric 
 is unnecessary, if not improper, as the de- 
 ceased is already so well known, and so 
 highly esteemed among you ; and her cha- 
 racter, like a beautiful form, would be injur- 
 ed, rather than benefited, by finery and paint. 
 But from justice to my own observation, and 
 to the competent and harmonious testimony 
 of numbers who had better opportunities of 
 remark, I feel myself compelled to say, that 
 I consider Mrs. Berry, not only as one of the 
 excellent of the earth, but one of the most 
 excellent — one of the most, amiable, consist- 
 ent, exemplary, edifying Christians, in every 
 relation and office she was called to fill, that 
 any of our churches could ever boast. 
 
 I never think it of much importance to in- 
 quire how, persons became religious, if it ap- 
 pears that they are actually in the possession, 
 and under the influence of it The work 
 must be of God, and the grand tiling to ascer- 
 tain is the reality of it by its effects. In many 
 very eminent Christians, the operation is very 
 gradual, and attended with none of those re- 
 markable circumstances which would form 
 a narrative. The event that was chiefly in- 
 strumental, in the conversion of our departed 
 friend, was the conversation of her very amia- 
 ble and worthy brother-in-law. It is observ- 
 able, that this friend to religion, at the same 
 time, and in the same way, was rendered 
 useful to her sister, who, after walking as an 
 heir of the grace of life, died happy in the 
 Lord Jesus, i I mention this to excite and en- 
 courage religious conversation ; and to enforce 
 the words of Solomon — In the morning sow 
 thy seed, and in the evening withhold not 
 thine hand : for thou knowest not whether 
 shall prosper, either this or that, or whether 
 they both shall be alike good. 
 
 The religion of Mrs. Berry was not only 
 real, but peculiar and distinguishing ; and 
 there are several circumstances in her con- 
 duct, and several attributes in her character 
 which I wish to notice, as largely as the li- 
 mits of our time will permit. 
 
 Piety is not always combined with gentili- 
 ty, and talent. But Mrs. Berry was descend- 
 ed from a family of respectability, and had 
 been favoured with the advantage of a good 
 
218 
 
 CONSOLATION IN DEATH. 
 
 education. She possessed all the elegant ac- 
 complishments, and was company tor any 
 class of society. She had no ordinary share 
 of mental discrimination and taste. Her 
 remarks on books, and preachers, and charac- 
 ters, were always judicious, though never 
 obtruded on others, or blended with ill nature 
 and censoriousness. Her judgment concern- 
 ing religion itself, may be in a measure in- 
 ferred from a single observation. Having 
 some time ago, finished a course of reading, 
 part of which included Mrs. Rowe's Devo- 
 tional Exercises, William's Diary, Garie's 
 and Pearce's Memoirs, the Lives of Miss 
 Anthony and Mrs. Bennet, and Brainerd, she 
 said to her husband, " I think if a young per- 
 son was to ask me where religion might be 
 seen apart from the Bible, I would put into 
 his hands the lives of her subjects. The lives 
 of saints, indiscriminately, would not do, even 
 supposing they could all be written. Nor 
 would all those answer the purpose, whose 
 characters might be irreproachable. Religion 
 herself is amiable, and inviting. Attraction 
 is her grand character. I would not put into 
 such hands Mrs. Rowe's Exercises. Her re- 
 ligion is too much passion : she soars, and she 
 flies, and is lost in her feelings. Brainerd was 
 a holy man, and we cannot but revere his 
 memory : still, in all his religion there ap- 
 peared that melancholy tinge which was con- 
 stitutional. Pearce was an amiable Christian ; 
 and so was Garie. But I think I should give 
 first of all William's Diary. There I see a 
 combination of grace and intellect. There is 
 the whole scene displayed. There you have 
 not the effervescence of religion only but the 
 Christian warfare. You witness all his in- 
 firmities, and you see in what way they were 
 brought into subjection. You witness the 
 tendency of his religion, and see him habitu- 
 ally rising towards God ; but you see him also 
 sobered by sense, and struggling with sor- 
 row." When her husband asked, " But how 
 does this accord with my Eliza's opinion, that 
 the grand character of religion is attraction?" 
 With an eye full of expression she promptly 
 replied : " Is not the attraction of truth, its 
 unreservedness ; its honesty V Her opinion 
 of authors was evinced in the selection which 
 adorned her little separate study. Through 
 a gTeat part of the winter of 1810, she was an 
 evening prisoner in her own house, and as, 
 at that time her children were too young, 
 even for maternal address, her time was prin- 
 cipally spent in reading — especially in read- 
 ing her Bible. Hence were derived her in- 
 structions, her reproofs, her hopes, and her 
 joys. This book gratified her intellectual as 
 well as her religious taste. How often at 
 this season would she come down from her 
 closet, and embracing her husband, say, " Jo- 
 seph, the Bible is my all. Its matter and its 
 manner 6uit me. Its subject is good, and the 
 
 dern ministers attend too much to style and 
 phraseology ; the old writers, often attended 
 to matter at the expense of language — my 
 Bible regards both. I do not shut this book 
 and say, O how tedious ! or, O how superficial ! 
 It is all I want, and as I want it." 
 
 The religion of this saint was not occasion- 
 al ; it did not depend upon particular seasons, 
 and exercises, and occurrences. She was in 
 the fear of the Lord all the day long : and ac- 
 knowledged him in all her ways. No one 
 loved the habitation of God's house more than 
 she did, but her devotion was not confined to 
 it. It was not roving and hearing-religion. 
 It appeared in public, but it lived in private — 
 it was closet and family-religion. It was not 
 a thing separable from her, and which was 
 sometimes assumed and sometimes laid aside; 
 but it was a principle wrought into all her 
 feelings, habits, and actions. Let me adduce 
 a partial, but interesting illustration. After 
 the month of November, 1811, she scarcely 
 ever went out. Her Sabbath-day evenings 
 were employed in reading the Scriptures, and 
 holding familiar dialogues with her three 
 babes. After hearing them repeat a short 
 prayer, and one of Watts's little hymns for 
 children, she seated them each in a separate 
 chair, while with maternal simplicity and en- 
 dearment, she heard and answered their 
 questions, and proposed her own. Dismissing 
 the two youngest to rest, the eldest (being 
 now six years old) was retained up a little 
 longer. With him, her constant Sabbath-day 
 evening custom was to kneel and pray. At 
 these periods she forgot herself in endeavour- 
 ing to interest her boy. She would begin 
 with prayer for his father, who at that precise 
 period was preaching ; then she would pray 
 for her children, one by one. After men- 
 tioning their names, she either implored for- 
 giveness for foibles, or expressed her grati- 
 tude that "the great God had made them 
 such good children." Taking this boy one 
 day into the parlour where she usually per- 
 formed these exercises, his father asked him 
 if his dear mother did not sometimes kneel 
 with him and pray ; with eyes instantly filled 
 with tears, the little disciple artlessly replied, 
 " Yes, father, mother used to kneel at that 
 chair, and hold my hand, and pray for father 
 that he may do good, and for me, and Henry, 
 and for little Mary, and for all of us." — O, ye 
 mothers, sanctify your tenderness and your 
 influence. How much depends upon your 
 gentle and early endeavours] How often 
 may you sow the seed which after a lapse of 
 time shall revive and flourish, thirty, sixty, 
 and a hundred fold ! How often has a disobe- 
 dient son been reclaimed, by the remembrance 
 of the eloquent tears of her who bore him, or 
 the pressure of her trembling hand when de- 
 livering her dying charge ! What did Mr. 
 Cecil and Mr. Newton owe to the lessons 
 
 treatment, if possible, makes it better. Mo- 1 their mothers taught them ! What did Time- 
 
CONSOLATION IN DEATH. 
 
 219 
 
 thy owe to his grandmother, Lois, and his 
 mother, Eunice? What did Samuel owe to 
 Hannah ? We know little of Jesse, but how 
 often and tenderly does David in his devo- 
 tions refer to his mother, and plead the rela- 
 tion in which he had the honour and happi- 
 ness of standing to her — " Save the son of 
 thine handmaid." " Truly I am thy servant, 
 and the son of thine handmaid." — " I think," 
 said this deceased mother, about a fortnight 
 before her death, " I think, in looking back on 
 all these seasons, my sweetest exercises were 
 with my dear boy on the Sabbath evenings : 
 — The house was still : my babes were in bed : 
 my husband was labouring for God in the 
 sanctuary : every thing aided and inspired de- 
 votion. I think my dear boy will never forget 
 some of these seasons, any more than myself. 
 O, my happy seasons with my infant son." 
 Similar to this was her attention to the re- 
 ligious welfare, as well as domestic comfort 
 of her servants. She would often converse 
 with them on the concerns of their souls, and 
 administer reproof with mildness, or encou- 
 ragement with tenderness, as their state re- 
 quired. The servant living with her at the 
 time of her death, remarked with tears " That 
 she little thought when she entered the fami- 
 ly, that her master would have proved her 
 spiritual father, and her dear mistress her 
 spiritual nurse." But so it was. On the 
 Sabbath-day evening, it was common before 
 prayer, for the master to repeat the outlines 
 of one of the sermons that day delivered, the 
 mistress that of another, and the servant that 
 of the third. Thus there was friendship to 
 soften authority, and to sweeten subjection : 
 while it insured subordination, it made them 
 forgetful of dominion or dependence : it was 
 a family of love. 
 
 Her humility was one of her distinguish- 
 ing qualities. She was clothed with it She 
 had no religious ostentation about her. She 
 was like the s«n which is unavoidably and 
 only seen in doing good : or the violet that 
 is betrayed in its concealed retreat by its 
 fragrance. She did not, like many, talk of 
 her spiritual attainments, or say much of her 
 experience. Neither was she always in 
 company uttering expressions of her un- 
 worthiness and vileness — this she felt, and 
 the sense of it influenced her ; but as Mrs. 
 More observes, humility consists not in tell- 
 ing her faults, but in being willing to be told 
 them ; and judging by this standard, it is to 
 be feared the lowly complaints of many pro- 
 fessors against themselves, will be found to 
 be, not only less than nothing, but worse than 
 nothing. The deeper the river, the more 
 noiseless it rolls by ; it is the shallow rivulet 
 that breaks, and bubbles, and deadens your 
 ears with its sound. — Her intimate friends 
 knew much that her common acquaintances 
 never knew : her husband knew much that 
 her intimate friends never knew : her God 
 
 knew much that her husband never knew — 
 her life was hid with Christ in God. 
 
 Let me remark another feature equally 
 obvious in our deceased friend ; I mean her 
 kindness. This was a perpetual stream 
 flowing from the fountain of a warm heart — 
 
 " Ne'er roughen'd by those cataracts and breakB, 
 Which humour interposed too often makes." 
 
 She was free from 
 
 " Temper flaws unseemly." 
 
 She had the ornament of a meek and quiet 
 spirit, which is in the sight of God of great 
 price. She listened to no backbiter. She 
 spake evil of no man. Upon her tongue was 
 the law of kindness. In doing good she was 
 in her element ; and she not only seized, but 
 sought opportunities to be useful. She loved 
 the poor. She often visited them. She pro- 
 moled no less than three charitable institu- 
 tions in her own neighbourhood, and was 
 secretary to them all. 
 
 Her prudence was pre-eminent. It ap- 
 peared in all her conduct. She seemed in- 
 tuitively to perceive all the proprieties of ac- 
 tion, in whatever combination of circumstan- 
 ces she was placed. But this quality is to be 
 chiefly noticed in her as the wife of a minis- 
 ter. This I have always considered as one 
 of the most difficult spheres for a female to 
 fill up properly ; but she filled it up without 
 censure and without envy. She had no he- 
 ralds to carry and bring news respecting 
 households and individuals. She had no 
 familiars into whose possession she com- 
 pletely put herself, and who were privy to 
 all her opinions; and though she had her 
 select friends, they were chosen after slow 
 and judicious observation ; and in all her 
 intercourse even with them, remembering 
 her peculiar relation, she maintained a de- 
 gree of dignified reserve. Often when 
 sounded respecting the characters or actions 
 of others, she would reply with a sweet 
 smile in her face ; " You forget that I am a 
 minister's wife ; she may tell her husband 
 what she thinks and hears, but she must only 
 tell his flock what is calculated to promote 
 their peace." She never embroiled her hus- 
 band in ecclesiastical contests ; never urged 
 him to look abroad after a more popular 
 sphere ; never stimulated him to exact more 
 prerogative; never made him discontented 
 by intimations that the respect shown him 
 was not equal to his claims. More than once, 
 when he received an invitation to labour for 
 a while in a much larger congregation, she 
 has said, " My Joseph, let me beseech you 
 to decline it. Many of our young ministers 
 seem too eager to catch at popularity, and to 
 rove abroad. Let us be satisfied with the 
 condition in which the Lord has fixed us. 
 His eye is always upon us, and he regards 
 not the splendour of the station, but the man- 
 ner in which we discharge the duties arising 
 
220 
 
 CONSOLATION IN DEATH. 
 
 from it." Though exceedingly attached to 
 his company, she was not so selfish as to wish 
 to detain him from his studies ; or his official 
 work. She would often gently call him from 
 his books, and remind him, that a minister 
 was not only to read and make sermons, but 
 to visit the fatherless and the widow in their 
 affliction, and to speak a word in season to 
 them that are weary. 
 
 Her attention to order and regularity was 
 singular. Life with her was a system, and 
 every thing in it had its due time and im- 
 portance. Hence she knew nothing of that 
 hurry and fretfulness occasioned by omission 
 and confusion. In her last illness she looked 
 forward and arranged every thing however 
 minute. On giving up her books, as secre- 
 tary, a few weeks before she died, her coun- 
 tenance was a true index of her mind ; but 
 when the different ladies, (as temporary 
 treasurers till an extraordinary meeting could 
 be called) were gone, she exclaimed, " Bless- 
 ed be my God for this. I should not have 
 liked my husband or my children to have 
 been reproached with unprincipled or inac- 
 curate accounts ; above all, I should have 
 been sorry if the cause of my Jesus has suf- 
 fered. Religion is with me a sacred cause, 
 and concern for its honour in every thing, 
 little or great, a sacred duty. — Indeed there 
 is nothing about religion little, because it all 
 regards God." She examined all her papers, 
 destroying those she did not wish to have 
 preserved, and neatly folding up all the rest. 
 An inventory of all the household furniture, 
 and of all the children's apparel was written 
 by her, and given to her husband — so that in 
 a moment he could find every thing he wish- 
 ed. She had cut with her own hand, and 
 laid by in the same order in which it was to 
 be used, work for her dear little girl to sew 
 for twelve months to come. No circumstance 
 connected with her funeral had she over- 
 looked. And one thing in particular, as very 
 characteristical of the self-possession which 
 enabled her to provide for every case that 
 could result from her condition, I cannot for- 
 bear to mention. It was intended that she 
 should have been buried in the vault under 
 the communion table. At the last adminis- 
 tration of the Lord's supper, her husband, 
 struck with the thought, that when perform- 
 ing the next service of this kind, his beloved 
 wife would be lying beneath his feet, was 
 too much affected to proceed. She accident- 
 ally heard of this; and without consulting 
 or informing him, she sent for some of the 
 gentlemen belonging to the church, and ex- 
 pressed to them her dying wish, that she 
 might be buried under the front gallery ! 
 Her wish was gratified. 
 
 But how am I going on. Much I have 
 remarked already, and yet I have much more 
 which I wish to notice if your time would 
 allow. Will you, my Christian friends, ex- 
 
 cuse me, if I protract the service a little 
 beyond the usual limits? We are not as- 
 sembled on an ordinary occasion — I hope we 
 are come hither to learn to die. 
 
 And O ! what a death was here ! Few, 
 even among the subjects of divine grace, 
 have ever been so favoured in their last ill- 
 ness and their last moments. Those friends 
 who had the best opportunity of observing, 
 and on whose judgment, as well as piety we 
 can rely, have uniformly acknowledged, that 
 they never witnessed a scene so blessed, so 
 glorious. Her afflicted chamber was none 
 other than the house of God, and the very 
 gate of heaven. Here was doctor Watts's 
 strong language realized — 
 
 And lose my life among the charms 
 Of so divine a dealh. 
 
 What shall I bring forward ? Her sere- 
 nity of mind ? It was more than serenity ; 
 it was joy unspeakable, and full of glory. 
 
 Some representations and expressions must 
 not die with her. We will follow the order 
 of time in stating them. 
 
 From the end of December, till beyond the 
 middle of January, she scarcely ever com- 
 posed herself to sleep, without repeating 
 again and again the little song said to be 
 composed by an Indian; the second verse of 
 which she after rehearsed with a kind of 
 transport — 
 
 " A few more rising suns at most 
 Will land me safe on Canaan's coast " 
 
 On the 30th of January, her husband re- 
 turned from the funeral of a relative, which 
 he had been called to attend at a distance 
 from home. A friend was then sitting in the 
 room with her, but as soon as she had with- 
 drawn, this beloved bride hung round the 
 neck of her husband, and said, " My Joseph, 
 my dearest Joseph, the time is very near that 
 we must part. I have no cause for sorrow 
 at the thought ; but I know you will sorrow : 
 but do not sorrow over much. My God is 
 your God, and will be so to the end. He will 
 also be the God of my dear children. En- 
 deavour to make up your mind to the stroke, 
 and be assured it is his doing who doth all 
 things well. My tears are flowing fast, and 
 yours are flowing fast, but they are all drop- 
 ping into our Redeemer's bosom. He knows 
 our circumstances, and we must live upon 
 that sure promise ; as thy day thy strength 
 shall be .'" On his replying, " Why, my 
 dearest creature, do you think thus !" she re- 
 joined, " I know that I am going home, and 
 that heaven is my home; yes, my dearest 
 home, from the inexpressible enjoyment I 
 have had. I have lain on that bed, and had 
 more joy than a mere mortal could hold ; such 
 joy would not do for creatures — it would be 
 more than they could sustain. The twenty- 
 third psalm was a heavenly message to me, 
 and with calmness and the certain prospect 
 
CONSOLATION IN DEATH. 
 
 221 
 
 of soon entering the valley, I could say, / 
 will fear no evil — no, not even there — for 
 thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they 
 comfort me. I tried to sing this and much 
 more in the night, but I had no voice; and 
 therefore I sung it only in spirit." Having 
 exhausted herself with her tears and her dis- 
 course, she dropped asleep; but presently af- 
 ter awaking, and feeling her weakness, she 
 said, " My flesh and my heart fail, but God is 
 the strength of my heart and my portion for 
 ever." 
 
 February 2d. While two friends were 
 sitting by her bed-side, she expatiated most 
 sweetly on the glories of heaven, and her as- 
 sured hope of going there. As one of them 
 left the room, her little girl entered it, and 
 when the babe showed herself at the corner 
 of her curtain, she observed, " There, I 
 thought I never should have been able to 
 give up that child ; but now I can do even 
 this, and do it without the least anxiety. It 
 is my Father's will we should separate ; his 
 will is mine: and cannot I leave her with 
 himr' 
 
 February 4th. Her husband in the eve- 
 ning announced her medical friend was come. 
 She was, at that instant, sitting up in bed and 
 reading her Bible ; as he entered the room 
 she shut it, but after his departure said, " I 
 thought to avoid ostentation by putting my 
 Bible away, but it struck me, why should I 
 do it ? Precious book ! thou art all my con- 
 solation and support. If the gay and the 
 worldly are not ashamed of their cards, would 
 it have been right for me to have been asham- 
 ed of thee? Surely not. But lest it should 
 appear like Pharisaic righteousness, I shut it 
 
 and talked to Mr. about my feelings and 
 
 my prospects." — Pausing a little for breath, 
 she added — My present experience is truly 
 blessed. The clouds in the air pass swiftly 
 along, nor hide the sun from view." I do 
 not mean the dark, black clouds which are 
 impenetrable, but the upper clouds on a sum- 
 mer's day : through them the sun diffuses his 
 light and heat, so that while they pass, one 
 is scarcely aware of them. I have my clouds, 
 weakness, weariness, and pains; but my 
 greatest pain is, when thinking on the pain 
 of separation ; nevertheless, through all these, 
 Jesus, my blessed sun, is seen. He soothes 
 and cheers me ; and but for the sorrow of my 
 dearest Joseph, I should say, I am without 
 anxiety." 
 
 February 5th. Was spent chiefly in ar- 
 ranging domestic concerns, and the still more 
 awful concerns of her funeral. — She said, 
 " if there must be a funeral sermon, let the 
 text be, Psalm xxiii. 4. The hymns 
 
 THE FIRST. 
 
 " When languor and disease invade 
 This trembling house of clay, 
 'Tis sweet to look beyond our cage, 
 And long to fly away, &c." 
 
 19* 
 
 THE SECOND. 
 
 "Here what the voice from heaven proclaims 
 For all the pious dead ; 
 Sweet is the savour of their names, 
 And soft their sleeping bed, &.c." 
 
 THE THIRD. 
 
 "The Lord my shepherd is, 
 I shall be well supplied, 
 Since he is mine, and I am his, 
 What can I want beside, &c." 
 
 She strictly enjoined, " Let nothing be said 
 of me, but what grace has done in me, and 
 done for me. I have hope towards God be- 
 yond a doubt ; and this hope is founded, not 
 on frames or visions, but a comparison of my 
 state with the word of my God. There I 
 read, man is a poor, lost, ignorant, unholy 
 creature. I both believe it and feel it, but so 
 effectually has grace wrought in me, that 
 though lost, I cry unto God for mercy — 
 though ignorant, I go unto him for wisdom. 
 I find the gospel suited to my state. I look 
 out of myself entirely. I go as one utterly 
 lost to Jesus Christ. I wish no alteration in 
 the doctrine of his cross. I would be saved 
 in the very way he has revealed, though I 
 had the choice of more, and millions more, if 
 possible." 
 
 February 6th. A friend calling, she said to 
 her, " My hopes rest on the Deity and atone- 
 ment of our Lord Jesus Christ. I have told 
 Mr. Berry I would have him preach no other 
 doctrines than those he has done all along ; 
 they are doctrines suited to sinners, one of 
 whom is his Eliza." — An old deacon, (much 
 like herself, ripening for glory) when he ap- 
 proached her bed-side, said, " well, my good 
 friend, how do you do now !" To whom she 
 replied, " Almost at home — my precious Bible, 
 true every tittle — I never thought it could 
 have supported me thus, but it does — I never 
 thought I could have enjoyed so much — I 
 have not an anxious wish — It is heaven al- 
 ready begun — I am happy as I can be on this 
 side heaven — 
 
 " A mortal paleness on my cheek 
 And glory in my soul." 
 
 A friend from a little distance calling that 
 evening, she spake most delightfully of her 
 extatic joy, and as he was taking his fare- 
 well, and. leaving her with the mention of 
 the name of Jesus, she closed the conversa- 
 tion, repeating, 
 
 " A guilty, weak, and helpless worm, 
 On thy kind arm I fall ; 
 Be thou my strength anil righteousness, 
 My Jesus, and my all." 
 
 February 11. To several friends she said, 
 " Jesus is very precious. I have no anxiety. 
 Every thing is settled. My drawers, my 
 house, my treasurer's books, my children, my 
 all — I have nothing to do but die and go 
 home." 
 
 February 13. She said to a friend, " Surely 
 all this cannot be delusion." To another, "I 
 am not gone yet. The dross is not all taken 
 
222 
 
 CONSOLATION IN DEATH. 
 
 away ; I shall not go till it is." The last 
 friend who saw her on that day, witnessed 
 her very much enfeebled indeed, but putting 
 his ear towards her, he distinctly heard the 
 whisper, " All is heaven and peace within." 
 While her husband and servant were turning 
 her in the bed, she remarked, " Ah, my dear, 
 it is hard work," and recollecting, caught up 
 her words, " Hard did I say 3 no, I'll recall 
 that word, it looks like repining ; it is not 
 hard, but requires more than nature to ac- 
 quiesce in." 
 
 February 15. To a friend she observed, 
 " It seems as if there were no enemy. He 
 is, as good Bunyan says, ' as still as a stone.' " 
 I scarcely think of him. My Jesus is all my 
 salvation, and all my desire." 
 
 February 16. " My Jesus is very precious 
 to me. Had I had breath, oh how could I 
 have sung of him in the night." On a kind 
 friend's leaving her, she said, "Tell your 
 dear sister what I enjoy ; it is not like a death 
 bed — it is sleeping in my Jesus's arms." 
 
 February 17. When it was thought she 
 was actually going " It is sweet to die in 
 Jesus — Bless God, my dear, I am so happy — 
 Though I walk through the valley," &c. 
 About a quarter past eleven o'clock that eve- 
 ning, while profound silence was kept, she 
 broke it, and with seemingly more than hu- 
 man voice she uttered 
 
 " There shall we see his face, 
 And never, never sin, 
 There from the rivers of his grace 
 Drink endless pleasures in." 
 
 Pausing, as though every word seemed a 
 feast to her soul, she added — 
 
 " For ever his dear sacred name 
 Shall dwell upon my tongue, 
 And Jesus and salvation be 
 The close of every song." 
 
 Her breath scarcely allowing her to reach 
 the last word, she lay quietly meditating, but 
 after waiting perhaps more than a minute, 
 with seraphic accents she burst forth again — 
 
 Yes, thou art precious to my soul, 
 
 My transport and my trust, 
 Jewels to thee are gaudy toys, 
 
 And gold is sordid dust. 
 
 Her arms falling, her husband attempted 
 to put the one next him into bed. Speaking 
 of her being much reduced, she said " Worms 
 will not feast much on me. — Blessed be God 
 I am not afraid of worms. 
 
 " Though greedy worms devour my skin 
 And gnaw my wasting flesh, 
 When God shall build my bones again. 
 He clothes them all afresh." 
 
 In the night, she begged her husband to 
 pray once more with her. He did it; but 
 when it was over she said " My dear, you 
 have forgotten to pray for one thing." He 
 asked " What is that?" " Why, that we may 
 be prepared for and supported in the parting 
 hour." When he intimated the difficulty of 
 doing it, she pleasingly and firmly replied, 
 
 " Well, I can do it ; and much as I love my 
 Joseph, I can leave him to go to my Jesus." 
 And then taking his hand, she prayed, ac- 
 knowledging the kindness of God in uniting 
 them, the happiness they had proved in each 
 other, &.c. After this she dozed and enjoyed 
 some calm hours. About ten minutes past 
 seven in the morning she was evidently 
 seized for death. During her illness she had 
 frequently requested Christian friends to pray 
 for an easy dismissal, and God, her gracious 
 God, answered prayer. While the perspira- 
 tion was breaking forth in all directions, and 
 every oozing drop seemed larger and larger, 
 she inarticulately uttered, in broken accents — 
 "Valley — Shadow — Home — Jesus — Peace." 
 
 She seemed free from pain. Without a 
 struggle she lay for nearly twenty minutes, 
 and at twelve minutes before eight o'clock 
 her head gently dropped on the left side of 
 her pillow; her last pulse was felt by the 
 hand of her anguished husband, and her dis- 
 embodied spirit soared to the presence of her 
 God. 
 
 After these statements, I need not say that 
 this was a highly indulged and honoured 
 death. 
 
 But it is also a mournful one. All that so 
 eminently fitted her for heaven, equally fitted 
 her for earth. We have but comparatively 
 few of this character. Yet these are the per- 
 sons we want. We want them, for they are 
 the dew of heaven, the salt of the earth, the 
 light of the world. We want them as inter- 
 cessors, as defenders, as benefactors, as ex- 
 amples. Every loss therefore will draw forth 
 tears — and must, if we would escape the re- 
 proach of insensibility charged upon the 
 Jews ; The righteous perisheth, and no man 
 layeth it to heart ; and merciful men are ta- 
 ken away, none considering that the right- 
 eous is taken away from the evil to come. 
 
 Yes. you find it a mournful one, O ye poor 
 whom she succoured. Yes, you find it a 
 mournful one, O ye schools of charity whom 
 she inspected. Yes, you find it a mourn- 
 ful one, O ye friends with whom she took 
 sweet counsel. — 
 
 — But what shall I say to you, my dear, my 
 afflicted brother ; to whom God has said — Son 
 of man, behold I take from thee the desire of 
 thine eyes with a stroke ! 
 
 What shall I say to you, ye bereaved chil- 
 dren, whose loss at present you are unable to 
 estimate. A wife may be replaced, but a 
 mother cannot. As one whom his mother 
 comforteth, so may our heavenly Father com- 
 fort you. May he take you up as the God of 
 providence and of grace ; guide you with his 
 counsel, and afterward receive you to glory. 
 
 The death is no less instructive. It says, 
 in feeling accents, 
 
 The dear delights we here enjoy, 
 
 And fondly call our own, 
 Are but short favours borrowed now, 
 
 To be repaid anon. 
 
CONSOLATION IN DEATH. 
 
 223 
 
 It warns us, that in the midst of life we 
 are in death. It urges us to seek the Lord 
 while he may be found, and to call upon him 
 while he is near. 
 
 So teach us to number our days, that we 
 may apply our hearts unto wisdom. 
 
 I conclude a service which I fear would 
 have been tedious, had not the saint furnished 
 more than the preacher, with three remarks. 
 
 The first regards the efficiency of divine 
 grace: for, by the grace of God, she was 
 what she was ; and we ought to glorify God 
 in her. See under the agency of this princi- 
 ple what human nature even in this world 
 may become! — And since this grace is the 
 same, and is not only sufficient for us, but at- 
 tainable by us, let us be strong in it ; let us 
 ask that we may have, and seek that we may 
 find. 
 
 The second regards the impression of cha- 
 racter. What is it that has put to silence the 
 ignorance of foolish men, so that against this 
 child of Israel not a dog moves his tongue ] 
 What is it that prompts the language of la- 
 mentation or encomium from every one you 
 converse with in the house, or meet with in 
 the street 7 What is it that has induced al- 
 most every member in this church, and al- 
 most every hearer in this meeting, to appear 
 in the attire of mourners 1 What has this 
 morning, turned this place of worship into a 
 Bochim, or place of tears 1 What has led the 
 ministers and congregations of this town vo- 
 luntarily to shut up their own sanctuaries, and 
 come here to weep with those that weep] 
 The deceased was only a private character — 
 It is true ^ but she was a decided character. 
 She was a consistent character. She was an 
 amiable character. She was an inoffensive 
 character. She was a benevolent character. 
 She neither lived nor died to herself; and he 
 that in these things serveth Christ, is accept- 
 able to God, and approved of men. 
 
 The third regards a reflection, which, 
 though it be often made, cannot be made too 
 often ; and which the subject we have ex- 
 plained, and the event we have considered, 
 
 alike urge upon us — it is the excellency of 
 genuine religion. It does not indeed exempt 
 us from the calamities of life or the stroke of 
 death, but this it does: it prepares us for 
 them ; it supports us under them ; it turns the 
 curse into a blessing ; it removes the fear of 
 evil ; it enables us to dwell at ease in a world 
 of changes and alarms ; it affords us comfort, 
 even in death. And who is the man truly 
 happy 1 Not he who has health, but he who 
 is prepared to lose it. Not he who has a por- 
 tion on earth ; but he who has laid up trea- 
 sure in heaven. He it is who can look for- 
 ward without dismay ; he it is who can pass 
 an hour among the tombs and say — " Hither 
 I hope I am willing to come, when my father 
 shall send the summons." The end crowns 
 the action ; and the proverb tells us all is 
 well that ends well. I am far from allowing 
 that religion has no present claims and ad- 
 vantages, for it has the promise of the life 
 that now is, as well as of that which is to 
 come — but allowing that it is, what many 
 people falsely imagine it to be, a system of 
 sacrifice and self-denial only, all toil and all 
 gloom ; yet it has this unparalleled recom- 
 mendation — it ends well — it ends infinitely 
 well ; and / reckon that the sufferings of this 
 present time are not worthy to be compared 
 with the glory which shall be revealed. Mark 
 the perfect man, and behold the upright; for 
 the end of that man is peace. O when you 
 come to finish your course, to be able to say 
 with Jacob ; J have waited for thy salvation, 
 0 Lord ! When the body is falling to pieces 
 to be able to say with Job ; I know that my 
 Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at 
 the latter day upon the earth. And though 
 after my skin worms destroy this body, yet 
 in my fesh shall I see God. With Simeon 
 to be raised above the love of life, and the 
 fear of death, and to be able to say, Lord now 
 lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, ac- 
 cording to thy word, for mine eyes have seen 
 thy salvation. — What can you wish for like 
 this ! — Let me die the death of the righteous, 
 and let my last end be like his ! Amen. 
 
THE LOSS OF CONNEXIONS DEPLORED AND IMPROVED : 
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED IN ARGYLE CHAPEL, BATH, ON SUNDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 26, 1813, 
 
 OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF 
 
 MR. THOMAS PARSONS, 
 
 Who Died the 18th of September, in the 10th Year of his Age. 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 TO THE BEREAVED FAMILY OF HIS HIGHLY ESTEEMED FRIEND, 
 This Sermon, preached to improve the death of their honoured father, and 
 published at their request, is dedicated, with esteem, affection, and sympa- 
 thy, by The Author. 
 
 Lover and friend hast thou put far from 
 me, and mine acquaintance into darkness. — 
 Psalm Ixxxviii. 18. 
 
 My brethren, — We were obviously de- 
 signed to live not in a solitary, but a connect- 
 ed state. Even in Paradise, and according 
 to the judgment of God himself, "It was not 
 good for man to be alone." Our nature and 
 condition, our inclinations and necessities, 
 our excellencies and weaknesses, alike indi- 
 cate our destination, and contribute to render 
 us social beings. 
 
 Some of the finest feelings of the human 
 heart are called forth by the various unions 
 of life, and much of our happiness depends 
 upon the endearments of society. 
 
 But what blessing below the skies, is per- 
 fect and unalloyed ] Every pleasure has its 
 corresponding pain. The wider our sphere 
 of action, the more varied our interests, and 
 the keener our sensibility ; the better mark 
 are we for the arrows of disappointment. Our 
 losses arise, and can only arise, from our pos- 
 sessions. Our affections produce our dis- 
 tresses and our tears. 
 
 "Our roses grow on thorns, 
 And our honey wears a sting. 
 
 So that, from the sober estimate of reason, as 
 well as the hasty feelings of passion, we be- 
 
 I gin, at length, to acknowledge the mortify- 
 ing truth ; " All is vanity and vexation of 
 spirit." 
 
 But none of our comforts are more heavily 
 taxed than our social. Our connexions often 
 make us weep; and they do this, three 
 ways. 
 
 First ; We weep for them. Jeremiah said 
 of some of his hearers, " My soul shall weep 
 in secret places for your pride." There are 
 frequently things in our dearest friends, that 
 we long to rectify or remove. We hint our 
 minds; we admonish; we beseech; but in 
 vain : and nothing is left, but to grieve — that 
 a freckle should injure a fair moral visage ; 
 that occasional imprudence should defeat 
 talent and excellency ; that a peculiarity of 
 temper should hinder the display or the im- 
 pression of principle ; and that where there 
 is so much to extol, there should be any thing 
 to extenuate. 
 
 Secondly ; We weep with them. In pro- 
 portion as we love another we necessarily 
 sympathize with him ; we make his grief as 
 well as gladness our own ; we launch in the 
 same vessel, and partake of the storm as well 
 as the breeze together. 
 
 Lastly ; We weep over them : for none of 
 them are durable ; and as they are seccessive- 
 ly withdrawn from us, the world grows 
 234 
 
THE LOSS OF CONNEXIONS, &c. 
 
 225 
 
 dreary, and the "desolate heart" cries, 
 " Lover and friend hast thou put far 
 from me, and mine acquaintance into 
 darkness." 
 
 Let me remark— The connexions which 
 give a charm to life — consider, the loss of 
 them — trace, The agency of God in their re- 
 moval — teach you, How to improve such 
 dispensations of Providence — and introduce 
 a tribute of respect to the memory of our late 
 and esteemed fellow-worshipper, Mr. Thomas 
 Parsons. 
 
 t Let me remark, The connexions which 
 give a charm to life. David mentions three; 
 Lover, Friend, and Acquaintance. 
 
 First ; " Lover." As this is distinguished 
 from Friend and Acquaintance, it stands for 
 the tender relative. By nothing is such a 
 connexion so properly characterized as af- 
 fection ; for love in kindred is considered 
 natural and unavoidable; it is in a great 
 measure instinctive ; and it is also fanned 
 and fed by sameness of residence, constancy 
 of intercourse, and mutual interests, atten- 
 tions, and obligations. "Lover," therefore, 
 recalls to mind, The Husband : the Wife : the 
 Father: the Mother: the Child: the Brother: 
 the Sister, and other dear ties of flesh and 
 blood. . 
 
 Secondly ; He mentions " Friend." This 
 is a sacred name, which many usurp, and 
 few deserve. It cannot be applied to the 
 confederate in sin; or, to the mercenary, 
 selfish wretch, that loves you, because he 
 wants to make use of you, as a builder values 
 a ladder, or a passenger a boat. Friendship 
 is founded in a community of heart. It sup- 
 poses some strong congeniality, yet admits 
 of great diversity. Ofall the twelve apostles, 
 Peter and John seem to have been the most 
 attached to each other-; and yet who can help 
 supposing a considerable difference in some 
 of their attributes'! The one was more for- 
 ward, the other more reserved ; the one more 
 bold, the other more timid; the one more 
 severe, the other more soft and gentle ; the 
 one a hand, the other an eye ; yet they were 
 " of one heart and of one soul." 
 
 We may be assured that these amities, 
 which enter so much into our present wel- 
 fare and enjoyment, and which, continuing 
 to flow with an even, or increasing current, 
 through so many years and changes, fertilize 
 and adorn the vale of life, are peculiarly 
 designed and formed by our heavenly Fa- 
 ther, who is said so often in the Scripture, to 
 give a man favour in the eyes of another. 
 But, with regard to ourselves, some of the 
 choicest friendships are accidentally pro- 
 duced. We thought not of the connexion 
 the day, the hour before : perhaps we travel- 
 ed the same road ; or we met in some mixed 
 company ; or we received, or we administer- 
 ed some token of kindness — and from such a 
 small seed blown by the wind, sprang up this 
 2F 
 
 heavenly tree, under the shadow of whose 
 brandies we have been so often refreshed. 
 
 Thirdly. David speaks of the loss of " Ac- 
 quaintance." Acquaintances are distinguish- 
 ed from friends. The former may be numer- 
 ous ; the latter must be limited. The one is 
 for the parlour, the other is for the closet. 
 We give the hand to the one, we reserve 
 the bosom for the other. We go to the one 
 with a smiling countenance, we repair to the 
 other in a cloudy and dark day, and when 
 we have a burden too heavy for us to bear. 
 Yet though acquaintances are inferior to 
 friends, they are not without their importance, 
 and add much to our accommodation and 
 pleasure. Such are the agreeable connex- 
 ions of life, the loss of which we 
 
 II. Proceed to consider. " Lover and 
 friend hast thou put far from me, and mine 
 acquaintance into darkness." There are two 
 ways by which we may be deprived of our 
 connexions. 
 
 The first is by desertion. The highest 
 degree of this crime, is the want of natural 
 affection. And yet husbands have hated 
 their own fle'sh instead of nourishing and 
 cherishing it. Fathers have not provided for 
 those of their own house, but have left them 
 to ignorance and want. " Can a woman for- 
 get her sucking child, that she should not 
 have compassion on the son of her womb 7 
 She may." Savage's mother is not the only 
 one, that has abhorred and persecuted the 
 offspring of her own bowels. 
 
 Perfidy is a vile thing, but not a very rare 
 one. How many kiss in order to betray ; and 
 gain your confidence, to sting when you are 
 lulled to sleep. A brother is born for adver- 
 sity ; but the very season in which we need 
 his assistance and kindness, is commonly the 
 hour of abandonment : and the heart aghast 
 with surprise and grief, groans " Ahithophel 
 is among the conspirators with Absalom:" 
 " It was not an enemy that reproached me : 
 then I could have borne it ; neither was it he 
 that hated me, that did magnify himself 
 against me ; then I would have hid myself 
 from him : but it was thou, a man, mine equal, 
 my guide, and mine acquaintance : we took 
 sweet counsel together, and went to the house 
 of God in company." 
 
 Sometimes weakness rather than wicked- 
 ness robs us. Job's friends condemned him 
 because they misunderstood his character: 
 when they were undeceived, they returned 
 to him with presents. "At my first answer," 
 says Paul, " no man stood by me;" they were 
 panic struck and fled , and he only prays that 
 it might not be laid to their charge. 
 
 Men are often called into distant situations, 
 where they necessarily feel new impressions, 
 and are engrossed with new engagements : 
 and thus in the ordinary course of things, and 
 where no blame attaches, we must reckon 
 upon some social losses. To which we may 
 
226 
 
 THE LOSS OF CONNEXIONS 
 
 add, That sometimes, where censure is de- 
 served, the fault appertains to those who com- 
 plain and upbraid : they themselves having 
 been unamiable, inattentive, unkind. "He 
 that will have friends must show himself 
 friendly." 
 
 The second way of losing our connexions 
 is by bereavement. This is principally, if 
 not exclusively here intended : " Lover and 
 friend hast thou put far from me ; and mine 
 acquaintance into darkness;' 1 '' that is, they 
 are lodged in the gloomy grave, " The land 
 of darkness, and the shadow of death ; a land 
 of darkness, as darkness itself ; and of the 
 shadow of death, without any order, and 
 where the light is as darkness." 
 
 What the apostle says of the Jewish 
 priests is applicable to all our connexions: 
 " They are not suffered to continue by rea- 
 son of death." The greatness of the afflic- 
 tion occasioned by their removal, it is not 
 easy to describe. — Several things add poign- 
 ancy to the loss. 
 
 First ; They are of great importance to us 
 here. In some cases, the bereaved are de- 
 prived of worldly support. The widow is 
 called down from elegance and ease, to strug- 
 gle with hardship and distress ; the children 
 lose the caresses of the neighbourhood, and 
 are exposed to insult ; perhaps they become 
 vagabonds, and learn to beg their bread. 
 How much depends often upon a single indi- 
 vidual ! Great and little are comparative. 
 What a slender aid will render one a bene- 
 factor, and another a beneficiary anxious for 
 his life ! One day at a funeral, turning away 
 from the mouth of the grave, I saw an aged 
 female weeping. Her left hand held a 
 grandchild; with her right she raised the 
 corner of her woollen apron to wipe the tears 
 that ran down her furrowed cheek. " What, 
 said I, have you lost a friend]" "O Sir, 
 that good woman, allowed me a shilling a 
 week." " My God," said I, as soon as I was 
 withdrawn a little, " And can the application 
 of so small a sum, so deeply interest the feel- 
 ings, and so essentially promote the comfort 
 of a fellow-creature 1 Who would waste a 
 farthing; who would not economize; who 
 would not deny himself, to be able to do 
 good?" 
 
 By the removal of our connexions we are 
 deprived of their company. They no longer 
 beguile the social hours and the social walk. 
 The eye that beamed kindness is sealed up 
 in darkness, and the tongue that charmed us 
 is dumb for ever. 
 
 We are deprived of their example. We 
 are deprived of their reproofs. We are de- 
 prived of their counsels. We ai'e deprived 
 of their prayers. What a loss is here ! 
 
 Secondly. We cannot recall them. We 
 were sometimes separated before, but the 
 absence from each otlmr was partial and tran- 
 sient. When, they left us in the evening, it 
 
 was that they might take rest in sleep : the 
 morning restored the circle. But "man 
 lieth down and riseth not till the heavens be 
 no more, they shall not awake nor be raised 
 out of their sleep." When they journeyed, 
 it was to revisit their abode again, and the 
 expectation of meeting, relieved the tear at 
 parting. But they are now " gone the way 
 whence they shall not return." 
 
 Thirdly. We can have no intercourse or 
 correspondence with them. If you have 
 friends in America, or the East Indies, it is 
 possible for you to commune with them still, 
 by messengers, or writing. But who can 
 tell what regions of space separate between 
 us, and our departed connexions ! Who can 
 tell in what part of his vast universe they are 
 placed ; for in our " Father's house are many 
 mansions !" — We can receive no intelligence 
 from them, and they can receive none from 
 us. " His sons come to honour, and he know- 
 eth it not, and they are brought low, but he 
 perceiveth it not of them." "Abraham is 
 ignorant of us, and Israel acknowledges us 
 not." " Also their love and their hatred, and 
 their envy is now perished; neither have 
 they any more a portion for ever in any thing 
 that is done under the sun." 
 
 Hence, Fourthly. They cannqt promote 
 our welfare where they now are. If our 
 friends by dying, increase their knowledge, 
 and learn that the state they left us in, is a 
 state of religious delusion; they cannot rec- 
 tify our mistake, or send to warn us of our 
 danger. They have left us, with Moses and 
 the Prophets. Elijah, in his last walk with 
 Elisha, was convinced that his usefulness to 
 his successor was restricted to this life ; and 
 therefore he said, " Ask now what I shall do 
 for thee before I be taken away from thee." 
 This is a solemn reflection for the living, and 
 it should operate as a constant stimulus. 
 With what diligence should we do the work 
 of him that sent us while it is day ; for the 
 night cometh wherein no man can work." 
 
 III. Let us trace the agency of God in 
 their removal : " Lover and friend hast Thou 
 put far from me, and mine acquaintance into 
 darkness." 
 
 In the experience of the believer, the 
 work and the enjoyment of heaven are begun 
 on earth. We read, " Blessed are the pure 
 in heart, for they shall see God." This is the 
 representation of their employment, and their 
 blessedness. They shall see God ! They 
 shall see him completely. They shall see 
 him only. Though ten thousand objects will 
 be there, nothing will be seen but God. 
 There are angels, but they are his servants. 
 There are spirits of just men made perfect, 
 but they are his jewels. There will be new 
 heavens and a new earth, but they are his 
 throne and his footstool. Thus every thing 
 will only serve to reflect or proclaim God ; 
 and according to the sublime sentiment of 
 
DEPLORED AND IMPROVED. 
 
 227 
 
 the apostle, " God will be all in all." But 
 the believer sees him now. While others 
 live without God in the world, and God is not 
 in all their thoughts, he sees him in his word ; 
 sees him in his house ; sees him in his works, 
 and in his ways ; sees him in all occurrences 
 and events. He sees him in the garden, and 
 in the field ; sees him in the rose and in the 
 corn ; sees him in the sun and in the glow- 
 worm. " The day is thine," says he, " the 
 night also is thine. Thou hast made sum- 
 mer and winter. Thou makest the outgoings 
 of the morning and evening to rejoice. Thou 
 visitest the earth, and waterest it. Thou 
 makest it soft with showers. Thou blessest 
 the springing thereof. Thou crownest the 
 year with thy goodness ; and thy paths drop 
 down fatness." 
 
 If light attends the course I run, 
 
 'Tis he provides those rays, 
 And 'tis his hand that hides my sun, 
 
 If darkness veils my days. 
 
 " O," says one, when any evil befalls him, 
 " it was that unlucky accident ; it was that 
 unfaithful friend ; it was that malicious foe ; 
 it was that careless servant :" but when the 
 news of an awful judgment reached Eli, he 
 said, " It is the Lord, let him do what seem- 
 eth him good." When Job heard that the 
 Sabeans and the Chaldeans, and the elements 
 had robbed him of his substance, his servants, 
 and his children, he said, " The Lord gave 
 and the Lord hath taken away." The death 
 of Christ, was " the hour and power of dark- 
 ness." It was Judas that betrayed him ; it 
 was Peter that denied him; it was Pilate 
 that condemned him ; they were the Jews 
 and the Romans that crucified him — but he 
 saw neither of them : he only eyed God — 
 " The cup which my father hath given me 
 shall I not drink it 1" And so David in his 
 relative losses ; he does not say, " It was that 
 unskilful physician : it was that fatal delay ; 
 it was that improper medicine ;" he only 
 thinks and speaks of God : " Lover and friend 
 hast Thou put far from me, and mine ac- 
 quaintance into darkness." 
 
 The Scripture abundantly confirms this 
 pious and consoling sentiment. It assures us 
 that every thing, however minute or casual, 
 is providential. " It tells us that a sparrow 
 falls not to the ground without our heavenly 
 Father : and that the very hairs of our head 
 are all numbered." It asks, " Is there an 
 evil in the city, and the Lord hatli not done 
 it!" It represents Jehovah as saying, "I 
 create peace, and I make trouble. I wound, 
 and 1 heal ; I kill, and I make alive." 
 
 If therefore you have been deprived of your 
 interesting connexions, remember that He 
 has done it. He has done it — 
 
 — Who is almighty and irresistible : " He 
 taketh away, and who can hinder him, or 
 say unto him, What doest thou ;" He has done 
 it— 
 
 — Who had a right to do it. If they were 
 your friends, they were his creatures and 
 servants: and was he obliged to ask your 
 permission, to do what he would with his 
 own 1 He has done it — 
 
 — Who was too wise to err, and too kind 
 to injure in doing it. For, my brethren, 
 while we allow that God in such dealings is 
 sovereign, we deny that he is ever arbitrary. 
 He often indeed " giveth no account of any 
 of his matters;" and the reasons which go- 
 vern him are commonly far above out of our 
 sight, so that he frequently appears to act 
 from his pleasure only : but he has reasons ; 
 he always has motives of preference, which 
 would more than justify him were they fully 
 known. Our Saviour, therefore, does not 
 refer to his will, but to his wisdom ; " Yea, O 
 Father, for — so thou wouldest 1" no — but, " so 
 it seemed good in thy sight," and what seems 
 good to him, must be really good. We may 
 be imposed upon, but he is not mocked. 
 " We know that the judgment of God is al- 
 ways according to truth." 
 
 We may also be very imperfect judges of 
 our own welfare ; and not be able to see how 
 certain events can ever befriend us : but, says 
 the apostle, " We know that all things work 
 together for good to them that love God." 
 And again : " Whom the Lord loveth he 
 chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom 
 he receiveth." This is the proper view we 
 are to take of our afflictions. They are the 
 result of divine goodness. They are the dis- 
 cipline of a father. They are the primings 
 of a husbandman, to insure better fruit. They 
 are the ploughing of the fallow ground, to 
 prepare it for the reception of the seed. They 
 are the refinings of the furnace, that when 
 we are tried we may come forth as gold. — 
 This brings us 
 
 FV. To teach you, How to improve such 
 dispensations of Providence. And here let 
 me observe, that we should improve them in 
 a way of sympathy ; in a way of gratitude ; 
 in a way of precaution ; and in a way of re- 
 signation. 
 
 First ; We should improve them in a way 
 of sympathy. Let us always feel tenderly 
 for those who have been bereaved. They 
 need it. Every circumstance in their situa- 
 tion cries, " Pity me, pity me, O ye my 
 friends, for the hand of God hath touched me." 
 Are we not commanded " to be pitiful ;" to 
 " bear one another's burdens ;" to " strengthen 
 the weak hands and confirm the feeble knees?" 
 Let us suppose our friends removed. Let us 
 imagine ourselves — waking in the dead of 
 night — rising in the morning — going from 
 room to room — meeting with the books they 
 folded down — sitting at table, where David's 
 seat is empty — kneeling without them at 
 the family altar — stripped — divided — torn to 
 pieces ; let us place our souls in their souls' 
 stead — that we may not be severe to mark 
 
228 
 
 THE LOSS OF CONNEXIONS 
 
 what they do amiss under such a pressure of 
 anguish — that we may pray for them — that 
 we may assist them — that we may soothe 
 them — and gain the character Job had de- 
 served, " as one that comforteth the mourn- 
 ers." 
 
 Secondly ; We should improve such dis- 
 pensations, in a way of gratitude. Is not 
 the affliction which we have pourtrayed 
 your own? Have you not been visited with 
 breach upon breach ! And who has kept 
 your house from becoming a house of mourn- 
 ing ? Who has preserved from year to year, 
 your connexions ? Who has relatives down 
 to the very gates of the grave, guarded them 
 in the dangerous path of life, from every ac- 
 cident and disease ? — Some of you have fol- 
 lowed your beloved friends and stood weeping 
 and trembling behind them. With what joy 
 did you hear the sentence " Return ye chil- 
 dren of men ;" with what pleasure did you 
 walk back with them : with what zeal for the 
 time, did you resolve to serve him who had 
 " performed all things for you !" Has the | 
 sense of your obligations continued ? Where 
 are the effects and the proofs of it ? Have 
 you rendered according to the benefit done 
 you ? If a person had preserved a dear con- 
 nexion, in whom your happiness was bound 
 up, from the sword of an assassin ; you would 
 feel indebted to him through life : and if you 
 neglected him, every one would be ready to 
 shun you. Yea, and this has been the case, 
 if a fond and faithful animal had rescued a 
 husband, or a child from a watery grave, even 
 the poor dumb deliverer would have retained 
 your regard. Yes— the instrument is to be 
 acknowledged, while the agent is to be dis- 
 owned ; the creature — a man — a dog ! — ought 
 to be remembered ; it is only God that is to be 
 forgotten. He who is " The preserver of 
 men." He " in whom we live and move and 
 have our being." O weep, weep, over your 
 vile, your wretched unthankfulness ; and 
 hourly ask ; ask every moment ; " What shall 
 I render to the Lord for all his benefits to- 
 wards me ?" 
 
 Thirdly ; We should improve such dispen- 
 sations, in a way of precaution. We should 
 hold our connexions with a loose hand, and be 
 prepared for the removal of them when the 
 summons comes. Whence arises the an- 
 guish of affliction'! From disappointment. 
 From what does disappointment arise ? From 
 high expectations. Who is to blame for the i 
 indulgence of high expectations? — Where 
 are we now ! Alas ! We do not believe that 
 our friends are mortal. We are so attached 1 
 to them that we cannot bear to realize the i 
 thoughts of separation. We forget the brief, i 
 the precarious term on which we take them. 
 We consider that to be given, which is only 1 
 lent. Hence at last, when the event befalls l 
 us, it kills us by surprise. But who is charge- 1 
 able with this surprise? Not he, who has 
 
 said, " Arise and depart hence, for this is not 
 your rest." Not he, who in so many ways 
 has said " Cease from man whose breath is in 
 his nostrils ; for wherein is he to be accounted 
 of." Not he, who says " Time is short, it 
 remains therefore that both they that have 
 wives be as though they had none ; and they 
 that weep as though they wept not ; and they 
 that rejoice as though they rejoiced not ; and 
 they that buy as though they possessed not ; 
 and they that use this world as not abusing it ; 
 for the fashion of this world passeth away." 
 
 Lastly ; We should improve bereaving 
 events : in a way of resignation. It is too 
 common for persons, when they would con- 
 sole the bereaved, to endeavour to diminish a 
 sense of the greatness of their loss. But the 
 afflicted will be sure to reject such consola- 
 tion as this. Their very esteem and affection 
 will lead them to revolt at it. Neither is 
 such a mode necessary, or proper : it is not a 
 scriptural mode. There is no grace in bear- 
 ing what we do not feel : nor can we resign 
 I what we do not value. I would rather say to 
 the afflicted, Your case is trying. — 
 
 But you have heard that the hand of God 
 is in it ; and by this consideration, David was 
 silenced ; " I was dumb ; I opened not my 
 mouth ; because thou didst it." Your case is 
 trying— 
 
 But it is not peculiar. Thousands are now 
 mourning; and mourning in a condition far 
 worse than your's. Your connexions are re- 
 moved — 
 
 But perhaps they are taken away from the 
 evil to come. Perhaps that child, whose 
 death cost you so many tears, would, if he 
 had lived, have broken your heart. Perhaps 
 that Christian friend who departed with so fair 
 a memory, would, had he continued longer, 
 have been drawn aside by temptation, and 
 have disgraced his profession. Perhaps that 
 beloved relative, might have been rendered a 
 sufferer for life, and you have been the worn- 
 out spectator of the pain and anguish, which 
 you could not even relieve. It is certain that 
 if they were the followers of Jesus, by re- 
 maining here, they would have been still at 
 sea ; but they have now entered the desired 
 haven : they would have been still at war ; 
 but now their warfare is accomplished. They 
 are removed — 
 
 But the change is infinitely to their advan- 
 tage. It is a deliverance : an advancement : 
 a consummation. If absent from the body, 
 they are present with the Lord. They have 
 reached all that they valued and toiled after 
 here. And therefore pause before you say — 
 and actions can speak ; — " I am sorry, they 
 are released from prison ; I am sorry, they 
 will no more say, I am sick ; I am sorry, they 
 behold his face in righteousness, and are sa- 
 tisfied." If you loved them, you would rejoice 
 because they said, We go unto the Father. 
 They are removed — 
 
DEPLORED AND IMPROVED. 
 
 229 
 
 But you are going after, and will join them 
 again. The separation is but temporary. If 
 life be short, your want of them cannot be 
 long. They are removed — 
 
 But their departure has rendered this earth, 
 which we must leave, less attractive; and 
 placed more allurement beyond the skies, and 
 our conversation ought to be in heaven. Fi- 
 nally : if lover, friend, and acquaintance are 
 gone — 
 
 God is not. He is near you. He is with 
 you. He has said " I will never leave thee 
 nor forsake thee." He is a very present help 
 in trouble. He can sanctify every loss. He 
 can more than repair it. He has supports and 
 compensations that can enable you even to 
 glory in tribulation. You may therefore say 
 with the Saviour, " I am left alone and yet I 
 am not alone, because the Father is with 
 me." 
 
 My bereaved hearers, you who have lost 
 an agreeable and instructive acquaintance ; 
 you who have lost a delightful and edifying 
 friend; and especially you, who have lost a 
 tender, honoured, and invaluable parent ; in 
 addressing the afflicted, you will consider me 
 as having peculiarly addressed you. " Where- 
 fore comfort one another with these words." 
 Indeed the whole course of our meditation 
 has been so applicable to the providence we 
 are reviewing, that little remains to be said, 
 especially as the design of funeral notices 
 should be to impress the living, rather than 
 to eulogize the dead. 
 
 To characterize at all, or to characterize 
 justly, is not, in many cases, an easy thing. 
 Some individuals run into the mass of same- 
 ness, and no peculiar feature can be seized by 
 which to distinguish them. Others have a 
 singularity of attributes and actions, upon 
 which it may not be always proper to pro- 
 nounce, and concerning which, people will 
 decide according to their respective views 
 and feelings. 
 
 The original character that comes before 
 us this morning, has given rise to a great di- 
 versity, and a great uniformity of opinion : 
 but the uniformity of conviction embraces 
 what is truly excellent and praiseworthy, 
 while the diversity regards only what is less 
 important. I feel the difficulty of the delinea- 
 tion on which I am entering, but by the 
 grace of God I shall speak without flattery, 
 and without fear. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Parsons was the only son of 
 the late venerable pastor of the Baptist church 
 in this city. He received a good, though not 
 a learned education; and early discovered 
 very superior powers of mind, which he con- 
 stantly cultivated by reading and exercise. 
 His acquaintance with science at large was 
 very considerable. His talents were indeed 
 sufficient to have rendered him illustrious in 
 any one department of knowledge ; but in- 
 stead of concentrating his attention andappli- 
 20 
 
 cation to a single subject, he diffused them 
 over an extensive surface ; and thus gained 
 general information, rather than remarkable 
 pre-eminence in any one particular branch. 
 His proficiency, however, in sculpture, draw- 
 ing, mineralogy, chemistry, astronomy, and 
 moral philosophy, was by no means common. 
 
 His apprehension was distinguished by a 
 peculiar quickness and clearness. He seemed 
 to know intuitively every subject that came 
 before him ; and he was able to express him- 
 self concerning it, with the most happy pre- 
 cision and ease. 
 
 No one was ever so little inclined to take 
 any thing on trust, or so little in danger of 
 becoming the slave of prerogative and au- 
 thority. 
 
 As a reader, he accustomed himself to 
 write a critique on the work he was perusing; 
 and it commonly leaned to the side of cen- 
 sure ; for he had a singular sagacity in de- 
 tecting errors and mistakes which others 
 overlooked. 
 
 An opinion has generally prevailed, that 
 as a hearer, our friend did not exercise his 
 great censorial abilities very tenderly, in 
 consequence of which, many dreaded to 
 preach before him. But this charge must be 
 taken with very considerable qualification. 
 He lothed indeed every thing that bordered 
 on the spiritual coxcomb; and scrupled not 
 to make free with inflated academicians, and 
 all those who, by their confident and self- 
 ceited manner, seemed more than satisfied 
 with their own performances, and defied 
 rather than deprecated criticism. But he 
 always esteemed grace more than talent. 
 He often remarked, that Stirling and elevated 
 piety, in the simplest character, is far supe- 
 rior to the finest intellect, and the most ex- 
 tensive acquirements unassociated with the 
 fear of God. The man who was "serious in 
 a serious cause ;" whose aim appeared to be 
 only usefulness ; who was not aping any one ; 
 nor attempting things beyond his reach ; and 
 who did not dogmatize and condemn others ; 
 however humble his claims, was not likely to 
 miss his approbation. I have often heard 
 him observe, of what importance it was to 
 bring the affections into exercise in public 
 performances; expressing also his conviction, 
 that an obvious solicitude in a preacher to do 
 good, had contributed more to his usefulness, 
 than any one quality besides. In a word, he 
 only acted in prose what Cowper has ex- 
 pressed in poetry : 
 
 In man or woman, but far most in man, 
 And most of all in man that ministers 
 And serves the altar, in my soul I loth 
 All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn ; 
 Object of my implacable disgust. 
 What!— will a man play tricks, will he indulge 
 A silly fond conceit of his fair form, 
 And just proportion, fashionable mien, 
 And pretty face, in presence of his God 1 
 Or, will he seek to dazzle me with tropes, 
 As with the diamond on his lily hand, 
 And play his brilliant parts before mine eyes, 
 
230 
 
 THE LOSS OF CONNEXIONS 
 
 When I am hungry for the bread of life ? 
 
 ****** 
 — Therefore avaunt all attitude, and stare, 
 And start theatric, practis'd at the glass! 
 I seek divine simplicity in him, 
 Who handles things divine ; and all besides, 
 Though learn'd with labour, and though much 
 admir'd 
 
 By curious eyes ai\A judgments ill-informed. 
 To me is odious — * 
 
 As an author, Mr. P. published but little ; 
 and as this was principally of a local and 
 temporary nature, it never spread very wide- 
 ly. In the dispute a few years ago in this 
 city concerning' the antichristianism of all 
 war, he was deeply engaged ; and they who 
 were not complete converts to his sentiment, 
 must, I think acknowledge, that he advocated 
 his own principle, in a manner far superior 
 to any thing they had ever seen before : nor 
 did the controversy move or ruffle his temper, 
 or break in upon his friendly intercourse with 
 his reverend and respectable opponent. The 
 same goodness of temper, along with the 
 keenest argument, and very forcible diction, 
 is apparent in his " High church Claims ex- 
 posed." 
 
 He had adopted the opinion of the elo- 
 quent, but paradoxical genius, Rousseau, con- 
 cerning the improper use of fiction in all 
 education and teaching ; and a few years ago 
 he wrote a masterly essay on the subject ; 
 but it was refused by the periodical writers 
 to whom it was offered : for no talent, how- 
 ever superior, can prove the point against the 
 conviction and practice of the whole world, 
 and the constant usage of our Saviour him- 
 self, who always spake in parables. 
 
 Many of you well know, that Mr. Parsons 
 for many years officiated as a minister. His 
 preaching had its claims, and marked a very 
 strong and superior mind ; but it did not suf- 
 ficiently abound with doctrinal sentiment. 
 It was too philosophical to be very popular. 
 It required a degree of discernment and 
 
 * How often would he quote from his admired poet : 
 Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul, 
 Were he on earth, would hear, approve and own, 
 Paul should himself direct me. I would trace 
 His master-strokes, and draw from his design. 
 I would express him simple, grave, sincere; 
 In doctrine uncorrupt ; in language plain, 
 And plain in manner: decent, solemn, chaste, 
 And natural in gesture ; much impressed 
 Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, 
 And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds 
 May feel it too ! affectionate in look, 
 And tender in address, as well becomes 
 A messenger of grace to guilty men. 
 
 — Is it like ? — Like whom ? 
 * * * * * * 
 He would also say— 
 
 For ghostly counsel, if it be not backed 
 With show of love, at least with hopeful proof 
 Of some sincerity on the giver's part; 
 Or be dishonoured in the exterior form 
 And mode of its conveyance by such tricks 
 As move derision, or by foppish airs 
 And histrionic mummery, that could let down 
 The pulpit to the level of the stage ; 
 Drops from the lips a disregarded thing. 
 The weak perhaps are moved, but are not taught, 
 While prejudice in men of stronger minds 
 Takes deeper root, confirmed by what they see. 
 
 taste in the hearers which very few hearers 
 possess. It was also in a style too unlike 
 the common pulpit phraseology to be ad- 
 mired, or perhaps well understood, in the 
 congregations which he generally addressed. 
 This style has indeed been recommended in 
 preference to the usual one ; but if we ap- 
 peal to fact, we find very little in favour 
 of it. Several preachers of" superior endow- 
 ments, who have made the Spectator and 
 Rambler their model for pulpit composition, 
 instead of the language of our old divines, 
 freed from their occasional lowness and 
 quaintness ; and have too much disused the 
 simple, and well known, yet rich and striking 
 terms and phrases of the present translation ; 
 have not met with much acceptance, and 
 have done little good. — Only one of our 
 friend's sermons has passed the press : and 
 this was printed, not published. But it is a 
 most judicious and eloquent production, and 
 worthy (and this is saying much) of the fine 
 female character it so justly describes and 
 extols, the late Mrs. Philips of Melksham. 
 
 The deceased excelled in prayer. He 
 was remarkably fluent, and serious, and af- 
 fecting. Whoever heard him, must have 
 entertained a high opinion of his habitual de- 
 votion. In this exercise ; I never met with 
 but one, that I could rank with him : I mean my 
 esteemed friend and honoured tutor, the late 
 Cornelius Winter, of whom Mr. Parsons was 
 often heard to say; "That man is more like 
 the image I have formed of Jesus Christ, than 
 any man I ever saw, or expect to see." 
 
 For a length of time the son aided his 
 father ; but differing from the good old man 
 in some of his high notions ; and the differ- 
 ence being magnified by suspicion and 
 officiousness on the side of ignorance, and a 
 refusing to come to explanation on the side 
 of talent; he was interdicted labouring in 
 the church to which he belonged; yet he 
 continued, till within a few very years, to 
 preach as opportunity offered, or as circum- 
 stances seemed to render it a duty, in various 
 places, especially in this church, of which, upon 
 the death of his father, he became a member. 
 Our friends here will long remember their 
 obligation to his kindness, in so frequently 
 and promptly supplying them, when they 
 wanted assistance. 
 
 With regard to the sentiments of our de- 
 parted friend, on many of the current topics 
 of theology, strange as it may seem, I profess 
 to know very little, after an affectionate in- 
 tercourse of four and twenty years. I should 
 infer, and I think fairly infer, from his inva- 
 riably attending a certain kind of preaching, 
 when it was perfectly optional with him to 
 hear another (and he had an independence 
 of mind that scorned to act but from his own 
 conviction), from the cast of sermons he al- 
 ways selected when he read in his family ; 
 and from many general expressions ; that in 
 
DEPLORED AND IMPROVED. 
 
 231 
 
 his leading doctrinal views he nearly approxi- 
 mated what is called orthodoxy. But he had 
 imbibed an ineffable contempt for all creeds 
 drawn up by fallible men. He would not en- 
 dure systematic divinity. He considered 
 revelation indeed as a divine system; but 
 contended, that, in our present state, we are 
 incompetent to diffuse our minds over the 
 whole ; and therefore, that it is our wisdom to 
 be satisfied with a limited knowledge of it, 
 studying and improving those parts that bear 
 upon our duty and welfare, and for the rest, 
 to " Wait the great teacher death, and God 
 adore." He wished to bring men to the 
 Bible for facts, rather than opinions. He 
 would have them introduced into this " Broad 
 land of wealth unknown," if possible, by a 
 silent guide ; or by one who, instead of pre- 
 possessing them in favour of particular spots 
 as he went along, should praise the whole: 
 and when there, he would have them left to 
 explore for themselves ; and be perfectly free 
 to move in what direction they pleased, re- 
 gardless how widely they diverged from each 
 other, while they all kept on holy ground. 
 He allowed, that though there could be no 
 real contradictions in the Scriptures, there 
 were many apparent ones; and as various 
 things seem contradictory to a child, which 
 easily and beautifully accord in the mind of 
 a man, so some doctrines revealed in the gos- 
 pel, and which perfectly harmonize in the 
 view of the Supreme Intelligence, will elude 
 all our attempts at reconciliation, till we 
 come of age. Hence, instead of torturing the 
 obvious language of Revelation, he deemed it 
 better to give every text its own plain and 
 unforced meaning. Theological systematiz- 
 es, he would observe, contrive at least to 
 escape all inconsistencies in language ; but 
 the sacred authors have numerous expres- 
 sions which all parties dislike. Had the 
 epistles been written by Gill or Whitby, 
 many passages would have been omitted, or 
 very differently worded. There are texts 
 which are the torment of Calvinists, and there 
 are texts which are the grief of Arminians. 
 
 I have here endeavoured to show, as clearly 
 as I could, the disposition of our friend's 
 mind, with regard to religious inquiry. And 
 here I confess, I go a considerable distance 
 with him, and in stating his views, I have in 
 a great measure expressed my own. But 
 you will excuse my saying, that I always 
 feared his candour bordered too much on lati- 
 tudinarianism; and that he did not attach, or 
 at least evince that he attached, sufficient 
 importance to certain doctrinal truths. |I 
 mention this the more freely, because you 
 will bear me witness, how often I express 
 and expose an opposite extreme. For how 
 many are there, especially in our day, who 
 attach too much importance to sentiment: I 
 do not mean if taken in its connexion and in- 
 fluence — Then we cannot be loo strenuous in 
 
 the support of it ; for, as a late writer ob- 
 serves, " If error be harmless," truth is in the 
 same proportion worthless: but I speak of sen- 
 timent abstractedly considered ; when faith is 
 valued, not as the principle of holiness and 
 good works, but a substitute for them ; when 
 the creed dispenses with the Lord's prayer, 
 and the ten commandments ; when people 
 think it sufficient, if their notions are sound, 
 though their lives are worldly, or their hearts 
 full of envy, malice, and all uncharitableness. 
 May we always hear a voice behind us, say- 
 ing, " This is the way, walk ye in it, when 
 we turn to the right hand, and when we turn 
 to the left." 
 
 But what I least admired in the subject of 
 this address, was too great a love of singulari- 
 ty in his general opinions, which led him so 
 frequently to dissent from what was said in 
 company, and turned conversation into an 
 intellectual contest : a willingness to perplex 
 people as to his notions, or to excite suspi- 
 cions of his heterodoxy : a degree of mental 
 severity, that inclined him more profusely to 
 censure than to applaud, and to notice ble- 
 mishes, rather than beauties : and, above all, 
 a freedom of discourse upon religious subjects, 
 before young persons, and people not decid- 
 edly religious, from which, those who well 
 knew him, would not have inferred his belief, 
 but from which, others were in danger of er- 
 roneously doing so, and of acting under the 
 countenance of his supposed authority. But 
 for this, he must have been idolized. I men- 
 tion it with tenderness ; but I do not, I cannot 
 justify it. I throw a veil of love over it, 
 conscious that, for other imperfections, I need 
 a much larger one myself. My exalted 
 friend would not desire indiscriminate praise 
 — he is too great to stand in need of it. His 
 solid, his extensive, his established, his ac- 
 knowledged worth can bear a censure. Some 
 are too poor to lose a farthing ; but the loss of 
 a purse does not alarm the friends of the rich. 
 It is the insignificant man that dreads reproof : 
 he is " in danger of being snuffed out." But 
 we have not a candle before us. 
 
 Defects through nature's best productions run. 
 Our friend had spots, and spots are in the sun. 
 
 Let me hasten to exhibit, what will combine 
 the suffrage, and will draw forth the praise, 
 of every individual : It is, the character 
 
 OF THE DEPARTED AS A WHOLE. Here I 
 
 see no ordinary assemblage of excellency. 
 
 Here I see a man peculiarly attached to 
 the volume of inspiration, and the determined 
 enemy of every opinion that would reduce its 
 importance, or share its authority. Even the 
 common distinction between natural and re- 
 vealed religion, as to their origin, he dis- 
 claimed; and contended, that all religious 
 knowledge was from divine communication, 
 even to the belief of a Supreme Being. 
 Hence Ellin's " Knowledge of Divine Things, 
 not from Reason, but Revelation," was his 
 
232 THE LOSS OF 
 
 favourite book. Hence no institution so com- 
 pletely gained his applause as " The British 
 and Foreign Bible Society." The spread of 
 the Scriptures, without note or comment, was 
 the wish and the delight of his soul. 
 
 I see a man possessing a capacity to edify 
 himself and his family at home, regular, and 
 invariable, unless hindered by indisposition, 
 in his attendance on the means of grace ; and 
 honouring the worship of God in the week as 
 well as on the Sabbath. 
 
 I see a man distinguished by the most in- 
 offensive manners ; the most upright conduct ; 
 avoiding through life the appearance of evil, 
 and leaving a reputation without a stain. 
 
 I see a man the ardent lover of liberty ; the 
 hater of war, and of priestcraft ; of bigotry 
 and intolerance ; of every thing that would 
 divide Christians, or narrow the terms of 
 their communion. 
 
 What shall I say of his kindness and use- 
 fulness, as an adviser in every difficulty and 
 embarrassment ? 
 
 What shall I say of the generous benefac- 
 tor, that never refused distress, when he had 
 it in the power of his hand to relieve ; and 
 whose bounty resembled the goodness of our 
 heavenly Father, who maketh his sun to rise, 
 and his rain descend " Upon the evil and the 
 good]" 
 
 What shall I say of the friendly corres- 
 pondent, of the vast and varied circle he in- 
 dulged; of the hours he employed in letters 
 of edification and comfort, addressed to the 
 fatherless and widow, the poor and the help- 
 less, and in which talent and piety were 
 equally combined? 
 
 Observe him at the head of his family. See 
 him walking within his house with a perfect 
 heart, and setting no wicked thing before his 
 eyes. Hear him morning and evening at 
 his domestic altar. Remember the unim- 
 peachable value of the neighbour; the mas- 
 ter ; the husband ; the father — 
 
 And you will not wonder that, as a citizen 
 he is so missed ; that as a friend he is so 
 lamented ; that as a relative he is so beloved : 
 and as a character he is so extolled. 
 
 He had nearly reached the general limit 
 of human life. For some years back he was 
 rather infirm : and during the winter, suffer- 
 ed considerable confinement, with much 
 difficulty of breathing. 
 
 Of late he seemed better than usual, and 
 had only a week before his death, peculiarly 
 enjoyed a visit at the house of a beloved 
 friend, in a neighbouring town. On the 
 Friday evening, he conversed in his usual 
 manner, with one of his most intimate ac- 
 quaintances, so late as nine o'clock. But 
 very early on the Saturday morning, he was 
 seized with a complaint in his bowels, which 
 in a few hours carried him off| and with a 
 rapidity that astonished even his old medical 
 attendant. Thus his friends were deprived 
 
 CONNEXIONS 
 
 of an opportunity to 6ee him : and very few 
 knew of his illness, till they were astonished 
 
 and distressed at the news of his death. 
 
 But let us listen to the voice from "the 
 most excellent glory :" " Is any afflicted let 
 him pray !" 
 
 O God, thou hast been our refuge and 
 dwelling-place in all generations. Before 
 the mountains were brought forth, or ever 
 thou hadst formed the earth, and even from 
 everlasting to the world everlasting, thou art 
 God. But as for man his days are as grass ; 
 as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth, for 
 the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and 
 the place thereof shall know it no more. 
 
 May each individual in this mournful and 
 numerous assembly, retire and pray, make 
 me to know my end, and the measure of my 
 days, what it is, that I may know how frail I 
 am. May we so reflect on the vanity, 
 brevity, and uncertainty of things, seen and 
 temporal, as supremely to pursue those things 
 which are unseen and eternal. May we seek 
 the pardon of our sin, and the sanctification 
 of our nature, a title to heaven, and a meet- 
 ness for the inheritance of the Saints in 
 light, with all the ardour and diligence their 
 infinite importance, and the short and pre- 
 carious season for obtaining them demand. 
 
 Before we leave this world, may we not 
 only be prepared for a better, but assured of 
 it ; that we may be able to say, The bitter- 
 ness of death is past ; view our dissolution as 
 the signal of our deliverance and triumph; 
 and have an entrance ministered unto us, 
 abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of 
 our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. 
 
 Establish in us a firm and lively persua- 
 sion of thy being, providence, and grace. We 
 bless thee for all our personal and relative 
 comforts. May we always hold them at thy 
 disposal, and be ready to resign them at thy 
 call. And when they are removed from us, 
 enable us to blend the views of the Christian, 
 with the feelings of the creature: and in 
 weeping submission say " The Lord gave, 
 and the Lord hath taken away, and blessed 
 be the name of the Lord." 
 
 In thy lovingkindness and tender mercy 
 regard the afflicted family, whose invaluable 
 head thou hast taken from them. We bless 
 thee that he was not prematurely removed 
 in the midst of his days, and before his off- 
 spring were reared, educated, and provided 
 for — but matured by years and experience, 
 like a shock of corn fully ripe in his season. 
 We bless thee that those who are mourning 
 over a thousand affecting recollections, sor- 
 row not as others who have no hope ; for if 
 we believe that Jesus died and rose again, 
 even so them also that sleep in Jesus, will 
 God bring with him. May every tendency 
 to murmur, and even to complain, be lost in 
 the conviction, That all the ways of the Lord 
 
DEPLORED AND IMPROVED. 
 
 233 
 
 are mercy and truth, unto such as keep his 
 covenant and h\s testimonies: and that what 
 we know not now, we shall know hereafter. 
 May the house of mourning be found the 
 house of instruction. By the sadness of the 
 countenance, may the heart be made better ; 
 more soft to receive holy impressions; and 
 more serious to hear what God the Lord will 
 speak. May the sons and daughters of be- 
 reavement, who have added the remains of a 
 long spared father, to the ashes of an early 
 lost mother, be encouraged to confide in thee 
 the living God, and say, When my father 
 and my mother forsake me, then the Lord 
 will take me up. May they never forget the 
 worth to which they have been allied, nor 
 degenerate from those excellencies, which 
 beyond every other patrimonial inheritance, 
 they ought to value. May they have grace 
 to follow those who are gone before them, as 
 far as they were followers of God : that they 
 may look forward, and realize a renewal of 
 intercourse, in a word of perfect and endless 
 friendship. 
 
 Eternal Jehovah ! we can die easier than 
 we once could ! Many of the ties that once 
 bound us to earth, are broken asunder ! Our 
 treasure is in heaven: 
 
 There our best friends, our kindred dwell, 
 There God our Saviour reigns. 
 
 How many whose presence once gave a 
 charm and a relish to life ; whose counsels 
 guided us, whose example blessed us ; whose 
 hand wiped away our tears — (and we have 
 had many to wipe:) — have left us in this 
 wilderness ; while they have reached the pro- 
 mised land, and are made pillars in the tem- 
 ple above, and shall no more go out. We 
 would not draw them out, and bring them 
 back, if it were in our power. We rejoice 
 in their safety, and happiness, and glory. But 
 we are allowed to long for the hour, when 
 we shall be received by them, into everlast- 
 ing habitations. Thou wilt not suffer us to 
 want, what appears so necessary to our bless- 
 edness, the pleasure of knowing those again, 
 whom we have so dearly esteemed. We 
 shall, mingle with them again, and the days 
 we have passed in their absence, will appear 
 as a dream. We shall form new and more 
 intimate connexions with them. We shall 
 excite no mutual anxieties. We shall only 
 add to each others pleasure, and promote each 
 others improvement. 
 
 " Now unto him that is able to keep us 
 from falling, and to present us faultless be- 
 fore the presence of his glory with exceed- 
 ing joy ; To the only wise God our Saviour, 
 be glory and majesty, dominion and power, 
 both now and for ever. Amen.' 
 
 2G 
 
 20* 
 
THE IMPORTANCE OF AN EVANGELICAL MINISTRY : 
 
 A SERMON, 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE SETTLEMENT OF 
 
 THE REV. ARTHUR TIDMAN, 
 
 As Pastor of the Congregation of Protestant Dissenters, meeting in Endless- Street 
 Chapel, Salisbury, on Thursday, April the 6th, 1815. 
 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 TO THE REV. ARTHUR TIDMAN, THE CHURCH AND CONGREGATION 
 UNDER HIS CARE, AND ALL HIS BRETHREN IN THE MINISTRY, 
 
 Who joined so unanimously and earnestly in requesting the publication, 
 
 this Discourse is respectfully dedicated by The Author. 
 
 For toe are unto God a stveet savour of Christ, 
 in them that are saved, and in them that 
 perish : to the one, -we are the savour of 
 death unto death; and to the other, the sa- 
 vour of life unto life. — 2 Cor. ii. 15, 16. 
 The appointment of an order of men to 
 preach, is an institution peculiar to Chris- 
 tianity. There was nothing like it in all the 
 heathen world. Their leaders had no wish 
 to inform the common people. Princes and 
 priests were satisfied to take advantage of 
 their ignorance and superstition. Indeed, 
 they had nothing of importance to communi- 
 cate. They had not even a perfect code 
 of morals. In what passed among them for 
 virtue, there was no clearness, no certainty, 
 no authority : they had no fixed rule to which 
 they could appeal, no powerful sanctions by 
 which they could enforce. 
 
 But, "When in the wisdom of God, the 
 world by wisdom knew not God ; it pleased 
 God, by the foolishness of preaching to save 
 them that believe." The Redeemer himself 
 came, and " preached peace to you that were 
 far off, and to them that were near." And 
 " when he ascended up on high, leading cap- 
 tivity captive, he gave gifts unto men : and 
 he gave some, apostles ; and some, prophets ; 
 and some, evangelists ; and some, pastors and 
 teachers ; for the perfecting of the saints, for 
 
 the work of the ministry, for the edifying of 
 the body of Christ : till we all come in the 
 unity of the faith and of the knowledge of 
 the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the 
 measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." 
 
 The office, therefore, is of perpetual obli- 
 gation; and we have been indulged this 
 morning with an encouraging instance of the 
 continuance of it, in the public separation of 
 our young and valued brother, to labour 
 among this people, in the word and doctrine. 
 
 — Yes, my friends of this church and con- 
 gregation, " To you is the word of this sal- 
 vation sent." " Many prophets and righteous 
 men, have desired to see those things which 
 you see, and have not seen them ; and to 
 hear those things which you hear, and have 
 not heard them. But blessed are your eyes, 
 for they see, and your ears, for they hear." 
 " Blessed are the people that know the joyful 
 sound." Or — shall I so soon change my voice 
 — and exclaim — Cursed are the people that 
 know the joyful sound. Cursed are your 
 eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they 
 hear ! Let me at once lay open the feelings 
 of my mind, and tell you — That the privilege, 
 by neglect or perversion, may become a 
 penalty : and that your greatest danger 
 grows by the side of your greatest mercy. I 
 wish, therefore in this service, not to abolish 
 234 
 
OF AN EVANGELICAL MINISTRY. 
 
 235 
 
 your pleasure, but to qualify it; not to forbid 
 you to rejoice, but to call upon you to rejoice 
 with trembling ; and to record in your con- 
 sciences the admonition of the apostle : " Let 
 us therefore fear, lest a promise being left us 
 of entering into his rest, any of you should 
 seem to come short of it." 
 
 When Simeon had pressed heaven to his 
 bosom, and delivered back the anointed babe 
 into his mother's arms, he said — " This child 
 is set for the fall, and the rising again, of 
 many in Israel." And such, in reality, is 
 the pleasing and awful destiny of this young 
 minister. The proceedings of this day, and 
 the relation now subsisting between you, 
 wear an eternal importance, and will be re- 
 viewed with joy, or anguish for ever. "For, 
 we are unto god a sweet savour of 
 Christ, in them that are saved, and in 
 them that perish: to the one we are 
 the savour of death unto death; and to 
 the other the savour of life unto life." 
 
 Let us simplify the passage. It contains 
 only two things; or rather, it contains only 
 one thing, placed in two points of light. Mi- 
 nisters of the gospel are a savour of Christ : 
 this is the first. Ministers of the gospel are 
 variously regarded : this is the second. 
 
 I. They are a savour of Christ. 
 
 How the expression is to be understood, 
 appears from the preceding words, where the 
 apostle says, " He maketh manifest the sa- 
 vour of his knowledge by us in every place." 
 It shows us, that, the knowledge of Christ is 
 not a dry, speculative, uninteresting thing; 
 but has a value, a richness, an attraction in 
 it, that renders it infinitely delightful. Hence 
 the apostle says, " Yea doubtless, and I count 
 all things but loss, for the excellency of the 
 knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord." And 
 adds, after all his acquaintance with him, 
 " That I may know him, and the power of 
 his resurrection, and the fellowship of his 
 Bufferings ; being made conformable unto his 
 death." 
 
 The word savour signifies both odour and 
 relish. It equally takes in what indulges the 
 taste and the smell : and we are called upon 
 to "Taste that the Lord is gracious:" and 
 are told, that "His name is as ointment 
 poured forth." 
 
 This then, my dear brother, is the office to 
 which you are called ; it is to be a savour of 
 Christ, by diffusing the knowledge of Christ. 
 This you are to make your constant business. 
 This you are to feel your supreme delight. 
 Allow me to mention the way in which you 
 may best subserve this honourable destination. 
 It is by an attention to your Practice — to 
 your Conversation — and to your Preaching. 
 
 First. Be a savour of Christ in your Prac- 
 tice. Paul says to Timothy, — "Thou hast 
 fully known," not only "my doctrine," but 
 " manner of life." It was such as became the 
 gospel ; and adorned the doctrine of God our 
 
 Saviour, in all things. He could appeal both 
 to his hearers, and to his master : " Ye are 
 witnesses, and God also, how holily, and 
 justly, and unblamably we behaved ourselves 
 among you." Allowing for those infirmities, 
 which are inseparable from this weak state 
 of flesh and blood, there are modern ministers, 
 who could abide the same appeal. An accu- 
 rate observer of character, now living, once 
 said of the late excellent Cornelius Winter, 
 " I am never in the company of that man, 
 without feeling a paradisaiacal innocency." 
 This was truly and finely said : yet it does 
 not go far enough. Some of us in the pre- 
 sence of God, had the unspeakable privilege 
 of being placed beneath his care, and of enjoy- 
 ing, for years, constant and unrestrained in- 
 tercourse with him. We know the full mean- 
 ing of the eulogium I have quoted ; and we 
 know more. If we may judge from our own 
 feelings, it was impossible to be with him, 
 and not feel — "A savour of Christ:" and not 
 secretly exclaim — Here is a Christian ! — How 
 lovely is a Christian ! — O that I was a Chris- 
 tian ! He was an image of the gospel he 
 preached : and those who refused to hear his 
 sermons, were constrained to read them ; for 
 they were all legibly written in his life. In 
 the neighbourhood in which he lived, and 
 died, the savour still continues; and will live 
 as long as the memories of those who knew 
 him. 
 
 Example is instructive and impressive, 
 even in private life ; but how important is it 
 in public stations, where it is more open to 
 observation, and is required to give weight 
 and sanction to useful endeavours. Official 
 piety, unsustained and unenlivened by per- 
 sonal, leaves a man but as sounding brass, 
 and a tinkling cymbal. I have heard of a 
 minister of whom it was said — When in the 
 pulpit, he preached so well, that it was a pity 
 he ever left it; and when out of it, he lived 
 so ill, that it was a pity he ever entered it. 
 Even angelical preaching, connected with 
 irreligious living, is infinitely more likely to 
 prejudice and injure the cause of Christ than 
 to serve it. "Thou knowest his will, and 
 approvest the things that are more excellent, 
 being instructed out of the law ; and art con- 
 fident that thou thyself art a guide of the 
 blind, a light of them which are in darkness, 
 an instructor of the foolish, a teacher of babes, 
 which hast the form of knowledge and of the 
 truth in the law. Thou therefore which 
 teachest another, teachest thou not thyself ! 
 thou that preachest a man should not steal, 
 dost thou steal? Thou that sayest a man 
 should not commit adultery, dost thou commit 
 adultery ] thou that abhorrest idols, dost thou 
 commit sacrilege 1 thou that makest thy boast 
 of the law, through breaking the law disho- 
 nourest thou God?" 
 
 How lamentable is it when ministers are 
 proud, and fall into the condemnation of the 
 
236 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE OF 
 
 devil ; when they are fierce and contentious, 
 instead of being gentle towards all men; 
 when they are eager to gain titles, and to be 
 called rabbi, instead of seeking the honour 
 that cometh from God only ; when they lord 
 it over God's heritage, and are greedy of 
 filthy lucre, instead of being ensamples to the 
 flock — I need not say, " Thou, O man of God, 
 flee these things ; and follow after righteous- 
 ness, godliness, faith, love, patience, meek- 
 ness. Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold 
 on eternal life, whereunto thou art also called, 
 and hast professed a good profession before 
 many witnesses." Cultivate not only the 
 constituent, but the ornamental parts of the 
 Christian character. Think upon, and pursue, 
 not only whatsoever things are true, whatso- 
 ever things are honest, whatsoever things are 
 just, whatsoever things are pure, but — what- 
 soever things are lovely, and — whatsoever 
 things are of good report. Let not the com- 
 mendation you acquire be made up of mere 
 negatives. It is the affliction of the church, 
 when all that can be said of her officers is, 
 that they are not as other men are. Be not 
 only blameless and harmless, but exemplary 
 and impressive, holding forth the word of life. 
 Let your temper and actions betray your in- 
 timacies, and lead people to take knowledge 
 of you, that you have been with Jesus. Let 
 the master be seen in the dispositions and 
 conduct of the servant. Let the accurateness 
 of the copy bring to mind the original, and 
 serve to endear Him, who pleased not him- 
 self; who was meek and lowly in heart; who 
 went about doing good ; who mourned with 
 friends: who wept over enemies; and who 
 could say, even of his obedience unto death, 
 " My meat is to do the will of him that sent 
 me, and to finish his work." " Let the same 
 mind be in you which was also in Christ 
 Jesus." 
 
 Secondly, Be a savour of Christ in your 
 conversation. " All thy works shall praise 
 thee, O Lord ; and thy saints shall bless thee. 
 They shall speak of the glory of thy king- 
 dom, and talk of thy power; to make known 
 to the sons of men his mighty acts, and the 
 glorious majesty of his kingdom. They 
 shall abundantly utter the memory of thy 
 great goodness, and shall sing of thy right- 
 eousness." Is this to be verified in Christians 
 only ] And are ministers to be silent upon a 
 subject, always important, always necessary, 
 unless when they are declaiming in the 
 sanctuary] How many opportunities of an 
 occasional and private nature, have they, to 
 speak of " those things which concern the 
 Lord Jesus ;" when, though the audience be 
 small, the instruction is more appropriate, 
 and the impression is often more durable. 
 
 Will you permit me to remark, that there 
 is room for improvement among us in this 
 article. It is to be feared, that there is fre- 
 quently less serious conversation when some 
 
 ministers are present, than when they are 
 absent. Our forefathers in the sacred office, 
 were grave and useful in their social inter- 
 course ; and men of God in the pulpit, 
 were not buffoons in the parlour. They 
 laboured, and we are entered into their la- 
 bours. Think of their self-denial, their early 
 risings, their strenuous diligence, their long 
 and profound and exhausting applications — 
 see their proficiencies — look over the cata- 
 logue of their works — take down their 
 quartos and folios. If such men had erred a 
 little on the side of conversational freedom, 
 candour might have derived some excuse 
 from the necessity of unbending their minds, 
 and indulging a flow of spirits in the family, 
 and friendly circle when " scaped from lite- 
 rary cares." But few of our young mi- 
 nisters are likely to become martyrs to intel- 
 lectual exertion. Their reading is often 
 cursory, their preparations superficial, and 
 the time 6pent in their study, inconsiderable. 
 For such, a great deal of mental relaxation 
 is not surely necessary. To find them ind ulg- 
 ing, in lengthened repose in the morning, 
 stretching at length on the sofa, and compelled 
 to have recourse to light and jocular conver- 
 sation, to relieve their minds from the inten- 
 sity of application, would, if the thing could 
 be viewed abstractedly, create a smile. I am 
 not pleading for dulness ; I am no enemy to 
 cheerfulness. I love a touch of fancy, and a 
 stroke of wit, and a well-told anecdote, espe- 
 cially if some profit can be extracted from 
 the entertainment it affords. But I would 
 say to a young minister (here I am happy my 
 dear brother to avow, that I make you the 
 occasion, and not the subject of address) 
 I would say to a young minister — Do not 
 affect drollery. Attempt not incessantly to 
 excite diversion. Utter nothing that tries the 
 moral feelings of any who hear you. Espe- 
 cially beware of turning into ridicule, the 
 imperfections of some of your brethren, who 
 are, perhaps, much worthier than yourself, 
 though not so highly gifted, or well educated. 
 Delight not to satirize every infirmity of ig- 
 norant and illiterate people, before children 
 and servants, who, not accurately distinguish- 
 ing, between the circumstances, and the sub- 
 stance of a thing, may infer you are not very 
 friendly to religion itself. Remember that in 
 moral soil, as well as in the material, some 
 things must, for a while, be tolerated for the 
 sake of others ; lest in plucking up the tares, 
 you root up also the wheat with them — every 
 moment is not the time of harvest. Consider 
 it, not as a commendation, but rather as a 
 censure, to be celebrated for oddity and mer- 
 riment. Be not the monkey and the fiddle 
 cf the company. Remember, there is such 
 a text, if you can never dare to preach from 
 it, as " Foolish talking and jesting which 
 is not convenient." 
 
 Let nothing degrade you into the trifler. 
 
AN EVANGELICAL MINISTRY. 
 
 237 
 
 Support in private, the reputation you gain in 
 public. Maintain cheerfulness without le- 
 vity, and ease without familiarity. Let no 
 corrupt communication proceed out of your 
 mouth, but that which is good, to the use of 
 edifying', that it may minister grace unto the 
 hearers. Take notice of seasons, of events, 
 of the rumours of the day, of the circum- 
 stances of the place, to introduce the one 
 thing needful ; and resolve, that wherever 
 you are found, and have opportunity to be 
 heard, He shall not be forgotten, who died 
 for you and rose again. Indeed, if the word 
 of Christ dwells in you richly in all wisdom, 
 and you have an affluence of Christian expe- 
 rience as well as knowledge, a remark which 
 you will often apply to your people as an holy 
 criterion of their state, will be exemplified 
 in yourself, " Out of the abundance of the 
 heart the mouth speaketh." Your ordinary 
 discourse will not only correspond with your 
 office, but co-operate with it ; the social com- 
 panion will be an assistant preacher to the 
 pastor; and like Paul, you will not only 
 teach Jesus Christ in the temple, but from 
 house to house. 
 
 Thirdly. Be a savour of Christ in your 
 Preaching. Are there none, whose Dis- 
 courses savour more of Plato, and Seneca, and 
 Socrates, and Xenophon, than of the worthy 
 name by which we are called ? — Are there 
 none whose sermons abound with worldly 
 politics, angry controversies, curious criti- 
 cisms, ingenious remarks, and merely moral 
 reflections, rather than with the doctrine of 
 salvation by the cross and the grace of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ? If ever He is referred 
 to, is it not in a way of cold reserve, or in- 
 direct allusion ? 
 
 We hear much in our day of Antinomians. 
 Such I am persuaded there are. We fre- 
 quently meet with those who have grown 
 wanton in evangelical privileges, and use 
 their liberty as a cloak of maliciousness, and 
 not as the servants of God. Of such, we need 
 not be afraid to speak, in scriptural language. 
 They are ungodly men that turn the grace 
 of our God into lasciviousness. We ought to 
 show our disapprobation of those, whose sen- 
 timents professedly degrade the law of God as 
 a rule of life ; treat holiness and good works 
 as no more the evidences and effects of sal- 
 vation, than the cause of it; and not only 
 deny, but ridicule the reality and progress 
 of a work of grace in the heart. From such 
 withdraw thyself. But I dare not set down 
 every one as deserving this reproach, who 
 incurs the name. We ought to consider 
 much, from whom the charge comes : for it 
 may so happen, that the censured are deemed 
 excessive, because the censurers are them- 
 selves defective. And I cannot but fear, lest 
 some of our younger and less experienced 
 brethren, in avoiding one extreme, run into i 
 another: and from a laudable concern to 
 
 guard the truths of the gospel, impoverish 
 them ; and feed their flock in such poor and 
 sparing pasture, as to tempt them to break 
 bounds, and enter the rank grasses of these 
 pseudo-doctrinalists. Your admonisher this 
 morning, mentions this the more readily, be- 
 cause he remembers a time when he erred a 
 little in this direction himself ; and he is not 
 ashamed to confess, that there are, of his ear- 
 lier sermons, such as he could not conscien- 
 tiously preach again ; not because they were 
 not consistent with the " truth as it is in Je- 
 sus," or did not even imply it, but because, 
 according to his present views, they did not 
 fully express it, and sufficiently make mani- 
 fest the savour of his knowledge. 
 
 A young divine, says Manton, one day 
 asked an old Christian, " What shall I 
 preach 1" He received for answer, " Preach 
 Christ." " O, I have preached him," says he, 
 " already." " Why then," added the sage, 
 " Preach him again : preach him always: and 
 preach him only." This is advice, which, 
 however lightly some may treat it now, all 
 these worthies would have sanctioned, whose 
 works praise them in the gate. The time 
 would fail me to tell of Leighton, and Hall, 
 and Owen, and Baxter, and Reynolds, and 
 Howe, and Charnoch, and Polhill, and Bates, 
 and Watts, and Doddridge, and numbers 
 more, who were for nothing more remarkable 
 than a rich, full, and consistent display of the 
 Lord Jesus. They proclaimed him, in the 
 dignity of his person ; in the glory of his cha- 
 racter ; in the condescension of his grace ; in 
 the wonders of his love ; in the efficacy of his 
 sufferings ; in the prevalency of his interces- 
 sion ; in his ability to save to the uttermost 
 them that come unto God by him. They 
 preached him, as the only foundation of a sin- 
 ner's hope; as the Lord our righteousness and 
 strength ; as the consolation of Israel, in whom 
 they were to rejoice with joy unspeakable 
 and full of glory : and to use the expression 
 of one of them, " Christ was the diamond in 
 the bosom of all their sermons." And what 
 was the practice of the apostles 1 " We 
 preach Christ crucified," says Paul, " to the 
 Jews a stumbling-block, and to the Greeks 
 foolishness ; but unto them that are called, 
 both Jews and Greeks, Christ the wisdom of 
 God and the power of God. Because the 
 foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the 
 weakness of God is stronger than men." "I 
 determined not to know any thing among you, 
 save Jesus Christ and him crucified." " God 
 forbid that I should glory save in the cross of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ." Accordingly, he 
 viewed and explained, and improved every 
 thing in relation to him. If he spake of the 
 glory of God, he represented it as " shining 
 forth in the face of Jesus Christ." If he men- 
 tioned the promises of God, they were all yea 
 and amen in Christ Jesus. If he adverted to 
 the duties and difficulties of the Christian 
 
238 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE OF 
 
 life, he said, " Be strong in the grace that is 
 in Christ Jesus :" " I can do all things through 
 Christ who strengthened me." He could 
 not enforce even conjugal tenderness without 
 a reference the most affecting: "Husbands, 
 love your wives, even as Christ also loved 
 the church, and gave himself for it." May 
 we all follow an example so worthy of imita- 
 tion ; and whenever in our work, we pause 
 for reflection, may our consciences, bearing 
 witness in the Holy Ghost, enable us also to 
 say, " Whom we preach, warning every man 
 and teaching every man, in all wisdom, that 
 we may present every man perfect in Christ 
 Jesus." 
 
 But, that you may be a savour of Christ, 
 there must be a regard to the manner, as 
 well as the subject of your preaching. The 
 poet, in speaking of government, has said, 
 
 " Whate'er is best administer'!! is best." 
 The same may be nearly said with regard to 
 sermons. There is not such a marvellous 
 difference between the thoughts and arrange- 
 ments of one preacher, and another, as some 
 imagine. But, who has not been struck with 
 the difference of the impression, and effect 1 
 One man shall speak ; and how dry, and sap- 
 less, and uninteresting is he? Let another 
 deliver the very same things, and there is a 
 savour that gives them freshness : the things 
 seem perfectly new. To know how to ac- 
 quire this, is a secret which I hope you are 
 acquainted with. It is to live out of the spi- 
 rit of the world, and to walk much with God 
 alone ; it is to keep conscience alive and 
 awake; it is to maintain a deep sense of the 
 value of the soul, and the importance of eter- 
 nal salvation ; it is to keep the mind in the 
 things of God by habitual meditation ; it is to 
 cherish the devotional affections ; it is to 
 speak from the heart, to speak experimentally, 
 to speak under a mixture of solemn and ten- 
 der feelings; it is to speak with the Holy 
 Ghost sent down from heaven, in answer to 
 strong eryings and tears — When such a man, 
 and under such an influence, engages in his 
 work, he enters his congregation, as Aaron 
 went into the tabernacle to minister, when 
 the precious ointment had been poured upon 
 his head, and ran down to the skirts of his 
 garment : he is found, before he is either seen 
 or heard: and we think of our Christian 
 bard — 
 
 When one thai holds communion with the skies 
 Has fill'd his urn, where these pure waters rise, 
 And once more mingles with us meaner things, 
 'Tis e'en as if an angel shook his wings. 
 Immortal fragrance fills the circuit wide, 
 That tells us whence kis treasures are supplied. 
 So when a ship well-freighted with the stores 
 The sun matures on India's spicy shores. 
 Has dropp'd her anchor, and her canvass furl'd. 
 In some safe haven of our western world; 
 'Twere vain inquiring to what port she went, 
 The gale informs us, laden with the scent. 
 
 II. Ministers of the gospel are variously 
 regarded. We may consider them as sus- 
 
 taining a three-fold relation. We may view 
 them, with regard to God ; with regard to 
 those that perish ; and with regard to those 
 that are saved. To God, they are a sweet 
 svaour of Christ. To them that perish, they 
 are a deadly savour. To them that are 
 saved, they are a vital savour. " To the one, 
 we are the savour of death unto death, and to 
 the other, we are the savour of life unto 
 life !" Let us reverse this order, and con- 
 sider ministers, 
 
 First, In relation to them that are " saved." 
 To these they are the savour of life unto 
 life. They are not only instruments of 
 quickening them, when dead in trespasses 
 and sins, but of sustaining, and increasing 
 every, vital principle, when produced. For 
 such ministers appear in the name, and offi- 
 ciate on the behalf of him who said, " I am 
 come that they might have life, and that they 
 might have it more abundantly." 
 
 Christianity in the soul, is a progressive 
 thing : and the dispensation of the word, is 
 the principal means by which believers go 
 from strength to strength ;" are " renewed 
 day by day ;" are " changed from glory into 
 glory." 
 
 The grand subject of the ministry enli- 
 vens them in duty, revives them in depres- 
 sion, and supports them under all their trials. 
 Dr. Watts has beautifully expressed it — 
 
 The vital savour of his name 
 
 Restores their fainting breath, 
 While unbelief perverts the same 
 To guilt, despair, and death. 
 
 — When pressed down by a recollection of 
 past guilt, and a sense of present un worthi- 
 ness and imperfections, they are only kept 
 from utter despondency, by hearing that, 
 " we have an advocate with the Father, Je- 
 sus Christ the righteous, and he is the propi- 
 tiation for our sins." The pollution of their 
 holy things would deprive them of all peace 
 and confidence in approaching God : but they 
 " have boldness to enter into the holiest by 
 the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way, 
 which he has consecrated for us, through the 
 veil, that is to say, his flesh." 
 
 Harassed with the cares, and worn down 
 with the toils of the day, the poor labourer 
 repairs in the evening to the house of God, 
 (and there ought to be a week-day lecture in 
 every place, especially for the sake of those 
 whose hearing is their chief religious re- 
 source) he repairs to the sanctuary : and what 
 can refresh him there ! What can interest 
 him ! What can make him, for a moment, for- 
 get the low scenes of earth, and feel a new 
 creature '! What can make him return home 
 with delight, and enter again into his allotted 
 course with cheerful resignation ? It is " The 
 grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, though 
 he was rich yet for our sakes became poor, 
 that we, through his poverty, might be rich." 
 1 Take the Christian in circumstances still 
 
AN EVANGELICAL MINISTRY. 
 
 239 
 
 more trying ; and behold him after a week of 
 penury, hardship, and trouble, hailing an 
 evangelical Sabbath : 
 
 Though pinch'd with poverty at home, 
 
 With sharp afflictions daily fed, 
 It makes amends if they can come, 
 
 To God's own house for heavenly bread. 
 
 How happy, if their lot is cast 
 Where statedly the gospel sounds ; 
 
 The word is honey to their taste, 
 Renews their strength, and heals their wounds. 
 
 With joy they hasten to the place, 
 Where they their Saviour oft have met. 
 
 And while they feast upon his grace. 
 Their burdens and their griefs forget. 
 
 And long as this quotation is, I cannot help 
 adding; — 
 
 This happy lot, my friends, ia your's, 
 
 May you the privilege improve, 
 And find these consecrated hours, 
 
 Sweet earnests of the joys above. 
 
 It is thus, that Christians are "strengthened 
 with all might by his spirit in the inner man :" 
 that " Christ dwells in their' hearts by faith :" 
 that " being rooted and grounded in love, 
 they are able to comprehend with all saints, 
 what is the breadth, and length, and depth, 
 and height : and to know the love of Christ, 
 which passeth knowledge," and are " filled 
 with all the fulness of God.'" Thus, they 
 are led, from one degree of divine life to an- 
 other ; from the life of religious infancy, to 
 the life of manhood ; from the life of desire, to 
 that of possession ; from the life of hope, to 
 that of the full assurance of hope ; from the 
 life of grace, to the life of glory. 
 
 For at length, the minister is called to at- 
 tend his charge, in their last remove. The 
 honour of religion, and the encouragement 
 of others, as well as their own comfort, make 
 him long, that those whom he has watched 
 through this vale of tears, may finish their 
 course with joy ! And what can make the 
 saints joyful in glory, and enable them to 
 shout aloud upon their dying bed 1 Does he 
 draw a comparison in their favour, between 
 them and others ] Does he tell them, how 
 inconsiderable their failings have been, if set 
 against their excellencies ! Does he call 
 upon them to look back upon a well-spent life ! 
 
 This would only drive them to despair. 
 Indeed they are too well taught of God to ac- 
 cept of such consolation, if it were offered. If 
 they feel a confidence, it is as humble as it is 
 holy : it is derived from another source. " I 
 cannot say I have so lived," said Marshal 
 when dying, " that I am not afraid to die ; but 
 I can say, I have so learned Christ, that I am 
 not afraid to die." 
 
 And this is the subject to which the minis- 
 ter of the gospel turns the believer's atten- 
 tion, amidst the decays of nature ; and with 
 which he animates him, when "his heart 
 and his flesh faileth." He does not run with 
 the crucifix in his hand; but he shows him 
 the cross. He cries, " Behold the Lamb of 
 
 God that taketh away the sin of the world :" 
 he makes "mention of his righteousness 
 only;" he talks of a Saviour, who "died," 
 that we may " sleep ;" who has undertaken 
 to answer for us in the great day of account; 
 who is gone before " to prepare a place for 
 us," and is engaged to "come again, and re- 
 ceive us unto himself; that where he is, there 
 we may be also." 
 
 This is the glory that irradiates the dark 
 valley. This is the odour that sheds a fra- 
 grance in a dying room, and in a dying soul. 
 This is the sound, O Christian, that will 
 answer the prayer you have so often sung, 
 
 And may the music of his name 
 Refresh my soul in death. 
 
 Let us consider ministers, 
 
 Secondly, In relation to them that " perish." 
 To these, they are the savour of death unto 
 death. The meaning is, that they not only 
 find them dead, but leave them so — yea, 
 leave them — more so. They are the occa- 
 sion of adding to their spiritual death ; and 
 of enhancing their eternal. 
 
 Let me open a little, this awful part of our 
 subject. It would be easy to prove that 
 punishment will be answerable to guilt: but 
 guilt is aggravated by advantages neglected 
 or abused. Upon this principle, the Jews 
 were more criminal than the surrounding 
 nations, and therefore were more severely 
 threatened : " You only have I known of all 
 the families of the earth; therefore, you will 
 I punish." "To him," says the apostle 
 James, " that knoweth to do good, and doeth 
 it not, to him it is sin ;" which means, not 
 only or principally, that omission of duty is a 
 sin, as really as positive transgression ; but 
 that the guilt of the one, as well as the other, 
 is increased by knowledge. "If," says our 
 Saviour, " I had not come and spoken among 
 them, they had not had sin :" i. e. compara- 
 tively ; " but now have they no cloak for their 
 sin :" i. e. they are left stripped of all excuse. 
 " The servant which knew his lord's will, and 
 prepared not himself, neither did according 
 to his will, shall be beaten with many stripes. 
 But he that knew not, and did commit things 
 worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few 
 stripes. For unto whomsoever much is given, 
 of him shall be much required : and to whom 
 men have committed much, of him they will 
 ask the more." And again : " This is the con- 
 demnation, that light is come into the world, 
 and men loved darkness rather than light, 
 because their deeds were evil." 
 
 Whom should the conclusion to be drawn 
 from these premises, alarm ? — If, — as an old 
 writer says — there are many mansions in 
 hell, as well as in heaven, " What shall the 
 end be of them that obey not the gospel of 
 God 1" You talk of heathens : but they never 
 heard the name of the Saviour, and, having 
 had no testimony to reject, come not within 
 the reach of the tremendous sentence, " He 
 
240 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE OF 
 
 that believeth not shall be damned." Leave 
 them, and think of yourselves. You have 
 often heard, with a shivering horror, of the 
 fate of Sodom. The inhabitants were " sin- 
 ners above all men before the Lord :" and he 
 would not suffer them to be buried, lest their 
 wretched bodies should pollute the rottenness 
 of the grave, but consumed them ; and " They 
 are set forth for an example, suffering the 
 vengeance of eternal fire." But perhaps, my 
 dear brother, some of your hearers may here- 
 after exclaim, O that I had been born in 
 Sodom ! O that I had perished three thousand 
 years earlier ! O that by a profusion of Di- 
 vine, but unsanctified privileges, I had never 
 drawn upon myself a far more intolerable 
 doom ! Is this talking extravagance ; or 
 preaching up imaginary terror ? What was 
 the language of our Lord himself, to those 
 that enjoyed, but misimproved his preaching 1 
 "And thou, Capernaum, which art exalted 
 unto heaven, shalt be cast down to hell ; for 
 if the mighty works, which have been done 
 in thee, had been done in Sodom, it would 
 have remained until this day. But I say unto 
 you, That it shall be more tolerable for the 
 land of Sodom in the day of judgment, than 
 for thee." 
 
 Did you never observe the words of the 
 apostle to the Hebrews ? He is not content 
 to ask, " How shall we escape if we neglect 
 so great salvation ?" But mark his language 
 — " He that despised Moses' law, died with- 
 out mercy :" observe the expression — without 
 mercy ! " under two or three witnesses : of 
 how much sorer punishment" (what sorer 
 than dying without mercy !) " of how much 
 sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be 
 thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot 
 the Son of God, and hath counted the blood 
 of the covenant, wherewith he was sanctified, 
 an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto 
 the Spirit of Grace]" You have read of the 
 devil and his angels. Did Christ take upon 
 him their nature 1 Did he die for them 1 
 Was pardon, was holiness ever offered to 
 them'? No: and therefore they have never 
 been rejected — by them. No : this super- 
 Satanic guilt lies only at your door. Per- 
 haps, my dear brother, some of your hearers 
 may hereafter exclaim, O that I had been a 
 fallen angel ! O that before the creation of 
 the world, I had been cast down to hell, and 
 confined in chains of darkness against the 
 judgment of the great day ! Any chain had 
 been a blessing, that could have kept me 
 from that place of worship ! Even hell would 
 have proved a privilege, had it prevented me 
 from sitting under that minister ! 
 
 I long to leave this part of my subject; but 
 I must remark, That nothing tends to con- 
 firm our faith in the Scriptures more, than, a 
 comparison of what we see with what we 
 read. How often do we find unholy attend- 
 ants on the gospel, after a while, falling 
 
 into the greatest errors or the vilest crimes: 
 sometimes, they become persecutors; and 
 instances are not wanting, in which they 
 have ended their wretched days, in frenzy or 
 desperation. But where they still retain a 
 decency of character, and do not abandon the 
 means of grace, they grow easy and insensi- 
 ble, and are rarely ever awakened. I'or, 
 what can impress those, who have contrived 
 to sit out the contents of the Bible, a thou- 
 sand times over ] They are like birds, born 
 and bred in a belfry, which start not, nor 
 move a wing at sounds which would stun 
 strangers. Some of this hopeless obduracy 
 is unquestionably a natural effect ; the conse- 
 quence of long familiarity with divine things, 
 trifling with convictions, and resisting con- 
 science: but there is also a degree of penal 
 judgment in it : for God can as really punish 
 by withholding a salutary and necessary in- 
 fluence, as by any positive infliction : and 
 thus fulfil that tremendous declaration, re- 
 peated no less than four times in the Scrip- 
 ture : " Go unto this people, and say, Hear- 
 ing ye shall hear, and shall not understand ; 
 and seeing ye shall see, and not perceive : 
 for the heart of this people is waxed gross, 
 and their ears are dull of hearing, and their 
 eyes have they closed ; lest they should see 
 with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and 
 understand with their heart, and should be 
 converted, and I should heal them." But let 
 us consider ministers, 
 
 Thirdly, In relation to God, who sends 
 them, and to whom they are responsible. To 
 Him they are a sweet savour of Christ; 
 and a sweet savour of Christ both in them 
 
 THAT ARE SAVED, AND IN THEM THAT PERISH. 
 
 He accepts them and delights in them, not 
 only when a subject opens to their minds, but 
 when (unless they have been negligent) it 
 seems impenetrable to their attempt ; not only 
 when they preach with fluency and pleasure, 
 but when (unless they have been inattentive 
 to means) they are pained with embarrass- 
 ment, and ashamed, as they come down, to 
 look their hearers in the face : not only when 
 they add to the church characters the most 
 hopeful ; but when, with bleeding hearts they 
 exclude disorderly members : not only when 
 they approach God at the head of a list of 
 converts, saying, " Behold, the children thou 
 hast given me," but when they retire into 
 their closets, and at his feet exclaim, " Lord, 
 who hath believed our report ?" 
 
 Success is desirable. Who loves to toil 
 in vain? Who loves to plant, and water, 
 and see no increase 1 — And in general, God 
 blesses his servants with some considerable 
 degree of usefulness. But a useful ministry 
 is not necessary, to a valid one. Our Saviour 
 himself preached with very little effect : " I 
 said I have laboured in vain ; I have spent 
 my strength for nought and in vain :" " Yet," 
 he adds, " yet surely my judgment is with the 
 
AN EVANGELICAL MINISTRY. 
 
 241 
 
 Lord, and my work with my God." And so 
 may every minister say, under discouraging 
 appearances. We serve a good master: he 
 does not make us answerable for success : he 
 knows infinitely better than we do, that con- 
 version is his own prerogative, and does not 
 depend upon us. Duty only is ours ; and 
 even with regard to this, he allows us to de- 
 pend upon him for ability to discharge it ; and 
 in estimating our services, he admits into the 
 account, not only all we do ; but all we try 
 to do, and wish to do, but in which we are 
 hindered ; and says, " It was well that it was 
 in thy heart." The language of promise is, 
 "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give 
 thee a crown of life." We go further ; we 
 are persuaded that there are many cases in 
 which ministers are dearer to God in their 
 disappointments than in their successes. It 
 is pleasant to labour when we succeed ; and 
 there is always some danger, lest pride should 
 mix with our pleasure, and, while we ac- 
 knowledge God to be the author, we should 
 feel some little importance at least, in being 
 the instruments. The trial of principle is to 
 labour without success. To bear the burden 
 and heat of the day without murmuring ; to 
 abide at our post under every temptation to 
 leave it ; to say, If he is pleased to use me, I 
 shall deem it an honour; but if he refuse me, 
 I have no reason to complain : he has a right 
 to choose his own instruments : to be willing 
 to lay a foundation upon which another is to 
 build ; or to set well, as another rises, and 
 without envy or regret, to say, " He must 
 increase and I must decrease" — here is the 
 true spirit of a servant — here is real great- 
 ness in the sight of the Lord — and such mag- 
 nanimity shall not lose its reward. 
 
 I conclude with two reflections, forcibly 
 derived from our subject. 
 
 First: With what awful impressions 
 should ministers preach ! The office of a 
 lawyer is important : he guards our property. 
 The office of a physician is more important : 
 he takes care of our health. But the office 
 of a minister, is unspeakably the most im- 
 portant of all, because his concern lies with 
 the soul. The consequences which flow 
 from his labours, are the issues of life and 
 death, spiritual life and death, eternal life 
 and death ! What feelings should precede, 
 accompany, follow every sermon we deliver ! 
 Is there a minister here present, that can re- 
 flect for a moment upon the greatness of his 
 work, and not exclaim — and it is the apos- 
 tle's own inference — " Who is sufficient for 
 these things ]" 
 
 Secondly: With what solemn impres- 
 sions should people hear ! Yet, alas ! no- 
 thing in common, is so little reverenced, as 
 preaching. With what a careless and thought- 
 less air, are persons seen entering the house 
 of the Eternal, and leaving it! How seldom 
 do hearers retire, and reflect, and pray, be- 
 2 H 21 
 
 fore they engage in the service of God — or 
 even after ! When do they listen under the 
 word, with that fearful devoutness which 
 would necessarily result from such a sugges- 
 tion as this: "I shall be the better, or worse, 
 for this exercise. It will leave me so much 
 nearer heaven, or hell." 
 
 Many feel a kind of dread at the thought 
 of an improper approach to the table of the 
 Lord, having read, " He that eateth and 
 drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh 
 damnation to himself, not discerning the 
 Lord's body." But do you never consider, 
 that he who hears unworthily, exposes him- 
 self to no less a doom ? Every unhallowed 
 attendance on any of the means of grace, 
 must issue in your aggravated sin and 
 misery. You dread the removal of the gos- 
 pel, and allow that the want of hearing the 
 words of the Lord, would be a famine, worse 
 than a famine of bread : but perhaps, you ne- 
 ver reflect, that as the ministry may be with- 
 drawn in wrath, it may also be continued in 
 judgment: that as the loss of the means of 
 salvation is dreadful, the continuance of them 
 is much more so, when they become only the 
 enhancements of guilt and condemnation: 
 you have, perhaps, often prayed against be- 
 ing deprived of the faculty of hearing, but 
 never prayed against losing the grace of hear- 
 ing — but hearing may prove a greater curse 
 than deafness. 
 
 O let me call upon you seriously to consi- 
 der this with regard to yourselves : and suf- 
 fer me to ask, What is your prospect, and 
 what is your condition? Remember, First, 
 That the word preached is never universally 
 — some would say — never generally, success- 
 ful. That, Secondly, it always operates in 
 some way, and it is impossible to render it 
 an efficient principle. It resembles Moses, 
 who slew the Egyptian, and saved the Israel- 
 ite. It is like the ark, that blessed the house 
 of Obededom, and plagued the Philistines. It 
 is an aliment, that nourishes, or poisons. It 
 is a medicine, that kills, or cures. It is like 
 the planet ; sometimes the bright and morn- 
 ing star, ushering in the day ; and sometimes 
 the harbinger of night, drawing on the black- 
 ness of darkness for ever. Thirdly, There 
 are but two classes of hearers; believers and 
 unbelievers; children of wrath, or heirs of 
 glory. To which of these do you belong 1 
 Here are great diversities of talent and con- 
 dition; here are, male and female; old and 
 young ; masters and servants ; rich and poor ; 
 the educated and the illiterate. — But the dis- 
 tinction of our text, enters and sees among 
 you all, two divisions only. And what, if an 
 angel, next Lord's-day, while you are wor- 
 shipping, was to come down, and make the 
 separation as visible as it is real. Suppose 
 he should place here, on the right hand, those 
 to whom the word is a savour of life : and 
 there, on the left hand, those to whom it is 
 
THE IMPORTANCE, &c. 
 
 the savour of death. With what anxiety 
 would the minister rise, and stand, and look 
 down from this desk, and wait the discrimi- 
 nation. How would the hearts of religious 
 friends and relations break, as they viewed 
 the objects of their regard led away with the 
 rejected. " There goes my brother — my sis- 
 ter — my parent — my child — my husband — 
 
 my wife !" What an unequal division ! 
 
 How small the one ! how large the other ! 
 How different the result from previous con- 
 jecture and conviction! Some, who had 
 feared to make a profession of religion, and 
 hesitated to speak of the state of their souls, 
 only lest they should have uttered what they 
 never felt ; who, for want of room to retire in, 
 often took a more distant and solitary walk 
 to the house of God, praying as they went, 
 " Send us help from the sanctuary, and 
 strengthen us out of Zion :" would rank safe 
 and happy : while, joined to the lost, would 
 be found some, who had attended the gospel 
 
 from their infancy ; some, who had often wel- 
 comed ministers to their table; perhaps mem- 
 bers — perhaps officers of the church ! But in 
 which of these classes, I address you indivi- 
 dually, would you be found ? It is not in- 
 deed likely that such a discrimination will 
 be made in this world. It does not comport 
 with the wisdom of God's design. You will 
 therefore continue externally blended for a 
 season. But the awful hour is at hand, when 
 the separation must be made, unerringly 
 made, publicly made, irreversibly made. It 
 is already obvious in the view of God. It is 
 already actually commenced, commenced in 
 the principles and dispositions which govern 
 you, and in the manner in which you hear 
 and receive the word. Again I ask, To 
 which of these divisions do you belong 1 It 
 is possible to determine. It is necessary. We 
 press for a decision : and leave conscience to 
 receive your reply. 
 
THE HAND OF GOD IN AFFLICTIONS : 
 
 A SERMON 
 
 OCCASIONED BY 
 
 THE DEATH OF MISS ANN WHITCHURCH, 
 
 DELIVERED IN ARGYLE CHAPEL, BATH, OCTOBER 18, 1818. 
 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Thi8 Sermon, which the Author, feeling a wish to improve an affecting event, preached 
 without solicitation ; he publishes entirely at request — the request of the relatives and the 
 audience. It is to be feared that in the reading, it will want much of the impression which, 
 from a number of auxiliary causes, it made in the hearing. He mentions this to account for 
 probable disappointment — not by way of apology. The wishes of his friends are responsible 
 for the Discourse, such as it is : to them he affectionately dedicates it, concerned only that 
 indisposition and peculiar engagements prevented his performing this duty of friendship im- 
 mediately. In coming from the press, it differs only as it came from the pulpit, in a little 
 enlargement originally in the Author's design, but which he had not time to avail himself of, 
 in the delivery. 
 
 Behold, he taketh away, who can hinder him ? 
 ■who will say unto him, what doest thou ? — 
 Job Lx. 12. 
 
 My brethren, it always highly becomes us 
 to entertain proper apprehensions of him 
 " with whom we have to do." He is, indeed, 
 " a God that hideth himself." " He dwelleth 
 in the light which no man can approach unto, 
 and him no man hath seen, or can see." 
 There are heights, and depths, and breadths, 
 and lengths in his essence, and attributes, and 
 works, and ways, which elude all created, all 
 finite research : and we may go to an arch- 
 angel with the question Eliphaz addressed to 
 Job: "Canst thou by searching find out 
 God : canst thou find out the Almighty unto 
 perfection V 
 
 Are we then sealed up in total ignorance 1 
 Are we called to worship "an unknown 
 God V No : He has not left himself without 
 witness. His word is "a lamp unto our path, 
 and a light unto our feet." As far as our 
 state requires information, He has given us a 
 revelation of himself in this sacred volume; 
 and it is both our duty and our privilege, to 
 assume with thankfulness, and to hold with 
 
 inviolable firmness, the views of the Supreme 
 Being, it holds forth — for they will of neces- 
 sity be fundamental in religion — and all our 
 creed, all our conduct, and all our comfort 
 must be affected by them. 
 
 His dispensations with regard to nations, 
 families, and individuals, are various. In 
 some of them he thunders; in others, we 
 hear only a small still voice. Some of them 
 call us to rejoice; others to mourn. Some 
 enrich us ; others impoverish. In some, He 
 gives ; in others, He takes away. — But He is 
 the same in all ; and all are worthy of our at- 
 tention. If there be a difference,- it is in fa- 
 vour of his more awful and painful dealings 
 with us. These peculiarly deserve and de- 
 mand our regard. In these he seems to move 
 out of his common road, in order to awaken 
 and impress the mind. Our food is intended 
 to do us good — but how much more our me- 
 dicine? When this is administered in vain, 
 our case begins to be considered suspicious, 
 alarming, desperate. There is nothing, there- 
 fore, by which we can more defy and provoke 
 the God of the whole earth, than while he is 
 employing methods so extraordinarily de- 
 243 
 
244 
 
 THE HAND OF GOD IN AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 signed and adapted to affect us, we " regard 
 not the work of the Lord," neither consider 
 the operation of his hand. " Hear ye, there- 
 fore," says the voice from heaven, "Hear ye 
 the rod, and Him that hath appointed it." 
 "In the day of adversity, consider." "Be- 
 hold" Him in all he does ; but most attentively 
 and seriously contemplate Him when he 
 comes to take away. " Behold, he taketh 
 
 AWAY, WHO CAN HINDER HIM ? WHO WILL SAY 
 UNTO HIM, WHAT DOEST THOU ? 
 
 It appears from this passage, that in the 
 losses of life, we are to recognize and ac- 
 knowledge — The truth of his agency — The 
 uncontrolableness of h is dominion — and — The 
 unimpeachableness of his conduct. 
 
 The truth of his agency — "He taketh 
 away." 
 
 The uncontrolableness of his dominion — 
 " Who can hinder him]" 
 
 The unimpeachableness of his conduct — 
 " Who will say unto him, What doest Thou ?" 
 
 I. Behold, the truth of his agency. " He 
 taketh away." It is obvious that our hold of 
 every possession and enjoyment is very pre- 
 carious, and that our comforts lie at the dis- 
 posal of another. This conclusion depends 
 not on reasonings ; it results from facts : scrip- 
 ture is not necessary to teach it ; all history, 
 all observation, all experience proclaims it. 
 
 Wealth is often taken away. Men make 
 gold their hope, and fine gold their confi- 
 dence ; but nothing is more precarious ; they 
 are therefore called, " uncertain riches;" and 
 we are commanded not to " trust in them." 
 How many after devising the best plans, and 
 availing themselves of every assistance that 
 could promise success, are groaning over 
 their defeated projects — " My purposes are 
 broken off, even the thoughts of my heart." 
 How many are not only in embarrassments, but 
 have their indigence imbittered by contrast 
 with the plenty that once crowned their table. 
 
 Health is often taken away. " Let not the 
 strong man glory in his strength." What 
 is it against the decays of nature, the vio- 
 lence of accident, the corrosion of disease? 
 " When Thou with rebukes dost correct man 
 for iniquity, Thou makest his beauty to con- 
 sume away like a moth; surely every man is 
 vanity." 
 
 Reason is often taken away. No condition, 
 however elevated, secures the possessor. Ne- 
 buchadnezzar's understanding departed from 
 him ; and in his fancies and feelings he was 
 reduced to a level with the beasts that perish. 
 How many in our own day in the higher, 
 yea, in the highest ranks of life have become 
 the victims of this dire calamity. 
 
 — And are not connexions and relatives 
 often taken away ? Is there a person in the 
 presence of God, who has not had reason to 
 sigh, " Lover and friend hast Thou put far 
 from me, and mine acquaintance into dark- 
 ness." It is needless to enlarge the illustra- 
 
 tion. It is undeniable that our possessions 
 and comforts are holden by a very precarious 
 tenure ; and are removable at the pleasure of 
 another. 
 
 And who is the disposer? Who is He 
 that thus intermeddles with our affairs, and 
 lays desolate our comforts. " Behold He 
 taketh away." There is no such thing as 
 chance in his empire. His providence is not 
 only real but universal. " A sparrow falleth 
 not to the ground without our heavenly Fa- 
 ther ; Yea, the very hairs of our head are all 
 numbered." — " Who gave Jacob for a spoil, 
 and Israel to the robbers? Did not the Lord; 
 he against whom they have sinned ?" War 
 is called " His sword." He " calls for a 
 famine upon the land," and " cleanness of 
 teeth" stalks through. He "breaketh the 
 ships of Tarshish with an east wind." "I 
 clothe," says He, "the heavens with' sack- 
 cloth," " I form the light and create darkness : 
 I make peace and create evil : I the Lord do 
 all these things." " Is there an evil in the 
 city, and the Lord hath not done it?" 
 
 Not that God, in these cases always acts 
 immediately — He commonly, if not invaria- 
 bly, works otherwise. In things purely 
 spiritual, and where the result is so mani- 
 festly his own, he uses means to produce 
 it. Paul plants and Apollos waters, though 
 He giveth the increase, and worketh all in 
 all. And thus it is in temporal things ; in- 
 struments are employed : but instrumentali- 
 ty supposes and requires agency — and re- 
 quires it, whatever ability or adaptation it 
 possesses : — for however keen the sword, or 
 excellent the pen, the one cannot wound, or 
 the other write, without a hand to use it. 
 All events, and all creatures, depend upon 
 God; and they can neither bless or injure us, 
 but as he permits, employs, succeeds them. 
 
 Hence too his interposition is not visible. 
 He really does all, but seems to do nothing. 
 His agency, though obvious enough in its 
 results, is imperceptible in its working. Thus 
 it is with the wind ; we cannot see it pass, 
 but we can see its passage, and trace the di- 
 rection of its progress in its effects. Read 
 the preceding verse : " Lo, he goeth by me, 
 and I see him not ; he passeth on also, but I 
 perceive him not." 
 
 God rarely makes use of the marvellous, or 
 acts so as to alter the regular and established 
 order of things. His agency sometimes in- 
 deed resembles a torrent which sweeps over 
 an unusual surface, and bears down cattle, 
 and trees, and houses, and as it rolls and roars 
 along, draws people to the margin with 
 amazement and dismay : but he more com- 
 monly brings his designs to pass in a manner 
 more slow and tranquil, and unobserved, re- 
 sembling the flow of a river that keeps its 
 own channel, and reaches its fulness by a 
 course as natural as it is efficient. It is a 
 fine image, the genius of Solomon employs, 
 
THE HAND OF GOD IN AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 245 
 
 when he says, " The king's heart is in the 
 hand of the Lord, as the rivers of water : He 
 turneth it whithersoever he will." The 
 husbandman does not change the quality but 
 the current of the stream : it still flows ac- 
 cording to its natural propension, yet runs 
 under his guidance, and in subserviency to 
 his pleasure. Thus agents act of themselves; 
 yet are his servants : they follow their own 
 inclination, but fulfil his purposes. This fact 
 misconceived, has led infidels to deny the 
 providence of God in the events of the world ; 
 and even philosophers the most convinced of 
 the existence of God, from the appearance of 
 relations, beauties, and utilities in the parts 
 of the universe, have disavowed the hand of 
 God in the management of human affairs, be- 
 lieving that " time and chance happened to 
 them all." The reason of the inconsistency 
 seems to be this. In the fixed system of na- 
 ture they see creatures acting in a constant 
 and uniform manner ; but these being purely 
 passive in themselves, must be determined 
 and conducted by a foreign power; and a 
 presiding agency cannot be questioned. But 
 in human life they meet with beings, who 
 are masters of their own conduct, and act by 
 knowledge and choice ; possessing boundless 
 liberty, and capricious dispositions; sometimes 
 governed by principle, sometimes by exam- 
 ple, sometimes by fancy, sometimes by pride, 
 and sometimes by malice ; and not able to 
 distinguish between the first cause, and the 
 subordinate issues; the chief agent and the 
 instrument; the perfection of the Creator, 
 and the weakness and folly of the creature ; 
 they adhere to the immediate and apparent 
 principle of action, without ascending to God, 
 who presides over all, inspiring the good, 
 permitting the evil, and reducing the whole 
 to his own pleasure. 
 
 And indeed if sense only was to be con- 
 sulted, we should seldom think of God in the 
 most trying occurrences. To find a cause 
 for the affliction of Joseph, why need we go 
 beyond the envy of his brethren ] Or a rea- 
 son for the cursing of David, why need we 
 look further than the malignity of Shimei ? 
 Or a motive for the crucifixion of the Son of 
 God, what want we more than the jealousy 
 of the chief priests, and the wickedness of 
 the Jews ! Who at the first sight of all 
 these, would not have ascribed them to hu- 
 man agency ? Yet, " God sent me here," 
 says Joseph, "to save much people alive." 
 " God hath bidden him," says David. And, 
 "He was delivered," says the apostle, "ac- 
 cording to the determinate counsel and fore- 
 knowledge of God." 
 
 It is necessary, therefore, to rise above 
 sense, and to call in the aid of that faith 
 which is not only " the substance of things 
 hoped for," but " the evidence of things not 
 seen." And this will be found to constitute 
 21* 
 
 the difference between the natural man and 
 the Christian. The former is no better at 
 heart than an atheist : he is without Cod in 
 the world : God is not in all his thoughts. A 
 Christian only is the true theist. He is the 
 only firm and vital believer in the being and 
 empire of God. But he does believe in them. 
 He walks by faith, and not by sight. He is 
 aspiring after a world, where " God is all in 
 all," and to this state he is already in a mea- 
 sure come. He has begun to see, and hear, 
 and realize God. He acknowledges Him in 
 all his ways ; and when others say, " O it was 
 that unlucky accident ; it was that unfortu- 
 nate servant; it was that perfidious friend; it 
 was that deadly enemy" — He cries with Eli, 
 " It is the Lord," and endeavours to add, 
 " Let Him do what seemeth him good." I 
 pity the man who in the day of evil, is the 
 wretch, of events without author or design ; 
 and finds himself left alone with a heartless 
 world, with blind chance, with his own evil 
 temper, and with the demons of impatience 
 and unbelief. — The Christian feels himself 
 still with God, " even his own God ;" and his 
 presence enlightens all that is gloomy, re- 
 lieves all that is depressing ; brings beauty 
 out of confusion, and turns evil into good. 
 Thus it was with Jesus who suffered for us, 
 leaving us an example that we should follow 
 his steps. He foreknew all the circumstances 
 of his trial, and all the instruments of his 
 pain — He saw Judas betraying him ; Peter 
 denying him ; his disciples forsaking him ; 
 Herod mocking him ; Pilate condemning him; 
 the soldiers nailing him to the cross; the po- 
 pulace insulting him — He saw it all — yet he 
 saw nothing but God : " The cup which my 
 Father hath given me, shall I not drink it !" 
 We are to behold 
 
 II. The uncontrolableness of his dominion. 
 — " Who can hinder Him 1" 
 
 Can the man of power 7 There i3 no 
 power but of God ; and what he imparts, he 
 can with infinite ease recall, or defeat. — 
 What a degree of force and influence have 
 some individuals possessed and exerted. — 
 When the late emperor of France led his un- 
 paralleled army into Russia, he seemed more 
 than mortal. He felt the presumption of con- 
 fidence himself, for he said, "Are not my 
 princes altogether kings, is not Calno asCar- 
 chemish 1 — Is not Hamath as Arpad .' — Is not 
 Samaria as Damascus!" — What can with- 
 stand him 1 " He sendeth abroad his ice like 
 morsels. Who can stand before his cold V — 
 " How art thou fallen, O Lucifer, son of the 
 morning ! — How art thou cut down to the 
 ground which didst weaken the nations ! for 
 thou saidest in thine heart, I will ascend into 
 heaven, I will exalt my throne above the 
 stars of God : I will sit also upon the mount 
 of the congregation in the sides of the north." 
 We read of " an innumerable company of 
 
246 
 
 THE HAND OF GOD IN AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 angels," and they are called his mighty an- < 
 gels— 
 
 The least of which could wield these elements. 
 
 One of them in a single night entered the 
 camp of Sennacherib, and destroyed an hun- 
 dred and eighty-five thousand: another at 
 midnight, passed through the whole land of 
 Egypt, and slew in every house the first-born. 
 — An insect in his hand would be omnipo- 
 tent. — There have been four great monarch- 
 ies in the world, and each of them for the 
 time seemed too firmly established to be 
 rooted up. But in vain the Babylonian said, 
 I will keep my throne; the Persian, I will 
 keep my state ; the Macedonian, I will retain 
 my glory ; and the Roman, I will retain my 
 dominion. He took them all away, and 
 trampled them under foot as the mire in the 
 street. 
 
 Can the man of policy 1 There have been 
 persons endowed with extraordinary pru- 
 dence and penetration. They have seen 
 effects in their distant causes ; they have 
 detected the undeveloped designs of an adver- 
 sary ; and made them, as soon as they began 
 to operate, the very means of effecting their 
 own scheme. " But there is no wisdom, nor 
 understanding, nor counsel against the Lord." 
 " The wisdom of the world is foolishness with 
 God ; as it is written, He taketh the wise in 
 their own craftiness. And again, the Lord 
 knoweth the thoughts of the wise, that they 
 are vain." 
 
 Can the man of prayer 1 Prayer has 
 power with God. Prayer has sometimes met 
 Him as Abigail met David, and induced him 
 to put up his sword into its sheath. "There- 
 fore he said, that he would destroy them, had 
 not Moses, his chosen, stood before him in the 
 breach, to turn away his wrath, lest he should 
 destroy them." — But prayer, even prayer 
 cannot avail, when the time to execute his 
 judgments, yea the set time is come. 
 " Though Moses and Samuel stood before me, 
 yet my mind could not be toward this people : 
 cast them out of my sight, and let them go 
 forth." He answers prayer ; but not so as to 
 derange the system of nature, and the econo- 
 my of Providence. He answers prayer — yet 
 when he has been taking away, who has not 
 tried its efficacy, and found its success limited 
 to our support under the suffering, but not 
 affording exemption from it. 
 
 Can the hearer 1 Strong is the regard we 
 feel for the man who has " begotten us in 
 Christ by the gospel," who has fed us with 
 "the bread of life;" who has led us "in the 
 way everlasting ;" and comforted us in all our 
 tribulation. But in vain we hang upon his 
 lips. Those lips must be silenced in the 
 grave. — How many ministers, regardless of 
 the tears of a church, raised by their labours, 
 and apparently depending upon their ability 
 and zeal, have been taken away in the vigour 
 
 of their days, and the midst of their usefulness. 
 Moses, the servant of the Lord must die : and 
 all they among whom Paul has gone preach- 
 ing the kingdom of God, must see his face no 
 more. — Who can hinder him 1 
 
 — Cannot the wife — the children! Can- 
 not they hinder the removal of the husband, 
 the father — cannot they hinder it, when the 
 loss will reduce her from ease to anxiety, and 
 toil, and dependence ; and scatter them abroad 
 uneducated, unprovided for, exposed to injus- 
 tice and treated with insult 1 No. " Leave 
 thy fatherless children : I will preserve them 
 alive, and let thy widows trust in me." — Who 
 can hinder him 1 
 
 Cannot the lover! There is something 
 very delightful and interesting in virtuous 
 affection. " Marriage is honourable in all ;" 
 and God himself has pronounced that " it is 
 not good for man to be alone." — He who has 
 sanctioned the end, arranges the means. — We 
 see each other ; we intermingle — some per- 
 sonal charm ; some intellectual or moral at- 
 traction ; some undefined, undefinable quality, 
 perhaps imperceptible to another, seizes and 
 fixes the admirer's mind — we give up our- 
 selves to the impression — and the time of 
 union is reckoned upon, as the consummation 
 of happiness. 
 
 What is the world to them ? 
 
 Its pomp, its pleasures and its nonsense all 
 Who in each other clasp whatever fair 
 High fancy forms, and lavish hearts can wish ; 
 Something than beauty dearer — should they look 
 Or on the mind, or mind illumined face, 
 Truth, goodness, honour, harmony, and love, 
 The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven. — 
 
 But alas, instead of marriage rites, behold 
 funeral solemnities ! — Who can hinder Him? 
 
 Can the husband 1 The husband ought to 
 feel much more attached than the lover. To 
 him, the companion of his days has actually 
 surrendered herself — For him she has passed 
 through pains and perils — She lives but for 
 him, and those dear pledges of affection which 
 bear his name, and his image. — Her worth 
 he has tried, and proved and acknowledged. — 
 
 O happy they ! the happiest of their kind [blend : 
 Whose hearts, whose fortune, and whose beings 
 'Tis not the coarser ties of human laws 
 Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind 
 That binds their peace : but harmony itself 
 Attuning all their passions into love. 
 There friendship sweet exerts her softest power 
 Perfect esteem, enlivened by desire 
 Ineffable and sympathy of soul : 
 Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will 
 With boundless confidence — for nought but love 
 Can answer love, and render bliss secure? 
 
 — And can this ? " Son of man behold I 
 take from thee the desire of thine eyes with 
 a stroke — and behold at evening my wife 
 died." 
 
 i But cannot parents 1 "Lo ! children are an 
 : heritage of the Lord, and the fruit of the 
 womb is his reward." We view them as our 
 , treasures, and say to each inquirer, " These 
 1 are the children which God hath graciously 
 • given thy servant." With a joy which 
 
THE HAND OF GOD IN AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 247 
 
 strangers intermeddle not with, we see them 
 " growing in wisdom and in stature." Every 
 day some latent power or quality seems to 
 unfold itself. We watch the tottering steps 
 till they become a walk ; and listen to their 
 lisping, till with distinctness they can cry 
 " My father and my mother." We look for- 
 ward and indulge in the fondness of hope, 
 and the visions of fancy. We expect to find 
 in them, our companions, the ornaments of 
 our family, the support of our age, and the 
 hands that shall close the eyes that first 
 sparkled on them with pleasure. — But while 
 we are exceeding glad because of the gourd, 
 some worm is preymg at the root — and after 
 a few months or years, we turn to the com- 
 mon spoiler, and say, " Me hast thou be- 
 reaved of my children ; Joseph is not ; and 
 Simeon is not — and wilt thou take Benjamin 
 away — all these things are against me." 
 
 III. We are to contemplate the unim- 
 peachableness of his conduct .' Who will 
 say unto Him, what doest Thou ? He is not 
 to be arraigned, or argued with, or examined. 
 — To restrain a man however from all this 
 freedom with God, a threefold conviction is ne- 
 cessary : a conviction of his supremacy : a con- 
 viction of his rectitude : and a conviction of 
 his wisdom. 
 
 First. A conviction of his supremacy. 
 A father may come upon a child and say what 
 doest thou 7 But does it become a child to 
 say this to a parent 1 Seeing your servant 
 at work in the field or the garden, you have 
 surely a right to interrogate him : but what 
 would you think if he should in like manner 
 question you ? " Where the word of a king 
 is, there is power, and who can say unto 
 Him, what doest Thou ? With regard, indeed 
 to an earthly king, this reasoning may be 
 pushed too far ; and it often has been abused 
 by courtiers, and the advocates for non-resist- 
 ance and passive obedience ; who consider a 
 king as incapable of doing wrong, or amena- 
 ble to God only for his doings. But a king 
 is for his people. When he speaks the law, 
 he speaks as a king, and his orders are to be 
 obeyed, and not to be disputed or debated. 
 But when he speaks against law or above 
 it, he only speaks as a man, and his mandates 
 are no longer unquestionable. But God is a 
 Sovereign, in such a sense, as no mortal 
 either is, or can be. We are absolutely and 
 entirely his : and He has a right to do what 
 he will with his own. " Be still," there- 
 fore, says He, " and know that I am God." 
 This was the consideration by which David 
 hushed his passions into silence : " I was 
 dumb; I opened not my mouth, because Thou 
 didst it." 
 
 Secondly. A conviction of his rectitude. 
 The sovereignty of God is never to be con- 
 founded with arbitrariness. Whatever He 
 does, He does it " because it seemeth good 
 in his sight." He feels no evil bias, and 
 
 forms no design but infinite purity and bene- 
 volence approve. He is holy in ' all ways, 
 and righteous in all his works. Even when 
 He strips me, He does not defraud. He 
 comes, not as a robber, but as a proprietor 
 only, to reclaim his own. " I know that his 
 judgments are right, and that in faithfulness 
 He afflicts me." " Is there unrighteousness 
 with God ] How then can God judge the 
 world ? Shall not the Judge of all the earth 
 do right ?" 
 
 Thirdly. A conviction of his wisdom. 
 A man may mean well, and scorn to do an 
 unworthy action, yet, he may err : he may be 
 weak ; he may be imposed upon by appear- 
 ances ; he may be drawn aside by artifice, and 
 thus be guilty of very foolish, hazardous, and 
 injurious conduct. Let the ability of a fellow- 
 creature be what it may, it is always limited, 
 and imperfect ; and therefore I can never give 
 him such implicit confidence as precludes the 
 propriety or necessity of investigation. But 
 such confidence in God is more than justified, 
 because his understanding is infinite. He 
 knows what is good in the circumstances as 
 well as in the event : He knows what is best 
 upon the whole, and in the end. " The eyes 
 of the Lord run to and fro, throughout the 
 whole earth, to show himself strong in the 
 behalf of those whose heart is perfect towards 
 him." 
 
 " Who so fit to choose our lot, 
 And regulate our ways." 
 
 It is therefore needless, presumptuous, dis- 
 honourable to say unto Him, " what doest 
 Thou." 
 
 But perhaps you are ready to say — Has 
 this prohibition no bounds, no qualification t 
 Must we be kept, while God is dealing with 
 us, in absolute ignorance, and silence? In 
 answer to this, we have four remarks to 
 make, to which we invite your renewed at- 
 tention. 
 
 First remark. You would not be often 
 capable of understanding the subject, even 
 were God to tell you, " what he doeth." Vain 
 man would be wise, but he is born as a wild 
 ass's colt. We are of yesterday, and know 
 nothing. We have only a small degree of 
 intellect: and this is diverted and engrossed; 
 limited in the sphere of its activity; and 
 bounded by sense and reflection. We cannot 
 know, where we have no ideas; and in many 
 cases we have very imperfect ones, or none 
 at all. What marvel then if God's doings 
 are often too remote for us to reach ; too deep 
 for us to fathom ; too complicated for us to 
 unravel. Such knowledge is too wonderful 
 for us : and it would be useless for God to 
 impart to us communications which we have 
 not faculties to admit. He therefore does 
 with us, as we do with our children. They 
 are often inquisitive, but we divert them 
 from the subject. We know that we cannot 
 at present enable them to comprehend the 
 
248 
 
 THE HAND OF GOD IN AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 nature, the bearings, relations, and design of 
 our conduct, especially in our most weighty 
 and complex concerns: that is, in those af- 
 fairs wherein our wisdom is principally ex- 
 ercised. And we know who hath said, " O 
 the depths, both of the wisdom and know- 
 ledge of God ! How unsearchable are his 
 judgments, and his ways are past finding 
 out!" 
 
 Second remark. There may be useful 
 reasons for withholding from you the de- 
 gree of knowledge which you are competent 
 to receive. The former article regards you 
 physically ; this morally ; that regards your 
 intellectual capacity, this your religious pro- 
 bation and improvement. It is well known 
 that a veil left upon the subject, will serve 
 to awaken attention and reverence ; for such 
 is the nature of man, that familiarity breeds 
 neglect and contempt ; while distance gen- 
 ders awe, and excites desire. Nothing was 
 so revered by the Jews as the ark that was 
 not to be touched, and the holiest of all that 
 was forbidden to be entered. The sun is ne- 
 ver so much noticed as when eclipsed. — It 
 may be necessary to keep us in suspense, to 
 try our faith ; for the homage of faith is su- 
 perseded by perfect knowledge. The grand 
 proof of our confidence is, when we " walk 
 in darkness, and have no light," to " trust in 
 the Lord, and stay upon our God." Am I 
 willing to follow Him, when he leads me, as 
 blind in a way which I know not, and in 
 paths which I have not known? Am I a son 
 of Abraham, who at tfie call of God obeyed, 
 and " went out, not knowing whither he 
 went !" — Such concealment also promotes 
 our humility. Man fell from his happiness 
 by the desire of knowing ; and he can only 
 rise by the humility of his understanding, 
 " casting down imaginations, and every thing 
 that exalteth itself against the knowledge of 
 God, and bringing into captivity every thought 
 to the obedience of Christ !" 
 
 Third remark. An appointed hour is ap- 
 proaching when the restraints you are now 
 under will be taken off ; and your inquiries 
 will be fully allowed and indulged. The 
 present is a world of action rather than of 
 science. This life is a state of trial and pre- 
 paration ; the life to come, is for remunera- 
 tion and happiness. For this reason we shall 
 know infinitely more than we now know, as 
 well as enjoy infinitely more than we now 
 enjoy. The developements of eternity will 
 constitute no small part of the glory to be re- 
 vealed. We therefore rejoice in hope. " For 
 we know in part, and we prophesy in part. 
 But when that which is perfect is come, then 
 that which is in part shall be done away. — 
 For now we see through a glass darkly, 
 but then face to face: for now I know in 
 part, but then shall I know even as also I 
 am known." " What I do," says God, " thou 
 
 knowest not now, but thou shalt know here- 
 after." 
 
 Fourth remark. Some inquiry is permit- 
 ted you, even now ; Yes — If you will speak 
 with modesty and diffidence — If you will not 
 arraign his character — If you will not im- 
 peach his supremacy, his rectitude, his wis- 
 dom — If you will not inquire from any suspi- 
 cion of his wonderfulness in counsel and 
 excellency in working — or from idle curi- 
 osity — but from a regard to your advantage 
 — to regulate your duty — to guide your godly 
 sorrow — to know what he would have you to 
 do, or forsake : you may even now ask, " What 
 doest thou '!" and Eliphaz himself recom- 
 mends you to do so ; "I would say unto God, 
 do not condemn me, show me wherefore 
 Thou contendest with me." 
 
 Now of that which we have spoken, this 
 is the sum. 
 
 As any of your comforts may be taken 
 away, set not your hearts upon them. This 
 will be found not only the dictate of piety, 
 but prudence. Excessive attachment is the 
 way to lose our enjoyments the sooner, be- 
 cause it adds a moral precariousness to the 
 natural : for it provokes God to slay the idols 
 which rob him of that glory, which he has 
 declared he will not give to another. There- 
 fore as snow remains longer in a cool place 
 than in the sun beams, so all our temporal 
 indulgences are more durable in the region 
 of moderate regard, than in the warmth of 
 ardent affection. — By this intemperate at- 
 tachment too, you render the removal the 
 more difficult and painful when it comes. 
 What we hold at our fingers' ends we can 
 easily drop: but the tearing away of the 
 heart-strings is death. 
 
 Again. We see what alone it is in our 
 afflictions that can reconcile the mind to 
 them. It is a view of God ; and a view of 
 Him, not only as a sovereign, but a Father. 
 A view of His power will do something : it 
 will show us the vanity of resistance, and in- 
 duce us to say, " This is my grief and I must 
 bear it." But the submission of a Christian 
 is not the offspring of necessity, or compul- 
 sion. It is acquiescence. It is not enough 
 that he does not strive with God — He must 
 forgive him — He must take all he does in 
 good part — He must approve — He must in 
 every thing give thanks : feeling a lively per- 
 suasion not only that he is doing all things, 
 but doing all things well. This is a frame 
 of mind that allows indeed of sensibility, but 
 excludes all censure. " Then Job arose and 
 rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell 
 down upon the ground and worshipped : and 
 said, naked came I out of my mother's womb, 
 and naked shall I return thither. The Lord 
 gave and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed 
 be the name of the Lord. In all this Job 
 sinned not, nor charged God foolishly." 
 
THE HAND OF GOD IN AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 249 
 
 The subject I have imperfectly explained I 
 and improved, cannot be deemed unsuitable 
 to any of my audience, for we live in a world 
 of changes; and " If a man live many years," 
 says Solomon, " and rejoice in them all, yet 
 let him remember the days of darkness, for 
 they shall be many : all that cometh is vani- 
 ty." But it has been peculiarly designed for 
 those who are again called to sigh, 
 
 The dear delights we here enjoy, 
 
 And fondly call our own : 
 Are but short favours borrowed now 
 
 To be repaid anon. 
 
 — They have not only been bereaved, but 
 visited with breach upon breach. A year 
 has not elapsed since God entered the house 
 of mourning, and by the death of the never 
 to be forgotten head of the household, required 
 a most important and painful sacrifice of the 
 family ; and in which the church, the pastor, 
 the Sunday-schools, the poor, the neighbour- 
 hood, and the public suffered along with 
 them.* 
 
 And behold again He taketh away. He 
 has now removed, not only a fellow-creature, 
 but a fellow-hearer and worshipper, whose 
 place — there — which once knew her, shall 
 know her no more for ever. She has been 
 removed — in the bloom of life — lovely in 
 person, more lovely in mind — most lovely in 
 temper. Her disposition was peculiarly kind 
 and obliging; her manners gentle, unaffect- 
 ed, and elegant; and her filial attachment 
 and devotedness most exemplary. It is in- 
 deed to be presumed, that the poignancy of 
 her feelings upon the loss of her honoured 
 father, injured her delicate frame, and ac- 
 celerated and promoted the complaint of 
 which she died. 
 
 She was not suddenly taken away, but by 
 a slow, and often flattering disease, which 
 gradually undermined her constitution. And 
 this was in mercy. It afforded a lengthened 
 opportunity of developing and maturing those 
 principles which had been previously im- 
 planted in her. Yes, the heavenly seed 
 was sown before — And I had such a persua- 
 sion of this, that I proposed her admission to 
 the table of the Lord. That timidity, how- 
 ever, which generally accompanies sincerity, 
 made her shrink back from a profession of 
 religion. But though never admitted a mem- 
 ber of a church on earth, she has entered 
 the church of the first-born, whose names 
 are written in heaven, and joined the spirits 
 of just men made perfect. And I have fre- 
 quently imagined the pleasing interview be- 
 tween the father and the child in that world 
 of renewed and finished friendship: and have 
 thought how much more advantageously she 
 is disposed of, to be under the wing of a 
 
 * See a very just and elegant delineation of the cha- 
 racter of this most excellent man, whose death was so 
 deeply and universally deplored, in an address delivered 
 on the occasion, to the Sunday schools and the Teach- 
 ers, by the Uev. Thomas Roberts, A. M. 
 
 21 
 
 parent in heaven, than a parent on earth. 
 Free from infirmity, and care, and trouble, 
 how much more able is the Father in heaven 
 to devote himself to her improvement and 
 happiness, than the mother on earth ! 
 
 — I said, the heavenly seed had been sown 
 before: But the lingering illness; the retire- 
 ment from the world ; the sheltered leisure ; 
 the intercourse of sacred friendship ; and 
 above all, the presence, the conversation, the 
 prayers, of a pious parent — these were the 
 showers that made the seed spring up, and in 
 a short time to grow abundantly, " first the 
 blade, then the ear, and after that the full 
 corn in the ear." The progress and produce 
 were seen, in deep convictions of sin ; in 
 great self-abasement; in godly sorrow; in 
 earnest and constant prayer ; in dependence 
 on the Lord our righteousness and strength ; 
 and in love to his dear name. It would take 
 up too much of your time, to go over the pro- 
 cess of her experience till within a few days 
 of her dissolution. Suffice it to observe, that 
 she finished her course, not only with peace 
 but joy ; fully aware of her approaching de- 
 parture, and impressed with all the import- 
 ance attached to the event, yet triumphing 
 over it. 
 
 On the Tuesday preceding her death, her 
 mother coming into the room after some ab- 
 sence, she said to her with a smile, " I am 
 happy :" and to a friend standing by, " How 
 precious is the Saviour : he has pardoned my 
 sins, and washed me in his own blood — I long 
 to be with him, and to behold his face in right- 
 eousness." 
 
 On Wednesday morning her respiration 
 becoming more difficult, she prayed if it was 
 the Lord's will to give her more breath that 
 she might praise him more ; and tell poor sin- 
 ners how precious he had been to her soul. 
 She then repeated with great emphasis : 
 
 Jesus, lover of my soul. 
 
 Let me to thy bosom fly ; 
 While the raging billows roll, 
 
 While the tempest still is high ! 
 Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, 
 
 Till the storm of life is past ; 
 Safe into the haven guide, 
 O receive my soul at last! 
 
 Other refuge have I none, 
 
 Hangs my helpless soul on thee ; 
 Leave, ahl leave me not alone. 
 
 Still support and comfort me: 
 All my trust on thee is stay'd, 
 
 All my help from thee I bring, 
 Cover my defenceless head 
 With the shadow of thy wing! 
 
 Soon after this she broke forth and said : 
 
 I'll praise my Maker with my breath, 
 And when my soul is lost in death 
 
 Praise shall employ my nobler powers : 
 My days of praise shall ne'er be past, 
 While life, and thought and being last, 
 Or immortality endures. 
 
 And again : 
 
 My Jesus shall be still my theme 
 
 While in this world I stay; 
 I'll sing my Saviour's lovely name. 
 When ail things else decay. 
 
250 
 
 THE HAND OP GOD IN AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 And then looking upward said, " When heart 
 and flesh fiuleth, be Thou " the strength of 
 my heart, and my portion for ever." 
 
 — On Thursday morning-, after struggling 
 for some time to all appearance in the ago- 
 nies of death, she revived, and said to her at- 
 tached friend, "How precious is the Saviour; 
 O never, never forget him:" and to her pa- 
 rent, " You, my dear mother, will praise him 
 to an eternity, for all the happiness I feel. It 
 appears as if the Saviour's everlasting arms 
 were underneath me ; and the angels beckon- 
 ing me away to glory. O precious Saviour ! 
 that I had more breath to praise thee. O 
 come and take me to Thyself, that I may cast 
 my crown at Thy feet, and sing " worthy is 
 the Lamb that was slain." 
 
 At one time she expressed a great desire 
 to be taken home to Bath,* that she might 
 see her young friends, and tell them how 
 good the Saviour had been to her ; and exhort 
 them to seek Him while they had health and 
 strength ; but finding this to be impracticable, 
 she submitted to the will of her heavenly 
 Father: but said to her mother, "Let me 
 however be taken home to be buried. Let 
 my young friends see me, give them my dy- 
 ing love, and tell them how happy I should 
 have been could I have seen them, to speak 
 of the Saviour's goodness." She particularly 
 wished to have seen the preacher who is now 
 addressing you; but as his public engage- 
 ments prevented her the satisfaction, she de- 
 sired her mother to tell him, "That she had 
 a good hope through grace — That Jesus was 
 all her salvation and all her desire — That 
 she was cleansed in His blood, and clothed 
 in his righteousness." 
 
 At another time, she exclaimed, " Though 
 the earthly house of this tabernacle be dis- 
 solving, I have a building of God, a house not 
 made with hands, eternal in the heavens." 
 
 These are only a few of her remarks and 
 feelings. She continued exulting in the grace 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ, when breath per- 
 mitted, till the moment of her departure drew 
 near: and when she could no longer utter 
 aloud the happiness she felt, she was distinct- 
 ly heard to whisper " O come, Lord Jesus, 
 come quickly. Come take me to thyself. I 
 am accepted in the beloved. I am waiting 
 his commands. I am longing to depart to be 
 with Jesus which is far better." 
 
 Well, this beautiful flower is not destroyed, 
 but only transplanted — transplanted from a 
 wintry climate and an ungenial soil to flou- 
 rish near " the tree of life which is in the 
 midst of the paradise of God." 
 
 And now what remains'! When Jesus 
 was dying in anguish on the Cross, and amidst 
 the insults of the multitude (never was there 
 a scene of distress like her's,) Mary, his mo- 
 ther, was standing by ; and I am happy to find 
 here this morning, the mother of this beloved 
 * She died at the Hot-Wells. 
 
 child. You who have been bereaved your- 
 selves will sympathize with her. Yet per- 
 haps no one of you has been called to lose in 
 sad succession, several infants; a son at se- 
 venteen full of every kind of promise; a hus- 
 band, and such a husband ; a daughter, and 
 such a daughter! But my afflicted friend, 
 there is one — the God of all comfort — who 
 knows thy frame — knows all thy walking 
 through this great wilderness — and has en- 
 gaged to deliver thee in six troubles, and that 
 in seven, no evil shall touch thee. Indeed 
 you feel that the affliction has been alleviated, 
 sanctified, glorified! Your grateful mind has 
 led you to acknowledge, that you have much 
 more reason for joy than sorrow. Her death 
 is not only her gain, but your's. You have 
 gained by it a fresh claim on the presence of 
 God; you have gained a new promise, "I 
 will be with thee in trouble." You have 
 gained another loosening from earth and an- 
 other attraction in heaven ; and you will now 
 resemble the sheep that I have seen in the 
 meadow following after the shepherd, bleat- 
 ing, that has taken up her lamb — So you will 
 long to be with Jesus who has gathered your 
 lamb with his arm, and carries it in his bo- 
 som. I feel on the present occasion ; but al- 
 allow me to say, the parent I most pity, is 
 not the parent that has just seen a child de- 
 livered from the burden of the flesh, and a 
 vale of tears, and exalted to sit with the Sa- 
 viour on his throne — but the parent whose 
 heart is bleeding and breaking over a child 
 that has sinned away every religious advan- 
 tage, and in the career of iniquity is proceed- 
 ing from evil to evil. " Weep ye not for the 
 dead, neither bemoan him; but weep sore for 
 him that goeth away; for he shall return no 
 more, nor see his native country." — 
 
 I am peculiarly concerned to render the 
 event useful to you, the sister and brothers 
 of the deceased. You have, my young friends, 
 been several times solemnly addressed by the 
 providence as well as the word of God. I 
 trust it has not been entirely in vain. But it 
 is with you to determine whether you are 
 sufficiently decided. It is for you to deter- 
 mine whether you are giving full scope to 
 the convictions, which from your education 
 and advantages you surely must often feel. 
 It is for you to determine whether "the 
 world and the things of the world" are sway- 
 ing you, or you are living as you will wish 
 you had lived, when you come to die. You 
 have long heard the gospel.' Have you re- 
 ceived it ! From a child you have known the 
 Holy Scriptures. Have they made you wise 
 unto salvation? You have seen that the 
 saints are the excellent in the earth. Is all 
 your delight in them? You have now much 
 in heaven. Are you to be connected with 
 it, or separated from it, for ever 1 God forbid 
 that there should be weeping and gnashing 
 of teeth, when you shall see Abraham, and 
 
THE HAND OF GOD IN AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 251 
 
 Isaac, and Jacob, and your endeared kindred 
 in the kingdom of God — and ye yourselves 
 shut out. 
 
 My young friends in general, suffer the 
 word of exhortation. You have had another 
 instance before you of the delusion of depend- 
 ing on a future season, for an attention to the 
 things that belong to your everlasting peace. 
 In the midst of life you are in death. Child- 
 hood and youth are vanity. Should life 
 amidst a thousand perils be spared, the heart 
 may be hardened through the deceitfulness 
 of sin, and by unsanctified attendance on the 
 means of grace. Or should you in advanced 
 years be enabled to seek the Lord, the mis- 
 improvement of the most favoured period of 
 your time will occasion bitter repentance. 
 You will then see, but too late to retrieve 
 them, the losses you have sustained by the 
 neglect of early piety. I have avoided re- 
 marking therefore till now, how often and 
 how much the deceased regretted that she 
 had not sought the Lord earlier." " O," said 
 she, " O that I had known the Saviour sooner. 
 O that I had known Him from the age of six, 
 or even four, the time then would have been 
 too short to praise Him." For your seeking 
 him early, my young friends, she discovered 
 her solicitude in death. For this purpose she 
 
 desired to be brought to her own house, that 
 as the eye affecteth the heart, you might be 
 impressed with the sight of so early a corpse. 
 Many of you have seen it; and others have 
 followed it this morning to the grave. And 
 I see you are impressed. You are saying, 
 " Ah ! she is gone — our lovely companion — 
 we shall no more see her in the house, or 
 walk with her in the field. We shall no 
 more see her — dealing out her garments 
 to the poor — no more see her teaching, sur- 
 rounded by her little Sunday-school circle" — 
 Yes, you weep, and these tears become you. 
 I love to see them. — You are now impressed: 
 and I have no doubt of the sincerity of your 
 present feelings and vows — but I have of 
 their permanency. I fear you will go forth 
 and straightway forget what manner of per- 
 sons you now are. I fear you will turn again 
 to folly. " O that they were wise ; that they 
 understood this; that they would consider 
 their latter end." 
 
 " The voice said, Cry : and I said what 
 shall I cry. All flesh is as grass, and all the 
 glory of man as the flower of grass. The 
 grass withereth, and the flower thereof fadeth 
 away : but the word of the Lord endureth for 
 ever ; and this is the word which by the gos- 
 pel is preached unto you." 
 
AN ATTEMPT TO REGULATE THE CLAIMS OF THE CHRISTIAN 
 
 MINISTRY : 
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED AT THE SEPARATION OF 
 
 THE REV. JAMES STRATTON, 
 
 TO THE PASTORAL OFFICE OVER THE CHURCH AND CONGREG ATION, MEETING IN PAD- 
 DINGTON CHAPEL, NOVEMBER 18, 1818. 
 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 To THOMAS WILSON, Esq. 
 
 Sir, — It would pain me, could I think, that the Pastor, or the Church and Congregation, 
 or the numerous and respectable Ministers who joined them in urging the publication of the 
 following Discourse, deemed themselves slighted by the Individuality of this Dedication. 
 
 I am persuaded however, that without a single exception, they will applaud the convic- 
 tion that has determined me, without his knowledge, to inscribe these pages solely to a 
 gentleman — who was the generous founder and supporter of the Chapel, in which the 
 solemnities were held — who has long been the unwearied friend and munificent patron of 
 the institution to which the people owe their approved minister — who values property much 
 more as an instrument of usefulness than of honour or enjoyment — and, by the grace of 
 God, is ready to every good work. — I am, Sir, with the most unfeigned respect, your hum- 
 ble and obedient servant, WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 Bath, Dec. 1, 1818. 
 
 Now know I that the Lord -will do me good, 
 seeing I have a levite to my priest. — Judges 
 xvii. 13. 
 
 We are here led back to an early period 
 of the Jewish history, and to a sad portion of 
 the Jewish church. But while we wonder 
 and condemn, it becomes us to admit into the 
 account, the peculiar disadvantages, civil and 
 religious, under which they now laboured ; 
 and to remember, that sins are to be judged 
 of, not by their grossness but guilt ; and that 
 guilt is to be determined by the measure of 
 means and privileges neglected and abused. 
 " The servant which knew his lord's will, 
 and prepared not himself, neither did accord- 
 ing to his will, shall be beaten with many 
 stripes. But he that knew not, and did com- 
 mit things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten 
 with few stripes. For unto whomsoever 
 much is given, of him shall be much re- 
 quired; and to whom men have committed 
 much, of him they will ask the more." 
 
 — Let us enter into the story. Here is an 
 
 old woman very covetous, and yet very re- 
 ligious in her way. She had saved up eleven 
 hundred shekels of silver, and hid them. But 
 Micah her son soon finds and seizes the trea- 
 sure — for there are children who are neither 
 ashamed or afraid to steal from their parents ; 
 — upon which, she falls into a passion, and 
 not only raves but even curses. Her impre- 
 cating the divine vengeance on the head of 
 the thief, terrified Micah ; he confessed the 
 roguery, and restored the money. This 
 threw her into an ecstasy of pleasure, so that 
 instead of upbraiding him, she exclaims: 
 " Blessed be thou of the Lord my son :" de- 
 claring at the same time that she had in- 
 tended the whole sum for himself — " I had 
 wholly dedicated the silver unto the Lord 
 from my hand for my son, to make a graven 
 image and a molten image." The property 
 however, though wholly pledged, was too 
 precious, on recovery, to be wholly parted 
 with : she therefore keeps nine hundred she- 
 kels, and squeezes out only two for the 
 sacred service. These " she gave to the 
 252 
 
OF TOE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 253 
 
 founder, who made thereof a graven image 
 and a molten image; and they were in the 
 house of Micah." Thus a species of idolatry 
 entered this family, and from this family 
 spread through the whole tribe of Dan. It 
 was not a sin committed against the first 
 commandment, in worshipping another God : 
 but against the second commandment, in 
 worshipping the true God under a similitude. 
 
 But what will he do for a priest ? " He 
 consecrated one of his own sons." But He 
 does not long remain in office. The case 
 was this. A strolling Levite had gone abroad 
 in search of employment and promotion. In 
 his vagabond rambles he comes to mount 
 Ephraim, and to the house of Micah. "And 
 Micah said unto him, whence comest thou 3 
 And he said unto him, I am a Levite of 
 Bethlehem-judah, and I go to sojourn where 
 I may find a place. And Micah said unto 
 him, dwell witli me, and be unto me a father 
 and a priest, and I will give thee ten shekels 
 of silver by the year, and a suit of apparel, 
 and thy victuals." Clothes and food, and 
 twenty-five shillings a year, were no great 
 matters. " The ministry" says Henry, " is 
 a good calling, but a bad trade." The Levite 
 however is content, and his employer is 
 happy — " Then said Micah, now know I that 
 the Lord will do me good, seeing I have a 
 Levite to my priest." 
 
 Here we have something to commend, and 
 something to censure, whether we consider 
 the case more generally, or particularly. 
 
 It was surely right in him, to be concerned 
 for the blessing of God. — " The Lord will 
 do me good." It is obvious that he expected 
 nothing without the Divine favour ; and was 
 persuaded that " the blessing of the Lord, it 
 maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with 
 it." I am bold to say, that many of our fel- 
 low-creatures are not equally wise. They 
 live without God in the world. God is not 
 in all their thoughts. If ever he breaks in 
 among them, He is considered an intruder, 
 and they labour to expel him, saying with 
 those in the days of Job, " Depart from us, 
 we desire not the knowledge of thy ways :" 
 or with those in the time of Isaiah, " Cause 
 the Holy One of Israel to cease from before 
 us." Not that this is the utterance of the 
 lip, but of the life : actions, we say, speak 
 louder than words ; and the sacred writers to 
 shock us with their nature and tendency, put 
 the dispositions and the conduct of the wick- 
 ed into language. — Have they succeeded in 
 business ? " They sacrifice to their net, and 
 burn incense to their own drag ; because by 
 them their portion is fat, and their meat 
 plenteous." Have they a journey, or an 
 enterprise before them ? They say, " To- 
 day, or to-morrow we will go into such a 
 city, and continue there a year, and buy and 
 sell and get gain." Whereas they ought to 
 say, " If the Lord will we shall live, and do 
 22 
 
 this or that." They are anxious and eager 
 to please men, especially if they have power 
 and influence ; but they ibrget that every 
 thing depends on our pleasing God. For in 
 His favour is life. He only is blessed whom 
 God blesses. "Except the Lord build the 
 house, they labour in vain that build it ; ex- 
 cept the Lord keep the city, the watchman 
 waketh but in vain." We should be princi- 
 pally concerned to secure the benediction of 
 God ; and above all things His gracious 
 favour. — "Remember me, O Lord, with the 
 favour thou bearest unto thy people !" 
 
 But while it was right in Micah to be re- 
 gardful of the blessing of God — it was wrong 
 in him to derive his expectation from such 
 an ambiguous and delusive source of evi- 
 dence. — " Now I know the Lord will do me 
 good, seeing I have a Levite to my priest." 
 Ah, my brethren, this fine reasoner has had a 
 number of followers in every age. The Jews, 
 because they had among them the ark and the 
 temple, and wore the rite of circumcision, 
 and could call Abraham their father, presum- 
 ed upon their security ; and their destruction 
 took them by surprise. Many now, accord- 
 ing as the degree of their ignorance requires 
 a grosser or a more refined delusion, conclude 
 that God will surely do them good, because 
 they were born of Christian parents, or were 
 baptized in their infancy, or have observed 
 Good Friday and Lent, or have fasted and 
 given alms to the poor, or have been moral 
 in their deportment, or have reformed them- 
 selves from every vice, or have been the sub- 
 jects of conviction of sin, or possess edifying 
 gifts, or rank with professors of religion, 
 " having a name to live." — But it would be 
 endless to particularize all the articles in 
 this magazine of delusion. " He feedeth on 
 ashes; a deceived heart hath turned him aside, 
 that he cannot deliver his soul, nor say is 
 there not a lie in my right hand V My dear 
 hearers you must be accepted in the beloved ; 
 you must be saved by the washing of regene- 
 ration, and the renewing of the Holy Ghost ; 
 you must worship God in the spirit and re- 
 joice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence 
 in the flesh, before you are authorized to say, 
 with regard to prosperity or adversity, sick- 
 ness or health, life or death, time or eternity 
 — " Now know I that the Lord will do me 
 good." " We know," says the Apostle, " that 
 all things work together for good to them that 
 love God, to them who are the called accord- 
 ing to his purpose." — But all besides this, is 
 only the repetition of Micah's folly in another 
 shape. 
 
 Again. I observe the same mixture of right 
 and wrong, truth and error, in a more parti- 
 cular instance, and which brings us nearer 
 our subject. Micah does well in prizing the 
 priestly office, for it was the appointment of 
 God ; but he does ill in viewing it without 
 discrimination, and regarding it as an abso- 
 
254 
 
 AN ATTEMPT TO REGULATE THE CLAIMS 
 
 lute criterion or expedient; for a thing may 
 be excellent in itself, and not available in all 
 cases: but his confidence has no qualification : 
 he despairs of nothing-, solely on the ground 
 that he has to officiate for him, one of the sa- 
 cerdotal race. " Now know I that the Lord 
 will do me good, seeing I have a Levite to 
 my priest." 
 
 Behold then, my brethren, the devclope- 
 ment of the plan we have in view this morn- 
 ing. You have now auspiciously established 
 among you, a settled ministry. This is an 
 institution for which you ought to be thank- 
 ful ; you should consider it a token for good, 
 and you should look for a blessing from it. 
 And yet you may conceive of it improperly, 
 you may think more highly of it than you 
 ought to think, you may even convert the 
 privilege into a penalty. Allow me to say, 
 with regard to the ministry of our young and 
 esteemed brother now separated to the pas- 
 toral office in this church and congregation — 
 That you may undervalue it — That you may 
 rely too mucli upon it — That you may per- 
 vert it. Against these three mistakes, it will 
 be my endeavour to guard you. I shall 
 
 I. Attempt to justify the estimation 
 
 IN WHICH IT IS YOUR DUTY TO HOLD THE MI- 
 NISTRY. 
 
 II. I SHALL SHOW IN WHAT CASES YOUR 
 DEPENDENCE UPON IT MAY BE IMPROPER AND 
 CENSURABLE. And 
 
 III. I SHALL EVINCE THE POSSIBILITY OF 
 YOUR EVEN TURNING THE BLESSING INTO A 
 CURSE. 
 
 I. Did you ever observe, my brethren, the 
 language of the Apostle to the Thessaloniansl 
 " Know them that labour among you and are 
 over you in the Lord, and admonish you, and 
 esteem them very highly in love for their 
 work's sake." This it must be acknowledged 
 is a high demand. To " know" them — to 
 " esteem" them — to esteem them " highly" — 
 to esteem them "very" highly — to esteem 
 them very highly "in love!" But the Apos- 
 tle adds — " for their work's sake." As if He 
 had said, the respect regards the office rather 
 than the man; and attaches to the man only 
 in reference to the office, and in proportion 
 only as he is the office really and alive. Such 
 is the exalted estimation in which it is 
 our duty to hold the ministry of the word. 
 How shall we justify it 1 
 
 Let us appeal to the declarations of God 
 the judge, of all. What was to crown, ac- 
 corrling to Jeremiah, the return of the Jews 
 from Babylon into their own land ? "I will 
 give them pastors after mine own heart, who 
 shall feed them with knowledge and under- 
 standing." What does Isaiah consider a full 
 compensation for all the calamities of life 1 
 " Though the Lord give you the bread of ad- 
 versity, and the water of affliction, yet shall 
 not thy teachers be removed into a corner 
 any more, but thine eyes shall see thy teach- 
 
 ers : and thine ears shall hear a word behind 
 thee, saying, this is the way, walk ye in it, 
 when ye turn to the right hand, and when ye 
 turn to the left." What does God by Amos 
 deem worse than famine and drought. " Be- 
 hold the days come, saith the Lord God, that 
 I will send a famine in the land, not a famine 
 of bread, or a thirst for water, but of hearing 
 the words of the Lord : and they shall wan- 
 der from sea to sea, and from the north even 
 to the east ; they shall run to and fro to seek 
 the word of the Lord, and shall not find it." 
 What does the Lord Jesus deem the worst 
 of all judgments, with which to alarm the 
 Ephesian church to repentance 7 " Remem- 
 ber therefore from whence thou art fallen, 
 and repent, and do the first works ; or else 1 
 will come unto thee quickly, and will remove 
 thy candlestick out of his place, except thou 
 repent." 
 
 Let us appeal to the example and authori- 
 ty of the Lord Jesus. It was said by a Scotch 
 writer, that God had one only begotten Son, 
 and he made a preacher of him. This is no 
 more quaint than true. It is certain that 
 when he entered this world, he did not be- 
 come a merchant, he did not become a scho- 
 lar, he did not place himself at the head of an 
 army, or ascend a throne — all this was be- 
 neath him : but he could say, " I have preach- 
 ed righteousness in the great congregation :" 
 he did go " through all the towns and vil- 
 lages preaching :" and with regard to Him it 
 was said, " The poor have the gospel preached 
 unto them ?" And He not only honoured the 
 ministry, by preaching in person. " He 
 came," says the Apostle, " and preached peace 
 to you that were afar off, and to them that 
 were nigh." How did He preach to them 
 that were " afar oft'!" Not personally. He 
 never passed himself, the confines of Judea: 
 He was the minister of the circumcision : He 
 was only sent to the lost sheep of the house 
 of Israel. — But, He did it relatively : I le did 
 it by sending forth his commissioned servants, 
 and saying, " Go ye into all the world and 
 preach the gospel to every creature." " And 
 they went forth, and preached every where, 
 the Lord working with them, and confirrnind 
 the word with signs following." 
 
 Let us appeal to the manner in which tin- 
 office was fully and permanently established. 
 We are taught to consider it as nothing less 
 than the fruit of our Lord's meditation, the 
 consequence and the proof of his exalted 
 state. And was it a trifle for which lie died 
 and rose again ! Was it an insignificance 
 that crowned the triumph of this unexampled 
 conqueror 7 " Wherefore he saith, when he 
 ascended on high, he led captivity captive, 
 and he gave gifts unto men" — And what were 
 they ! " He gave some, apostles and some 
 prophets ; and some, evangelists ; and some, 
 pastors, and teachers ; for the perfecting of 
 the saints, for the work of the ministry for 
 
OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 the edifying of the body of Christ : till we all 
 come in the unity of the faith, and of the know- 
 ledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, 
 unto the measure of the stature of the fulness 
 of Christ." Do we not here see that the office 
 is not of temporary obligation, but to last as 
 long as the sun and moon endure throughout 
 all generations 1 Do we not see that minis- 
 ters are the gifts of Christ, and the gifts not 
 of his bounty only, but of his glory ? — A 
 spiritual excellency requires a spiritual per- 
 ception to discern it. " If the world knew 
 him not," if they saw in him " no form nor 
 comeliness," what wonder is it, if they see 
 none in his servants, who are men of like 
 passions with ourselves, and compassed with 
 infirmities, and often destitute of secular at- 
 tractions: but angels, who are proverbially 
 wise ; angels, who saw what was the first 
 thing He did as soon as He had received all 
 power in heaven and in earth ; angels, who 
 heard him say, I'll now bestow something, do 
 something worthy of my elevation — and then 
 established the ministry in its various branch- 
 es and degrees : angels in their intercourse 
 with our world, view the heralds of salvation 
 as the most important characters in it, and 
 repair to the ordination of a minister with 
 more interest, than mortals ever crowd to 
 witness the coronation of a king. Angels were 
 present when Timothy received his orders : 
 " I charge thee before God and the Lord 
 Jesus Christ, and the elect angels, that thou 
 observe these things without preferring one 
 before another, doing nothing by partiality." 
 They rejoice, not at the foundation of a muse- 
 um, but of a sanctuary; and if they foreknow 
 things, exult not at the birth of a Welling- 
 ton, but of a Whitefield. 
 
 For let us appeal to the design of the in- 
 stitution. It has been remarked, that the 
 office of a lawyer is important, because it 
 watches over our property ; and the office of 
 a physician much more so, because it guards 
 our health ; " For the life is more than meat, 
 and the body than raiment." But even these 
 are nothing to the soul and eternity ; the soul 
 and eternity alone are absolutely great : yet 
 to these, our office is appropriated, and by 
 these it is infinitely dignified. What, my 
 young brother, can equal the mission which 
 you have received of the Lord Jesus " to 
 testify the gospel of the grace of God ;" and 
 " to show unto men the way of salvation." 
 No angel ever came from heaven to earth on 
 so weighty an errand as your's — " I send 
 thee," says the Lord Jesus, " to open their 
 eyes, to turn them from darkness to light and 
 the power of Satan unto God, that they might 
 receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance 
 among them which are sanctified by faith 
 that is in me." Your aim is nothing less 
 than to rescue guilty and depraved, yet im- 
 mortal beings from the lowest hell, and con- 
 duct them to the heaven of heavens ; to trans- 
 
 255 
 
 form them from the resemblance of the devil, 
 into the perfection of the image of the invisi- 
 ble God — And when all the labours of other 
 professors will be annihilated ; when the 
 finest paintings, the sublimest statues, the 
 most durable monuments, the pyramids of 
 Egypt; — when the immortal works, (so are 
 they called) of philosophers, legislators, his- 
 torians, poets, shall be consumed ; and the 
 earth and all that is therein shall be burned 
 up — the effects of your tears, and studies, 
 and visiting and praying, and preaching, shall 
 remain. And when every other relation now 
 subsisting is destroyed, and the race of men 
 will never blend again as masters and ser- 
 vants, as princes and subjects, as parents and 
 children, and husbands and wives, the relation 
 which has been formed and publicly ratified 
 between you and this people, will be indis- 
 soluble ; and when they die, or when you are 
 dying, " What is your hope, or joy, or crown 
 of rejoicing ? Are not even they in the pre- 
 sence of our Lord Jesus Christ, at his coming ! 
 For they are your glory and joy." I know 
 not how to leave this article, or how to do 
 any thing like justice to it. It is, my dear 
 brother, the sublime, and the momentous end 
 of your function that reflects so much ho- 
 nour, and fastens so much importance upon 
 it. Things common or mean in themselves 
 may acquire unspeakable excellence and 
 grandeur by association and destiny. Your 
 office is frequently held forth in the Scripture 
 by images derived from employments ab- 
 stractedly considered rather humble than 
 glorious : but the weight it acquires from re- 
 lation and design, is never for a moment left 
 out. You are " a soldier," but it is in " the 
 good fight of faith." You are a " fisher," 
 but " a fisher of men." You are a " la- 
 bourer," but a " labourer together with God." 
 You are a " builder," but it is in " God's 
 building." You are a " watchman," but 
 you " watch for souls." 
 
 You watch for Socls for whom the Lord, 
 
 Did heavenly bliss forego ; 
 For Souls that must for ever live, 
 
 In raptures or in wo. 
 
 Thus a small insignificant piece of paper 
 is converted into a bank note, and by a sove- 
 reign impression becomes current for a thou- 
 sand pounds. Thus Raphael took a roll of 
 canvass, of which the weaver thought nothing, 
 and the vender nothing : but he threw down 
 upon it his immortal tints, and bade it become 
 the admiration of the world. And thus, Sir, 
 your office rises into ineffable greatness, by 
 taking the soul of man, for its subject, and 
 eternity for its aim. 
 
 Again. Let us appeal to its adaptation to 
 usefulness. A minister is the same to a 
 Christian, as a master to a pupil. The pupil, 
 left to himself, would be neglectful; other 
 things would crowd in, and the lesson be 
 often forgotten. But the master, by his 
 
256 
 
 AN ATTEMPT TO REGULATE THE CLAIMS 
 
 fixed and regular attentions, keeps oft' neg- 
 lect and forgetfulness. Though the Scrip- 
 tures are in the hands of all, and all are com- 
 manded to search them, we know what are 
 the avocations, interruptions, and indiffer- 
 ences of the generality of mankind. The 
 minister, by his separation from " the affairs 
 of this life," and giving himself " wholly to 
 reading, and meditation, and prayer," is likely 
 to become better acquainted with the extent 
 of revelation than others ; and will be able to 
 unite What lies in the Scriptures scattered ; 
 to particularize what is general; and to ap- 
 ply what is common. He has an opportunity 
 to place things so directly before the mind, 
 that it cannot get by them unobserved ; and 
 so to characterize individuals, that hearers 
 cannot elude the ringer charge of conscience, 
 " Thou art the man." He follows his hear- 
 ers into the various relations of life, and trains 
 of condition, and presents the most suitable 
 directions, warnings, cautions, and encourage- 
 ments. He studies tempers, and prejudices, 
 and infirmities, and urges each by the most 
 appropriate motives : he bends to circum- 
 stances, and becomes all things to all men, if 
 by any means he might save some. In no- 
 thing does the wisdom of God appear more 
 than in such an appointment. Julian the 
 apostate was so struck with the importance 
 of such an institution, in order to maintain or 
 spread any system, that he had thoughts of 
 establishing a Pagan ministry himself, for the 
 revival and promotion of heathenism. Indeed 
 what can equal the advantage of a living ad- 
 dress from man to man, where numbers are 
 assembled together in silence, the place they 
 occupy sacred, and all reminded that they 
 are in the presence of God. No other mode 
 of communicating information with which 
 we are acquainted, or which we are able to 
 conceive, can awaken half the attention, or 
 excite half the interest, as the ordinance of 
 preaching the word : it is not only the under- 
 standing speaking to the understanding, but 
 the heart speaking to the heart, and the con- 
 science to the conscience. By this engine, 
 if wisely used, every power of the mind is 
 plied, and every feeling of the soul is touched. 
 God forbid we should ever undervalue the 
 Bible, yet we are accustomed to say, " The 
 gospel is come" into such a town or village, 
 when it begins to be preached there; and 
 there is a propriety in the remark : for though 
 the gospel was there before in the Scriptures, 
 it was there as a revelation only, not as a dis- 
 pensation. It was there presented to the eye, 
 but not addressed to the ear, and "faith 
 cometh by hearing." There was the " ham- 
 mer," as God calls his word ; but no hand to 
 strike with it. There was the trumpet ; but 
 not the man to put it to his mouth, that it 
 might " give a certain sound." There was 
 theseed, but not the sower ; and it is the seed, 
 not sacked, but sown, that yields " first the j 
 
 blade, then the ear, and after that the full 
 corn in the ear." To all this we may add- 
 that baptism, as an ordinance of God,*is to be 
 administered. — That churches are to be 
 formed, and members added to them, as souls 
 are converted. — That the Lord's supper is to 
 be disposed to the household of God.— That 
 his sheep and his lambs are to be watched 
 and fed. — That discipline is to be main- 
 tained, and offenders suspended or cut off. 
 Can a book, even an inspired book, do all 
 this] 
 
 Once more. Let us appeal to the success 
 by which it has been owned and honoured. 
 How many have been called by it out of dark- 
 ness into God's marvellous light. Of the 
 numbers now serving in this vale of tears, 
 and the myriads adoring before the throne, 
 what an immense majority are acknowledg- 
 ing, that it was by the preaching of the gos- 
 pel that as sinners they were converted from 
 the error of their ways. Yet be it remem- 
 bered, that the usefulness of the ministry is 
 not to be confined to conversion. It helps 
 those much who have believed through grace. 
 It builds them up in their most holy faith ; 
 and presents every man perfect in Christ Je- 
 sus. How many of you can here bear a 
 grateful testimony. How often has the mi- 
 nister been to you like the angel to Hagar in 
 the parching desert: he has opened your 
 eyes and shown you a well. How often has 
 he removed your fears, and inspired you with 
 holy confidence. How often has he strength- 
 ened your weak hands and confirmed your 
 feeble knees. How often has he comforted 
 you in all your tribulation, so that you have 
 returned home able to face with fresh cou- 
 rage the trials of life again. Perhaps to him 
 you owe your respectability in the world; 
 perhaps to his wise counsels and faithful re- 
 bukes you owe your preservation from a false, 
 or a fatal step, that would have involved you 
 in mischief or ruin — perhaps to him you owe 
 even your own self beside. For neither is the 
 usefulness of the ministry to be judged of by 
 its saving effects. In how many ways does it 
 restrain where it does not convert ; and mo- 
 ralize where it does not sanctify. Indeed, with 
 regard to the morals and welfare of the com- 
 munity, we are persuaded, if an accurate 
 comparison could be made, more would be 
 found to depend on ministers than magis- 
 trates. In the largeness of our wishes, and 
 while reflecting upon the degenerate state 
 of every neighbourhood, after all the means 
 used for their amendment, we sometimes com- 
 plain too much, and are not aware of the va- 
 riety, and the degree of wholesome and happy 
 effects produced by religious institutions. 
 Were our altars thrown down, our sanctua- 
 ries shut up, and every minister silenced, we 
 should soon read, in frightful style, the value 
 of an office which too many despise. 
 
 Finally. We appeal to the divine engage- 
 
OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 257 
 
 merits. For, my brethren, God lias not left 
 the institution to its natural tendency : nei- 
 ther arc we encouraged and animated with 
 regard to its utility, by observation and ex- 
 perience. . We have his word, upon which 
 he has caused us to hope, and the Scripture 
 cannot be broken. He has said, " In all 
 places where I record my name, I will come 
 unto thee and I will bless thee." He has 
 said, " I will abundantly bless her provisions, 
 I will fill her poor with bread. I will also 
 clothe her priests with salvation, and her 
 saints shall shout aloud for joy." He has 
 said, " Lo, I am with you always, even unto 
 the end of the world." 
 
 Now these are not remarks designed to 
 eke out a discourse ; neither are they great 
 swelling words of vanity, arising from a wish 
 to give a disproportionate importance to a 
 calling in which the speaker himself is placed. 
 They are the words of truth and soberness. 
 They are reasonings ; they are arguments ; 
 they are proofs : and the more they are exa- 
 mined fairly and impartially, the more wor- 
 thy of countenance and support will the mi- 
 nisterial function appear. 
 
 And therefore, my young friend, feel the 
 worth of your work, and magnify, not your- 
 self, but your office. A personal valuation 
 would be censurable, but a relative, is both 
 allowable and useful. It is perfectly compa- 
 tible with humbleness of mind, while it will 
 preclude thoughtlessness and levity ; and 
 prevent all those indecorums and buffoone- 
 ries, from which you have been so exempla- 
 rily secured, but which bring discredit on so 
 many of our rising priesthood. It will make 
 you feel your responsibility; it will be a 
 source of vigilance, circumspection and pray- 
 er ; it will inspire you with a holy anxiety 
 to walk worthy of the high vocation to which 
 you are called. 
 
 And you, the members of this church and 
 congregation, be assured, that instead of re- 
 buking your pleasure on such an occasion as 
 this, we partake of it, " and joy and rejoice 
 with you." Yes, these are reasons, why you 
 should hail the ministry of the gospel with 
 which you are favoured, and indulge a lively 
 expectation of blessings from it. But the ex- 
 pectation must not be unqualified. We wish 
 not to diminish the regard you feel, but we 
 would purify the principle, we would give 
 it a safe direction, we would keep it within 
 proper bounds. We therefore proceed, 
 
 II. To observe, That you may overrate 
 the ministry; and to specify the in- 
 stances IN WHICH YOUR RELIANCE UPON IT 
 IS IMPROPER, 
 
 And First, It appears in laying an undue 
 stress On a particular description of its 
 officers. Micah thought nothing of the cha- 
 racter of his priest, if he had Lcvitical blood 
 in him. He might be as wicked as Satan, if 
 he could prove legitimate descent : and therc- 
 2 K 22* 
 
 fore, though he knew him to be an idle, time- 
 serving, hungry hireling, prostituting himself 
 to the service of idols to get a piece of bread, 
 he was satisfied, and sung out his supersti- 
 tious confidence; "Now know I that the 
 Lord will do me good, seeing I have a Levite 
 to my priest." What ignorance and delu- 
 sion, to expect that the divine blessing would 
 assuredly flow through such fingers, merely 
 because of the tribe to which he belonged ! 
 And yet are there not persons, in a much 
 more enlightened period, who approximate 
 the same folly] Some, whatever may be his 
 gifts or grace, would not for the world hear 
 a man that is not episcopally sanctioned — yet 
 will hear any thing upon earth that is. Yea, 
 we have been told, that in this country, all 
 who worship out of the established church are 
 left to the uncovenanted mercies of God ; 
 that all their ministers are destitute of a le- 
 gitimate authorization; and therefore that 
 all their ministrations are invalid. Yet it is 
 not many years ago, since the venerable 
 Seeker filled our metropolitan chair ; but he 
 was baptized by the hands of dissenters, with- 
 out either godfathers or godmothers to be an- 
 swerable for him. Yet he ordained numbers 
 to the sacred office ; and what is more la- 
 mentable still, he baptized his present Majes- 
 ty, head of the church, all of which, accord- 
 ing to this principle, was null and void, as 
 being performed by an officiator who either 
 had no baptism himself, or a useless one. 
 Nor was this a solitary instance. It is well 
 known that bishop Reynolds in England, and 
 Hopkins in Ireland, and Cooper and Leigh- 
 ton in Scotland, were in the same dilemma, 
 so that all they did personally, and all that 
 was done by those on whom they laid hands, 
 was illegal and ineffectual ; and now, alas ! it 
 is to be feared, that it is too late to stop con- 
 sequences, or even to ascertain the multi- 
 plied directions in which the unhallowed 
 streams have run ! ! — And are there persons 
 pretending to serious religion, who know the 
 importance of doctrine, and of holiness in a 
 minister, and yet can recommend people to 
 attend on a man, merely because he is a Le- 
 vite, however wretched in living and teach- 
 ing too — while God has placed near them a 
 man of acknowledged godliness, and who 
 preaches " all the words of this life." O tell 
 it not in Gath. " What is the chaff to the 
 wheat, saith the Lord !" 
 
 But let us turn from the episcopalian to the 
 academic. A degree of the same leaven 
 works nearer home. It is, blessed be God, 
 the boast of the dissenters — forgive us this 
 wrong — that among us, office never has been, 
 and never can be a substitute for morality of 
 character and truth of doctrine. Yet there 
 was a time — for there is less of it than for- 
 merly — when a minister was rather coldly 
 received and lightly regarded, unless he had 
 been brought up at the feet of some Garna- 
 
258 
 
 AN ATTEMPT TO REGULATE THE CLAIMS 
 
 lieL We are far from depreciating 1 the 
 schools of the prophets. A thousand advan- 
 tages attend a solid education for the minis- 
 try : and it is peculiarly desirable in this age 
 of increased and diffused knowledge, for 
 young men to be initiated into their work 
 through these excellent institutions, which 
 the grace of God has provided. But if we 
 abuse privileges by laying too much stress 
 upon them, God will pour contempt upon our 
 pride, and show that he can call a man from 
 the field, as well as from the grove. Some 
 of our most acceptable and successful preach- 
 ers have been, shall I say, rather irregularly 
 introduced : but what they wanted in Leviti- 
 cal training, they made up in diligence and 
 zeal : and while their more learned and re- 
 gular brethren, who rather looked suspicious- 
 ly towards them, were smoothing their dull 
 periods, and softening the bells, whose "drow- 
 sy tinklings were to lull the distant folds," 
 these men with burning words, and fervent 
 in spirit, rushed forth and called sinners to 
 repentance. 
 
 Some regard only a man of genius and 
 splendid abilities. Talents are the gifts of 
 God ; and it is delightful to see extensive 
 learning, a profound understanding, the pow- 
 er of reasoning, and eloquence of speech, 
 consecrated to the use of the sanctuary. But 
 it is not to be concealed, that men of the 
 mightiest fame, will be surrounded hereafter 
 by a small number of converts, compared 
 with some whose natural and acquired en- 
 dowments, never raised them into celebrity ; 
 but who deeply knew, and affectionately 
 preached Jesus Christ and him crucified. 
 The treasure is put into earthen vessels, that 
 the excellency of the power may appear to 
 be of God, and not of man. Dr. Owen, early 
 in his ministry, went to hear Dr. Calamy', 
 one of the most famous preachers of the day. 
 After waiting in the place for some time, he 
 saw ascending the pulpit, a plain country 
 man, and felt disposed to go out ; but rever- 
 ence forbade. He was soon struck with his 
 prayer ; and still more with his sermon. His 
 text was " O ye of little faith, wherefore do 
 ye doubt V and he entered so experimentally 
 into the doubts of God's people, and so satis- 
 factorily solved them, that the mind of this 
 " prince of divines" as Cecil calls him, was 
 so effectually released from a burden of dis- 
 tress, that from that hour he went on his way 
 rejoicing. And I know a man who was 
 once hearing a minister, whose preaching 
 was very inferior to his character. At first 
 he was much disappointed, and a naughty 
 temper was working in him, but he received, 
 he hopes, a very salutary rebuke by seeing 
 at the end of the pew a poor woman bathed 
 in tears, under this very sermon ; and he 
 said to himself "what God has sanctified call 
 not thou common." A spruce, self-conceited 
 young divine was recently in company, turn- 
 
 ing into ridicule a very plain, but laborious, 
 useful preacher in a village. There are oc- 
 casions when if we were told to hold our 
 peace, the very stones would cry out. A 
 senior minister therefore said, " Sir, I never 
 heard any one admire you, except yourself ; 
 but I have heard many speak well of the la- 
 bours of this good man. I have never heard 
 of any good you have done ; but I have ad- 
 mitted two members into my church both of 
 whom were lately awakened by his familiar 
 addresses." 
 
 Some are entirely wrapped up in a favour- 
 ite. A preference is allowable ; and I hope 
 it will always among you, be in favour of the 
 man you have voluntarily chosen. But he 
 cannot, he ought not to be always, confined to 
 this pulpit. Others must preach occasion- 
 ally ; and how censurable will it be, if they 
 look down and see empty pews; if they 
 watch ill visages coming up the isles, and 
 malignant features in the seats — that seem 
 to say to God, that he could not bless them 
 now, if he would. Some if they know it 
 will not go unless their idol is to preach; but 
 when he is present, it is enough ; they think 
 of nothing else; and go with the presump- 
 tion " now know I that the Lord will do me 
 good." " But might not this idolatry justly 
 provoke God to remove this robber of His 
 glory, or to render his services unprofitable]" 
 " For ye are yet carnal 1 For whereas there 
 is among you envying, and strife, and divi- 
 sions, are ye not carnal, and walk as men 1 ! 
 For while one saith, I am of Paul; and an- 
 other, I am of Apollos; are ye not carnal? 
 Who then is Paul, and who is Apollos, but 
 ministers by whom ye believed, even as the 
 Lord gave to every man 1 I have planted, 
 Apollos watered ; but God gave the increase. 
 So then, neither is he that planteth any 
 thing, neither he that watereth; but God that 
 giveth the increase." 
 
 Secondly. You improperly rely upon it, 
 when you view it as the only medium of use- 
 fulness. It is owing to this, that some pious 
 men, concerned to do good (and such a con- 
 cern is natural to the new creature) are 
 eager to enter the sacred office when they 
 have little encouragement from the provi- 
 dence of God. Hence they often leave their 
 callings, and involve themselves in worldly 
 difficulties — not considering that there are 
 numberless ways in which we may glorify 
 God and serve our generation according to 
 his will, without our assuming the ministerial 
 character. Paul speaks even of "women 
 that laboured with him in the gospel :" not by 
 preaching, for this he interdicts, but by in- 
 fluences and exertions becoming their sex 
 and their condition in life. And blessed be 
 God in our day, we know how to understand 
 this. We have multiplied proofs that females 
 can co-operate with ministers in the advance- 
 ment of the cause of God. Witness those 
 
OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 259 
 
 young women who devote so many of their 
 leisure hours to the instruction of our Sun- 
 day-schools. Witness those mothers and 
 grandmothers, who from children teach their 
 Timothies to know the holy Scriptures, 
 which are able to make them wise unto sal- 
 vation. Witness those wives who by their 
 " chaste conversation coupled with fear," and 
 " the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit," 
 " win" their husbands " without the word." 
 Witness those handmaids who by early rising, 
 and order and cleanliness and fidelity, and 
 not answering again, " adorn the doctrine of 
 God our Saviour in all things." A man may 
 carry on business, and devote a good portion 
 of it to the support and spreading of the gos- 
 pel : and he labours for God in the shop, while 
 another pleads for him in the pulpit : and I 
 feel it my duty to pray for the success of the 
 tradesman, as well as of the preacher — They 
 are both God's servants. 
 
 And as God is not to be confined to this ex- 
 pedient in doing good by us, neither is He to 
 be confined to it, in doing good to us. The 
 Holy One of Israel may limit us, but we must 
 not limit Him. He dwelleth not exclusively 
 in temples made with hands : neither are 
 ministers the only mediums of His gracious 
 communications. Preaching is indeed the 
 ordinary means by which He converts, edi- 
 fies, and comforts His people ; and His people 
 therefore prize it ; and He induces even those 
 who never had the advantage to long after it ; 
 and He will not sanction our neglect, not 
 even our occasional neglect, not even the 
 neglect of the week-day service, when it is 
 in our power to attend. Yet persons may be 
 called to travel in " a dry and thirsty land 
 where no water is." They may be removed 
 by business into a neighbourhood where the 
 dispensation of the gospel is not enjoyed. 
 They may be confined by accident, disease, 
 or infirmity from the courts of the Lord, in a 
 kind of domestic exile — But in cases like 
 these, when they are unable to follow Him, 
 He will follow them. He will teach them 
 by the rod, when they cannot hear the word. 
 He will be " a little sanctuary to them in the 
 midst of the heathen :" and where they little 
 expected any thing either of God or glory, 
 give them reason often to exclaim " This is 
 no other but the house of God, and this is the 
 gate of heaven." And have you not found 
 private devotion, the reading of the Scrip- 
 tures, family worship, meetings for social 
 prayer, Christian conversation — have you not 
 found these, profitable as well as the minis- 
 try of the word ] 
 
 i Thirdly. It is unduly regarded when you 
 suppose it can do you any good without the 
 influence of the spirit of God. This is a 
 lesson which ministers must learn. In pro- 
 portion, my dear brother, as you learn it, you 
 are likely to be useful. It will make you 
 not less studious, but more prayerful. You 
 
 will honour God more by your dependence, 
 and them that honour Him, He will honour. 
 You will then also be encouraged and ani- 
 mated in your work, not according to the de- 
 gree of your learning, or eloquence, or rea- 
 soning powers, but the sufficiency of his 
 grace, and the promise he has given: "As 
 the rain cometh down, and the snow from 
 heaven, and returneth not thither, but water- 
 eth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and 
 bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and 
 bread to the eater ; so shall my word be that 
 goeth forth out of my mouth : it shall not re- 
 turn unto me void; but it shall accomplish 
 that which I please, and it shall prosper in the 
 thing whereto I sent it." — And people must 
 learn this lesson, if they would hear to profit. 
 God would be accessary to idolatry, had he 
 established any religious means that would 
 become substitutes for his presence, or draw 
 you off from dependence upon himself. He 
 will convince you by experience, as well as 
 Scripture, that instruments however suitable 
 in themselves, and though divinely appointed, 
 can do nothing without his own agency. He 
 will bring you to look beyond means, and to 
 cease from man ; for in this, as well as in every 
 thing else, 
 
 " Sure as on creatures we depend, 
 Our hopes in disappointment end." 
 
 The gospel is expressly called " the ministra- 
 tion of the spirit," and it is so denominated, 
 not only to account for its revelation, but its 
 efficiency. " Our gospel," says the apostle to 
 the Thessalonian converts, " came to you not 
 in word only, but in power, and in the Holy 
 Ghost, and in much assurance." When Paul 
 and Barnabas went forth preaching, " the 
 hand of the Lord was with them," and as the 
 result, " many believed and turned unto the 
 Lord." 
 
 Fourthly. You improperly rest upon it 
 when you imagine it can do you good, without 
 your own concern and concurrence. There 
 are some who seem to believe that preaching 
 is to operate like a charm; and that it is 
 enough to wear the talisman, without think- 
 ing of it. They appear to confound it with 
 those physical causes in nature, which act 
 without our anxiety, or even our knowledge. 
 The process of digestion, the circulation of 
 the blood, the secretion and mixture of the 
 spirits and fluids, all these agencies go on as 
 well when we are asleep as when we are 
 awake. But is this the case with your reli- 
 gious instruction and improvement'! Can these 
 go on, not only when you are attentive to 
 the word, but when you are slumbering under 
 it? Moral means can only operate morally. 
 Even the influence of the Spirit does not 
 supersede, or even alter this process. When 
 God sanctifies our powers, he engages and 
 employs them. He does not work upon man 
 as mechanics work upon dead matter, where 
 the timber and the stone are unconscious of 
 
2G0 
 
 AN ATTEMPT TO REGULATE THE CLAIMS 
 
 the operation of the saw and the chisel, and 
 senseless of the uses for which they arc pre- 
 paring them. God does not work vpon us at 
 all. — Ho works in us : and he works in us to 
 tvill and to do. So that what he does for us, 
 is not yet done without us. We are the in- 
 struments as well as the subjects of his opera- 
 tion. He teaches, but he does not learn. He 
 does not repent, but leads us to repentance. 
 He does not pray, but inclines and enables us 
 to pray < and so of the rest. Now let us ap- 
 ply this axiom to the case before us. The 
 minister's thinking- is not to hinder your 
 thinking, but to aid it. What he delivers 
 will do you no good, hut as you understand it, 
 and believe it, and receive it, and remember 
 it, and act upon it. If you retire and pray 
 before you go ; if you enter the house of God 
 with seriousness, and ask, " Lord, what wilt 
 thou have me to do !" — If instead of hearing- 
 for others, you apply to your own souls the 
 doctrine or the duties you hear : if you re- 
 solve in the strength of the Lord, to forsake 
 whatever you shall be convinced is wrong, 
 and to pursue truth, regardless of conse- 
 quences: if laying aside all malice, and all 
 guile, and hypocrisies, and envies, and all evil 
 speakings, as new born babes you desire the 
 sincere milk of the word, that you may grow 
 thereby : — You may then reasonably and 
 scripturally conclude that God will surely do 
 you good, and that your coming together will 
 be for the better, and not for the worse : for 
 he has said, " Blessed is the man that heareth 
 me, watching daily at my gates, waiting at 
 the posts of my doors." — " Blessed are they 
 that hear the word of God and do it." 
 " Whoso looketh into the perfect law of 
 liberty, and continueth therein, he being not 
 a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, 
 this man shall be blessed in his deed." But 
 if you come here from mere custom or curi- 
 osity ; if you come only to criticise, or to 
 controvert ; if you come like Ezekiel's hear- 
 ers, because the prophet is like " one that 
 hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on 
 an instrument ;" if you turn a solemn ordi- 
 nance into a mere amusement, and disregard 
 the doctrine of the cross, in quest of good 
 language and flights of fancy ; if you begin 
 without God, and retire without reflection; 
 you have no warrant to hope for any saving 
 advantage. Yea, it is the way 
 
 III. To TURN THE BLESSING INTO A CURSE; 
 AND TO RENDER THE MINISTRY THE VERY 
 PLEDGE AND OCCASION OF YOUR SPIRITUAL 
 AND EVERLASTING INJURY AND RUIN. This 
 
 is a very awful part of our subject, not only 
 as there is a possibility but also a probability 
 that it will he exemplified in many, very 
 many, who attend the preaching of the word. 
 But I dare not keep it back. I must remark 
 four things. 
 
 First. You are in great danger of soulr 
 delusion. Why else does the apostle .lames 
 
 say, " But be ye doers of the word, and not 
 hearers only deceiving your ownselves 1" It 
 is a thousand times better to have a wounded 
 spirit, than a seared conscience ; a thousand 
 times better to " write bitter things against" 
 ourselves, than to " cry, peace, peace, when 
 there is no peace." " Wo to them that are 
 at ease in Zion." — But observe how the man 
 is lulled into a belief of his religion and safety, 
 when he has none. We are too prone to 
 think well of people solely because of their 
 attachment to a particular place of worship. 
 We forget that in our day, there are few 
 populous neighbourhoods in which the gospel 
 is not preached ; and that an attendance may 
 be maintained on the most evangelical means 
 accompanied by every kind of conduct; so 
 that the habit is no criterion. Yet when per- 
 sons become frequent and fixed hearers, when 
 they seem to listen with attention, and are 
 accustomed to express their approbation of 
 what is delivered, we are too apt to set them 
 down as decided, or at least as very promis- 
 ing characters ; and their reputation con- 
 tributes to their self-confidence, for we natu- 
 rally and strongly lean to a favourable opin- 
 ion entertained of us by others. The delu- 
 sion is increased, by attaching themselves to 
 the ministrations of a man noted for his plain 
 dealing, and their being able to abide all his 
 faithfulness and severity, while others are 
 offended and flee. It is fed by the considera- 
 tion that they have been convinced and 
 alarmed ; and that in their temporary and 
 selfish distress, some promise occurred to 
 their mind, which without hesitation they 
 applied, and felt relieved. It is strengthen- 
 ed, if they have sometimes heard the word 
 with joy, and had their natural feelings 
 powerfully excited by the eloquence and 
 energy of the speaker. — And now — now, no- 
 thing comes pure into their minds; every 
 thing is perverted and poisoned in its passage, 
 by this self-delusion. The sorrow of the 
 world, which they must sometimes feel, is 
 viewed by them as that godly sorrow which 
 worketh repentance unto life. The admoni- 
 tions of the preacher, urging the children of 
 promise not to be faithless but believing, they 
 apply to themselves, and repel with earnest- 
 ness every suspicion of the reality of their 
 religion, every inducement to self-examina- 
 tion as the temptations of the devil to doubt 
 and unbelief — while without pain, without 
 concern they are led to view their wrong 
 tempers, their offences in word, their forget- 
 fulness of duty, the coldness of their zeal, and 
 the reluctance of their charity, as the infirmi- 
 ties of the dear people of God; for Paul him- 
 self felt a law in his members warring against 
 the law of his mind, and said when he would 
 do good, evil was present with him ! — An 
 alarm! I sound an alarm in the camp! — An 
 enemy has crept in, and is harboured under 
 the mask of a friend ! I hardly know a plan 
 
OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 261 
 
 for tranquillizing the conscience without put- 
 ting it in a state of safety, like this. It is an 
 expedient that requires far less sacrifice and 
 self-denial than any other with which we are 
 acquainted. And as it is the most cheap so 
 it is the least suspected, and therefore the 
 likeliest to be employed often, by a being who 
 can "transform himself into an angel of 
 light." For this deceiver takes men, not only 
 according to their tastes, but their convic- 
 tions. What he is doing in the work of de- 
 lusion in the church of Rome by pilgrimages 
 and penance, and relics, and holy water, he 
 is too wise, too skilful to attempt by the same 
 means, among protestants. His purpose 
 would be frustrated by the use of follies so 
 bare and exploded. He knows the difference 
 between Madrid and London: and he also 
 knows the difference between congregations 
 hearing nothing but moral doctrine and salva- 
 tion by works ; and those assemblies which 
 are blessed " with the truth as it is in Jesus." 
 In a large and very growing class of Chris- 
 tians, both in the establishment and out of it, 
 he will not destroy, (allow me a strange 
 phraseology) as a superstitious, and self-right- 
 eous ; but as an evangelical devil — by the 
 very means of grace — by a mere attendance 
 upon, and — a barren approbation of, a gospel 
 minister. 
 
 Secondly. You are in great danger of 
 ■penal obduracy. There is such a thing as 
 judicial impenitency. It is indeed no ordi- 
 nary guilt that provokes it; as we see in 
 Pharoah whose heart "the Lord hardened," 
 And, Is not— let me ask, Is not the guilt of 
 those of you who sit under the sound of the 
 gospel faithfully and affectionately preached ; 
 Is not your guilt peculiarly great? Have 
 not you been reproved and warned much 
 oftener than Pharoah ! Has not God spoken 
 unto you by his Son! Have you not had 
 "life and death set before you" in the most 
 pleasing and awful forms] Have you not 
 been " woed and awed, blessed and chas- 
 tised ?" Have not the messages of the word 
 been enforced by the uneasinesses of con- 
 science; the admonitions of friendship; the 
 afflictions of Providence; by personal sick- 
 ness; by family bereavements? Yet you 
 have made him, year after year, stretch forth 
 his hands all the day long to a disobedient 
 and gainsaying people — and in the very 
 " place of the holy" you remain " filthy still." 
 And would it then be wonderful if God should 
 send this young minister with the direful 
 commission he addressed to Isaiah, " Go and 
 tell this people, hear ye indeed, but under- 
 stand not; and see ye indeed, but perceive 
 not. Make the heart of this people fat, and 
 make their ears heavy, and shut their eyes ; 
 lest they see with their eyes, and hear with 
 their ears, and understand with their heart, 
 and convert, and be healed." This can be 
 fulfilled as effectually by withholding a neces- 
 
 sary influence, as by any positive infliction. 
 If food be deprived of its power to nourish, 
 we die in the midst of plenty ; yea, with the 
 very elements of life in our lips. And do 
 you apprehend no danger 1 Do you feel no 
 dread ! 
 
 If when the rain fell upon your neighbour's 
 field, yours was always seen dry and parch- 
 ed : If, when the sun shone upon the sur- 
 rounding garden, a dark cloud overshadowed 
 yours — you would be instantly alarmed — you 
 would be filled with horror — you would in- 
 quire, by what peculiar offence you had pro- 
 voked Him to signalize you as the victim of 
 his displeasure. And yet — yet you feel no- 
 thing, though you have seen numbers awaken- 
 ed and converted, sanctified and comforted 
 by the word, while you have remained the 
 same under all these salutary administrations 
 — perhaps five — perhaps ten — perhaps twenty 
 years — 
 
 But setting aside a penal obduracy there 
 is — 
 
 Thirdly, what may be termed an acquired 
 impenitency the natural result of conduct. 
 Thus a heart may be " hardened through the 
 deceitfulness of sin ;" sin flattering the trans- 
 gressor and alluring him on, till what was 
 occasional becomes constant ; and practice 
 produces confirmed habits — and as well says 
 the prophet may " the Ethiopian change his 
 skin, or the leopard his spots, as they learn to 
 do good who are accustomed to do evil." 
 And the heart is perhaps equally hardened 
 by a course of unsanctified familiarity with 
 the ordinances o'f religion. No characters 
 are so unlikely to be wrought upon, as those 
 who have heard till they are " past feeling" 
 and have been seized with " the spirit of 
 slumber." When Paul preached before Felix 
 and Drusilla, as he reasoned of " temperance, 
 righteousness and judgment to come," which 
 of them " trembled ?" not Drusilla — she was 
 a Jewess : but Felix who was a heathen. She 
 was accustomed to the sparks; but they were 
 new to him and he startled. He had never 
 heard the bell before — but she had lived hard 
 by the church, and could sleep under the 
 chimes, and the tollings too. We can usual- 
 ly distinguish a new hearer in our assemblies ; 
 he is struck ; he listens ; and sometimes seems 
 forced to do it, in spite of himself. But there 
 is often a lolling, a kind of careless ease, an 
 air of indifference, an unsusceptibleness of 
 impression, in older hearers that seem to say 
 " We know all this — and only know it/' — I 
 cannot be chargeable with personal reflection 
 as I am ignorant of individuals in this assem- 
 bly. I can only draw the bow at a venture, 
 but O God if" the culprit be present, direct 
 the arrow between the joints and the harness. 
 Are there none here who once heard, and 
 felt powerfully under the word ? You then 
 feared — you wept — you resolved — you pro- 
 mised, you forsook your vices — you sometimes 
 
262 
 
 OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 even entered your closet — you seemed to 
 walk with God. But after a time these con- 
 victions were starved away, and you return- 
 ed again to folly. You neglected private 
 prayer, and began to tamper with sin; at 
 first in slighter instances, and then in more 
 criminal — and perhaps though concealed 
 from the eye of the world, you are now liv- 
 ing in dishonesty, or drunkenness, or cham- 
 bering and wantonness — and yet retain your 
 place in the house of God. And now nothing 
 you hear affects you — nothing however 
 threatening alarms you — nothing however 
 tender melts you. — But now, after the hard- 
 ness and impenitence of your heart you come 
 here " treasuring up wrath against the day 
 of wrath and revelation of the righteous judg- 
 ment of God." For 
 
 Finally, you are exposed to aggravated 
 misery as the final result of misused privi- 
 leges. If you perish you will have no cloak 
 for your sin, and no alleviation of your pu- 
 nishment. Your condemnation first, will not 
 be the condemnation of a Heathen. " The 
 men of Nineveh shall rise in judgment with 
 this generation, and shall condemn it; be- 
 cause they repented at the preaching of Jo- 
 nas ; and, behold a greater than Jonas is here. 
 The queen of the south shall rise up in the 
 judgment with this generation, and shall 
 condemn it : for she came from the uttermost 
 parts of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solo- 
 mon ; and, behold a greater than Solomon is 
 here." " But I say unto you, it shall be more 
 tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the day of 
 judgment than for you." Your condemna- 
 tion, secondly, will not be the condemna- 
 tion of a Jew. " See that ye refuse not him 
 that speaketh ; for if they escaped not who 
 refused him that spake on earth, much more 
 shall not we escape, if we turn away from 
 him that speaketh from heaven." " He that 
 despised Moses' law, died without mercy un- 
 der two or three witnesses; of how much 
 sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be 
 thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot 
 the Son of God, and hath counted the blood 
 
 of the covenant, wherewith he was sanctified, 
 an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto 
 the spirit of grace !" Your condemnation 
 thirdly, will not be the condemnation of a 
 Christian ill-instructed and neglected — the 
 condemnation of a Papist, who was denied 
 the use of the Scripture, and led by a blind 
 guide — or the condemnation of a Protestant, 
 who never heard " the word of his grace" to 
 which God alone gives "testimony;" but of 
 one whose pastor kept him at the foot of the 
 cross, and with tears " prayed him in Christ's 
 stead to be reconciled unto God." Yours, 
 will not be fourthly, the condemnation of a 
 devil — The estate which he kept not, is no- 
 thing compared with that which you have 
 rejected — Jesus took not on him the nature 
 of angels — They never neglected " so great 
 salvation" — They never refused a pardon — It 
 was never offered them. 
 
 Ah ! said Simeon as he delivered back the 
 adorable babe into the arms of his mother — 
 " This child is set for the falling and rising 
 again of many in Israel." The same may be 
 said of the destiny of this young man. Some 
 — oh ! that it may be many ! — Some will hail 
 the hour they heard him, when they come 
 to die, and the memory of it will delight 
 them through all eternity. Others — may 
 you all go home and ask "Lord is it I?" 
 others will execrate the day he arrived among 
 them. Of all the objects that will haunt their 
 wretched imaginations hereafter, the chief 
 will be the figure of this pulpit; and of all 
 the food for the worm that never dies, and 
 the fuel for the fire that never shall be 
 quenched, the principal will be the sermons 
 which he has delivered in vain from it. His 
 ministry cannot be neutral. It must be a 
 blessing or a curse. It cannot be inefficient 
 It must either kill or cure — save or destroy. 
 " For we are unto God a sweet savour of 
 Christ, in them that are saved, and in them 
 that perish. To the one we are the savour 
 of death unto death ; and to the other the sa- 
 vour of life unto life : and who is sufficient 
 for these things." 
 
ANXIETY DIRECTED: 
 
 A SERMON, 
 
 PREACHED AUGUST 9, 1820, AT SALTER S HALL, 
 BEFORE 
 
 "THE HOME MISSIONARY SOCIETY," 
 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 TO THOMAS TOMPSON, ESQ. TREASURER TO " THE HOME 
 MISSIONARY SOCIETY;" 
 
 One of its first movers, and most zealous and liberal supporters ; as also 
 the impartial friend of every institution, that keeps in view the welfare of 
 man, and the glory of God our Saviour : This Sermon, as a token of re- 
 spect for his character, and from a wish to recommend his example ; is 
 affectionately dedicated by The Author. 
 
 " I -would have you -without carefulness. He 
 that is unmarried careth for the things that 
 belong to the Lord, ho-w he may please the 
 Lord : but he that is married careth for the 
 things that are of the -world, how he may 
 please his -wife." — 1 Cor. vii. 32, 33. 
 
 Marriage may be a very bad thing, or it 
 may prove a very good thing. It is capable 
 of producing numberless advantages, or of 
 entailing miseries, of which death only is the 
 cure : and as to some of them, not even this. 
 In the very nature of the ordinance, it can- 
 not be an indifferent event — it must have a 
 very commanding influence over our charac- 
 ter and our condition. And hence the Scrip- 
 ture is so frequent and particular in its refer- 
 ences to it. 
 
 Yet, momentous as the subject is, I appear 
 not before you this morning, to deliver a lec- 
 ture on marriage. I am not going to lead 
 you to the altar, but to the cross. I am not 
 going to inquire in what manner, or at what 
 period, you should enter wedded life. I am 
 not going to determine, whether he that 
 marrieth doth well, or he that marrieth not 
 doth better — but to " beseech you, brethren, 
 
 and exhort you by the Lord Jesus, that as ye 
 have received of us, how ye ought to walk 
 and please God, so ye would abound more and 
 more." 
 
 It may not however be improper to observe, 
 that the apostle is not here opposing or de- 
 preciating marriage, in itself. Indeed no 
 one of the sacred writers, has said so much 
 in commendation of it. He tells us that 
 " marriage is honourable in all :" and makes 
 no scruple to rank the " forbidding to marry," 
 among " the doctrines of devils." — But he is 
 referring to a peculiar condition of the church. 
 The avoiding it, if practicable, " is," says the 
 apostle, " good for the present distress." 
 That is: it was a season of persecution. 
 Many were deprived of their substance ; 
 expelled from their houses ; and had no cer- 
 tain dwelling-place — and " wo to them that 
 are with child, and to them that give suck in 
 those days." Many also were called to lead 
 an evangelizing or missionary life. They 
 were to cross seas, to travel from province to 
 province, and from country to country — fly- 
 ing like angels, " having the everlasting 
 gospel to preach unto them that dwell upon 
 the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, 
 263 
 
264 
 
 ANXIETY DIRECTED. 
 
 and tongue, and people." Now suppose them 
 married, in such a case as this. It is easy to 
 see, that — if they took their wives and child- 
 ren along 1 with them, they would prove a 
 hinderance ; or if they left them behind, a 
 source of anxiety. Upon this principle, the 
 two leaders of methodism should have re- 
 mained single. — Their plan of life was in- 
 consistent with the advantages and duties of 
 the married state. Accordingly neither of 
 them was happy in it. For the same reason, 
 a preacher while labouring, as an itinerant, 
 should forbear the condition ; because he must 
 live in the violation or neglect of those atten- 
 tions, which the Bible enjoins upon him, as 
 a master, a father, a husband, who is " to 
 dwell with his wife according to knowledge." 
 Hence, says the Apostle, " I would have you 
 without carefulness." 
 
 Yea, further, the apostle admits that where 
 there is a disposition to marry, it should be 
 repressed on a religious ground only. For 
 why would he have them without careful- 
 ness 1 " He that is unmarried careth for the 
 things of the Lord, how he may please the 
 Lord." He scorns to mention as an objection, 
 the reason of the infidel, and the libertine — 
 " That he may have more vicious freedom." 
 Yea, he disdains to notice the excuse of those 
 who remain solitary, " Because they shall be 
 under less obligation to labour, and incur 
 fewer difficulties and inconveniences." There 
 are trials attached to every condition : and to 
 make these the ground of declining the 
 duties of wedded life, is selfish, sordid, un- 
 manly, unchristian. No, says the apostle, if 
 it be declined, let it be declined from a no- 
 bler principle, viz. That you may be more 
 free to serve and honour the Lord. This is 
 the rule by which his followers should always 
 walk ; this is the standard by which they 
 should always judge. 
 
 Once more. He even allows that when a 
 man has entered this state, he ought to con- 
 form to it. The gospel is not to draw him 
 off from the claims of morality ; nor is, even 
 the saint or the minister, to encroach upon 
 the husband. " He that is married careth 
 for the things of the world, how he may 
 please his wife." — Not without distinction 
 and qualification — not in all things. If, like 
 Eve, she would induce him to break a divine 
 command : if she would draw him away from 
 hearing the gospel, to attend a place of more 
 fashionable divinity: if she would involve 
 him in extravagance and expense, to rival 
 neighbours in finery and show : if instead of 
 being a keeper at home, she would be always 
 exhibiting abroad, and in public : — here con- 
 science must interpose : here a Saviour must 
 be heard ; " He that loveth — even his wife, 
 more than me, is not worthy of me." But 
 a man's chief attentions are due to the wife 
 of his bosom. From the very nature of the 
 alliance ; from the confidence she lias reposed 
 
 in him; from the sacrifices she has made for 
 him ; and the nameless anxieties, pains, and 
 perils, which attend the relation, on her side, 
 she has peculiar and unrivalled titles to his 
 regards. " No man," says our apostle — he 
 does not say no monster : " no man, ever 
 yet hated his own flesh, but nourisheth and 
 chcrisheth it, even as the Lord the church." 
 It is undeniable from our text itself, that it 
 is the duty of a husband to please his wife : 
 and it would not be difficult to prove that it 
 is his interest too : for what case is there, in 
 which the path of duty is not the path of 
 safety "! 
 
 But to our subject. It is this. 
 
 We should endeavour to please the 
 Lord, by being alive to his concerns — 
 " Caring for the things that belong unto the 
 Lord." Our thoughts will divide themselves 
 into four parts. 
 
 I. We shall observe, That there are 
 things which peculiarly belong unto the 
 Lord. 
 
 II. We shall show, How they are to 
 
 ENGAGE OUR ATTENTION. 
 
 III. We shall explain, The obligation 
 we are under to make them the OBJECTS 
 
 OF OUR SOLICITUDE. 
 
 IV. We shall Particularize what has 
 been general in our reflections, and com- 
 mend to every man's conscience in the 
 sight of God, the Institution which has 
 assembled us together. 
 
 I. There are things which peculiarly 
 belong unto the Lord. I say peculiarly, 
 for " The shields of the earth belong unto the 
 Lord." "The silver and the gold are his." 
 " All the beasts of the forest are his, and the 
 cattle upon a thousand hills." " The sea is 
 his, and He made it ; and his hands prepared 
 the dry land." " The world is his, and the 
 fulness thereof." All you behold in the im- 
 mense regions of nature, pertains to Him by 
 a right infinitely peculiar, and which He 
 cannot transfer to another — the right of crea- 
 tion. For He made them all ; and upholds 
 them, by the word of his power. 
 
 And this applies to all your temporal pos- 
 sessions. You sometimes talk of your pro- 
 perty ; but the very word . ought to be dis- 
 carded from the Christian's vocabulary. You 
 have no such thing as property; and you 
 ought, in the place of it, to substitute the 
 term trust. The Lord is the proprietor — you 
 are oidy the stewards ; and the summons is 
 at the door, " Give account of thy steward- 1 
 ship, for thou shalt be no longer steward." 
 
 But these are not the things to which our 
 apostle alludes. By " the things which be- 
 long unto the Lord," he means those which 
 relate to his cause ; and be it recollected, that 
 when we speak of his cause, we are employ- 
 ing not what some call a cant term, but a 
 sacred phraseology. — « Arise, O Lord," says 
 David, "and plead thine own cause." He 
 
ANXIETY DIRECTED. 
 
 265 
 
 has a cause; a cause in the most perfect 
 sense his own, upon which his eye and his 
 heart are continually, and which I hope is 
 dearer to many now in his presence, than 
 their own blood. 
 
 These things therefore include the Scrip- 
 tures. — They are "the words of Christ;" a 
 revelation from Him, and of Him. 
 
 They include the Sabbath. — This is ex- 
 pressly called, " the Lord's-day ;" because es- 
 tablished in honour of his resurrection from 
 the dead, when " He entered into his rest, 
 He also having ceased from his own works, 
 as God did from his." 
 
 They include the sanctuary. — This is " the 
 habitation of his house," " the place of his 
 feet," which he has promised to make " glo- 
 rious." 
 
 They include the ordinances of religion. — 
 Baptism and the Lord's supper ; these were 
 instituted by Him, and designed to be memo- 
 rials of Him. 
 
 They include the dispensation of the word 
 by preaching. — For " when He ascended up 
 on high, He received gifts for men, even for 
 the rebellious also, that the Lord God might 
 dwell among them ; and He gave some apos- 
 tles ; and some prophets ; and some evangel- 
 ists ; and some pastors and teachers ; for the 
 perfecting of the saints ; for the work of the 
 ministry; for the edifying of the body of 
 Christ: till we all come in the unity of the 
 faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of 
 God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure 
 of the stature of the fulness of Christ." 
 
 They include the divers gifts and graces 
 of the Holy Ghost. — For, says Peter, " He 
 hath shed forth this which ye now see and 
 hear." And "if any man," says Paul, "have 
 not the spirit of Christ, he is none of his." 
 
 They include " the travail of his soul," by 
 the sight of which he is " to be satisfied," and 
 which is to be seen in the calling of sinners 
 to " believe in his name ; in having " a people 
 for himself, to show forth his praise ;" in " the 
 going forth of his righteousness as brightness, 
 and of his salvation as a lamp that burnetii" 
 till " the earth shall be filled with the know- 
 ledge of the Lord, and " all shall know Him, 
 from the least unto the greatest." 
 
 These, then, are the things which belong 
 unto the Lord ; and it would be delightful to 
 enlarge, as well as to specify. But consider- 
 ing what we have yet before us, time forbids. 
 I therefore leave them to your own medita- 
 tion — if indeed you ever do meditate — and 
 proceed 
 
 IL To show How these things are to 
 engage your attention. You are to regard 
 them even to anxiety — you are to care for 
 them. Yea, you are to care for nothing else : 
 " Be careful for nothing." You may attend 
 to other things : but all your anxiety is be- 
 spoken, and must be sacred to the Lord's 
 2L 23 
 
 concerns only. It is, however, to be feared, 
 that we completely reverse this maxim. 
 
 Let us enter into the subject; and let us 
 indulge freely, in an inquiry which will be 
 found to bear, not only on the proceedings of 
 this day, but the whole course of our Christian 
 profession. How is our anxiety for the things 
 of the Lord to operate 1 
 
 First. We are to care for them personally 
 yet extensively. In a day when so many are 
 strangely actuated to aid a cause which they 
 cannot approve, and become the instruments 
 of divine grace, without being its subjects ; it 
 can never be unnecessary to observe, that we 
 must care for the things of the Lord, so as to 
 know them, and love them, and enjoy them, 
 and live under the influence of them, indi- 
 vidually ourselves. It will be lamentable if 
 our zeal glows at a distance, but grows dim- 
 mer as it approaches home, and goes out in a 
 chilling darkness, between God and our own 
 soul. It will be dreadful for a dying hour to 
 induce the adoption of the complaint, " They 
 made me keeper of the vineyards, but mine 
 own vineyard have I not kept." We must 
 resemble Joshua, whose resolution embraced 
 personal as well as relative piety, and made 
 the one go before the other : " As for me, and 
 my house, we will serve the Lord." Indeed 
 we must exemplify , what we recommend, if 
 we would not lose our labour, and expose our- 
 selves to reproach. How can the proud en- 
 force humility, or the covetous liberality'! If 
 you extol and urge a remedy as infallible, 
 while death is seen pictured in your own 
 countenance, people will think you are only 
 trifling with them, or insulting them : " You 
 do not," will they say, " believe one word of 
 what you profess; if you did, you would try 
 its efficacy on yourselves, and not languish 
 under a disease, for which you pretend to 
 claim a specific." In other words, if you talk 
 of divine things, and endeavour to bring peo- 
 ple under the sound of the gospel, while you 
 are close-fisted and hard-hearted, malignant 
 and unforgiving, proud and envious, vain in 
 your conversation, and inconsistent in your 
 conduct; they will conceive that your zeal 
 regards only some curious notions, or the 
 shibboleths of a party ; and they will attach 
 no importance to them, because they see you 
 derive no benefit from them. He cannot 
 value the soul of a fellow-creature, who 
 despises his own ; nor can he who is alienated 
 from the life of God himself, earnestly, or 
 even sincerely, beseech others to be recon- 
 ciled unto Him. 
 
 Yet genuine religion is as social as it is 
 personal ; and while it teaches us to begin at 
 home, it never allows us to end there. It not 
 only commands, but enables us to " love our 
 neighbour as ourselves." — Indeed, none but 
 a Cain will ever ask, " Am I my brother's 
 keeper." We must, therefore, not only be 
 
266 
 
 ANXIETY DIRECTED. 
 
 solicitous to promote the cause of God in our 
 own souls, but endeavour to advance it in our 
 family circle, in the neighbourhood wherein 
 we dwell, in the church to which we belong, 
 in our own country, in every country ; that 
 his " way may be known on earth, his saving 
 health among all nations." He is unworthy 
 the name of a Christian, whose exertions are 
 restricted by any bounds, but those of ina- 
 bility, or whose wishes are confined within 
 any limits, but those of the globe. 
 
 Secondly. — We are to care for them im- 
 mediately, yet perseveringly. "God com- 
 manded me to make haste," was the language 
 of the king of Egypt to Josiah. In his lips it 
 was a falsehood ; but there cannot be a greater 
 truth in the mouth of every minister and every 
 Christian. God has commanded us to make 
 haste. " The king's business requires haste" 
 — how much more do the affairs of Him, who 
 is the " King of kings, and the Lord of lords ; 
 the true and only Potentate"!" Delay, hesi- 
 tation, reluctance, are inconsistent with the 
 greatness of the Being we avowedly serve. 
 Besides, we have no time for procrastination. 
 Our life is a vapour which appeareth for a 
 little time, and then vanisheth away. And it 
 is as uncertain as it is short. Yet all our op- 
 portunities of usefulness depend upon it ; and 
 many of them may expire long before it. 
 The tide offers to subserve our welfare, but 
 it will not wait for our convenience. The 
 summer is short, but the harvest is much 
 shorter ; and every day, and every week, in 
 harvest, is not equally propitious for action. 
 The golden grain is not only precious, but 
 perishable; and while the idler sleeps, the 
 treasure is destroyed. How many seasons 
 and occasions of doing good can we all re- 
 view, of which nothing now remains, but the 
 sin and regret of neglect ! What work are 
 we yet often making for bitter repentance ! 
 Surely, conscience cannot be always easy. 
 Surely, there are moments when we must 
 exclaim, " We are verily guilty concerning 
 our brother." How many have perished, and 
 how many are perishing for ever, through 
 our indifference ! — 
 
 But it is not enough to commence, we 
 must continue. The command is, "Be not 
 weary in well doing, for in due time we 
 shall reap, if we faint not." Here we have 
 need of patience. The excitements of no- 
 velty soon wear off. The prayers offered in 
 faith are not always immediately answered. 
 The schemes of wisdom and benevolence do 
 not always instantly take effect. The seed 
 sown does not spring up the same day, or 
 the same week: and when it appears, there 
 is " first the blade, then the ear, and after 
 that the full corn in the ear." " It is good," 
 says the apostle, " to be always zealously af- 
 fected in a good thing; and not only when I 
 am present with you." Zeal, in order to be 
 durable, must be founded in principle, and not 
 
 dependent on emotions excited by circum- 
 stances ; it must not rely on the eloquence 
 of a sermon, or the sympathy of a public 
 meeting : it must have a spring head, or like 
 the summer brook, it will sometimes flow, 
 and sometimes fail. 
 
 We read of some who " did run well, but 
 were hindered," " they began in the Spirit, 
 but ended in the flesh." And we are inform- 
 ed of some, who obtain the commendation, 
 " Thou hast laboured, and hast not fainted. 
 I know thy works, and the last to be more 
 than the first." I need not say to which of 
 these it becomes you to be conformed. — You 
 must say " I love my master. I will not go 
 free." Your ears must be bored. You must 
 be nailed to the door of your Lord's dwelling ; 
 and be his servant for ever. " Be thou faith- 
 ful unto death, and I will give thee a crown 
 of life." 
 
 Thirdly. — We are to care for them openly 
 yet simply. It has often been objected to 
 those who are trying to carry on the work 
 of Christ, like you, my brethren, that they 
 make so much noise and show. I trust you 
 will never make more noise and show than 
 are unavoidable. But unavoidable in a mea- 
 sure they are. The wind cannot blow with- 
 out your hearing the sound thereof. The 
 sun cannot illuminate, and warm, and ferti- 
 lize, and bless, without shining, nor can it 
 shine without being seen. But effects are 
 not always motives. Little comparatively 
 can be done in any matter of enterprise, by 
 detached efforts : there must be combination, 
 and combination cannot act with the privacy 
 of individuality. The mountain is made up 
 of sands; but though a sand can be hid, a 
 mountain cannot. A single soldier may con- 
 ceal himself but an army cannot muster, and 
 march, and contend, and conquer, without 
 display. And publicity is desirable, as well 
 as unavoidable: it awakens attention; it 
 genders sympathy ; it reproaches sloth ; it 
 weakens fear and shame ; it kindles emula- 
 tion. 
 
 Yet it must be confessed, that there is no 
 little danger here, as to the agents them- 
 selves : and it is much more necessary to ex- 
 amine our principles, and watch over our 
 motives, when we are called to act on the 
 theatre of observation, than when we are 
 discharging in private, duties which none, or 
 few can witness, but God only. Jehu was 
 apparently very zealous, but ostentation spoil- 
 ed all — " Come see my zeal for the Lord of 
 hosts." But it was only selfishness in a re- 
 ligious mantle. If he did the Lord's work, 
 it was not for the Lord's sake. He saw that 
 his obedience to a divine intimation, was the 
 road to preferment, and a ladder to the throne. 
 While therefore your zeal is public, let it be 
 also pure: no longer than your eye is single, 
 will your whole body be full of light. Never 
 think of a name, as a founder, or a leader, an 
 
ANXIETY DIRECTED. 
 
 267 
 
 a^ent, or a contributor. Let no carnal aims 
 ever degrade and pollute your religious exer- 
 tions : but " live in the spirit, and walk in the 
 spirit." "Let your light so shine before 
 men, that they may see your good works," 
 yet not to " glorify" you, but your " Father 
 which is in heaven !" ' 
 
 We must care for them boldly yet wisely. 
 In some conditions courage would not be ne- 
 cessary ; but it is otherwise where immensely 
 the majority are averse to our object, and 
 striving to support a contrary interest. " Who 
 will rise up for me against the evil doers; 
 who will stand up for me against the work- 
 ers of iniquity V is an address, that supposes 
 opposition, and even invites to contention. 
 Here the man is prepared for nothing, who 
 cannot rise above the influence of fear and 
 shame : and say — 
 
 " Careless myself a dying man, 
 Of dying men's esteem : 
 Happy, O God, if Thou approve, 
 Though all beside condemn." 
 
 Some will suspect your motives ; and some 
 will censure them; some will sneer; and 
 some will curse. You may be opposed by 
 those above you, and whose example will 
 have the force of authority ; and you may be 
 opposed by those who are dear to you, and 
 whose example will have the force of affec- 
 tion: and the persecution of entreaties and 
 tears, is to an ingenuous mind, the greatest 
 of all trials. You must therefore feel every 
 moment the conviction, " We ought to obey 
 God rather than man." You must cherish 
 the spirit of a martyr, though not called to his 
 sufferings. You must be willing to " go forth 
 to Him without the camp, bearing his re- 
 proach ;" and be determined to " follow Him 
 whithersoever He goeth !" And if your faith 
 is considered as fancy, your hope delusion, 
 your meekness meanness, your ardour folly 
 or madness ; you must take the scandal, and 
 bindino- it as an ornament around your brow, 
 exclaim, " If this is to be vile, I will yet be 
 more vile :" and " Christ shall be magnified 
 in my body, whether it be by life or by death." 
 
 But boldness may be accompanied by igno- 
 rance and rashness. You will, therefore, 
 allow me to say, let your firmness and earn- 
 estness be blended with discretion. This is 
 not to check, or chill your zeal, but to refine 
 it, and guide it, and keep it from expending 
 itself uselessly or injuriously. The religion 
 of Jesus does not sanctify all the means that 
 may be employed for its promotion ; nor 
 must we do evil that good may come. We 
 are to give, but it must be our own : he ab- 
 hors robbery for a burnt offering. We are 
 to compel people to come in ; but it must be 
 by instruction, entreaty, and persuasion : all 
 force is persecution. We are to contend 
 earnestly for the faith; but we must strive 
 carefully ; the very nature of the cause re- 
 jects a pen dipped in gall, or a tongue set on 
 
 fire of hell : " The wrath of man worketh 
 not the righteousness of God." "No one 
 was ever yet," says Cowper, " scolded out of 
 his sins, or into his duty." We are to hold 
 forth the word of life, but we are not to leave 
 our callings in which we are called of God, 
 but to " abide with God" in them. 
 
 There are some, whose zeal, like a fever, 
 burns up the brain, instead of generally 
 warming the constitution, like the heat of 
 health. We must study men and things: 
 we must observe times, and circumstances. 
 We must please our neighbour for his good to 
 edification. " He that winneth souls is wise." 
 There are preachers and professors, who 
 despise and disdain every thing like concilia- 
 tion and accommodation, as if it argued a 
 want of fortitude and fidelity — or was a base 
 and unworthy tampering with the enemy, to 
 betray the cause. But who was it that said, 
 "Walk in wisdom toward them that are 
 without." And did not his practice exem- 
 plify and enforce this doctrine ! " Even so I 
 please all men, not seeking my own profit, 
 but the profit of many, that they may be 
 saved." " For though I be free from all, yet 
 have I made myself servant unto all, that I 
 might gain the more. To the weak became 
 I as weak, that I might gain the weak : I am 
 made all things to all men, that 1 might by 
 all means save some." 
 
 We have a greater than Paul ; and his ex- 
 ample ought to have the force of a law. The 
 whole of our Saviour's conversation and con- 
 duct was a fulfilment of the prediction, " Be- 
 hold, my servant shall deal prudently." When 
 He commissioned the twelve apostles, He 
 said, "Be ye wise as serpents, as well as 
 harmless as doves" — and we cannot have too 
 much of the wisdom of the serpent, if we 
 have none of his venom. And when He sent 
 forth the seventy disciples, almost all his ad- 
 monitions were of a prudential kind; and 
 some of them such, as many a young divine 
 would think it beneath him to regard, were 
 they to constitute (and they ought to consti- 
 tute) a part of a tutor's charge. But our 
 Lord knew that things trifling in themselves 
 became very important by their connexions, 
 indications, and effects. He knew, that with- 
 out prudence, a man can give no pledge of 
 proper behaviour, in any of those trying 
 situations which are perpetually occurring ; 
 yea, that his very excellencies may injure 
 his character, and his very talents frustrate 
 his usefulness. 
 
 Finally ; we must care for them humbly, 
 and yet practically. " Except the Lord build 
 the house, they labour in vain that build it ; 
 except the Lord keep the city, the watchman 
 waketh but in vain." The wisest plans, the 
 most strenuous efforts, the most powerful 
 means, will be unavailing without his bless- 
 ing. If you had Paul and Apollos to employ 
 in your mission ; Paul would plant, and Apol- 
 
•268 ANXIETY 
 
 los would water, in vain, unless the Lord 
 gave the increase. To this conviction, the 
 glory of God requires Him to bring us : and 
 the sooner we feel it the better, for when we 
 are weak then are we strong. At every step, 
 therefore, remember the declaration, "Not 
 by might, nor by power, but by my spirit, 
 saith the Lord." Labour upon your knees. 
 Let your care for the things of the Lord ope- 
 rate constantly in a way of prayer ; and what- 
 ever be your advantages and instruments, 
 breathe over them the dependence of David, 
 " O Lord, I beseech Thee, send now pros- 
 perity." 
 
 It has been said, that exertion without 
 prayer is impiety ; but it is no less true, that 
 prayer without exertion is hypocrisy. It is 
 not, therefore, sufficient to pray — the sincerity 
 of your prayers must be evinced by your ac- 
 tions: for of this we may be assured, that 
 whatever a man really desires, and in pro- 
 portion as he desires it, he will seek after, 
 and use all the means placed within his 
 power, to obtain. Out of their own mouths, 
 therefore, many will be condemned — yea, 
 they are condemned already. — They pray — 
 but they do nothing. They avail not them- 
 selves of the opportunities which the provi- 
 dence of God presents; they call not into ac- 
 tion the resources under their control ; they 
 never deny themselves, never retrench, in 
 order to increase their capacity for useful- 
 ness. They talk enough of the cause of God ; 
 but they " flatter Him with their lips, and 
 lie unto Him with their tongues." " With 
 their mouth they show much love, but their 
 heart goeth after their covetousness." 
 
 Thus are we to care for the things that 
 belong unto the Lord : and we hasten 
 
 III. TO EXPLAIN THE OBLIGATION WE ARE 
 UNDER, TO MAKE THEM THE OBJECTS OF OUR 
 SOLICITUDE. 
 
 And first. — Does not consistency require 
 it 1 " He that saith he abideth in Him, ought 
 himself also so to walk even as He walked." 
 In these words we are reminded, that our 
 practice should correspond with our profes- 
 sion. It is required, it is expected : it is ex- 
 pected by the world as well as by the church : 
 we cannot maintain our character without it ; 
 for we shall always be judged of by our pre- 
 tensions. 
 
 Now see how this applies in the case be- 
 fore us. — You are the professors of Christ. 
 You profess to be his servants — but can you 
 be good servants if negligent in your mas- 
 ter's work. You profess to be his subjects — 
 but can ye be loyal subjects if ye are regard- 
 less of your sovereign's honour ! You pro- 
 fess to be his friends — but can you be faith- 
 ful friends, unless you feel attached to your 
 friend's interests, and make his welfare your 
 own 1 
 
 Secondly. — Does not reason require itl 
 The things themselves, are the most excel- 
 
 DIRECTED. 
 
 lent, and valuable, and important, and essen- 
 tial. We are careful about many objects, 
 which are wholly unworthy of the ardour we 
 expend upon them : but here our solicitude 
 can never become excessive — can never 
 reach the subject. In deciding this, I refer 
 you to a dying hour. 
 
 " Men may live fools, but fools they cannot 
 die." — The delusions of time drop off at the 
 approach of eternity ; and things begin to ap- 
 pear what they really are. In that solemn 
 period, you will wonder by what process of 
 deception, certain objects could acquire their 
 influence over you ; and you will be ashamed 
 of the exertions and sacrifices you made to 
 obtain them. You will equally wonder, how 
 other things could have been neglected or 
 forgotten : for they are then, deemed all in 
 all. Life in the review is seen a dull level, 
 or a dread darkness : nothing rises up, nothing 
 shines with glory, but what we have done in 
 working the work of God. All is acknow- 
 ledged lost labour, but the care of the soul. 
 All is felt to be vanity and vexation of spirit, 
 but the earnests of the Spirit. 
 
 How different are the views and feelings 
 of angels and men. We are struck with the 
 merchant, the philosopher, the prince, the 
 hero: they gaze with pleasure on the mis- 
 sionary ; on the Sunday-school teacher, that is 
 seeking to save the children of the needy ; 
 on the brokenhearted penitent, crying, " God 
 be merciful to me a sinner." We are at- 
 tracted by the wonders of nature, and the pro- 
 ductions of art: they desire to "look into the 
 sufferings of Christ, and the glory that should 
 follow." We exult in a victory: they "re- 
 joice over one sinner that repenteth." We 
 celebrate the birth of a Wellington, and they 
 the birth of a Whitefield — for they " look not 
 at the things which are seen, but at the things 
 which are not seen : for the things which are 
 seen are temporal, but the things which are 
 not seen are eternal." 
 
 What am I saying ! God himself cares for 
 these things. In his judgment they are of 
 the highest moment. For what purpose did 
 He make this earth, and for what purpose 
 does He continue it ? To be a field of slaugh- 
 ter for heroes'! A counting-house for mer- 
 chants 1 A laboratory for chemits 1 An ob- 
 servatory for astronomers 1 No — but to be a 
 theatre, in which to display redeeming grace ; 
 a temple, in which to proclaim the glad ti- 
 dings of salvation; a school, in which to train 
 up the heirs of life, for glory, honour, and 
 immortality. In these things He delights. 
 These are his glory. To these He makes 
 every thing else subordinate and subservient. 
 To these every thing else must bend, or He 
 will trample it under foot: "The nation and 
 kingdom that will not serve Thee shall pe- 
 rish." These shall see the " sun turned into 
 darkness, and the moon into blood," survive 
 the wreck of the universe ; and flourish for 
 
ANXIETY DIRECTED. 
 
 269 
 
 ever in the " new heavens and the new earth, 
 wherein dwellcth righteousness." 
 
 Thirdly. — Does not self-interest require it? 
 If concerned for your own welfare, you will 
 surely feel the wisdom of pleasing' Him, in 
 whose favour is life: who has the control 
 of all hearts, and the direction of all events ; 
 whose are the deceived and the deceiver, the 
 showers and floods, the winds and seasons : 
 who can withhold, or curse your blessings ; 
 and on whom entirely depend the success of 
 your business, the safety of your family, the 
 health of your body, and the prosperity of 
 your soul. But " with such sacrifices God is 
 well pleased." And what a monarch is re- 
 ported to have once said to a prime minister, 
 He says to each of you, " Mind my affairs, 
 and I will mind yours." — " He that watereth 
 shall be watered also :" " He that soweth 
 plentifully shall reap plentifully." You have 
 read the announcement of Heaven, "Them 
 that honour me I will honour, but they that 
 despise me shall be lightly esteemed." You 
 have heard the threatening, " Curse ye Me- 
 roz, said the angel of the Lord, curse ye bit- 
 terly the inhabitants thereof ; because they 
 came not to the help of the Lord, to the help 
 of the Lord against the mighty." Now turn 
 to the promise, " They shall prosper that love 
 thee." After the death of Uzziah no one 
 seemed willing to admit the ark. Some 
 were afraid. Others were actuated by self- 
 ishness. They weighed the expense, and 
 the trouble. " We shall always be exposed 
 and incommoded ; all • the people will be 
 coming here from curiosity, to see, or from 
 piety to inquire."— "Well," says Obededom, 
 " let it turn in to me — I shall deem it an ho- 
 nour and a privilege." And a privilege it 
 proved ; the report soon reached even the foot 
 of the throne ; and had its influence there. 
 " And it was told king David, saying, the 
 Lord hath blessed the house of Obededom, 
 and all that pertaineth unto him, because of 
 the ark of God. So David went and brought 
 up the ark of God, from the house of Obed- 
 edom, into the city of David with gladness." 
 
 Now turn for contrast, to those selfish 
 wretches, who had come back from Babylon 
 to Jerusalem. They pretended that the time 
 was not come for the house of the Lord to be 
 built : yet while the Lord's house was lying 
 in ruins, they had reared and were occupying 
 ceiled houses of their own. And what did 
 they gain by "all seeking their own, not the 
 things which are Jesus Christ's"!" "Ye 
 looked for much, and lo it came to little; and 
 when ye brought it home, I did blow upon it. 
 Why, saith the Lord of hosts. Because of 
 mine house that is waste, and ye run every 
 man unto his own house. Therefore the 
 heaven over you is stayed from dew, and 
 the earth is stayed from her fruit. Thus saith 
 the Lord of hosts, consider your ways. Go 
 up to the mountain, and bring wood, and 
 23* 
 
 build the house : and I will take pleasure in 
 it, and I will be glorified saith the Lord. 
 Consider now from this day and upward, from 
 the four and twentieth day of the ninth 
 month, even from the day that the foundation 
 of the Lord's temple was laid, consider it. Is 
 the seed yet in the barn 1 yea, as yet the vine, 
 and the fig-tree, and the pomegranate, and 
 the olive-tree, hath not brought forth : from 
 this day will I bless you." 
 
 Lastly. — Gratitude requires it. Fear does 
 something in a Christian ; hope does more ; 
 but love does most of all : and love seeketh 
 not her own. When Achilles was asked, 
 what were the most pleasing services in 
 which he ever engaged, he replied, " What 
 I do for my friends." " Nothing," says Au- 
 gustine, " is irksome or difficult to love." 
 Love is strong as death. Many waters can- 
 not quench love, neither can the floods drown 
 it. If a man would give all the substance of 
 his house for love, it would be utterly con- 
 temned. But there is no love like that 
 which a redeemed sinner bears to his Re- 
 deemer: and there ought to be no love like it. 
 He, whom you are required to serve has al- 
 ways been serving you. His mercies have 
 been new every morning, and every moment. 
 He has never been weary in doing you good, 
 notwithstanding all your unworthiness, and 
 perverseness. He for whose things you are 
 required to care, has incessantly cared for 
 you. He has cared for your condition, cared 
 for your family, cared for your bodies, cared 
 for your souls. He remembers you now He 
 is in his kingdom ; and is making all things to 
 work together for your good. What has He 
 not insured to you by promise 1 What has 
 He not done for you already ? He met you 
 when going astray, and turned your feet into 
 the path of peace. He opened your blind 
 eyes. He relieved your burdened consciences. 
 He delivered you from the bondage of cor- 
 ruption, and brought you into the glorious 
 liberty of the sons of God. 
 
 And how did He, all this ? You sometimes 
 talk of your benevolence ; but how little of it 
 will bear examination'! How much of it is 
 merely casual 1 How much of it is selfish, 
 originating in some reference, to your repu- 
 tation or advantage? How little of it has 
 been attended with any thing like self-denial, 
 or sacrifice ? Perhaps, you have never lost a 
 night's rest, or walked six miles in a warm 
 day, to help a fellow-creature in your lives. 
 And yet "because you have now and then 
 given a trifle of what you could not expend 
 upon yourselves, you are forsooth generous. 
 You look after returns of gratitude, and if you 
 meet with no suitable acknowledgment, you 
 are filled with resentment, and discontinue 
 your kindness. O call, this morning — call to 
 remembrance Him, who when He was rich, 
 for our sakes became poor ; who laid aside 
 the sovereign, and took upon Him the form 
 
270 
 
 ANXIETY DIRECTED. 
 
 of a servant; who for three and thirty years 
 " was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with 
 grief ; and died that we may live." View Him 
 in the manger, view Him in the garden, 
 view Him on the cross — 
 
 "See from his bead, his hands, his feet, 
 Sorrow and love flow mingled down ; 
 Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, 
 Or thorns compose so rich a crown." 
 
 — And surely every feeling of the heart must 
 constrain you to exclaim — 
 
 " To Thee, to Thee, Almighty Love, 
 Our souls, ourselves, our all, we pay ; 
 Millions of tongues shall sound thy praise, 
 On the bright hills of heavenly day." 
 
 We have now in the 
 
 IVth place, To particularize what has 
 been general in our reflections, and to 
 commend to every man's conscience in the 
 sight of God, the Institution which has 
 
 ASSEMBLED US TOGETHER. It is the HOME 
 
 Missionary Society. And here I cannot 
 but remark, that the very title is auspicious, 
 and auspicious not only in its reference, as 
 we shall presently evince, but even in its 
 implication. For the word Home Mission, 
 naturally leads us to think of a Foreign : and 
 a Society for sending the gospel abroad, has 
 been now established for many years: and 
 none can rejoice in its operations and success, 
 more than ourselves.* 
 
 But we request a patient and candid hear- 
 ing, while we mildly, but firmly contend, that 
 as the Foreign Missionary Society does not 
 supersede the Home Missionary Society; so 
 the latter does not interfere with the former. 
 The one, therefore, should not awaken the 
 jealousy, or occasion the distance of the 
 other. We go further, and are not afraid to 
 affirm, that the one is entitled to the respect 
 and co-operation of the other. It has a three- 
 fold claim. First, The claim of a sister. 
 The one is of the same family with the other ; 
 and engaged in the same glorious cause of 
 doing good, though not in the same depart- 
 ment. Secondly, The claim of a child. It 
 would be very easy to prove that the one 
 grew out of the other. And the effect was 
 natural and unavoidable. Such a number of 
 preachers and people could not be called to- 
 gether, and urged to think of the danger of 
 those who were perishing for lack of know- 
 ledge abroad, without being led to reflect 
 also, upon the condition of those, in the same 
 state, as to effect, nearer home. They could 
 not but say, " We must feel, and act consist- 
 ently : and not expose ourselves to the re- 
 flection, Physician, heal thyself: what we 
 have heard done in Capernaum, do also in thy 
 
 * There are several societies now, for sending the 
 gospel to the heathen : there is one in almost every de- 
 nomination. But the preacher adverts only to the 
 London Missionary Society ; not from illiberality, but 
 because the persons he addressed were principally con- 
 nected with it. Yet, what is advanced, will apply 
 to the friends of every other Foreign Missionary So- 
 ciety, and tend to conciliate them to home-efforts. 
 
 own country." Hence from those annual 
 convocations, ministers returned determined 
 to explore the villages around them. Hence 
 new county associations were formed, and the 
 old ones acquired an ardour unknown before ; 
 and instead of these half-yearly meetings 
 being made days of smoking and preaching, 
 they were converted into days of public ex- 
 citement and private inquiry, in order to 
 evangelize the respective districts. Hence 
 sprang The Tract Society. Hence The 
 Bible Society, which from the beginning was 
 called " British," as well as " Foreign." 
 Hence arose The Hibernian Society: The 
 Irish Evangelical Institution — and to mention 
 no more, last of all, The Home Missionary 
 Society also. Thirdly, the claim of a friend. 
 For not only is this society related to the 
 other, and descended from it, but is designed 
 and adapted to aid it too. Every convert 
 made by its efforts, will become a lover of The 
 Missionary Society — and will pray for it — 
 and, if able, contribute to its support. Every 
 new interest raised by its efforts, will be ac- 
 cording to its extent, a magazine of resources. 
 Every preacher produced by its efforts, will 
 become an official advocate, and be empower- 
 ed to render it, by his sermons as well as his 
 life, important service. And is even this an 
 impossible, or an improbable result 1 It is 
 not delicate for a speaker to refer to himself 
 — otherwise, it might be observed, that your 
 preacher this morning, was the fruit of vil- 
 lage preaching, and preaching of a very hum- 
 ble kind too. Three others also, by the same 
 means, were called to labour in the word and 
 doctrine, out of the same obscure vicinity. 
 Yea, not a few of the most acceptable and 
 useful ministers of the day, have been called 
 forth by the very kind of exertion which your 
 society patronizes, employs, and excites : and 
 these have been, and will be, the instruments 
 of recommending the Missionary Society, and 
 of collecting no inconsiderable sums for its 
 use. 
 
 But your Institution, my brethren, is to be 
 viewed under other aspects. 
 
 It is enforced by patriotism. " As we have 
 opportunity, let us do good unto all men, es- 
 pecially unto them that are of the household 
 of faith." It cannot be pleaded, that the ob- 
 jects contemplated by your Society, are at 
 present, of the household of faith : but the 
 apostle's language sufficiently shows us, that 
 there is no incompatibility between public 
 and universal benevolence, and private and 
 particular regards. Indeed the one is the 
 safest, and the nearest road to the other. The 
 best, the only way in which we can promote 
 the welfare of the whole, is by benefiting the 
 parts ; for the aggregate is made up of indi- 
 viduals. Paul therefore would not blame us 
 for feeling peculiarly, when an Institution 
 invites us to go and bless, not our fellow- 
 creatures only, but our fellow-subjects ; not 
 
ANXIETY DIRECTED. 
 
 271 
 
 strangers only, but neighbours. Yea, he him 
 self felt in like manner — "Brethren, my 
 heart's desire and prayer to God for Israel, is, 
 that they might be saved. I have great hea- 
 viness and continual sorrow in my heart : for 
 I couid wish that myself were accursed from 
 Christ, for my kinsmen, my brethren accord- 
 ing to the flesh." I have nothing to do at 
 present with the difficulty of this passage : I 
 advert only to its patriotism; and this re- 
 mains the same upon every principle of inter- 
 pretation. 
 
 Abhorred indeed, be the patriotism, that 
 would lead us to justify any thing evil, be- 
 cause done in our own country ; or render us 
 blind to the excellencies of any other nation ; 
 or make us envious of their improvements 
 and advantages; or induce us to consider any 
 of the human race our natural enemies, be- 
 cause they live on the other side of a moun- 
 tain, or a sea — but it is in the order of moral- 
 ity, and in the very principles of our nature, 
 to feel attachments arising from the places of 
 our birth; from the impressions of our in- 
 fancy and youth ; from the memory of a thou- 
 sand pleasing associations ; from the presence, 
 the attentions, the claims, of all the near and 
 touching connexions of life. 
 
 And surely, never was there a country so 
 worthy of our regard, as this highly favoured 
 isle in which we dwell. We have indeed 
 much to lament, and much to censure : but 
 " it is a good land which the Lord our God 
 giveth us." 
 
 " England, with all thy faults, 
 I love thee still." — 
 
 But what is the best evidence we can give 
 of our love to it? "He is worthy," said the 
 Jews to our Lord, when speaking in favour 
 of the centurion, "He is worthy for whom 
 Thou shouldst do this, for he loveth our na- 
 tion, and hath built us a synagogue." " Right- 
 eousness," says Solomon, " exalteth a nation ; 
 but sin is the reproach of any people." He 
 is therefore the best friend to his country, 
 who promotes most its moral and religious 
 improvement. To such endeavours it is al- 
 ways entitled, but the present period has pe- 
 culiar claims upon our patriotism. It must 
 be confessed, that there is much infidelity 
 and profligacy abounding : it is not to be de- 
 nied or concealed, that there is prevailing 
 much licentiousness of political opinion, much 
 disaffection to government, much readiness, 
 if not ripeness, for sedition and rebellion, 
 among the lower classes. Is it not then de- 
 sirable, and necessary to bring them into fel- 
 lowship with that gospel, which will teach 
 them to "deny ungodliness and worldly 
 lusts ;" to " fear God and honour the king ;" 
 " to obey magistrates, and to be ready to every 
 good work]"— The distress of the country 
 also at this season, is another powerful call 
 to patriotic exertion. Many are not aware 
 
 of the sufferings of the poor, unless in ge 
 neral rumour, which obtains slight credit, 
 and produces little impression. But some ot 
 us, especially in the discharge of such duties 
 as this Society intends, have opportunities to 
 observe their extent and degree. How des- 
 titute of comfort, of attendance, of accommo- 
 dation, of conveniences, of needful supplies, 
 are many of the aged and the sick. How 
 many infantile cries for relief, pierce and ago- 
 nize a father's, a mother's ear in vain ] How 
 many are there, who never touch a morsel 
 of meat of their own, from one month to an- 
 other ; yea, whose homely board is frequently 
 spread with the most common vegetables, un- 
 accompanied not only with meat, but even 
 bread and salt ! How many are there, wretch- 
 edly apparelled, as well as starvingly fed, and 
 who by a sense of decency, stronger than their 
 feeling of piety, are ashamed to appear at 
 church. How many are there, who when He 
 sendeth abroad his ice like morsels, and you 
 exclaim, " who can stand before his cold ?" en- 
 counter the adversity in tattered garments, 
 through paneless windows, and with scanty, 
 casually collected, pilfered fuel ? How many 
 are heard begging — for what? — Labour, toil, 
 drudgery ! My God ! what a state of society 
 is that in which, what was originally pro- 
 nounced as a curse — " In the sweat of thy 
 brow thou shalt eat bread, till thou return to 
 the dust :" is prized and implored as a boon ; 
 and implored too in vain ! O my countrymen, 
 if your complaints reach not the ears of the 
 great, they shall, by our prayers for you, 
 enter into the ears of the Lord God of Sa- 
 baoth. We sympathize with you, and will 
 do, whatever falls within our power for your 
 temporal relief : but the more despair we feel 
 with regard to your secular comfort, the 
 more will we be mindful of your higher wel- 
 fare ; the more will we be concerned to bring 
 the kingdom of God nigh unto you ; the more 
 earnestly will we hasten to open to you, in 
 your penury and wretchedness, the treasures 
 of eternity, and the comforts of the Holy 
 Ghost: and whatever be denied you, again 
 shall it be said, " The poor have the gospel 
 preached unto them." 
 
 Facility is another argument we bring 
 forward in favour of this society. We are 
 far from intimating that we are to decline a 
 duty to which we are called, because it is at 
 tended with difficulty : but who does not ac- 
 knowledge, that we must be peculiarly cul- 
 pable, when in a matter of importance, we 
 omit to do what is easy in achievement, and 
 refuse to gather what depends within our 
 reach. If we are under obligation to accom- 
 plish all the good in our power, our rule of 
 action, if not our motive, must often be de- 
 rived from the preferableness of means, the 
 favourableness of opportunity, the prospect 
 of resources, and the probability of suc- 
 cess. 
 
272 
 
 ANXIETY DIRECTED. 
 
 It wou'.d be strange if an army were to go 
 forward, leaving strong holds and encamp- 
 ments behind, endangering its communica- 
 tions and supplies, in order to begin at the 
 greatest distance, and fight their way home. 
 It' you had to prepare a passage through a 
 wood, you would hardly think of commenc- 
 ing at the remotest side, so as to reach the 
 spot of action, continually by taking a large 
 circuit, or pressing through the bushes and 
 the brambles : you would be aware of the 
 advantage of beginning near, where access 
 would be easy, and all the progress made, 
 would be a preparation for more. " Doth he 
 speak parables !" Christians imbodied are 
 the Lord's host. They are also his pioneers, 
 to " make strait in the desert a highway for 
 our God." Let us turn from analogy to fact. 
 What was the order our Saviour gave to the 
 twelve '! " Go ye into all the world, preach- 
 ing repentance and remission of sins, in my 
 name, among all nations, beginning at Jeru- 
 salem." Here we have both a foreign and a 
 home mission : and they are not considered 
 inconsistent with each other: but what is 
 still more to our purpose — the one follows 
 the other ; and the distant is not to work to- 
 wards the nearer, but the nearer is to extend 
 into the distant. This order the apostles ob- 
 served. They "testified both to Jews and 
 Greeks," but to the Jews always "first." 
 There are many worthy projects on foot — and 
 may God succeed them ! which must require 
 much time and vast expense. But your in- 
 struments are comparatively cheap. Your 
 object consumes not months to approach it. 
 The fields white unto your harvest are with- 
 in a day's journey, or an hour's walk ; they 
 wave their ripeness just beyond your gar- 
 den hedge, and are full in view from the 
 window of your closet, where as you gaze, 
 a Being cries, " Work while it is day, the 
 night cometh wherein no man can work." 
 
 Much may be also urged on the ground of 
 necessity. Of this, many of you, my London 
 friends, shall I say, are happily incompetent 
 to judge. You reside in a city where you 
 are fed to the full, and have never been fa- 
 miliar with those places in which many are 
 dying of spiritual want. I wish you could at- 
 tend some of our public meetings in the coun- 
 try. I wish you could hear the reports of our 
 holy informers. I wish you could witness 
 the applications for assistance, which we are 
 compelled to refuse, for want of means. I 
 wish you could take a few rides with some 
 of our ministers into the remoter parts of our 
 districts, and see the state of our villages; 
 the neglect of public worship ; the profana- 
 tion of the Sabbath ; the carelessness, stupi- 
 dity, ignorance, heathenism, of the cottages; 
 the neglect and barbarism, in which the chil- 
 dren are rising up to be the bane and the 
 curse of society. 
 
 " But is there," it will be said, " is there 
 
 not provision made to remedy this evil?" 
 " Are there not Bibles in abundance 1" There 
 are. But many are unable to peruse them — 
 and must be taught to read, or the book is 
 sealed. Many are careless about the Scrip- 
 ture, because they are not in a state to feel 
 the importance of its grand subject — Jesus 
 Christ and him crucified — and must be awak- 
 ened and convinced, in order to bring them 
 to the prophets and apostles, asking, " What 
 must I do to be saved ?" 
 
 " But there is the excellent liturgy every 
 where read 1" It is excellent. But can any 
 advocate for it, however partial he may be, 
 deny that there are thousands to be found, 
 who though continually hearing it, are not 
 only deplorably profligate, but ignorant tool 
 It is not by the constant repetition of even a 
 form of sound words, but by " the foolishness 
 of preaching, that God saves them that be- 
 lieve." 
 
 " The clergy where are they !" Had this 
 question been asked in the days of Isaiah, the 
 reply would have been : " His watchmen are 
 blind, they are all dumb dogs, they cannot 
 bark: sleeping, lying down, loving to slum- 
 ber. Yea, they are greedy dogs, which can 
 never have enough ; and they are shepherds 
 that cannot understand : they all look to their 
 own way, every one for his gain, from his 
 quarter." We are thankful that this is not 
 generally our case. Yet too many who are 
 paid by the state, are careless of their charge : 
 while others, more willingly disposed, are 
 fettered by forms, and are obliged to restrain 
 the zeal, which would draw on them the re- 
 proach of innovation. 
 
 " But is not the meeting free'!" Yes : and 
 we may "call every man his neighbour, under 
 his vine and under his fig-tree : and none can 
 make us afraid." But there are inward re- 
 straints where there are no external preven- 
 tions. What can be expected from those 
 who have denied the Lord that bought them, 
 and have renounced in Christianity, all that 
 is vital and animating 1 There are not only 
 impediments arising from error, but also from 
 indolence, and indifference, and pride, even 
 where the truth as it is in Jesus is profess- 
 ed. Some, 1 am afraid, even of our own mi- 
 nisters, find it more grateful to visit the rich, 
 than to preach to the needy. Some think it 
 beneath them, or at least not so reputable, to 
 preach in the barn, or in the cottage. Some 
 prefer the elegance of the study, to the rude- 
 ness of the village ; and are polishing their 
 periods, when they shall be going after that 
 which is lost, until they find it. 
 
 " But of late there has been a great in- 
 crease of evangelical and zealous dissenter- 
 ism ; and the establishment numbers a grow- 
 ing accession of pious and devoted ministers ; 
 and the methodists have also spread far and 
 wide." Admitted. Yet could you compare 
 all this varied system of agencies, with the 
 
ANXIETY DIRECTED. 
 
 273 
 
 widencss and work of the field, you would 
 yet say, " The harvest truly is great, and the 
 labourers are few. Pray ye therefore the 
 Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth 
 labourers into the harvest." 
 
 This state of things, so earnestly demand- 
 ing' increased exertion, had for several years 
 back, much impressed the minds of our mi- 
 nisters, and associations in the country : and 
 without the least cooling of regard for foreign 
 service, they were anxious in their inquiries 
 what more could be done at home. Some- 
 thing had been effected for this purpose in 
 the city of my residence. The united con- 
 gregations there, formed an establishment, 
 called "The Bath British and Foreign Mis- 
 sionary Society j" dividing its income into 
 three equal parts : one being appropriated to 
 the heathen ; one to Ireland ; and one to our 
 own neighbourhood. The rising up of your 
 Society therefore, could not but be deemed 
 seasonable, and hailed by thousands as de- 
 sirable. 
 
 And I need not say that you have met with 
 encouragement. Your beginning indeed was 
 small, compared with the wishes and hopes 
 of its friends, but it was not so small as the 
 beginning of The Bible Society , or the be- 
 ginning of Protestantism, or of Christianity 
 itself. And the mustard seed shall become a 
 mustard tree, and the birds of the air lodge in 
 the branches of it. 
 
 As yet you have not many great names in 
 your lists : but I see one name among you, 
 which of itself is enough to confer dignity, 
 and insure success — a name above every 
 name — the Lord of Life and Glory, who cries, 
 " So will I save you, and ye shall be a bless- 
 ing; fear not, but let your hands be strong." 
 
 The Institution is but a year old ; and yet 
 it has sent forth, and is supporting, no less 
 than ten missionaries. 
 
 You are continually receiving expressions 
 of approbation, and promises of co-operation 
 from ministers, and churches, and combina- 
 tions of both. 
 
 Your funds need replenishing and enlarge- 
 ment. But the supplies you have received 
 have been encouraging ; and they are increas- 
 ing. And I am persuaded you will obtain no 
 inconsiderable assistance, from the collection 
 which is going to be made in favour of your 
 object, at the doors of this sanctuary. For 
 more than thirty-two years I have been ac- 
 
 customed to appeal to the liberality of Lon- 
 don congregations, and I have always had 
 reason to approve and applaud. And I am 
 sure you will not dissent from your own ex- 
 ample this morning. I never recommended 
 an object with more cordiality. In no case 
 could you give with a greater likelihood of 
 usefulness: and charity to the soul, is the 
 soul of charity. The good you may be the 
 means of accomplishing, you may never be 
 informed of here: but you will make to your- 
 selves friends of the mammon of unrighteous- 
 ness: and when ye fail, they will receive you 
 into everlasting habitations; and you will 
 hear them for ever adoring the God of all 
 grace, who led you to pity them, when no 
 man cared for their souls. 
 
 Complain not of the number of these ap- 
 plications. It foretells, it implies good. Would 
 you wish there was no cause for such calls? 
 Would you wish for the same state of religious 
 dulness and death, which prevailed in this 
 country ninety years ago, and which would 
 indeed, effectually preclude you from all 
 these spiritual vexations ? Have you not for 
 years been praying that his kingdom may 
 come, and that his word may have free course 
 and be glorified'! And are you displeased 
 with God for hearkening to your petitions'? 
 Or did you imagine He would fulfil your re- 
 quests by miracles, instead of means? Or 
 did you indent with Him, that He should 
 carry on the cause, but that you should be 
 excused from the work ? 
 
 You say " The times are trying, and we 
 must economize." We have no objection to 
 economy — we wish many had introduced it 
 long ago — you cannet economize too much, 
 if you run not into meanness and niggardli- 
 ness. But we hope you will not begin, at 
 least, with the part of your substance, which 
 you have consecrated to beneficence. I hope 
 you will see, what can be retrenched in ser- 
 vants, and table, and furniture, and dress, be- 
 fore you think of refusing the applications of 
 those, who come to you in the behalf of perish- 
 ing souls, and in the name of Him who loved 
 us and gave himself for us. 
 
 None of us liveth to himself, and no 
 one dieth to himself, but whether we 
 live, we live unto the lord, or whether 
 we die, we die unto the lord : whether, 
 therefore, we live or die, we are the 
 Lord's. 
 
 2M 
 
. FRIENDSHIP IN DEATH : 
 
 A DISCOURSE 
 
 SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 SAMUEL HALLETT, Esq. 
 
 WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE MAY 22, 1825. 
 
 PREACHED IN ARGYLE CHAPEL, BATH, 
 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 From the age and infirmity of the Deceased, the Preacher frequently looked forward to 
 the Service which produced the following Discourse ; and he always foreboded it, as one of 
 the most painful exercises in which he could ever be engaged. But he was not perplexed 
 for a moment in selecting a subject for the occasion. As soon as he saw his friend going 
 the way of all the earth, his feelings led him to the words of Thomas ; and he found in the 
 discussion, that the sentiment he had adopted for a text, was echoed from the bosoms of a 
 numerous and weeping audience. 
 
 Sometimes, in sending abroad what he had delivered, he can truly say — he has reluctant- 
 ly complied with the desire of others ; but, in this instance, he was pleased with such an ap- 
 plication, — not from a persuasion of the goodness of the Sermon, but from a conviction of 
 the excellency of the character it attempted to pourtray ; and from a wish that some likeness 
 and memorial of him might be spread and perpetuated among his connexions; and from the 
 gratification it would afford the Preacher, of thus publicly and permanently testifying how 
 much he loved and esteemed the individual whose death called it forth. 
 
 Percy Place, June 1825. 
 
 " Let us also go, that -we may die with him." 
 John xi. 19. 
 
 This is the language of a man who bore 
 two names — Thomas, and Didymus ; the one 
 Hebrew, the other Greek. Each signifies a 
 twin ; and probably he was one, and some 
 peculiar circumstance attending his birth, 
 gave rise to the denomination. 
 
 It is surely needless, not to say absurd, to 
 look after a mystery here ; and to suppose 
 that he was so called, under the direction of 
 Providence, in foresight of his having twins 
 — flesh and spirit, faith and unbelief— in his 
 heart. 
 
 In this way, however, a large portion of 
 the Word of God is disposed of by the spiri- 
 tualizes of the Bible, who, dissatisfied with 
 the real and obvious import of revelation, turn 
 
 its figures into facts and its facts into figures, 
 just as it suits the exigency of their creed, or 
 the weakness of their capacity. But they 
 are bad interpreters of the Scripture, who 
 give it meanings which it never had ; and by 
 their supposed ingenuity, render its readers 
 uncertain whether it has any proper and 
 determinate sense. At best we can only 
 give these men credit for the goodness of 
 their intention. They may think to improve 
 the Scripture ; but by their ennoblings they 
 debase it, by their enrichings they impoverish 
 it, by their enlargings they contract it. They 
 may alter and they may add, but it would be 
 better for them to have nothing to do with 
 these finished paintings, or to present them 
 as they are left by the hand of the matchless 
 master. 
 
 The sovereignty of God appears in the 
 274 
 
FRIENDSHIP IN DEATH. 
 
 275 
 
 much greater notice the Scripture takes of 
 some than of others. Little is said of Thomas. 
 He was one of the Lord's apostles, and he is 
 mentioned in three places ; and mentioned as 
 the sacred writers always mention charac- 
 ters: for they never write as censurers or 
 eulogists, but state facts, whether they betray 
 infirmity or excellence ; and leave them to 
 make their own impression and to supply 
 their own improvements. — When the risen 
 Saviour appeared to the eleven, Thomas was 
 absent, and his absence occasioned a loss of 
 conviction which the testimony of his bre- 
 thren could not repair ; but the Saviour re- 
 paired it, by his condescension in accommo- 
 dating himself to his weakness, and inducing 
 him to exclaim, " My Lord and my God." — 
 At an earlier period, when our Saviour was 
 delivering his farewell address to his disciples 
 before he suffered, and when he had said, 
 " Whither I go ye know, and the way ye 
 know," Thomas saith unto him, " Lord, we 
 know not whither thou goest, and how can 
 we know the way V Here was ignorance ; 
 but ignorance ingenuously confessed, and ac- 
 companied with a desire of information ; and 
 therefore Jesus said unto him, "I am the 
 way, the truth, and the life ; no man cometh 
 unto the Father but by me. If ye had known 
 me, ye should have known my Father also, 
 and from henceforth ye know him and have 
 seen him." — But the first time he is in- 
 troduced, as a speaker, is in the words of 
 the text. " Then," said Thomas, " who is 
 called Didymus," unto his fellow-disciples, 
 " Let us also go, that we may die with 
 
 HIM." 
 
 Here a difficulty occurs. It is not easy to 
 determine whether Thomas alludes to our 
 Saviour or to Lazarus. I confess, after re- 
 peated reflection, my own mind is yet unfix- 
 ed. The connexion seems to leave it un- 
 decided : and if we appeal to authority, we 
 find expositors of equal weight on each side 
 of the question. It is singular, that while 
 the candid Doddridge is so impressed with 
 the former reference as not to mention the 
 latter ; the great and judicious Howe is so 
 impressed with the latter as not even to men- 
 tion the former. Both allusions, therefore, 
 must have much probability in them, and as 
 each is instructive and useful, let us consider 
 the words : — 
 
 I. In connexion with our Saviour : and 
 
 II. In connexion with Lazarus. 
 
 The subject could never be unsuitable and 
 uninteresting; but it will be found peculiarly 
 appropriate this morning, when we are as- 
 sembled together to pay — not the last token 
 of respect : No, — but a token of respect ; a 
 public token of respect ; a deserved token of 
 respect ; an edifying token of respect, to the 
 memory of Samuel Hallett, so long a worship- 
 per in that pew — a place which now knows 
 him no more for ever ; and for many years 
 
 an honourable member and office-bearer in 
 this church. 
 
 I. Then, we consider the words in con- 
 nexion with our Saviour. Here it will be 
 necessary to observe, that our Lord had been 
 twice at Jerusalem of late, and each time the 
 Jews had evinced a disposition to kill him. 
 From the past, it was natural for his disciples 
 to fear for the future ; and, therefore, when 
 he said, " Let us go into Judea again," his 
 disciples say unto him, " Master, the Jews 
 of late sought to stone thee ; and goest thou 
 thither again] Jesus answered, Are there 
 not twelve hours in the day 1 If any man 
 walk in the day, he stumbleth not, because 
 he seeth the light of this world. But if a 
 man walk in the night, he stumbleth, because 
 there is no light in him. These things said 
 he : and after that he saith unto them, Our 
 friend Lazarus sleepeth ; but I go, that I may 
 awake him out of sleep. Then said his dis- 
 ciples, Lord, if he sleep, he shall do well. 
 Howbeit Jesus spake of his death : but they 
 thought that he had spoken of taking of rest 
 in sleep. Then said Jesus unto them plain- 
 ly, Lazarus is dead. And I am glad for your 
 sakes that I was not there, to the intent ye 
 may believe ; nevertheless let us go unto 
 him." — Upon which, concluding that he 
 would throw himself into certain jeopardy by 
 this journey, and looking upon him as a dead 
 man, Thomas said unto his fellow-disciples, 
 " Let us also go, that we may die with 
 him." Here observe: — 
 
 First, That his apprehension was not ve- 
 rified. So far from it, Jesus was not only 
 preserved but magnified ; and Thomas and 
 his companions saw his glory, and had their 
 faith confirmed, and shared in the honour of 
 being the disciples of such a master. Thus 
 groundless are often our forebodings; and 
 thus the Lord frequently reminds us of a trial 
 and brings it nigh; but when our disposition 
 appears, and like Abraham, we are willing to 
 make the sacrifice, he exempts us from the 
 enduring, and says, " It is well that it was 
 in thine heart." For he looketh to the heart, 
 and honours the design when it fails of exe- 
 cution — not for want of principle and zeal, 
 but of means and opportunity. When we 
 follow the world, we find disgrace where we 
 promised ourselves glory ; and bondage where 
 we looked for liberty; and wretchedness 
 where we sought for pleasure ; — but in fol- 
 lowing the Lord Jesus, our fears are falsified, 
 our hopes are surpassed, and he does for us 
 exceeding abundantly above all that we ask 
 or think ; according to his own decision, 
 " whosoever will save his life shall lose it, 
 and whosoever will lose his life for my sake 
 shall find it." 
 
 Secondly, Though however in this instance 
 the event differed so widely from his antici- 
 pation, at length the time arrived that the 
 Son of Man was betrayed and apprehended 
 
276 
 
 FRIENDSHIP IN DEATH. 
 
 in order to be put to death. And how did 
 Thomas then behave himself? — He who had 
 so heroically said, and said sincerely too, 
 " Let us also go, that we may die with 
 him !" Was he willing then to follow him 
 to prison and to death ? " Then all the dis- 
 ciples forsook him and fled." Ah, Thomas! 
 where are you now ? Are you now confess- 
 ing him before men ? Are you now a com- 
 panion with him in his bonds ? Are you now 
 soothing him by your sympathy ? " He looked 
 for some to take pity and there was none ; 
 and for comforters, and he found none." 
 " Lord, what is man ?" What a difference 
 is there between an imaginary and a real 
 conflict ! " The children of Ephraim, being 
 armed and carrying bows, turned back in the 
 day of battle." What a difference between 
 a warm frame and a heart established with 
 grace ! What can a man depend upon in the 
 hour of temptation? — His professions! His 
 resolutions? His former experience? "He 
 that trusteth in his own heart is a fool." And 
 what is he that trusts in his own grace? 
 " My grace," says the Saviour, — not thine ; 
 " My grace is sufficient for thee." Be strong 
 in the grace that is in Christ Jesus. But 
 
 Thirdly. The disposition Thomas now ex- 
 pressed was such as well becomes every dis- 
 ciple of Jesus. Yet, they ought to feel that 
 perfect love to him that casteth out fear ; to 
 be willing to follow the Lamb whithersoever 
 he goeth; to be ready to suffer with him the 
 loss of all things; and to say with Paul, Christ 
 shall be magnified in my body, whether it be 
 by life or by death. — If we consider what he 
 commands, this disposition is obedience : and 
 has he not said, " if any man will be my dis- 
 ciple, let him deny himself and take up his 
 cross and follow me. He that forsaketh not 
 all that he hath cannot be my disciple?" — If 
 we consider what he has done, this disposi- 
 tion is gratitude. And what has he not done? 
 He remembered us in our low estate. For 
 our sakes, when rich he became poor. He 
 died that we might live. — If we consider how 
 important and necessary he is to us, this dis- 
 position is wisdom. And can we do for a mo- 
 ment without him ? 
 
 This flesh of mine might learn as soon 
 To live, yet part with all my blood ; 
 To breathe when vital air is gone, 
 Or thrive and grow without my food. 
 
 — If we consider him as able and engaged 
 to indemnify us for all we can lose or suffer, 
 this disposition is self-interest. And has he 
 not said, " There is no man that hath left 
 house, or parents, or brethren, or wife, or chil- 
 dren, for the kingdom of God's sake, who 
 shall not receive manifold more in this pre- 
 sent time, and in the world to come life ever- 
 lasting." — If we consider our profession of 
 his name, this disposition is self-consistency 
 — and are not his vows upon us? We have 
 come to his table ; we have joined ourselves 
 
 to his people ; we have opened our mouths 
 unto the Lord, and we cannot go back. 
 
 Fourthly. We admire also his zeal in wish- 
 ing to infuse his own spirit into his brethren, 
 and to animate them to the same tone of holy 
 and high resolution. "Let us go that we may 
 die with him." Does this imply any indiffer- 
 ence in those he addressed ? Were the dis- 
 ciples turning aside and whispering among 
 themselves about going forward ? Were they 
 hesitating through fear whether they should 
 advance even with him, into the jaws of dan- 
 ger ? It is possible, it is probable. There- 
 fore, says St. Thomas, to his fellow-disciples, 
 " What ! shall we abandon such a master in 
 the hour of trial? Shall we see him likely to 
 be sacrificed and not rally around his Sacred 
 Person ? Shall we refuse the fellowship of 
 his sufferings? Let us bare our bosoms to 
 the same treatment. Let the same blow that 
 strikes him strike us also." " Let us ajlso 
 go, that we may die with him." For good 
 men are not always in the same state of mind. 
 They are not always themselves. There are 
 cases in which nature seems ready to prevail 
 over grace ; and " Wo," says Solomon, " to 
 him that is alone when he falleth, for there 
 is not another to keep him up." Hence our 
 Saviour sent forth the seventy disciples in 
 pairs, not only to render their testimony 
 stronger, but that they might watch over 
 each other in temptation, and cheer each 
 other in discouragement. Thus, "Jonathan 
 went to David in the wood, and strengthened 
 his hand in God." Thus " as iron sharpen- 
 ed iron, so doth the countenance of a man 
 his friend." And hence we are commanded, 
 like Thomas, to " strengthen the weak hands 
 and confirm the feeble knees ;" and to " con- 
 sider one another, to provoke unto love and 
 good works." We proceed, 
 
 II. To consider the words in connexion 
 with Lazarus. Jesus you will remember had 
 plainly said, Lazarus is dead; but immedi- 
 ately added, "Nevertheless let us go unto 
 him." — Then said Thomas unto his fellow- 
 disciples, " Well, since he is dead, let us 
 
 ALSO GO, THAT WE MAY DIE WITH HIM." 
 
 Thus uttering a sentiment, in some respects, 
 perhaps, too passionately expressed, but which, 
 I presume, appears perfectly natural ; and has 
 doubtless been felt by every individual in the 
 hour of bereavement. And it implies four 
 principles, — warmth of affection, — indiffer- 
 ence to life, — powerful conviction, — and de- 
 lightful hope. 
 
 First. Warmth of affection. Such there 
 appears to have been between Lazarus and 
 the disciples. Whoever was dear to Jesus 
 was dear to them ; " now Jesus loved Martha 
 and her sister, and Lazarus." Also when 
 speaking of him, he said, " our friend, Laza- 
 rus, sleepeth ;" marking thereby their attach- 
 ment, as well as his own. And the gradual 
 and gentle manner in which he communica- 
 
FRIENDSHIP IN DEATH. 
 
 277 
 
 ted the intelligence of his death, shows that 
 he knew how deeply it would affect their 
 minds. There was, it would seem, much 
 also in Lazarus that was attractive. For it 
 is not the death of every one that draws forth 
 the exclamation, Let us also go, that we 
 may die with him. There are persons whose 
 death would awaken no emotion but that of 
 pleasure. "When," says Solomon, "the 
 wicked perish, there is shouting." The neigh- 
 bourhood feels it to be not a loss, but a rid- 
 dance. If some were allowed again to re- 
 turn to life, they would find every avenue by 
 which they could re-enter the world bolted 
 and barred against them. But how would 
 some be welcomed back again? How would 
 many surround the mouth of the grave to hail 
 them, and accompany them home with songs 
 of praise ? " For when the eye saw them, 
 it blessed them; and when the ear heard 
 them, it gave witness unto them ; because 
 they delivered the poor when he cried, the 
 fatherless, and him that had no helper. The 
 blessing of him that was ready to perish came 
 upon them, and they caused the widow's heart 
 to sing for joy." 
 
 All religious individuals do not intrench 
 themselves deeply in the affections of others. 
 The apostle makes a distinction between a 
 good man, and a righteous man. "For 
 scarcely for a righteous man will one die, yet 
 peradventure for a good man some will even 
 dare to die." It is goodness that wins the 
 heart, and makes one man a god to another. 
 And such a man was Lazarus ; nor is it im- 
 probable but that the disciples were under 
 peculiar obligations to his kindness a«d ge- 
 nerosity; and thus gratitude mingled with 
 friendship, to produce the language of endear- 
 ment in the text. 
 
 We are made capable of affection ; and he is 
 unworthy the name of a man who is a stran- 
 ger to it. It does the highest honour to our 
 nature ; and religion, so far from opposing it, 
 sanctifies it, and increases it ; and " by this," 
 says our Saviour, " shall all men know that 
 ye are my disciples, if ye love one another." 
 
 And can there be a stronger expression of 
 love to any one than wishing to be near him 
 — with him, — with him in life and — with him 
 even in death ] Paul tells the Corinthians, 
 " I have you in my heart, both to live and to 
 die with you." Ruth saith to Naomi, " En- 
 treat me not to leave thee, or to return from 
 following after thee ; for whither thou goest 
 I will go ; and where thou lodgest I will 
 lodge : thy people shall be my people, and 
 thy God my God ; where thou diest will I 
 die, and there will I be buried." Hear the 
 dying patriarch when he had blessed his 
 sons, " And he charged them, and said unto 
 them, I am to be gathered unto my people : 
 bury me with my fathers in the cave that is 
 in the field of Ephron the Hittite ; in the 
 cave that is in the field Macphelah, which is 
 24 
 
 before Mamre, in the land of Canaan, which 
 Abraham bought with the field of Ephron the 
 Hittite, for a possession of a burying-place. 
 There they buried Abraham and Sarah his 
 wife ; there they buried Isaac and Rebekah 
 his wife ; and there I buried Leah." In vain 
 persons ask for a reason to justify such a pre- 
 ference. He has no heart, who can ask. ' 
 The sentiment is founded in our nature, and 
 pervades every human bosom, unadulterated 
 by " the god of this world." 
 
 But the strength of affection is evinced 
 most strongly at the moment of separation. 
 It is the want that teaches us the worth of 
 our comforts. What we have securely, we 
 hold loosely; but we take a firmer grasp 
 when we feel that it is leaving us. When 
 Elisha knew that his master was going to be 
 taken from his head, how he prized the last 
 interview. How determined was he to im- 
 prove every moment, and therefore refused 
 to go back though enjoined again and again. 
 
 " How mercies brighten as they take their flight." — 
 
 You love your child ; but it is when he is 
 leaving you to take a long voyage, that pa- 
 rental tenderness overflows. You may value 
 a mother, and treat her with every respect ; 
 but it is when she is embracing you for the ' 
 last time, and you can no longer have access 
 to the bosom that has been the asylum of 
 your care and grief. — It is then that filial 
 affection hallows her image, and says " my 
 wound is incurable." When the object of 
 our regard is separating from us, we feel 
 many a tie of which we were not sensible, 
 till the cords were touched. Then we fear 
 and groan. Then even our past inattentions 
 and little undutifulnesses endear the beloved 
 the more. Then we forget all his imperfec- 
 tions, and remember and magnify his excel- 
 lences ; and a sacredness seems thrown all 
 around him by death — " Let us also go, 
 
 THAT WE MAY DIE WITH HIM." 
 
 Secondly. It implies indifference to life. 
 To this we are commonly too much attach- 
 ed ; not as a sphere of duty and usefulness, 
 in which we may glorify God, and perform 
 services to our fellow-creatures which we 
 cannot perform in another world ; but as a resi- 
 dence, a home, a portion. Yet since we must 
 leave it, and leave it soon, it would be wise 
 to be ready and willing to leave it: and there 
 are moments in which the fascinations that 
 charmed us are dissolved, and the ligatures 
 that confined us slacken ; and we say with 
 Job, " I loathe it, I would not live always ; 
 let me alone, for my days are vanity." Af- 
 flictions in general have this detaching influ- 
 ence; but nothing so powerfully draws us 
 off from every thing here, as the removal of 
 an object in whose life our own is felt to be 
 bound up, and whose departure seems to leave 
 nothing worth staying for behind. 
 
 Dr. Young says, 
 
278 
 
 FRIENDSHIP IN DEATH. 
 
 Our hearts are fastened to the world 
 With strong and various ties ; 
 
 But every trouble cuts a string, 
 And urges us to rise." 
 
 And well he adds, 
 
 " When Heav'n would set our spirits free, 
 And earth's enchantment end, 
 He takes the most effectual means, 
 And robs us of a friend." 
 
 And in another place, 
 
 " Our dying friends come o'er us like a cloud, 
 To cool our brainless ardours." 
 
 Ah ! many of you have been through this 
 scene, and have said, " Lover and friend hast 
 thou put far from me, and mine acquaintance 
 into darkness." Some of you perhaps have 
 suffered from nearer claims. • You have 
 known the death of a father, in whom was 
 combined all that was venerable and affec- 
 tionate, all that was interesting and attrac- 
 tive. You watched the menacing of the 
 disease; and your hope often revived and 
 fainted again with the variation of the com- 
 plaint. But when the physician intimated 
 that further assistance was vain ; when the 
 voice and the more speaking eye said fare- 
 well ; when in the deep and solemn silence 
 that followed you felt plainly, " Lazarus is 
 dead ;" when you kissed the ice-cold cheek 
 for the last time, before your treasure was 
 screwed up for ever ; when you saw the pro- 
 cession leaving the house to return no more ; 
 when at the grave you heard the sentence 
 "dust to dust" — how changed, how desolate 
 did every thing appear, did every thing feel ! 
 How incapable of rekindling former passions, 
 of renewing former pursuits! How dead 
 was the heart to avarice, to ambition, to 
 envy ! How loosely did life hang upon you ! 
 
 We allow that the feeling at such a time 
 may be carried too far. Weeping, says 
 Henry, must not hinder sowing. We must 
 not, because one comfort is gone, undervalue 
 all our remaining mercies, and say, " Let 
 God take all, now he has taken this." We 
 think that we cannot do without such a friend 
 or relation ; but God tells us we must, and 
 time and experience tell us we may. And 
 it is well when the fractured vessel drives us 
 nearer to the fountain, and we can say with 
 David, " Now Lord, what wait I for 1 my 
 hope is in Thee." 
 
 Yet, we are censured, we are condemned, 
 if we do not lay it to heart, when the right- 
 eous perish, and merciful men are taken 
 away. Yet there is an enlightened reason 
 for our diminished regard for earth, in the 
 loss of wise and good men. It is thereby 
 impoverished. It is much less worthy of our 
 esteem. There is less of truth, less of holi- 
 ness, less of God's image here; and if all 
 were gone, who would wish to tarry here a 
 day longer 1 While, on the other hand, the 
 country towards which we are going, is en- 
 riched in value and loveliness ; and we have 
 fresh attraction to draw us upward. 
 
 " There our best friends, our kindred dwell." 
 " Let us also go, that we may die with 
 
 HIM." 
 
 Thirdly. It implies powerful conviction. 
 This regards the nature of the death he con- 
 templated. Thomas must not have consider- 
 ed Lazarus' death as a mere cessation of be- 
 ing. Had he believed that Lazarus died like 
 the beasts that perish ; or, still more, that he 
 died as an unpardoned and unrenewed sinner; 
 even had he died the most admired and dig- 
 nified character in the world ; he would not, 
 he could not have said, " Let us also go, that 
 we may die with him ;" rather he would 
 have prayed with David, " Gather not my 
 soul with sinners, nor my life with bloody 
 men." To die with them is to be driven 
 away in our wickedness, and to fall into the 
 hand of the living God. Death and damna- 
 tion are the same to the unconverted. Some 
 of you are nearer hell than you are to the 
 grave : your wretched bodies may be left a 
 few days unburied, but your soul is in a mo- 
 ment with the devil and his angels. But 
 the righteous hath hope in his death. The 
 day of his death is better than the day of his 
 birth. 
 
 What is this death which appears so envia- 
 ble ? We call it death because it was so 
 once, but the curse is turned into a blessing; 
 and according to our Saviour it no longer now 
 deserves the name : " If a man keep my 
 sayings, he shall never see death." No, he 
 shall only fall asleep in Jesus : he shall only 
 depart to be with Christ which is far better. 
 What is the death of the believer"! It is 
 generally comfortable, even when preceded 
 by many fears. Sometimes it is joyous ; and 
 the dying chamber is " none other than the 
 house of God, and the gate of heaven." 
 There, has been brought to pass the saying 
 that is written, " death is swallowed up in 
 victory." There, we have been almost in 
 love with death, and have been ready to ex- 
 claim " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant 
 depart in peace, according to thy word : for 
 mine eyes have seen thy salvation." This 
 is not indeed always the case. He does not 
 always die in rapture ; but he always dies in 
 safety. It is not in the power of death, 
 whatever be his apprehensions and feeling at 
 the moment, to injure one particle of his por- 
 tion. Yea, to die is gain, inconceivable and 
 everlasting gain. The result, therefore, is 
 always the same. If he wants the light of 
 God's countenance, he who withholds it loves 
 him still; and if the valley of the shadow 
 of death be dark and gloomy, it is not long, 
 and opens into endless day. Then, O blessed 
 exchange, he leaves all his sin, and reaches 
 his God, in whose presence there is fulness 
 of joy, and at whose right hand there are 
 pleasures for evermore. 
 
 Some may be ready to envy the death, of 
 the scholar. His name is announced in the 
 
FRIENDSHIP IN DEATH. 
 
 279 
 
 journals with all his honours. Some masterly 
 pen is immediately engaged to publish his 
 life and his works. The marble perpetuates 
 his name, and his bones are entombed by the 
 side of poets and philosophers. But the soul, 
 where is this ! Alas ! he was great every 
 where but in the sight of the Lord. He could 
 speak every language but the language of 
 Canaan. He knew every thing but the one 
 thing needful. But see that cottager, on yon- 
 der pallet of straw. He is dying fameless 
 and unknown ; but he knows Christ Jesus the 
 Lord, and knows that in him he has righte- 
 ousness and strength. And the excellency 
 of this knowledge raises him above the fear 
 of death, refreshes his fainting spirit, opens a 
 heaven in his heart, and brings angels near. 
 Let me go and die with him ! 
 
 Some may be tempted to admire and covet 
 the death of the hero. Regardless of the 
 righteousness of the cause in which he is 
 engaged, falling in the rield of battle, if he 
 dies a victor, he is shouted. He falls on the 
 bed of honour and in the arms of glory. A 
 public funeral is decreed him. A country 
 follows. His name goes forth into every 
 land. But where is his soul 1 Who thinks 
 of this? I think of it, and turn away. I 
 turn to the soldier of Jesus Christ, fighting 
 the good fight of faith, and laying hold on 
 eternal life. His exploits, unnoticed and un- 
 known on earth, are gazetted above. By faith 
 I see him more than a conqueror, led in by 
 the captain of his salvation, who confesses 
 him before his Father and the holy angels ; 
 and the promise is accomplished, " He that 
 overcometh shall inherit all things ; and I will 
 be his God, and he shall be my son." Let 
 me go and die with him ! 
 
 We read of another Lazarus in the Scrip- 
 tures. He was a beggar and full of sores. 
 And we read of a rich man, at whose gates 
 he was laid to implore relief. They both 
 died. But nothing is said of the burial of 
 Lazarus. But the rich man was "buried" 
 according to his rank. Yet, observe the dif- 
 ference. Lazarus died in the favour of God, 
 and was carried by angels into Abraham's 
 bosom. The rich man died and was buried — 
 but while the undertaker was displaying the 
 emblems of his wealth and grandeur, he was 
 lifting up his eyes in hell, being in torment, 
 and in vain craving a drop of water to cool 
 his tongue ! Now, I ask, with which of these 
 two men would you have wished to die] 
 Why even a Balaam, when his eyes were 
 open, said, " Let me die the death of the 
 righteous, and let my last end be like his." 
 
 Fourthly. The sentiment in our text in- 
 cludes a delightful hope. Thomas had a sa- 
 tisfactory persuasion, that death, so far from 
 separating him and his fellow-disciples from 
 Lazarus, would bring them together again, 
 and renew acquaintance and intimacy as be- 
 fore. Such an expectation is not visionary, 
 
 but well founded ; and is necessary to recon- 
 cile us to the death of our connexions and to 
 our own. We are formed for society, and 
 much, very much, of our happiness depends 
 on our intercourse with each other. You 
 talk of comfort and pleasure ! Think of what 
 the Apostle calls, the comforts of love ; think 
 of the pleasures of friendship, and especially 
 of religious friendship. Think of the hours 
 you have passed with those who are gone 
 before you — in the morning and evening 
 walk — in gazing on the beauties of nature — in 
 mental discourse — in pious conversation — in 
 taking sweet counsel together, and going to 
 the house of God in company — in the songs 
 of Zion. " Ointment and perfume rejoice the 
 heart, so doth a man his friends by hearty 
 counsel." And is all this intercourse termi- 
 nated for ever? No, it is only suspended for 
 a time — suspended till you also die. They 
 cannot indeed come back to you, and would 
 you desire it, 
 
 " and constrain. 
 Their unbound spirits into bonds again ?" 
 
 But you will go to them ; and you will mingle 
 with them again ; and there will be mutual 
 knowledge : and not only will you know each 
 other, but your communion will be renewed, 
 and not only renewed, but improved. And 
 then your intercourse will be attended with 
 a thousand advantages above all you now 
 enjoy. 
 
 Witness the regions you shall meet in 
 there. " For the land whither ye go in to 
 possess it, is not as the land of Egypt, from 
 whence ye came out." " It is a better coun- 
 try." " New heavens, and a new earth, 
 wherein dwelleth righteousness." 
 
 Witness the exclusion of all afflictions 
 from your condition there. Now, you not 
 only rejoice but weep with your connexions. 
 It is unavoidable, if you love them. For they 
 also are born to trouble ; and you are em- 
 barked with them in the same vessel, and 
 must encounter the same winds and waves. 
 And what so grievous as to see an endeared 
 object in grief? And how much more is en- 
 dured often by sympathy than the sufferer 
 himself feels? But there you will no longer 
 be called to fortify them under reproach ; or 
 to sooth under pain. You will no more be 
 required to sustain the aching head, or to ad- 
 minister the irksome draught. The inhabi- 
 tant shall no more say, "I am sick." No 
 more will your heart be pierced with the 
 words or looks of anguish beyond your relief : 
 "Pity me, pity me, O ye my friends, for the 
 hand of God hath touched me." 
 
 Witness the absence of all moral imper- 
 fections there. Now you try your friends, 
 and they try you by infirmities of temper and 
 carriage. It must needs be, that offences 
 will come, among beings only sanctified in 
 part; and the case is, that if love is to go on, 
 it must cover a multitude of sins; if you 
 
280 FRIENDSHIP 
 
 would live in peace, you must forgive one 
 another. But there, they will have nothing 
 to bear with in you, and you will have no- 
 thing to bear with in them. 
 
 Witness the fulness of intelligence pos- 
 sessed there. Allowing that there are de- 
 grees in glory, yet the least in the kingdom 
 of heaven will know more than any philoso- 
 pher or divine here ; and with all this 
 knowledge in the works of Nature, and dis- 
 pensations of Providence, and wonders of Re- 
 demption, we shall be prepared for, and enjoy 
 the most sublime communion : — 
 
 "No vain discourse shall fill our tongue, 
 Nor trifles vex our ear ; 
 Infinite grace shall be our song. 
 And God rejoice to hear." 
 
 Witness the superior modes of communi- 
 cation there. Now we often mistake each 
 other, and embarrass ourselves by the penury 
 of language. We can only now convey our- 
 selves by words — and how defective are these ! 
 They are not definite enough to prevent error, 
 or tender enough to express many a feeling 
 of the heart, or sublime enough to do justice 
 to the conceptions of the mind. The utter- 
 ance of a big meaning is often diminished, 
 mangled, suppressed, by them. There, no 
 labour and sorrow will attend the birth of our 
 thoughts ; our speech will be commensurate 
 with our sentiments ; we shall speak with 
 " the tongue of angels !" 
 
 Witness the opportunities of intercourse 
 there. Now our seasons for this, are few 
 and impaired, by distance, by sleep, by the 
 avocations and cares of life. By a thousand 
 nameless preventions, how little do we now 
 enjoy of the presence and converse of those 
 we most highly esteem and most dearly love ! 
 There, our freedom will be uninvaded, and 
 our conversation uninterrupted. For 
 
 Witness, finally, the duration, the perpetu- 
 ity, the eternity of our fellowship there. How 
 short is the letter over whose page you now 
 glow ! How soon ends the delightful con- 
 versation you are now sometimes privileged 
 to enjoy ! You expect a friend, and prepare 
 for the enjoyment, but the interview seems a 
 vision rather than a visit : 
 
 " She is come — she is gone — we have met 
 And meet, perhaps, never again. 
 
 And O the dread of separation ! The anguish 
 of loss when they leave us — in death ! You 
 sorrow, most of all, that you " shall see their 
 face no more !" But you shall see them 
 again, and your hearts shall rejoice, and your 
 joy no man shall take from you ; and looking 
 at the picture of departed worth, you may re- 
 collect with a hope that maketh not ashamed, 
 your " last adieu :" 
 
 " But was it such ? It was. Where thou art gone, 
 Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. 
 May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore! 
 The parting sound shall pass my lips no more." 
 
 By these reflections, I know I have ex- 
 
 IN DEATH. 
 
 pressed the feelings of some, and I am per- 
 suaded also, of many, with regard to the re- 
 moval of our excellent friend and brother, 
 of whom it will now be expected that I 
 should take a more particular notice, not to 
 extol the creature, but to glorify God in him. 
 
 Services of this kind are, sometimes, very 
 trying — not only by the excitement of feel- 
 ing, but by the task they impose upon our in- 
 genuity and conscientiousness. For the sake 
 of fond and unreasonable connexions, we are 
 expected to create something out of nothing ; 
 or, at least, to magnify and enrich the poor 
 and slender materials we find. For brass, 
 we are to bring gold ; and for iron we are to 
 bring silver; and for wood, brass; and for 
 stones, iron. And while we abound in pane- 
 gyric, we are not at liberty even to hint a 
 fault or a blemish. Sometimes, even in good 
 characters, there is much to censure or be- 
 wail ; but it must all be concealed or extenu- 
 ated. So arduous and painful, indeed, are 
 these exercises become, and so much more 
 likely are they to offend than to satisfy, when 
 they are faithfully performed, that some mi- 
 nisters have determined to preach no funeral 
 sermons at all. O that you would so conduct 
 yourselves, as not to pain your ministers 
 while you live, nor plague them when you 
 die ! 
 
 But I have no embarrassment this morning. 
 In the man before us, there is nothing to find 
 out, nothing to hide, nothing to excuse. He 
 was a child of the light, and of the day. Not 
 that he had already attained, or was already 
 perfect, or had ceased to own himself a sin- 
 ner at the footstool of divine mercy — 
 
 " For he was frail as thou or I, 
 And evil felt within ; 
 But when he felt it, heaved a sigh. 
 And loathed the thought of sin."— 
 
 And his life was the harmony of principle 
 and practice ; and his creed was imbodied in 
 his conduct ; and he was an Israelite indeed, 
 in whom was no guile ; and in this he exer- 
 cised himself, always to have a conscience 
 void of offence toward God and toward 
 man. 
 
 I have not been furnished with any precise 
 information concerning the commencement 
 of his religion, nor did I deem it necessary 
 to make any inquiries after it. The reality 
 is the thing to be ascertained. Here we 
 have the evidence of analogy. The changes 
 we observe in nature, are not sudden and 
 sensible disruptions from a preceding state, 
 but the gradual working and melting of one 
 thing into another. The difference between 
 day and night, and summer and winter, is 
 great ; yet the transition is imperceptible in 
 its progress, though undeniable in its effects. 
 In the experience of many, there has been 
 nothing in the process of their conversion de- 
 finitive enough as to time, or place, or man- 
 ner, or means to form a narrative. Neither 
 
FRIENDSHIP 
 
 is it important. It is with the proof and the 
 consequences we have to do. It is enough 
 if we are able to say, Whereas I was once 
 insensible to the things of God, I am now 
 alive to them ; whereas I was once blind, 
 now I see. That which is born of the Spirit 
 is spirit. 
 
 Neither do I lay so much stress as many 
 do on a few dying expressions. Indeed they 
 are never to be much regarded, unless they 
 come from characters that yield us satisfac- 
 tion without them. When elevated frames 
 and triumphant confidences are not preceded 
 by a way, of which they are a suitable end ; 
 when the death, instead of being the natural 
 and scriptural conclusion of the life, is the 
 reverse of all that could have been reasona- 
 bly inferred from it; we should always speak 
 with caution and fear ; for though we are not 
 to limit the Holy One of Israel in the sove- 
 reignty of his operations, he has limited us 
 in the rule of our judgment. "Mark the 
 perfect man, and behold the upright ; for the 
 end of that man is peace." Where there 
 has been a real and obvious dedication to the 
 service and glory of God, it is encouraging 
 to see how God honours them that honour 
 him ; and when persons have said by their 
 practice, " For me to live is Christ," it is de- 
 lightful to hear them say by their comfort, 
 " For me to die is gain." But physical causes 
 may have great influence here ; and I have 
 known some very good men, who have ex- 
 pressed but little confidence and joy in their 
 last moments; and the full assurance of hope 
 is not what I only or principally look after 
 in a Christian dying ; but the penitence 
 which lays a man low at the foot of the 
 Cross; the self-abasement, which under a sense 
 of unworthiness and unprofitableness, cries, 
 " Behold I am vile ;" the gratitude which ac- 
 knowledges under every pain, "He has not 
 dealt with me after my desert ;" the resigna- 
 tion that avows, " I know, O Lord, that thy 
 judgments are right, and that Thou in faith- 
 fulness hast afflicted me ;" the love to the 
 Saviour that feels Him " precious," and 
 speaks " well of his name ;" the concern to 
 do good, that leads him, "while life and 
 breath remains," to commend His ways to 
 those he is leaving behind — all connected 
 with humble confidence, and a " looking for 
 the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto 
 eternal life." And all this was displayed in 
 various instances by the deceased. I am not 
 provided with any written document, but 
 from the oral communications of his constant 
 attendants, and my own visits to the chamber 
 of sickness and death, I can testify how full 
 he was of self-complaint; how patient in 
 tribulation ; how affected with his little im- 
 provement of spiritual advantages ; how fear- 
 ful lest the end of his former sickness and 
 recovery should not have been answered; 
 how desirous of obtaining grace to suffer as a 
 2N 24* 
 
 IN DEATH. 281 
 
 Christian, and to glorify God in the fire. 
 Whenever, as I was kneeling by the side of 
 the bed of languishing, I asked him what I 
 should pray for on his behalf, the answer al- 
 ways indicated just such views and feelings 
 as became his condition, and contented a 
 pastor's heart. They who were present, will 
 not easily forget the manner in which, a little 
 before his death, he admonished and encou- 
 raged, taking her by the hand, a youthful 
 relative, to remember and seek the Lord. 
 
 Many wish to be imposed upon, or at least, 
 to be kept ignorant of their danger ; but the 
 deceased had engaged his medical attendant 
 beforehand, to inform him of his real condi- 
 tion. Soon after taking to his room he re- 
 minded him of his promise ; and when he 
 expressed his apprehension, he received it 
 with firmness, and thanked him for his free- 
 dom. Though every thing like ecstasy was 
 unknown, the calmness of hope continued 
 like the softness and mildness of a summer's 
 evening; and he finished his course with 
 peace though not with joy ; and had, if not 
 an abundant departure, yet an abundant en- 
 trance into the everlasting kingdom of our 
 Lord and Saviour. His experience re- 
 minded me of the language of a good minis- 
 ter, whose death-bed I was attending ; " I 
 cannot," said he, " triumph, but I can trust." 
 
 I need not say he was an amiable charac- 
 ter. The religion of some professors is not 
 only defective but deformed. To imperfec- 
 tions they add disagreeablenesses. Instead of 
 inviting and alluring, they check and repulse. 
 They seem to think that Christian serious- 
 ness consists in moroseness; and fidelity in 
 rudeness; and deadness to the world in say- 
 ing to others, " Stand by thyself, come not 
 near to me, I am holier than thou." But 
 Mr. Hallett was one of those who pursue 
 " whatsoever things are lovely and of good 
 report;" and who not only maintain but 
 " adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour." 
 His natural disposition was humane and ten- 
 der, and gentle and obliging; and this being 
 principled and sanctified by divine grace, 
 produced in him that cheerfulness of mind, 
 and gentleness of manners, and readiness of 
 intercourse, and preference of the gratifica- 
 tion of others to his own indulgence, that at- 
 tracted and attached all who knew him. For 
 whatever some ungracious lovers of them- 
 selves may think, as if it was religion that 
 procured them dislike and disesteem, the 
 words of the apostle will always be found 
 true. — "He that in these things serveth 
 Christ, is accepted of God and approved of 
 men." 
 
 No one can question his beneficence ; for 
 he had it in his power, as well as inclina- 
 tion, to dp good and to communicate. His 
 life was a stream of kindness flowing from a 
 generous heart. Who ever applied to him 
 in vain ] Who ever was insulted or humbled, 
 
282 
 
 FRIENDSHIP LN DEATH. 
 
 or pained, in receiving relief! His charity 
 was administered with feeling and courteous- 
 ness. He was a cheerful giver. Freely he 
 had received, and he freely gave. 
 
 Some congregations are not remarkable 
 for hospitality to ministers. But our friend 
 was a noble exception. His house was al- 
 ways open to receive and accommodate the 
 workmen, who were worthy of their hire. 
 And he found, as Henry says, that the ark is 
 a guest that always pays for its entertain- 
 ment It made him more intimately known 
 to many of the servants of God, who bene- 
 fited him by their conversation, and gave 
 him an interest in their prayers. How many 
 of these had said in their Master's name, 
 when under his roof, "Peace be to this 
 house !" How many of these bore him upon 
 their minds at a throne of grace, in the closet, 
 the family, and the sanctuary, during his 
 sickness and death ! 
 
 As he was a man of good natural talents, 
 of a sound understanding and a clear judg- 
 ment, and had an enlarged acquaintance with 
 men and things, he was continually consulted, 
 and he much served his generation by his 
 wise and cool counsel and advice. 
 
 But nothing could exceed his diffidence 
 and humility. He was clothed with it A 
 copy of a letter has been found, written years 
 ago, to a friend, anxiously laying open the 
 state of his mind ; and, wishing his unreserv- 
 ed and faithful opinion concerning his expe- 
 rience, after stating what makes him fear 
 that he is a stranger to the new creation, and 
 what sometimes leads him to hope that he is 
 not It would well bear readiug, if time 
 would allow. The solicitude it betrayed was 
 a token for good : it could only have resulted 
 from the very thing it questioned. This 
 carefulness never diminished. Instead of 
 talking of his conversion as a thing past and 
 certain, like one before him, he prayed, 
 " Lord, create in me a clean heart, and re- 
 new a right spirit within me." He required 
 to be urged to come forward and make a 
 profession of religion when he first joined our 
 communion : for while his minister and all his 
 fellow-worshippers had the fullest confidence 
 concerning him, he feared that the root of the 
 matter was not in him, and that having only 
 a name to live, he should prove a disgrace to 
 the cause of Christ, and come short at last 
 For like Fearing in the Pilgrim's Progress, 
 he had no fear beside this. He was not de- 
 void of moral heroism. He would not have 
 hesitated to cut off a right hand or pluck out 
 a right eye. He never shunned the avowal 
 of divine truth, or drew back from following 
 where duty led the way. And if his soul re- 
 fused to be comforted, it was not because he 
 did not love and desire the blessings^ ontained 
 in the promises ; but because he did love and 
 desire them supremely ; and therefore feared 
 that they were too good and great to be de- 
 
 signed for one like him. For though it be 
 commonly said that it is easy to believe what 
 we wish, the experience of every man gives 
 the lie to the observation ; and the more im- 
 portance we attach to a thing, and the more 
 our happiness is felt to be wrapped up in it, 
 the more anxious we become ; the more lia- 
 ble and alive we are to fear ; we want evi- 
 dence upon evidence, and assurance upon as- 
 surance, and can never deem ourselves suffi- 
 ciently certain. If it be blessed to be " poor 
 in spirit," " to hunger and thirst after right- 
 eousness," " to mourn for sin;" if "blessed is 
 the man that feareth always," he was, the 
 Bible being true, an heir of promise ; and 
 whatever he suspected, his title was divinely 
 valid. 
 
 His sentiments were the result of exami- 
 nation and conviction ; and he held them with 
 firmness, both with regard to doctrine and 
 dissent But who ever witnessed the least 
 intolerance or bigotry in him ! When did he 
 ever lay an undue stress on any of the cir- 
 cumstantial differences of real Christians 1 
 At what moment could he not say, from the 
 heart, " Grace be with all them that love our 
 Lord Jesus Christ with sincerity :" " For 
 whosoever shall do the will of my Father 
 who is in heaven, the same is my brother, 
 and sister, and mother." 
 
 It has been said, and truly said, that in re- 
 ligion a man is really what he is relatively. 
 By this rule let the departed be tried. What 
 a testimony has he left in the bosom of all 
 those most intimately connected with him, 
 that " in simplicity and godly sincerity, not 
 with fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God 
 he had his conversation in the world, and 
 more abundantly to them-ward." What ten- 
 der and approving remembrances has he left, 
 — in those servants who so long attended 
 upon him, — in those workmen that have 
 grown gray in his service,* — in this worthy 
 partner of his business, with whom, from the 
 commencement to the close of their connex- 
 ion, there never was one moment's disagree- 
 ment, — in this large circle of friends, many 
 of whom have come from a distance to weep 
 at his grave, — in this mourning, bleeding 
 widow, — in these tender and devoted daugh- 
 ters, — in this amiable and dutiful son-in-law, 
 — in these church members with whom he 
 walked, — in these fellow-deacons with whom 
 he officiated, — and in this minister on whom 
 his intelligent and mild countenance always 
 beamed affection and respect, who for thirty- 
 four years was never grieved or tried by him; 
 and who, though often employed as the com- 
 forter of his friend, was never once called to 
 reprove. 
 
 * One of whom said on the morning of his interment, 
 " Forty-two years I have been working for him ; when 
 I pleased him he praised me, when I offended him he 
 forgave me, when I was distressed he relieved me. 
 when I was sick he visited me, and I wish this day 
 was over." 
 
FRIENDSHIP IN DEATH. 
 
 283 
 
 This brings me to observe his conduct in 
 connexion with the church. Of this he was 
 not only a very honourable member, but a 
 deacon also. To this office he had been 
 chosen for a number of years by the suffrage 
 of his brethren, keeping their eye upon the 
 recommendations of the apostle. " Likewise 
 also must the deacons be grave, not double- 
 tongued, not given to much wine, not greedy 
 of filthy lucre ; holding the mystery of the 
 faith in a' pure conscience. And let these 
 also be first proved; then let them use the 
 office of a deacon, being found blameless. 
 Even so must their wives be grave ; not slan- 
 derers, sober, faithful in all things. Let the 
 deacons be the husbands of one wife, ruling 
 their children and their own houses well. 
 For they that have used the office of a deacon 
 well, purchase to themselves a good degree, 
 and great boldness in the faith, which is in 
 Christ Jesus." 
 
 And here can I avoid remarking what you 
 must all have observed, the invariable con- 
 stancy of his attendance on the means of 
 grace ? This is the way to prosper. " The 
 hand of the diligent maketh rich. Blessed is 
 the man that heareth me, says wisdom, watch- 
 ing early at my gates, waiting at the posts 
 of my doors." The religion of those who can 
 wholly or partially forsake the assembling of 
 themselves together, must not only be in a 
 very low, but a very doubtful state. " In all 
 places," says God, " where I record my name, 
 I will come unto thee, and I will bless thee ;" 
 but his presence and his benediction they 
 deem it not worth their while to put them- 
 selves to the least inconvenience to enjoy. 
 He was as regularly in his pew, as the 
 preacher in his pulpit, considering the duty 
 of pastor and people to be mutual ; and know- 
 ing that the conduct of an officer in the house 
 of God, is more observed and exemplary than 
 that of a private member. The week-day 
 services were always attended by him as 
 well as the sabbatical; for he delighted in 
 them, and found them necessary to refresh 
 and enliven his mind in the things of God 
 among the vexing and deadening cares of the 
 world. All the visits he paid or received 
 were regulated with a view to his religious 
 opportunities, and never interrupted them. 
 Nor was he like some who are laid up and 
 confined on the Sunday, yet abroad, in any 
 weather, in their own affairs, on the Monday : 
 for the Sabbath is a very healing day with 
 them. How often has he been here, when, 
 like his minister, (forgive me this wrong,) 
 pain and indisposition would have justified 
 absence. No, he could not question his at- 
 tachment to the sanctuary ; and therefore he 
 said, with a peculiar emphasis and confidence 
 in him ; " I have loved the habitation of thy 
 house, and the place where thine honour 
 dwelleth." 
 
 I could enlarge ; for out of the abundance 
 
 of the heart the mouth speaketh. But I have 
 already far exceeded your time, and can only 
 justify the length of the service by a liict we 
 all feel, that such an occasion and such a 
 character do not often come before us. 
 
 Well he loved the temple below, and is 
 now in the temple above, never more to go 
 out. He loved the Sabbath, and on the morn- 
 ing of that sacred day, he entered the Sab- 
 bath that remains for all the people of God. 
 He loved the praises of Israel, and now he ia 
 singing the song of Moses and the Lamb. 
 " Let us also go, that we may die with 
 
 HIM." 
 
 What shall I say to this bereaved family 1 
 I am far from wishing to diminish your loss; 
 but you must, yes, you must be thankful — 
 that he has not been suddenly snatched from 
 you, but after various intimations to prepare 
 you for it, and in a mariner the most gradual 
 and gentle — that he has not been prematurely 
 removed, but in a good old age, like a shock 
 of corn fully ripe in his season — that he has 
 not left you in embarrassed or contracted cir- 
 cumstances, but having all things richly to 
 enjoy, and possessing the means of doing 
 good — that you are not sorrowing as those 
 who have no hope, assured that, absent from 
 the body, he is present with the Lord. 
 
 You, the long and faithful and affectionate 
 wife of his bosom, in whom his heart so per- 
 fectly reposed ; you, I know from your dis- 
 position, as well as years, will be, "a widow 
 indeed, desolate and trusting in God, and 
 continuing in prayer night and day" — and 
 prayer will bring you the relief, the comfort, 
 the grace, every remaining duty and trial 
 will require, during the diminished period of 
 your separation. 
 
 My young friends ; " a good man," says 
 Solomon, " leaveth an inheritance to his chil- 
 dren ; an inheritance better than thousands 
 of gold and silver:" — his example, his in- 
 structions, the prayers he offered, and which 
 are had in remembrance before God, and the 
 special blessing of divine Providence. For 
 God acts upon the principles of the truest 
 friendship; and as David asked, " Is there any 
 left of the house of Saul, that I may show 
 him kindness for Jonathan's sake," so "the 
 generation of the upright shall be blessed." 
 Indeed, whatever advantages you derive from 
 the deceased, you could not be saved by his 
 religion. He could not exercise repentance 
 towards God, and faith towards our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, for you. Godliness is a per- 
 sonal thing — you must be made partakers of 
 the same grace, and be made wise for your- 
 selves. And blessed be God, you have chosen 
 that good part which shall not be taken away 
 from you. He is therefore, if not watching 
 over you now, yet waiting to receive you into 
 everlasting habitations. Be concerned to per- 
 petuate him by spiritual descent. Let there 
 be no contrast ever complained of between 
 
284 
 
 FRIENDSHIP IN DEATH. 
 
 the father and the children. Let not the 
 cause of God, or of the poor, .write Icabod on 
 the door ; or passengers shake the head and 
 say, "the glory of that house is departed." 
 Catch his mantle. Imbibe his spirit. Main- 
 tain the principles and the conduct, the piety, 
 and the benevolence, and the hospitality, 
 which cause the memory of your just father 
 to be blessed. 
 
 With Him who has made this breach 
 among us, is the residue of the Spirit. Let 
 us pray that by the conversion of some, and 
 the increased zeal of others, the loss made by 
 this removal may be repaired. And with re- 
 gard to ourselves, individually, let us resolve 
 not to "be slothful, but followers of them 
 who through faith and patience inherit the 
 promises." 
 
 To conclude. I ask you all, my dear hear- 
 ers, with whom do you wish to die"! With 
 Lazarus? If so, you must live with him. He 
 died as he lived ; and our friend died as he 
 lived. I have little opinion of a death-bed 
 religion. It is a bad time in which to attend 
 to the things which belong to your everlast- 
 ing peace. True repentance is, indeed, ne- 
 ver too late; but late repentance is seldom 
 
 true ; and when it is true, how can it be evi- 
 denced either to the individual himself, or to 
 others? It must, and it ought to remain, 
 doubtful. 
 
 Your desire, therefore, is nothing, unless it 
 leads you to wish to live with the people of 
 God, as well as to die with them. But if you 
 love them ; if you delight in them as the ex- 
 cellent of the earth ; if you make them your 
 examples and companions; if you take hold 
 of the skirt of him that is a Jew, saying, "I 
 will go with you, for I have heard that God 
 is with you ;" if you run the same race, look- 
 ing unto Jesus : then at death, " being let go," 
 you shall go "to your own company," and 
 "sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Ja- 
 cob, in the kingdom of God." Yea, "you are 
 come unto Mount Zion, and unto the city of 
 the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and 
 to an innumerable company of angels ; to the 
 general assembly, and church of the first- 
 born which are written in heaven; and to 
 God the Judge of all ; and to the spirits of just 
 men made perfect ; and to Jesus the mediator 
 of the new covenant; and to the blood of 
 sprinkling, that speaketh better things than 
 that of Abel." Amen. 
 
A CHARGE 
 
 INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN ADDRESSED 
 
 TO THE WIFE OF A MINISTER, 
 
 AT THE 
 
 ORDINATION OF HER HUSBAND, 
 
 BY WILLIAM JAY 
 
 "Our conditions are the best preceptors of our duties."— Bdrke. 
 "Give her of the fruit of her hand : and let her own works praise her in the gates."— Solomon. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 As there is nothing in creation, that so powerfully engages our attention, attracts our in- 
 clinations, refines our manners, exalts our character, and secures our happiness, as the other 
 sex — the sharers of our very nature, and the partners of our lives — we need not wonder that 
 authors have so frequently noticed them. But while physicians, and historians, and philoso- 
 phers, and poets, have paid these claimants attention — not always in the most deserving and 
 profitable way — it may seem strange that preachers so rarely make them distinctively the 
 objects of their address. 
 
 Two reasons perhaps may be assigned for this. The one is, that in their ministry, re- 
 gardless of every subordinate difference, they have principally to do, with those who are be- 
 fore them, in the quality of fallen and recoverable creatures ; whose grand concern is to be 
 excited to " win Christ, and be found in Him" — " where there is neither Jew nor Greek, 
 bond nor free, male nor female ; for we are all one in Christ Jesus." The other is, the 
 danger of misapprehended motive. Women generally deserve more commendation and 
 praise than men ; and commendation and praise are much more likely to improve, than re- 
 flection and censure, where the disposition is tender and ingenuous. But in applying these 
 peculiarly to their female hearers, complaisance may be supposed to disarm fidelity ; and 
 approbation may be construed into compliment. And nothing would be so unworthy a pub- 
 lic teacher, as to " have the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, with respect 
 to persons." Here, however, the Author has, in more instances than one, trusted his credit 
 in following his conviction. But where is he now 1 
 
 My reader : — You need not inquire after — the time — the place — the intended receiver 
 of this address — or the circumstances that prevented the delivery of it. Suffice it to ob- 
 serve, that the title is founded in truth. The case was this. At our ordinations, after the 
 confession of faith, and prayer for the Divine influence and blessing to attend the union that 
 has been publicly recognised between the pastor and the church, it has been always custom- 
 ary to address to each of the parties a Charge, containing suitable instructions, cautions, 
 admonitions, and encouragements, with regard to their respective duties. Nothing can be 
 more scriptural or proper than such an usage: and nothing will be found more interesting 
 and edifying, when it is not eked out in dull formality, and prolonged reiterations of same- 
 ness ; but is performed in the spirit and unction of the service. 
 
 285 
 
280 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 But the writer had often thought, that if on these occasions a Charge could be likewise 
 addressed to another personage, it would be, if not equally necessary, yet truly important. 
 The wife of the preacher is indeed, as his nearest relation, interested in all that is said to 
 him : and, as a fellow-member with his people, she is also concerned in all that is spoken to 
 them. Yet it is easy to perceive that there is, with regard to her, an individuality of 
 character, and a peculiarity of condition, requiring and justifying something more than 
 general and indiscriminate address. And the writer has always been persuaded, that one 
 of the failures in ministerial labour has been owing to the neglect of detail and specification, 
 in the enforcement of moral topics. If personal reflection be avoided — and it would be base 
 to indulge in this — practical exemplification cannot be too frequent or too particular. " The 
 words of the wise" could not be as "goads and nails," if they were obtuse. What pierces 
 must be pointed. What affects must be individually appropriate. The self-application peo- 
 ple try to elude, must be rendered difficult, impossible. Conscience must be induced to say, 
 " Thou art the man ;" and the hearer, " convinced of all, judged of all, and feeling the secrets 
 of his heart made manifest, report that God is in them of a truth." What are curious dis- 
 tinctions, abstruse reasonings, metaphysical subtleties, and general declamations, where, as 
 Bacon says, the preacher should bring home the subject to every man's business and bosom ; 
 or, like Paul, " warn every man, and teach every man, in all wisdom ; that he may present 
 every man perfect in Christ Jesus." " If," says God, " thou take forth the precious from 
 the vile, thou shalt be as my mouth." And how is this to be done 1 How are we to speak 
 as he speaks 1 but by clear delineations of character ] just appropriations of promises and 
 threateningsl wise and exciting applications of censure and commendation 1 
 
 The wife of a minister is in a situation distinguished, observable, and influential. How 
 much depends upon her principles, temper, taste, and behaviour! How various, delicate, 
 and arduous are the duties she has to discharge ! How much grace and wisdom are neces- 
 sary to fill the circle of her vocation, usefully and honourably ! — And yet the place she is 
 called to preside in, cannot be distinctly and expressly prepared for, by any course of previ- 
 ous discipline. Though the age abounds with every kind of institution ; no seminary, as yet, 
 has been founded for training up female probationers for the Levitical economy; though they 
 are supposed to be, either from the love of distinction, or the desire of usefulness, not a few. 
 The more needful is something like the ensuing endeavour. In making it, the Author has 
 also the sanction of the Apostle's example. He deemed it necessary, not only to describe 
 the attributes of approved Deacons and Bishops, but also of their wives — " Even so must 
 their wives be grave ; not slanderers ; sober ; faithful in all things." 
 
 There is one very important point of light in which the relation, here noticed, is to be 
 viewed. In former times, which we should do well to call to remembrance, the ministry 
 often descended. Many of the ablest servants of God, whose works praise them in the gates, 
 were of hallowed extraction. In the Non-Conformist Memorial, how many do we find be- 
 sides Philip Henry, of whom it was said, "Instead of the fathers shall be the children." Our 
 own day also furnishes examples to which it would be pleasing to allude, if delicacy did not 
 forbid. And families will increasingly replenish, not only the Church, but the pulpit — as 
 the wives of ministers " are nursing mothers," and are " fellow-helpers to the truth." — If, 
 after all, some may think the following address too restrictive to justify publication; let it 
 be, in fairness, observed, that besides the individuals here specifically regarded, much, in the 
 remarks, will apply to other wives; and, that while pursuing a particular object, the course 
 furnished an opportunity to throw out many collateral hints that may be serviceable to other 
 parties — not to say ministers themselves. 
 
 The conditions of wives differ considerably with regard to worldly things ; and the ad- 
 monisher could not accommodate himself to every individuality in the gradations. His aim, 
 therefore, has been taken neither from the highest or the lowest rank; but from the middle 
 degree — below affluence, and — above mean dependence. This is perhaps the most eligible 
 estate for the ministers of the Gospel. So thought the Prophet of the Lord, the wise and 
 pious Agar — " Remove from me vanity and lies. Give me neither poverty nor riches. Feed 
 me with food convenient for me : lest I be full, and deny Thee, and say, who is the Lord ? 
 or lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain." 
 
 Before the writer was diverted from his purpose, it was not his design to have given the 
 Charge at the same time with the other two addresses — as the service already is weari- 
 somely long : but the morning after the ordination ; and while the impression of the so- 
 lemnity would be yet remaining. 
 
 Nor would he have delivered it in the public assembly — for where females are concern- 
 ed, publicity is not to be sought after — but in the pastor's own dwelling. 
 
 From the singleness of the service, the speaker could afford to be longer in his admonition 
 than propriety would otherwise have allowed. 
 
 From the private nature of the engagement, he felt himself the more free from anxiety 
 and restraint. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 287 
 
 From the quality of the individual addressed, the mode of address itself was in some mea- 
 sure influenced. Females love facts and incidents rather than discussions; illustrations, 
 rather than arguments ; imagery, rather than abstractness ; sententiousness, rather than dif- 
 fusion : and though they are capable of thinking as well as the other sex, their thinking is 
 more tempered by feeling ; and they love thoughts when they are sentiments, rather than 
 notions. Do we mean to censure this taste 1 It has one incomparable recommendation — it 
 is the manner in which the Scriptures are written ; and where God has abounded towards 
 us in all wisdom and prudence. 
 
 Imagine then a preacher of some age, observation, and experience — and in the subject 
 before him, of no little happy experience — imagine such a man rising and addressing his 
 interesting auditress — while her husband, and the wives of several neighbouring ministers, 
 are present — in the form and manner following 
 
 Bath ; December 1st, 1829. 
 
THE CHARGE. 
 
 Jl prudent -wife is from the Lord. 
 Prov. xix. 14. 
 
 My esteemed friend and sister: — As 
 this peculiar service did not arise in the 
 preacher from affectation, or a wish to excite 
 notice and remark ; so he is persuaded your 
 ready compliance with the proposal of it, has 
 been only the result of a concern how to please 
 the Lord, whose Providence has called you 
 to occupy the station you are now filling. He 
 therefore most willingly engages in it, and 
 hopes that the example, at least as to its spi- 
 rit, will be hereafter followed. Yet he feels 
 solicitude; and as the effort is novel and pro- 
 bationary, he is not a little concerned for the 
 goodness of the precedent. He fears nothing, 
 indeed, from mere human opinion : he never 
 would enter on any religious engagement 
 unless he was at liberty to obey all the dic- 
 tates of his conviction. While therefore, on 
 the one hand, he will not seek to give pain or 
 offence ; on the other, he is bound to shun 
 every appearance of adulation. How strange 
 that persons should ever dare to pander to 
 the appetite of vanity, in holy exercises, and 
 under the immediate eye of God ; instead of 
 being raised into a dignified independence 
 of mind, by feeling the sentiment of Elihu — 
 " I know not to give flattering titles : in so 
 doing, my Maker would take me away." 
 
 But as ignorance is not necessary to hu- 
 mility, so neither is it flattery to remind peo- 
 ple of their real and relative importance, in 
 order to make them sensible of their respon- 
 sibilities, and anxious to discharge their obli- 
 gations. 
 
 We rejoice that your sex is elevated to its 
 proper rank in the community. In barbarous 
 ages, and in all savage countries, it never 
 rose to any of the dignities and rights of so- 
 cial, rational, and immortal beings. Some phi- 
 losophers have strangely argued, whether 
 men have been improved by the progress of 
 civilization, and advancement of the arts and 
 sciences : but no one can deny that women 
 owe much, for a happy change in their con- 
 dition, to the prevalence of knowledge and 
 polished life. Yet what were the daughters 
 of Greece and Rome, compared with the 
 daughters of Zion 1 What did even chivalry 
 accomplish for the objects of its enthusiasm, 
 compared with the benefits the female race 
 have derived from the doctrine and spirit of 
 Christianity 1 It is the religion of Jesus, that, 
 far beyond every human institution, has, for 
 you, softened the manners of the multitude, 
 
 and subdued the fierceness and tyranny of 
 physical power and dominion. It is this, that 
 has delivered you from the discords and 
 wretchedness of polygamy and divorce. It 
 is this, that, instead of degrading you as the 
 slaves, or seducers of the other sex, leads us 
 to regard you as our companions, our friends, 
 our sisters; the fellow-heirs of the grace of 
 life; the daughters of the Lord Almighty. 
 The light that has been shed upon your true 
 destination and worth, will prevent their ever 
 being concealed or denied in future. It is 
 now too late to controvert the claims which 
 are so justly your due ; or refuse to acknow- 
 ledge that — you must have — that you ought 
 to have — that you are designed to have, a 
 great influence in the relations and interests 
 of society. 
 
 Yet the manner in which this influence is 
 to be most properly and advantageously ex- 
 erted and employed, is not only a question of 
 wisdom, but, as far as the mind of God is 
 made known concerning it, a matter of abso- 
 lute submission. The ground of moral duty 
 is the same with regard to all ; but the exem- 
 plification of the principle must vary accord- 
 ing to the connexions and circumstances of 
 individuals. And therefore I need not say, 
 that you are expressly forbidden to occupy 
 the office of your husband, and publicly teach 
 in the Church. This prohibition will not sur- 
 prise or offend any one who reflects, that God 
 has a right to order all affairs in his own 
 house ; and that none of his decisions are ar- 
 bitrary. We judge from very limited views 
 of things; and in no case can we infallibly 
 determine what may be best, eventually, and 
 upon the whole. But his understanding is 
 infinite; and his judgment is always accord- 
 ing to truth. 
 
 Regulation is not degradation. God him- 
 self is the grand example of order. He who 
 is above all, submits to rule. He does — not 
 what he would — but what he ought ; or, as 
 his word expresses it, " what becomes him ;" 
 what " behoveth him ;" what " seemeth good 
 in his sight." 
 
 Services uncalled of God, are unacceptable 
 to him : he may pardon them, but he cannot 
 reward them. The result of maintaining the 
 laws of order and decorum, is more important 
 to the welfare of society, than a few instances 
 of usefulness arising from the violation of 
 them ; and which are more noticed because 
 they stand out to observation ; and are com- 
 monly magnified above their real desert, in 
 288 
 
THE CHARGE. 
 
 289 
 
 consequence of their specious and immediate 
 effect. There is danger too, that when per- 
 sons have once broken their rank, and have 
 enjoyed the sweetness of notice and applause, 
 they will never subside into entire regularity 
 again. Your husband would have run no 
 little risk, had he, in the election of a wife, 
 made choice of an expositor of the Scrip- 
 tures, whether in public, or even in the social 
 circle. Some of the same disposition would 
 probably have been left still working the same 
 way : as we too often see in those individu- 
 als in our churches who become occasional 
 preachers; they seldom feel again as mere 
 members; and are the most dissatisfied and 
 trying hearers with whom their pastors have 
 to deal. 
 
 Limitation is not obstruction. It confines 
 indeed ; but it is the confinement of direction, 
 not of hindrance. It does not oppose, but 
 guide. It resembles the banks of a river, 
 which, not keeping the stream back, but only 
 keeping it in, invite and aid along its course ; 
 while the current pursues the noiseless tenor 
 of its way — even — and — clear — reflecting the 
 sky, — and refreshing and adorning the earth. 
 How much better is this, than the turbid li- 
 centiousness of the flood, though it may make 
 a greater show, and a greater noise; and 
 draw more gazers to its spreading, wild, and 
 dangerous invasions. 
 
 The Greeks did not permit the men to 
 have much intercourse with female society, 
 unless they were related ; and the Asiatics 
 laid upon their women yet greater restraints. 
 Hence, as Christian churches were first 
 formed in Greece and Asia, it might have 
 been inferred, that such females as wanted 
 other instruction than was given in the public 
 assemblies, must have received it in private, 
 from some of their own sex ; and that from 
 them also, woman in penury, distress, and 
 confinement, must have received visits of suc- 
 cour and comfort. Accordingly we find fe- 
 males, eligible from their knowledge, experi- 
 ence, discretion, and age were appointed for 
 these purposes. They are often referred to 
 in the Epistles. Paul speaks of those " wo- 
 men that laboured with him in the gospel." 
 In the earlier periods of Ecclesiastical His- 
 tory, we perceive women having some offices 
 analagous to those of the men. But they 
 were of a private nature. Our brethren, the 
 Moravians, retain some functions of this kind ; 
 and we believe no man, among them, can be 
 a pastor who is unmarried ; as there are ser- 
 vices required of the wife, as well as of the 
 husband. But none of them are consonant 
 with the public ministration of the word. 
 How far any appointments of a similar order 
 might be profitably established in our church- 
 es, it would not be perhaps improper to in- 
 quire. 
 
 But we are not going at present to attempt 
 any new schemes. We deem it preferable 
 2 0 25 
 
 to take things as they are ; and endeavour 
 to improve what is practicable ; rather than 
 to deal in what is speculative. We therefore 
 say, that without the assumption of office ; 
 and without leaving the sphere of engage- 
 ment suited to your sex and station ; you may, 
 in an eminent degree, serve your own gener- 
 ation by the will of God. Let me freely de- 
 velope and enforce what I should deem ne- 
 cessar}' to your securing so desirable an at- 
 tainment. 
 
 I presume on your personal religion. It is 
 said of Zachariah and Elisabeth, that " they 
 were both righteous before God, walking in 
 all the commandments and ordinances of the 
 Lord blameless." If a Christian is to " marry 
 only in the Lord," how indispensable is this 
 requisition to a minister. If he sets at nought 
 the divine precaution, he not only by his ex- 
 ample justifies others in forming unhallowed 
 connexions, but his own wickedness will cor- 
 rect him ; and he will be made to feel, in the 
 natural consequences as well as in the penal 
 rebuke, what an evil and bitter thing it is to 
 forsake the fear of the Almighty. His case 
 indeed is to be pitied, should he have been 
 imposed upon after serious and candid exami- 
 nation. And there have been wives who have 
 made pretensions, to gain the upright, who are 
 always the most unsuspecting. And when 
 the mask has been afterwards thrown aside, 
 what an astounding discovery has it been to 
 the deceived, and what a degradation to the 
 deceiver ! And when the disguise has con- 
 tinued, what a wretched constraint has been 
 necessary to keep up appearances ! And what 
 irksomeness has been endured in being so 
 often engaged in the exercises of unfelt de- 
 votion ! And what excuses have been made 
 for omitting duties, against the drudgery of 
 which the alienated heart has revolted ! And 
 what can be more likely to impair conscience, 
 and to produce impenitence, than " lying 
 against the Holy Ghost?" "And what is 
 the hope of the hypocrite, though she hath 
 gained, when God taketh away her soul ?" 
 " But we are persuaded better things of you, 
 and things that accompany salvation, though 
 we thus speak." 
 
 Yet, though, in your case, the reality of 
 godliness be indispensable, it is not sufficient. 
 Every thing in the claims of your calling re- 
 quires — not only that you should fear God, 
 but that you should fear God above many — 
 not only that you should know the truth as 
 it is in Jesus, but be filled with the know- 
 ledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual 
 understanding — not only that you should be 
 sincere and without offence, until the day of 
 Christ, but be thoroughly furnished unto all 
 good works. 
 
 Here let me speak of your deportment — 
 
 With regard to them that are without. 
 
 With regard to other religious par- 
 ties. 
 
290 
 
 THE CHARGE. 
 
 With regard to your own church and con- 
 gregation. 
 
 With regard to your family. 
 
 With regard to your husband. 
 
 First, with regard to them that are with- 
 out. Of these your husband is to have a 
 " good report, lest he fall into reproach and 
 the snare of the devil." It must be the same 
 with you : for though less conspicuous than 
 himself, you will not escape observation. 
 
 You are required to be firm and decided. 
 You must keep your high and holy ground, 
 and not be drawn down into the course of 
 this world. If you comply with their wishes, 
 and conform to their maxims and manners, 
 they may like you more, but they will esteem 
 you less. It is by your consistency that you 
 are to strike and impress others. They will 
 not regard, what they see you make light of 
 yourselves : and surely you cannot evince 
 the importance you attach to the truths you 
 profess, by owning them at one time, and be- 
 ing ashamed of them at another, according to 
 the place and company in which you are 
 found : but only by the constancy of your ad- 
 herence to them, and the sacrifices you are 
 ready to make in their defence. 
 
 Yet tenderness must be connected with 
 decision, both to qualify it, and to prove the 
 source from which it results — that it is not 
 the offspring of obstinacy, but principle ; that 
 it is not self-will, but a regard to the will of 
 God ; that it is not prejudice, but enlightened 
 conviction. Whoever in this cause contends 
 earnestly, must yet strive lawfully. A Polemic 
 of your sex is rarely desirable. A theologi- 
 cal Joan of Arc we would rather decline al- 
 together. The Amazons of orthodoxy, as 
 those of old, may amputate the breast, the 
 better to draw the bow : but we prefer their 
 feeling to their fierceness; and their charms 
 to their courage. They are not only most 
 lovely, but most efficient, when unarmed, 
 and attired in the meekness and gentleness 
 of Jesus Christ. 
 
 In your social intercourse, be careful to 
 unite discretion with integrity. Be concerned 
 not only to maintain your reputation, but the 
 honour of your religion. Do not imagine that 
 truth is an altar that sanctifies every offering. 
 Plead for no doctrine in an uncharitable 
 temper. Christian faithfulness does not re- 
 quire ill-nature; and gains nothing by ill- 
 breeding. It is a poor way of usefulness, to 
 lose all future opportunities of doing good to 
 your fellow-creatures, by driving them away 
 from your presence, or hardening their minds 
 against you. Yet how often is this done by 
 the haughtiness of reproof! or the violence 
 of controversy ! or the rancour of party zeal ! 
 
 Treat no one with rudeness or neglect. 
 Shun the spirit of the Pharisee, trusting in 
 himself that he is righteous, and despising 
 others — " Stand by thyself ; come not near to 
 me ; I am holier than thou." Mixing with 
 
 company prevents the appearance and suspi- 
 cion of unamiableness ; and has the effect of 
 promoting good neighbourhood, and general 
 good will. Remember that what gentility 
 would require of you as an accomplishment 
 Christianity enjoins upon you as a virtue . 
 and what a woman of good breeding receive* 
 from education, you are to derive from reli- 
 gion ; and what is only in the people of the 
 world the hollowness of ceremony, is to be 
 in you the reality of principle. " Politeness," 
 says lord Chatham, " is benevolence in little 
 things." It consists in general attention ; in 
 doing civil offices, and using kind words to 
 all ; in keeping every offensive subject out of 
 view ; in never obtruding your own partiali- 
 ties ; but always minutely regarding the 
 wishes of others; in accommodating your- 
 selves as much as you innocently can, to their 
 habits and tastes; in forgetting yourselves, 
 and obliging every one about you. And what 
 says the Scripture 1 " Let every one of us 
 please his neighbour for his good to edifica- 
 tion." This is the way to adorn the doctrine 
 of God our Saviour ; and to render the gos- 
 pel not only impressive, but attractive. This 
 is the way to walk in wisdom towards them 
 that are without, so as to remove their preju- 
 dices, and bring them over to your cause — and 
 " he that winneth souls, is wise." 
 
 Be kind and merciful, as well as obliging. 
 Always regard the afflicted. The hour of 
 trouble is a season of moral impressiveness : 
 the heart is then more serious and more soft. 
 While the daughters of vanity and dissipa- 
 tion turn away from the abodes of penury 
 and wo ; be you a little image of him who is 
 a very present help in trouble. When Mr. 
 Howard presented his wife with a purse of 
 one hundred guineas to enable her to take a 
 summer's excursion : " what a pretty cot- 
 tage," said she, " will this build for a poor 
 family !" How much more pure, and satisfy- 
 ing, and durable, was the pleasure the sight 
 of this little temple of charity afforded her, 
 than what she could have derived from a 
 visit to a watering-place ! It was a common 
 saying of the Lord Jesus, who, from experi- 
 ence, knew the deliciousness infinitely better 
 than any other being : " It is more blessed to 
 give than to receive." It is to be lamented, 
 that many in your station have it so little in 
 their power to gratify their benevolence : but 
 whatever resources your husband commands, 
 he will readily allow you a share of the plea- 
 sure and honour arising from the application 
 of them : and the beneficence which should 
 distinguish a minister's wife, is not confined 
 to alms-givings. There are alms-deeds. There 
 are numberless ways in which a feeling heart 
 can reach distress. When it cannot succour, 
 it can soothe. 
 
 It is important to be able to give advice to 
 the poor. They are often thriftless and 
 wasteful, from ignorance, as much as from 
 
THE CHARGE. 
 
 291 
 
 negligence. But they may be taught to make 
 a little go a great way ; and actual and per- 
 sonal instruction may do much more than 
 printed tracts. 
 
 Some little knowledge also of medicine 
 w r ould be always an instrument of usefulness 
 in female charity ; and none could more ad- 
 vantageously use it than a pastor's wife. 
 
 Your sex are sometimes called angels. 
 The design has not always been laudable : 
 and the flattery, it is to be feared, has some- 
 times turned them into fallen angels. But 
 you may truly deserve the praise of the title. 
 Our Saviour, speaking of children, says, " De- 
 spise not one of these little ones, for their an- 
 gels do always behold the face of my Father 
 who is in heaven." And, says Paul, " Are 
 they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to 
 minister unto them that are the heirs of sal- 
 vation?" Make these beautiful and lovely 
 creatures your models. A female is never so 
 angelical as when she adds to her personal 
 graces the moral attractions ; and displays the 
 tender heart ; the melting eye ; the soft hand 
 binding up the wounded spirit ; and the foot 
 with eager steps at the door of misery, visit- 
 ing the fatherless and the widows in their 
 affliction. 
 
 Secondly ; with regard to other religious 
 parties. You must not judge of persons by 
 their walking with you, in the outward fel- 
 lowship of the gospel. They may assemble 
 in other places, and belong to other denomi- 
 nations, in which the worship of the Spirit is 
 equally maintained, and the word of life is 
 equally preached ; and be members of the 
 one true Church of the living God. And 
 being such, you are not at liberty to show an 
 indifference to them. You must be able to 
 say, " Grace be with all them that love our 
 Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity :" " Whosoever 
 shall do the will of my Father who is in 
 heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, 
 and mother." 
 
 As your husband professes to maintain the 
 character of a worker together with all those 
 who hold the same essential truth, though 
 they differ from him in matters of inferior 
 moment; you should aim and endeavour to 
 cherish in him the spirit of love and concord. 
 Guard against prejudice and envy. Be not 
 offended or grieved at hearing the commen- 
 dations and successes of other ministers, as if 
 they eclipsed the excellencies, or detracted 
 from the usefulness of one for whom it is 
 natural that you should feel peculiarly con- 
 cerned. He that soweth, and he that reap- 
 eth, may rejoice together. He that planteth, 
 and he that watereth, are not enemies or 
 rivals. The various officers in an army, and 
 the various builders in the house, require and 
 aid each other. 
 
 When the Wesleyan Methodists opened a 
 Chapel at Painswick, near his own meeting, 
 the late excellent Cornelius Winter prayed 
 
 three times publicly the preceding Sabbath 
 for their encouragement and success. When 
 Mr. Hoskins, of Bristol, the Independent Mi- 
 nister of Castle-Green, opened a Meeting in 
 Temple Street ; what did the incomparable 
 Easterbrooke, the vicar of the parish ! The 
 morning it was opened, he was almost the 
 first that entered it. He seated himself near 
 the pulpit. When the service was over, he 
 met the preacher at the foot of the stairs, and 
 shaking him with both hands, said aloud ; " I 
 thank you cordially, my dear brother, for 
 coming to my help — here is room enough for 
 us both ; and work enough for us both ; and 
 much more than we can both accomplish : 
 and I hope the Lord will bless our co-opera- 
 tion in this good course." 
 
 There is too little of this in many neigh- 
 bourhoods ; so that if the leaders of the seve- 
 ral interests are not in a state of hostility, 
 they are estranged, and shy of each other. 
 And there is often, we fear, a secret influence 
 exerted very near the throne ; and arising, 
 not from a bad heart, but quick and feverish 
 feeling ; that contributes to produce and per- 
 petuate the effect. 
 
 A man cannot receive a higher commission 
 than the ministry of the word ; and such we 
 are commanded to esteem very highly in love 
 for their work's sake. Their acceptance is 
 necessary to their usefulness ; and their repu- 
 tation is necessary to their acceptance. Be- 
 ware, therefore, of speaking freely or lightly 
 of the character and claims of any of God's 
 servants. Remember how Miriam erred in 
 her flippancy, when, jealous of the popularity 
 of Moses, she endeavoured to lower him com- 
 paratively in the estimation of the people. 
 God was displeased. The cloud removed 
 from the tabernacle. And " she became a 
 leper as white as snow." And was " asham- 
 ed" to be seen abroad " for seven days." 
 Crimes are not immediately and visibly judged 
 now, as they were under a former dispensa- 
 tion. And it is well they are not. If Miri- 
 am's infirmity was followed by Miriam's cor- 
 rection, we know some handsome faces, and 
 some not very handsome, whose cadaverous 
 complexion would soon require seclusion and 
 concealment ; while the mortified sufferers 
 would be grateful for the prayers of those 
 they have laboured to supplant or depreciate, 
 to restore them to comeliness and sight. 
 " Wherefore then were ye not afraid to speak 
 against my servant Moses 1" 
 
 Thirdly ; with regard to your own church 
 and congregation. Here, like your hus- 
 band, you are to be " an example of the be- 
 lievers, in word, in conversation, in charity, 
 in spirit, in faith, in purity." 
 
 Never let your behaviour be so reserved, 
 as to appear haughty and disdainful towards 
 any of the members or attendants ; especially 
 any of those in humbler life. A little par- 
 tiality here, will be sure to awaken the re- 
 
292 
 
 THE CHARGE. 
 
 mark ; " The rich have many friends." Your 
 leaning should rather be to the other side ; 
 not only because it will do more honour to 
 your motive, and you will be complying with 
 the injunction, " condescend to men of low 
 estate ;" but also because so many of the 
 subjects of divine grace are found among the 
 poor of this world ; no few of whom are ricli 
 in faith ; and able, from their own experience, 
 to reward your intercourse with them. 
 
 Never be drawn into excessive attachments. 
 They gender envy and provoke reflection. 
 Like himself, a minister's wife is hardly al- 
 lowed friendship; at least, great and engross- 
 ing intimacies. She stands in the same re- 
 lation to many ; and must be respectful and 
 attentive to all. If she cannot hinder the 
 existence of particular feelings and prefer- 
 ences ; she may, she must learn to rule the 
 expression of them. Many in your rank, 
 especially the narrow-minded and the ill- 
 educated, always have their cronies — a kind 
 of low favourites — decent dependents — the 
 collectors of all the news of the church, con- 
 gregation, and neighbourhood — and who can 
 feed their entertainers with timely selections, 
 according to their peculiar appetite and 
 wishes, with which they are perfectly ac- 
 quainted. Flee these. Beware of all news- 
 mongers. Frown them to a distance. Chill 
 them into silence. What says the proverb ! 
 " The receiver is as bad as the thief." What 
 says the witty and sarcastical South'! " The 
 tale-bearer, and the tale-hearer, should be 
 both punished together ; only the one should 
 be hung up by the tongue, and the other by 
 the ear." 
 
 After all your caution, there are things 
 which you will unavoidably hear — but you 
 must hear them, as if you heard them not — 
 and you need not relate them. Be not sus- 
 picious, yet never be too open. Never put 
 yourself, by imprudent confidence, in the 
 power of any. Never betray secrets the di- 
 vulging of which may involve you in embar- 
 rassment or disgrace. 
 
 Keep yourself aloof from all breaches in 
 the families of your people, and any differ- 
 ences that may arise in the church or con- 
 gregation. There is danger here, from your 
 being, with regard to such things, in the way 
 of much prattling information ; and unless 
 you are guarded, you will be easily drawn in, 
 and become a partizan : and when a female 
 has taken her side — which seldom requires 
 much time; she is apt to be more open than 
 false ; and frequently feels and expresses 
 more than principle, or at least prudence, can 
 justify. Never show or wish to be " a judge 
 and a divider." Never be found in the Ec- 
 clesiastical Court. Leave these matters to 
 those to whom they properly belong, and who 
 " have the rule." I never knew a minister's 
 wife, but was esteemed and admired in pro- 
 portion as she shunned contention and in- 
 
 termeddling, and kept within the duties of 
 her own appropriate and lovely sphere. It is 
 better to withdraw, and retire, and weep, and 
 pray, than to excite notice, and gain partial 
 praise, with the froward, and even the for- 
 ward in spirit. " Who is a wise" woman, 
 "and endued with knowledge!" Let her 
 " show out of a good conversation" her 
 " works with meekness of wisdom. For 
 where envy and strife is, there is confusion, 
 and every evil work. But the wisdom that 
 is from above, is first pure, then peaceable, 
 gentle, easy to be entreated ; full of mercy 
 and good fruits; without partiality, and with- 
 out hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteous- 
 ness is sown in peace, of them that make 
 peace." 
 
 In the visits you pay and receive, be al- 
 ways ready to encourage religious discourse. 
 Let this appear to be the element the most 
 congenial with your spirit. Let your speech 
 turn habitually on subjects, rather than per- 
 sons. Especially, speak evil of no man — 
 " Upon her tongue was the law of kindness." 
 In a general way, be rather reserved than 
 over communicative. We have many good 
 discourses, says archbishop Tillotson, on the 
 excellency of speech ; we want one now on 
 the excellency of silence. "In the multi- 
 tude of words there wanteth not sin." How 
 often does Solomon, the wisest of mortals, 
 enforce a comparative backwardness to speak. 
 In one place he tells us it is safe — in another, 
 it is wise— in a third, it is dignified — in a 
 fourth, it is useful — and every where he ex- 
 tols it as a virtue. Nature, my sister, teaches 
 us this lesson as well as Scripture. It has 
 given us two ears, but one tongue : the former 
 avenues are always left open ; the latter or- 
 gan is easily enclosed — as much as to say, 
 " Be swift to hear ; but slow to speak." Here, 
 alas ! " who can understand his errors !" 
 Who can read the testimony of Jesus — 
 " Every idle word that men shall speak, they 
 shall give account thereof in the day of judg- 
 ment" — and not pray, " Set a watch, O Lord, 
 before my mouth : keep the door of my lips !" 
 If your connexions and intercourse afford you 
 more opportunities and excitements to speak 
 — so much the more necessary is it that 
 " your speech should be always with grace, 
 seasoned with salt." I urge this, because of its 
 peculiar and neglected importance. Surely, 
 what James says of our sex will apply equal- 
 ly to yours — especially to a female in your 
 relation. "If any man offend not in word, 
 the same is a perfect man; and able also to 
 bridle the whole body." 
 
 Fourthly; with regard to your family. 
 By this I here mean servants and children. ■ 
 
 Upon the former I shall not much enlarge. 
 Surely, in the treatment of your servants, it 
 will not be necessary to remind you, that you 
 have a Master in heaven, and that there is 
 no respect of persons with God. He that 
 
THE CHARGE. 
 
 293 
 
 made you in the womb, maae them. No be- 
 ing is despicable as a creature of the Most 
 High, so fearfully and wonderfully made : 
 and no one is to be contemned on the ground 
 of power and influence. Domestics can in- 
 jure you : their very situation gives them 
 peculiar means and opportunities ; and they 
 may employ their advantage in ways of which 
 you have no apprehension, and which render 
 counteraction difficult or impossible. It is 
 never desirable to wage war with inferiors : 
 you must descend to the same lowness of 
 contention, and employ weapons, in the use 
 of which, they are likely to be much more 
 expert than yourself — while the sympathy 
 of beholders will be most naturally drawn to 
 the weaker side. Think not a hint of this 
 kind beneath your notice. It will procure 
 you more discredit than you are aware of, to 
 be always, or often, changing your servants ; 
 or to wear the character of a harsh, scolding, 
 close, stingy mistress. 
 
 Sink not your proper distinction, by suffer- 
 ing your affability to degenerate into famili- 
 arities. Neither let your kindness disappear 
 in your authority. Servitude being establish- 
 ed against the natural equality of mankind, 
 should be softened as much as the duties of 
 it will allow. Consider your servants as 
 humble friends. Little minds endeavour to 
 support their consequence by distance and 
 hauteur : but true dignity is always conde- 
 scending and tender: and in a woman, we 
 admire, not what is stately, but what is en- 
 dearing; not what is dazzling, but what is 
 mild and lovely ; not what is great, but what 
 is graceful. Forbear threatening. Distinguish 
 between mistakes, and the want of princi- 
 ple. Pass by little infirmities. Is it reason- 
 able that the mistress should exact from a 
 servant, the perfection, the servant can never 
 expect from the mistress? Afford your do- 
 mestics occasional indulgence ; and especial- 
 ly moments for reasonable visits to their re- 
 lations and friends. Let the readiness to 
 commend you to others, — the tear when you 
 leave home, — the beaming countenance when 
 you return, — the eager and uncomplaining 
 attendance and watching by day and night in 
 your sickness; show that you have gained 
 the heart, as well as hired the hand ; and are 
 served, not by the sullenness of fear, but the 
 cheerfulness of affection. Above all, you 
 will not overlook the moral and spiritual wel- 
 fare of those who are not only under your 
 command, but under your care — and you 
 will care for their souls. You will not only 
 give them opportunity to attend the means 
 of grace, and family worship; but you will 
 personally instruct, reprove, encourage them. 
 However ignorant they may come into your 
 service, it will be a disgrace to the mistress 
 for them to depart unable to read the Scrip- 
 tures. 
 
 With regard to the children the Lord may 
 25* 
 
 graciously give you, your husband of course 
 will share with you in the discharge of paren- 
 tal duty. But though, here, you are not ex- 
 clusively, yet you are — really — you are deep- 
 ly, and in some respects — peculiarly concern- 
 ed. In all the animal creation, the maternal 
 instincts are the most powerful; and the wis- 
 dom of the provision is obvious — the rearing 
 of their offspring almost entirely belongs to 
 the mother. In the education of children — 
 of the daughters till they are married ; and 
 of the sons till a certain age — the care falls 
 chiefly on the female. To her belong un- 
 questionably the first years of both ; and 
 those periods are the most tender and ductile. 
 Her share of tuition, therefore, begins very 
 early; and it cannot begin too early. In- 
 fants are impressed before they are supposed 
 to be receptive of impression ; and they are 
 proceeding in a direction before we think 
 they are capable of motion. They can re- 
 member before they can reason ; and they 
 can judge before they can speak; as you see 
 by their looks and gestures, their attractions 
 and their aversions. Here your wisdom and 
 your vigilance must be awake, instantly to 
 seize and improve opportunities, apparently 
 insignificant, but most serious in their effects. 
 The roads that lead to places very remote 
 from each other, diverge very slenderly at 
 their beginnings. When I wish the branch 
 of a tree in my garden to occupy a particular 
 space, I can guide it, while a sucker, with a 
 thread: a few years after it will require a 
 rope ; and the attempt to bend it will be like- 
 ly to break. 
 
 As a mother too, from his endeared de- 
 pendence upon you, you are sure of the 
 child's first and liveliest attachment. And 
 you have always the advantage of immediate 
 access. And you have also the influence of 
 that insinuation and address which our sex 
 has not the faculty to possess, or the patience 
 to employ. One of the absurd opinions of 
 former times was, that poison never diffused 
 itself so quickly and powerfully as when it 
 was administered in human milk — nothing 
 certainly affects so much as what is imbibed 
 with the mother's milk. In the age of Sil- 
 ver, Hesiod says, poetically, children con- 
 tinued, during an infancy of one hundred 
 years, under maternal care. 
 
 I am weary, said the ambitious Cornelia, 
 of being called Scipio's daughter. Do some- 
 thing, my sons, to style me the mother of the 
 Gracchi. What an honour will be conferred 
 on you, if you should be the means of rear- 
 ing a disciple of Jesus ! an heir of God ! a 
 minister of the Gospel ! an ambassador to the 
 heathen! And why should you be discour- 
 aged 1 We know that human nature is de- 
 praved ; but we know the grace that is in 
 Christ Jesus. We do not think of your suc- 
 cess without his blessing ; but we encourage 
 you to seek it: and while, in dependence 
 
294 
 
 THE CHARGE. 
 
 upon it, you employ all the means in your 
 power, remember his own word : " Train up 
 a child in the way that he should go, and 
 when he is old he will not depart from it." 
 This is indeed a proverb, and therefore admits 
 of exceptions : but, as a proverb, it must be 
 generally true: and where the mother has 
 performed her part, there are few failures — 
 at least eventual failures. For a time she 
 may have seemed to labour in vain ; but she 
 sowed the seed in good season ; and though 
 impatience deemed it dead, some after-show- 
 ers and sun-shines caused it to spring up, and 
 bring forth fruit. So it was with the mother 
 of Augustine. You have also heard, to the 
 same effect, the grateful acknowledgments 
 of a Newton and a Cecil in later times. 
 While many, by maternal influence, have 
 been reclaimed from the paths of the Destroy- 
 er ; others — and who can tell their number 
 — others have been preserved ; and have 
 feared the Lord from their youth and their 
 infancy. This was the case with Samuel 
 and Timothy ; the Jewish Church being in- 
 debted for the former to Hannah, and the 
 Christian Church to Lois and Eunice for the 
 latter. David does not any where refer to 
 Jesse ; but, says he, " Save the son of thine 
 handmaid." — " I am the son of thine hand- 
 maid." And who can tell what early and 
 touching recollections of her early, and ten- 
 der, and pious solicitude, he felt at the mo- 
 ment of such appeals 1 
 
 At our ordinations, when the candidate has 
 been asked a reason of the hope that he has 
 been called by Divine Grace, how often, if he 
 has adverted to the means, has a tear — which 
 instantly drew forth kindred drops from the 
 eyes of others — almost interrupted the con- 
 fession, " I had the advantage of a pious mo- 
 ther" 
 
 — You cannot have forgotten the acknow- 
 ledgment, on the preceding day, of one so 
 dear to you — " I have no miracle to publish : 
 I have no surprising or sudden change to re- 
 late — But blessed be his Name ; I was brought 
 up in the nurture and admonition of the 
 Lord — the taking of my little hand in her's 
 — I think I feel it still, and leading me aside 
 to pray — Her concern on returning from the 
 house of God, to enable me to remember and 
 understand the sermon — The murmur of her 
 dear voice at her devotion as I passed her 
 chamber door — The maxims and principles 
 she lodged in my infant mind — The tears that 
 bedewed her reproofs — The caresses that 
 enforced her entreaties — Her cheerfulness, 
 that constantly said, ' O taste and see that 
 the Lord is good,' — Her example, that im- 
 bodied her religion, and made it as lovely as 
 herself — These endear the memory of a mo- 
 ther, from whom, under God, I have derived 
 
 my spiritual, as well as my natural life" 
 
 You are not commonly in danger of injur- 
 ing or overlooking the health of your off- 
 
 spring intentionally : but wisdom is profitable 
 to direct. A little medical advice, and ob- 
 servation and experience, in the service of 
 common sense, will enable you to see the im- 
 portance of air and exercise — of sweetening 
 the blood by a proper choice of food — and of 
 preventing ailments by simplicity of diet, and 
 keeping nature unclogged by excess. Never 
 accustom them at table to choose for them- 
 selves — you are the best judge as to the 
 quality and measure of their provisions — and 
 they cannot be too early taught to give up 
 self-will to superior wisdom. 
 
 Were I addressing your partner, I should 
 say, " Fathers, provoke not your children to 
 anger, lest they be discouraged." But your 
 danger generally lies on the other side. 
 Therefore beware of fond and foolish indul- 
 gence. Trifles may be passed over; and 
 some minor offences be safely buried in the 
 bosom of maternal tenderness : but conceal 
 no faults your children may commit, of a more 
 serious nature, from the father ; nor, if you 
 privately plead for the softening of correc- 
 tion, ever counteract the effort of rebuke, by 
 appearing to oppose it at the time. In all 
 matters of moral rule and discipline, nothing 
 is more necessary than for the parents to be 
 seen agreed and decided. 
 
 Endeavour to cultivate the manners of your 
 children : and render them examples of good 
 behaviour. If they are forward, and imper- 
 tinent, and rude, and disorderly, insulting to 
 inferiors, disrespectful to superiors, disobedient 
 to parents ; the minister as well as the mo- 
 ther will be blamed : for he is to be " one 
 that ruleth well his own house, having his 
 children in subjection with all gravity. For 
 if a man know not how to rule his own house, 
 how shall he take care of the Church of 
 God? 
 
 Be not regardless of their dress. Let it 
 not be costly and fine. If, through the in- 
 consideration of friendship, things are given 
 them, above the propriety of their condition, 
 let them be refused, or exchanged, or altered. 
 Instead of cherishing, even indirectly, a 
 fondness for attire, endeavour to subdue, or 
 rather prevent it. This, however, requires 
 much skilfulness, especially with daughters ; 
 and all precepts will be more than vain, un- 
 less they are enforced by your own example. 
 
 Keep them from visiting too much. Some, 
 from a regard to their father's character and 
 office, may not only invite your children, but 
 contribute to spoil them, by making too much 
 of them ; and giving them ideas and feelings 
 above their rank. On this principle, they 
 should rarely, if ever visit families of superior 
 condition, lest they should grow dissatisfied 
 with the plainness and sobrieties of home. 
 
 And push them not too soon and too much 
 into observation. Especially when your 
 children are present, never in company no- 
 tice and extol any particular quality or attain- 
 
THE CHARGE. 
 
 295 
 
 ment ; with regard to which, you will there- 
 by assuredly render them false and vain ; and 
 stimulate them to forwardness and talking, 
 against which you cannot guard them too 
 much. Hearing you thus admire them, they 
 think every one else does the same. In your 
 attentions to them, therefore, before others, 
 let them not perceive any particular solici- 
 tude on your part to set them off by their 
 talents. Be content to form their minds by 
 slow degrees ; and remember, that if it were 
 in your power to advance them in knowledge 
 beyond their years, it would not be desirable : 
 for what is the advantage of premature 
 ability, compared with the danger of pride, 
 arrogance, and self-sufficiency 1 
 
 No, nor in their absence be even eager to 
 bring forth their parts and sayings. Not 
 only does modesty require this, but a regard 
 to the feelings of others : you have no right 
 to embarrass your company, by obliging them 
 to commend and admire things which they 
 may not deem so wonderful and clever as the 
 mother. What a child had Mary! How 
 many prodigies could she have brought for- 
 ward ! " But Mary kept all these things, 
 and pondered them in her heart" I am 
 aware that this maternal propensity is not 
 peculiar to the wives of ministers ; but they 
 are more in danger of it than many others ; 
 and the weakness will be more observable in 
 them. 
 
 Devote a portion of your time expressly 
 every day to the improvement of your infant 
 charge. Prudence must determine when, and 
 how long it should be ; but after deciding, be 
 persevering and firm in adhering to your 
 plan ; and let interrupters no more break in 
 upon it, than upon the time sacred to the 
 studies of your husband. 
 
 Especially employ, without making it irk- 
 some and tiresome, a portion of the Sabbath 
 to the examination and instruction of your 
 children. Yet we have known the wives of 
 some ministers, who have been fonder of at- 
 tending Sunday-schools, and addressing them, 
 than of being " teachers of babes" at home. 
 Sunday-schools must have their attendance, 
 and much praise is due to those who dedicate 
 to their service so many of their hours: but 
 if persons have originated families, these 
 must be their first care — " He that provideth 
 not for his own, especially those of his own 
 house, hath denied the faith, and is worse 
 than an infidel." 
 
 Fifthly; with regard to your husband. 
 He is your chosen and dearest relation ; and 
 in this connexion another is involved. Your 
 husband is also your pastor ; and thus an ad- 
 ditional reason is furnished why you should 
 " reverence" him, and " submit" to him. It 
 is little honourable to any party, when, not 
 only the head of the family, but the ruler of 
 the synagogue, is supposed to be under go- 
 vernment. In whose hand soever the sceptre 
 
 be found, it is the sign of dominion ; and how- 
 ever softly it may be swayed, they who are 
 under it are the subjects. But, indeed, wo- 
 men who assume the reins, seldom manage 
 them with moderation, or dignity. All usurp- 
 ers, whatever was their previous disposition, 
 incline to tyranny and display ; and, unlike 
 those who naturally and legitimately govern, 
 are never satisfied but as their power is felt 
 and acknowledged. 
 
 In no case does it become the wife to ex- 
 ercise authority over the man she has promis- 
 ed to obey : and she is a vain and a weak wo- 
 man, who exposes to observation even the 
 influence which in many cases she is justified 
 in using. Whom does the poet commend 1 
 
 She who ne'er answers till her husband cools, 
 Or, if she rules him, never shows she rules; 
 Charms by accepting, by submission sways, 
 Yet has her humour most when she obeys. 
 
 When Livia had attained such an ascend- 
 ancy over her husband Augustus that there 
 was hardly any thing he would refuse her, 
 though emperor of the world, many of the 
 married ladies of Rome were anxious to know 
 the secret and the source of her success : to 
 whom she replied, " I rule by obeying." We 
 need not inquire from what cause it arises, 
 but a man soon acquires a notion of the supe- 
 riority of his own sex. This 
 
 " Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his 
 strength—" 
 
 He is tenacious to maintain it ; and therefore 
 is jealous of every attempt to reduce it. But 
 it has been observed, that he possesses at the 
 same time a sentimental tenderness towards 
 the other sex ; and an inclination to please 
 and indulge them ; and thus, while he would 
 domineer, he is subdued. This has been call- 
 ed his weak side. Be it so ; the use of it is 
 obvious ; and a woman of sense can always 
 turn it to advantage, and found on it a better 
 dominion than authority — an empire of ad- 
 dress and affection — caresses her orders — 
 tears her menaces — and silence and submis- 
 sion her arms. Here she can do wonders, 
 because she appeals to nature itself; and is 
 supported by a principle implanted in us by 
 the wise Creator to humble the pride of pow- 
 er, and to compensate those who have not 
 the force to conquer, by giving them the fas- 
 cination to charm. 
 
 Never forget, therefore, that your means 
 of sway must have for their basis, gentleness, 
 sweetness, and good temper ; and that they 
 must be so exercised, as to allow your hus- 
 band to believe that he is supporting his 
 sovereignity, even while he is yielding it. 
 The show even of influence will alarm his 
 vanity and consequence; but the discovery 
 of your intention to succeed, by any thing 
 like authority, harshness, or sullenness, will 
 not only produce disappointment, but gender 
 resistance or disgust. No man of feeling was 
 ever proof against the kindness of a sensible 
 
296 
 
 THE CHARGE. 
 
 woman : but where, in all history, can an in- 
 stance be produced, in which an ascendancy 
 over him has been obtained by frowardness J 
 scolding 1 and strife for pre-eminence ? 
 
 Observe, however, that what we have said 
 of influence, goes not to justify that low and 
 artful cunning, by which some endeavour to 
 carry a favourite purpose. If we can depend 
 upon the writers of a former age, the grand 
 resource of a lady, whose lord denied her any 
 thing on which she had set her heart, was to 
 fall into an hysteric. The ministry of fits and 
 vapours seems now to be nearly closed. But, 
 says an excellent writer, " Let not the dis- 
 positions, by which it was introduced and up- 
 held, be found to survive its fall. Let it ever 
 be remembered that she, who by teazing, by 
 wheedling, by finesse, under any shape what- 
 ever, seeks to deceive or to weary into ac- 
 quiescence or consent; acts no less plainly 
 in opposition to her duty of scriptural obe- 
 dience, than she would have done, had she 
 driven him into compliance by the menaces 
 and weapons of an Amazon." 
 
 This general, but very important requisite 
 in your conduct towards your husband being 
 settled ; you will allow me to mention a few 
 other articles deserving your candid regard. 
 
 — Such is an attention to his personal ap- 
 pearance. He will detest being a fop ; and 
 you will not allow him to be a sloven. You 
 will not wish to see him waving the ring on 
 his lily hand, nor indulging 
 
 " A silly fond conceit of his fair form 
 And just proportion, fashionable mien 
 And pretty face, in presence of his God." — 
 
 even comparative 
 
 " — Slovenly neglect, and rustic coarseness," 
 are better than affectation and finicality. But 
 these are not good in themselves. Purity, 
 neatness, decency, become the man of God in 
 his appearance and apparel ; and his want of 
 it will draw reflection upon you. 
 
 — Such is an attention to his property. 
 
 These must be the matters in which the 
 Apostle says, the wife is to " guide the 
 house." Paul would not have a minister en- 
 tangled with the affairs of this life ; that he 
 may know how to please Him that has called 
 him to be a soldier. Keep your husband as 
 much as possible disengaged from secular 
 things, that he may feel himself free for his 
 work, both in the preparation and the dis- 
 charge. The kind of keenness and clever- 
 ness in worldly business, often admired in j 
 others, would have a lowering effect in a : 
 minister. The pantry, the shop, the market- 
 place, the slang and the tricks of the huck- 
 ster, would be incongruous and desecrating ; 
 in him. His tact is to be of another order, 1 
 and to evince itself in the things of God. " Is . 
 it reason that we should leave the word of s 
 God and serve tables }" Therefore Deacons < 
 were appointed even to provide for the bodily I 
 
 • relief of the poor of the Church ; while " we," 
 1 says the Apostle, "give ourselves to prayer 
 ! and the ministry of the word." 
 
 In vain the husband labours and gains, if 
 you, in your ill-housewifery, are wilfully ex- 
 pensive ; or negligently profuse ; or ignorantly 
 
 • wasteful. "Every wise woman buildeth her 
 house ; but the foolish plucketh it down with 
 her hands." Let nothing deprive you of the 
 commendation : " She looketh well to the 
 ways of her household, and eateth not the 
 bread of idleness." What is the cleverness 
 of a female showing away out of her sphere 
 of duty? what is a sprightly wit ! a smart- 
 ness in conversation ! an epistolary talent! 
 or a smattering of the languages 1 Will 
 these raise and recommend a woman in the 
 midst of a neglected, ill-managed, disordered, 
 sinking family ? 
 
 Despise not a little knowledge of arithme- 
 tic — some accomplishments may be much less 
 useful. Shun arrears. Be regular in de- 
 manding, and punctual in discharging your 
 weekly accounts. If you commanded abun- 
 dance, the Scripture would say to you, 
 " Gather up the fragments, that nothing be 
 lost" — and there are many purposes to which 
 the fruit of frugality may be applied ; but 
 how absolutely indispensable must inspection 
 and strictness be, where the resources to be 
 managed are limited! 
 
 It is not necessary that your husband should 
 appear as a gentleman, and awaken feelings 
 of rivalship in civil things among his people, 
 or neighbours. Never remind him of the su- 
 perior circumstances of others, or urge him 
 even indirectly to live beyond his means — 
 and judge of these — not by his occasional, but 
 expected income. Exercise every kind of 
 self-denial, rather than see him involved. 
 How trying to his feelings to be reduced to 
 the difficulty of borrowing! How reproach- 
 ful, while calling upon others to provide things 
 honest, not only in the sight of the Lord, but 
 also in the sight of men, to incur the suspicion 
 of being unrighteous himself! How can he 
 preach at all, with pleasure or freedom, though 
 others may as yet be ignorant, while he is 
 conscious of legal claims ready to be visited 
 upon him. 
 
 And here you are to display your economy. 
 You are not to regard this as a low mean 
 thing, fit only for the vulgar. Solomon cha- 
 racterizes his virtuous woman, though in high 
 life, principally by simplicity, diligence, re- 
 gularity, and domestic management : and 
 in these the ancient Greeks and Romans 
 placed much of female worth and excellence. 
 
 But what is economy 1 It is not " the stop- 
 ping of one hole in the sieve." It is not a par- 
 ticular retrenchment, or an occasional saving. 
 It is not the pinching of the servants, and 
 stinting the family one week, to give a showy 
 dinner the next. It is a mode of regulation 
 that eyes the whole detail of household ex- 
 
THE CHARGE. 
 
 297 
 
 pense. It is the art, not of sordid saving, but 
 of making a little go a great way. It eludes 
 meanness, as well as waste. Stinginess is 
 one extreme, profuseness is another. There 
 is a steering between them : but this is not 
 easy ; and it requires the judgment and skill 
 which some females seem to exercise by a 
 kind of intuition or instinct : so that they al- 
 ways appear to advantage ; unembarrassed ; 
 unconfused; ready without haste; deciding 
 as if without design; and while causing every 
 thing to move in its proper time and place, 
 keeping the mechanism of the process in- 
 visible — for the perfection of art is to conceal 
 art. 
 
 — An attention to his health of body. This 
 in his case is peculiarly important. It is not 
 only the source of his comfort and enjoyment ; 
 but it is essential to his usefulness. What 
 confusion and disappointment result from the 
 sickness or indisposition of one on whose mi- 
 nistrations such numbers depend — for "his 
 lips feed many." Paul does not think it be- 
 neath him to watch over the health of Timo- 
 thy ; and to prescribe for him like a physician : 
 " Drink no longer water, but use a little wine 
 for thy stomach's sake, and thine often in- 
 firmities." 
 
 Study therefore your husband's constitu- 
 tional liableness to injury — not to render him 
 soft, and effeminate, and fanciful ; but cau- 
 tious; and to aid him in the regulation of his 
 mode of living, as to sleep, and diet, and ex- 
 ercise. You need not be afraid of proper ap- 
 plication and exertion. These, instead of 
 injuring the health, conduce to it. They give 
 circulation to the fluids, and prevent the evils 
 of stagnation: they hinder the rust of the 
 mind, and keep the powers polished, and easy 
 of motion. But there may be an overdoing. 
 The machine may be overworked. You will 
 be, perhaps, by your constant and intimate 
 observation, the best judge of the degree of 
 labour to which he is equal. You will not 
 be ignorant of his impaired digestion, his per- 
 turbed rest, his trembling nerves, his de- 
 pressed spirits, his exhausted frame, and the 
 low ebb of vigour when the Sabbath is gone, 
 and the Monday sees him not living, but ex- 
 isting only. And you must not neglect to 
 sound the timely alarm. And if zeal, without 
 knowledge or feeling, still urges the same 
 unremitting efforts ; and tells him he cannot 
 die in a better cause : if his spiritual task- 
 masters require the same tale of bricks : if 
 the three services of the day must still be 
 exacted from wasting strength yet growing 
 anxiety — his blood will be upon the heads of 
 his godly murderers; but you have delivered 
 your soul. 
 
 — An attention to his peace of mind. Wc 
 have met with some members of churches, 
 who kindly think that affliction and depres- 
 sion are best for a minister. We are almost 
 ashamed to use a coarse and unfeeling pro- 
 
 verb among them, quite worthy, however, of 
 the employers — and since we are not in the 
 pulpit — let it come out — " That the preacher 
 never preaches so well as when the cow has 
 trod upon his foot." Yet it never seems to 
 strike these cold calculating reasoners, that 
 they, as hearers, may be benefited themselves 
 by a similar experience. But if domestic dis- 
 tress be desirable for the improvement of the 
 preacher, so may any other kind of rueful 
 probation : and if the physician, in order to 
 perfect him in his art, is to go through all 
 the complaints for which he prescribes, he 
 will have neither time nor ability to prac- 
 tise. To dismiss this delicate figure, I hope 
 my brother's " fair heifer" will not achieve 
 this species of service for him. I am sure 
 she will not. I am sure she will encourage 
 him-. 
 
 And he will require every favourable ex- 
 citement. His work is arduous. He has tri- 
 als in common with men; and he has trials 
 in common with his fellow-Christians : but he 
 has also various trials peculiar to himself — 
 and you will best know this. You, indeed 
 even you, will not know all his heart's bit- 
 terness : but you will hear enough, see enough, 
 to convince you that he, whose office it is to 
 comfort others, needs no little consolation him- 
 self. And your smiles can rainbow the cloud 
 of grief. Your soft hand can smooth the 
 wrinkles of his oppressed brow. Your gentle 
 words, like the fanning of an angel's wing, 
 can cool the heatful anguish of the mind. 
 Your kind management — a woman is never 
 at a loss where comfort is called for — can 
 withdraw a distracting train of thought and 
 substitute cheerful imagery. You can re- 
 mind him of instances of usefulness, when 
 he is complaining, " I have laboured in vain, 
 and spent my strength for nought." In his 
 doubts and fears, with regard to his own spi- 
 ritual condition — and to such he is liable — 
 you can be the wife of Manoah, who said, " If 
 the Lord were pleased to kill us, he would 
 not have received an offering at our hand ; 
 nor have shown us such things as these." If 
 among his people he meets with mortifying 
 defections in such as should prove a comfort 
 to him, he will find one tried and faithful bo- 
 som in which he can safely repose. If he 
 has storms abroad, peace will be always 
 awaiting him at home : and he will always 
 enjoy a resource in that unfailing good tem- 
 per 
 
 " Whose unclouded ray 
 
 Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day." 
 
 You will, indeed, be every way anxious to 
 render his own abode, not only the taberna- 
 cle of the righteous, but the dwelling-place 
 of tenderness and comfort. In this, his safety 
 as well as his satisfaction will be much con- 
 cerned. We have known not only men, but 
 ministers, who have fallen by temptation: 
 and though we by no means wish to justify 
 
298 
 
 THE CHARGE. 
 
 or extenuate their conduct, it is no secret, 
 that in some instances, at least, there has 
 been little domestic happiness and attraction. 
 What attraction can there be in sullenness? 
 or in peevishness! or in clamour? "Better 
 is a dry morsel and quietness therewith, than 
 a house full of sacrifices with strife." " It 
 is better to dwell in a corner of the house- 
 top, than with a brawling woman in a wide 
 house." " A continual dropping in a rainy 
 day, and a contentious woman, are alike. 
 Whoso hideth her, hideth the wind, and the 
 ointment of his right hand that bewrayeth 
 itself" What attraction can there be in 
 negligence ? disorder 1 slatternliness ? A dis- 
 regard of propriety, and especially neatness 
 of apparel, is in a female a fault that nothing 
 can expiate. Even religion will not excuse 
 it. There is a greater connexion between 
 mental and outward purity than some are 
 aware of. A female may be always judged 
 of by her dress. The founders of Methodism 
 were accustomed to say, that cleanliness was 
 next to godliness. I have known a few ex- 
 ceptions to this, in men. I never knew one 
 in a woman. 
 
 Rely not too much on the rights of relation- 
 ship, however intimate the connexion may be, 
 and however endeared it ought to be. In 
 preserving and keeping alive attachment, you 
 must not absolutely depend upon the impres- 
 sions that awakened it. A woman is not to 
 
 {•resume on the certainty of homage, regard- 
 ess of an attention to her manners. She is 
 not, as soon as she has stepped over the 
 threshold of marriage, to drop the delicacy, 
 the decencies, the engaging appearance by 
 which she attracted the lover. Men are very 
 selfish beings. They have very little of 
 your disinterested feelings. You must not 
 suffer, with them, your amiableness to fail. 
 And how is esteem to be preserved, even 
 when the fervour of affection declines ? You 
 cannot dream of perpetual admiration. The 
 roses and carnations are for the summer 
 months. What provision is there for win- 
 ter? What woman is the most universally 
 valued ? The Domestic. And for your en- 
 couragement be assured, that the more re- 
 ligious men are in their feelings, and the 
 more improved in their understandings, the 
 more certainly will they be attached to do- 
 mestic life ; always having an abundance of 
 entertainments in private and tranquil scenes, 
 unknown to the vulgar and the dissipated. 
 
 — An attention to his official ministrations. 
 On these, I need not say, you will be sure to 
 attend regularly, when it is in your power. 
 But for this purpose you must value them. 
 And here you are likely to feel some difficul- 
 ties peculiar to your situation. A Sage has 
 said, " Domestic greatness is unattainable." 
 The Saviour testifies that "a Prophet is not 
 without honour, save in his own country, and 
 in his own house." And if this applied in a 
 
 measure even to himself, it will bear in an 
 unspeakably greater degree on all his imper- 
 fect servants. Distance diminishes and con- 
 ceals defects ; while nearness discovers and 
 enlarges them. If familiarity does not breed 
 contempt, it reduces veneration, and injures 
 many kinds of impression. A husband must 
 be a very consistent character, and be known 
 to act always from principle, to enable a wife 
 to feel under his services, as under those of 
 a stranger, whose excellences only, she has 
 heard of, while she is ignorant of the failings 
 that would shade them — and such we allow a 
 husband who is a minister ought to be : but 
 even when he is such, though he will be 
 essentially, he cannot be circumstantially the 
 same always. He cannot be constantly in 
 his robes. It would be affectation to attempt 
 to keep up always the formal dignity of his 
 pulpit exercises. Yea, it would be absurd 
 even to distinguish himself in the ordinary 
 actions and manners of life. He cannot be 
 the preacher only : he must also appear the 
 man, the companion, the father — 
 
 " And he will not blush, that has a father's heart, 
 To take in childish things a childish part." 
 
 But hence an effort will be necessary — to see, 
 under all these common and familiar append- 
 ages of humanity — to recognize in one of 
 like passions with yourself, and compassed 
 about with infirmities, the man of God, the 
 messenger of Heaven, the Herald of Salva- 
 tion : to value the treasure as divine, though 
 you know that it is contained in an earthen 
 vessel ; and to receive his word, " not as the 
 word of man, but as it is in truth the word 
 of God, that worketh effectually in them that 
 believe." 
 
 — An attention to his usefulness. I do not 
 mean that you should aid him in making his 
 sermons : he ought to be able to make these - 
 himself; (neither should he steal his words 
 from his neighbour) but you may be a help- 
 mate to him, as to his personal religion ; and 
 need we say how much of the facility, and 
 excellence, and success of his work, as a 
 minister, will depend upon the spirituality of 
 his mind, and the devoutness of his heart? 
 You may remind him of his engagements. 
 You may excite him to diligence in his holy 
 calling ; especially in those parts of it that 
 draw forth less notice and praise. 
 
 Wherever he is found, he ought to be use- 
 ful ; and diffusing the savour of the Redeem- 
 er's knowledge in every place. Be not, there- 
 fore, illiberal and selfish with regard to his 
 company. He ought to be a lover of home, 
 and not to be disposed to spend his evenings 
 abroad; for they are seasons not only the 
 most valuable to himself, but the most free 
 and favoured to a female engaged in the af- 
 fairs of a household : but sometimes he must 
 be preaching abroad. As to his civil visits, 
 I hope he will never accept of an invitation 
 in which you are not included : but circum- 
 
THE CHARGE. 
 
 299 
 
 stances may render it proper for him to go, 
 when you cannot accompany him; and in 
 such cases you will not wish to restrain him. 
 Above all, you will not complain of his ab- 
 sence, when you know that he is not idling 
 away his time in lounging calls and gossip- 
 ing talk, but is sedulously engaged in his 
 study. While he is endeavouring to do jus- 
 tice to his intended subjects, and resolved not 
 to offer to the Lord that which costs him no- 
 thing — you will even aid his people and the 
 public, by doing all in your power to secure 
 him from the disturbance of thoughtless in- 
 truders. 
 
 A long-standing connexion does credit both 
 to the pastor and the church: but ministers 
 become, not unfrequently, uneasy, and as the 
 expression is — moveable. It has been sup- 
 posed by some, that there is an unusual num- 
 ber of these moveables in our day : and hence 
 the late Andrew Fuller, by a rough, but 
 striking metaphor, observed, in a letter pub- 
 lished since his death, that many of our 
 modern preachers seemed stung by the gad 
 fly. I fear that this powerful stinger is some- 
 times a near relation. Not that I throw the 
 blame always upon the wife — we know the 
 composition of many ministers too well : but 
 we also have seen enough occasionally on 
 her side, to justify our admonishing you to 
 beware of an unsettled and roving spirit ; or 
 of becoming too sensitive to the difficulties 
 that may arise in your husband's residence. 
 
 In every situation there are trials. We 
 are acquainted with those in our present cir- 
 cumstances, and they press us ; but those of 
 a new condition are unfelt, and even un- 
 known : yet they may be equally, and even 
 more numerous and painful. When a man 
 changes often, there is danger of his getting, 
 not only the character, but the habit of a 
 changeling : and a rolling stone gains no 
 moss: and a tree always transplanting cannot 
 radicate so as to be firm, vigorous, and fruit- 
 ful. We have known ministers who, yield- 
 ing to mistaken views, or present impres- 
 sions, have stepped out of their place ; and 
 left not only their comfort, but their useful- 
 ness behind them. Take heed, therefore, 
 how you in any way contribute to this evil. 
 You should hardly let your preference, if you 
 have one, be known, even to your husband, 
 while he is endeavouring sincerely to as- 
 certain what the will of God is, concerning 
 him. 
 
 His reputation, too, will affect his useful- 
 ness. And how much does this depend upon 
 you ! From your affection you will be eager 
 to extol him, and perhaps be angry with those 
 who do not join in your partial applause. But 
 let me whisper a more excellent way. In 
 the Protestant churches of Hungary, they 
 degrade from his office the pastor, whose wife 
 indulges herself in cards, dancing, or any pub- 
 lic amusement, that bespeaks a lover of the 
 
 world, rather than a Christian matron. This 
 severity springs from the supposition, that he 
 should not have chosen such a consort; or 
 that she, having promised obedience, would 
 not thus act without his approbation or per- 
 mission. If no law of this kind is known 
 among us, the spirit of it is commonly felt 
 and expressed. Ministers are always in a 
 measure blamed for the defects and faults of 
 their wives: the very pity that is sometimes 
 kindly expressed on their behalf, is construc- 
 tively a sort of censure. He who acts im- 
 prudently and improperly in one case — 
 especially if it be a matter of importance, 
 will be judged of by it, in other things — per- 
 haps in all. It is often said that ministers, 
 though they have the best opportunities of 
 selection, and are under the greatest obliga- 
 tions to make a wise choice, are commonly 
 betrayed into alliances the most ineligible. 
 The reflection is not a little invidious ; and 
 is by far too general. I have the happiness 
 of knowing many most agreeable and very 
 important exceptions. And I am fully per- 
 suaded that you, my respected friend^ will 
 be a striking addition to the number. You 
 have it in your power to be so — you have it 
 in your disposition. It is your aim — and it 
 will be your attainment, to dignify your sta- 
 tion, and reflect honour on the judgment, 
 taste, and piety of your husband. 
 
 And be encouraged to go forward. You 
 will not lose your reward. You may not 
 make a splendid figure in history. You must 
 not expect, though so closely related to him, 
 to gain the same distinction and notice as a 
 popular minister will obtain. While he is 
 exalted by his office, you are left to move 
 chiefly in scenes of comparative privacy. 
 Your duties are regular, sober, unstriking; 
 and furnish few materials for common pane- 
 gyric. Yet even this very seeming disad- 
 vantage turns to your account. It serves to 
 raise your worth; and to promote and display 
 the purity of your motive. You can go on 
 with patient continuance in well doing, with- 
 out the excitement of publicity, or the claps 
 of the multitude. 
 
 Nor will you be always undistinguished. 
 Your day is coming. You will share in the 
 revelation of Jesus Christ, when every one 
 will have praise of God according to their 
 concern to please him, and not according to 
 the present distributions of fame. And even 
 now you are proving what is that good and 
 acceptable and perfect will of God. Even 
 now your duties are all important and indis- 
 pensable. Even now, in the convictions of 
 reason and wisdom, you are approved and 
 ennobled. The heart of your husband safely 
 trusts in you ; so that he hath no need of 
 spoil : you will do him good, and not evil, all 
 the days of your life. Your children will 
 rise up and call you blessed. Your domestics 
 will thank God that even they came under 
 
300 
 
 THE CHARGE. 
 
 your kind and pious care. Your neighbours 
 will commend you. The church and all your 
 religious connexions will honour and love 
 you. And God, even your own God, will 
 bless you. He who has redeemed you by the 
 death of his Son, and has. called you by his 
 grace: He to whom you have dedicated 
 yourself, both in single and social life, saying, 
 Lord, I am thine, save me — He keeps a book 
 of remembrance : He forgets not your work 
 of faith and labour of love : He accepts you 
 and your services in the Beloved ; and in his 
 favour your horn shall be exalted. 
 
 — And this consolatory assurance, my es- 
 teemed friend, you will need. Your station 
 has, indeed, its advantages, which it would 
 be ungrateful to overlook. Your intellectual, 
 moral, and spiritual privileges are above 
 those of many. You have frequent access to 
 edifying company. You have the entertain- 
 ment and profit of books. You have the ha- 
 bitual presence of one whose lips keep know- 
 ledge. His education and acquisitions prepare 
 him for instructive, and improving conversa- 
 tion. His function calls him to a regular life, 
 exempt from the bustle and competitions of 
 the world ; and is every way friendly to vir- 
 tue and sensibility. His employment and his 
 studies tend to soften, and refine, and elevate 
 his mind : while the extreme value of cha- 
 racter to his profession, is a spur to excel- 
 lency, and a pledge of good deportment. You 
 have the honour of being connected, not only 
 with a man of grace, but " a man of God ;" 
 not only with one who serves him, but serves 
 at the altar ; and fills an office, as a preacher 
 of the gospel, which an angel might be in- 
 duced to envy. 
 
 But the honour and the advantages have 
 their counterbalancings. I hope you have 
 counted the cost; and instead of complaining 
 of the difficulties before you, are determined 
 to be the more circumspect; and the more 
 prayerful — constantly seeking fresh supplies 
 of that grace which alone is sufficient for you 
 in all your duties, and in all your trials. 
 
 And trials you must not expect to escape. 
 From envy or ignorance you may often be 
 misjudged and misrepresented: for persons 
 who act upon principle, especially in peculiar 
 situations, cannot be comprehended by those, 
 " who walk as men ;" and people are always 
 more ready to be censorious than to be candid, 
 in what they do not understand. Nothing is 
 more uncertain than the applause of the reli- 
 gious multitude. Your husband, now ca- 
 ressed, may be neglected. His place, now 
 crowded, may be thinned of its attendants by 
 one far his inferior — unless in novelty, and 
 lungs. Some Diotrephes may love to have 
 the pre-eminence, and prate against him with 
 malicious words. A perverse spirit may be . 
 mingled in the midst of a peaceful' people. 
 The Antinomian leaven may corrupt the pu- : 
 rity, and mar the prosperity of the church — 1 
 
 : And at the discovery of his perplexity and 
 distress, a sword also may pierce through 
 your own soul. 
 
 The calling of your husband exposes him 
 to temptations; and he may be injured by 
 them. He may yield to vain imaginations, 
 and high thoughts, that exalt themselves ; and 
 give up the simplicity there is in Christ Je- 
 sus. If he does not embrace dangerous errors, 
 he may be enticed into some peculiarities, 
 and injure his influence by some religious 
 freaks and vagaries. He may be found among 
 the prophets. Instead of preaching repent- 
 ance towards God, and faith towards our Lord 
 Jesus Christ ; and having a word in season 
 for him that is weary : he may employ him- 
 self in breaking open the seals, and blowing 
 the trumpets, and pouring out the vials of the 
 Apocalypse. The spiritual man may be mad. 
 Popular applause (for as the fining-pot for 
 silver, and the furnace for gold, so is a man 
 to his praise) may elevate him into pride and 
 arrogance. Entertained and idolized as a 
 very agreeable and clever companion, he may 
 grow weary of the tameness of ordinary life ; 
 and disrelish home ; and leave you to serve 
 alone in the cares of a rising family — I dare 
 not suppose any thing further — yet what 
 changes have we witnessed in a course of 
 years ! Lord, what is man ! 
 
 — But it cannot be concealed that he is 
 frail and mortal. You may have to pray, 
 " Lord, behold he whom Thou lovest is sick." 
 You may be called to the trying alternative 
 of leaving a helpless babe, to accompany the 
 father who journeys for health. You may have 
 to watch at the side of the couch of infirm- 
 ity, and of the bed of languishing. You may 
 have to faint at the stillness of a dying hour ; 
 and only revive to learn that — the guide of 
 your youth — the arm of your support — the 
 comforter that should relieve your soul, is 
 gone — and the place that once knew him, 
 will know him no more for ever — his usual 
 seat — his favourite walk — the sacred desk 
 where yet his image seems to dwell — 
 
 You may not only be left a widow. You 
 may be surrounded with bereaved children ; 
 and have to struggle with hardships — per- , 
 haps penury — perhaps neglect. Perhaps you 
 may be destined, like many who have gone 
 before you, to learn by experience the little 
 posthumous generosity and kindness there 
 is, towards the remnants of those who have 
 worn out life in the service of the religious 
 public. "Is this Naomi?" — "Call me not 
 Naomi — call me Marah — for the Almighty 
 hath dealt very bitterly with me — I went out 
 full—" 
 
 — Yet some true friendship will be found. 
 Some will show kindness to his house for 
 Jonathan's sake. There are the gray-headed, 
 who are saying, "I have been young and 
 now am old, yet I have never seen the right- 
 eous forsaken, or his seed begging bread." — 
 
THE CHARGE. 
 
 301 
 
 Even in the cloudy and dark day, when the 
 eye pours out tears unto God, he will be your 
 refuge and strength ; a very present help in 
 trouble. Your departed friend, when dying, 
 heard him say, though you could not : " Leave 
 thy fatherless children, I will preserve them 
 alive ; and let thy widow trust in me." And 
 He is faithful who promised. Lean upon his 
 word — and you shall find him to be a " Fa- 
 ther of the fatherless — and a judge of the 
 widows in his holy habitation." 
 
 — And if, while feeling the attraction of 
 your now glorified partner, who is waiting 
 
 to receive you to himself, you should yet 
 linger long in this vale of tears, He who has 
 delivered will deliver. He will guide you 
 with his counsel ; and when you approach the 
 end of your journey, He will hear your prayer 
 of faith — " Cast me not off" in the time of old 
 age, forsake me not when my strength fail- 
 eth — Thou, who hast shown me great and 
 sore troubles, shalt quicken me again; and 
 bring me up again from the dust of the earth. 
 Thou shalt increase my greatness, and com- 
 fort me on every side." " And the days of 
 
 THY MOURNING SHALL BE ENDED." 
 
THE WIFE'S ADVOCATE : 
 
 A SERMON, 
 
 PREACHED ON A MARRIAGE OCCASION. 
 BY WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 " Husbands, love your Wives, and be not bitter against them." 
 " Husbands, love your Wives, even as Cbrist also loved the Church, and gave himself for it."— Paul. 
 " True greatness is always tender and sympathising."— Lav ater. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 " Doing nothing by partiality" — said Paul to his son Timothy. If Ministers would ob- 
 serve this charge, they must bring forward the doctrine, the experience, and the practice 
 of the Christian system, equally — or at least proportionately. Circumstances may indeed 
 vary. The day in which we live, the zeal of false teachers, the ignorance or tendency of a 
 congregation, may occasionally require a more full and frequent enforcement of one of these 
 parts, than of the other two : but neither of them must be lost sight of in the ordinary course 
 of our preaching — provided we wish to "speak unto the people all the words of this life" — 
 and to preserve our hearers from legality, enthusiasm, and Antinomianism. For each of 
 these evils greatly arises from the too exclusive treatment of each of these three divisions 
 of theology — Antinomianism, growing out of mere doctrinal — enthusiasm, out of mere ex- 
 perimental — and legality, out of mere practical preaching. 
 
 When the Author, if he may be excused a reference to himself, quite a youth, first went 
 to London, and was all anxiety to hear the preachers of the famed metropolis — he was told 
 by a friend, if he wished to hear a good doctrinal sermon, he must hear ; if an experi- 
 mental, he must hear ; and if a practical, he must hear . And he well remem- 
 bers simply asking, " JBut is there no minister here who preaches all these ? I should rather 
 hear him." 
 
 This mode, he is conscious, he has always aimed and endeavoured to follow himself : and 
 by this criterion he is willing to be judged — not indeed by an occasional hearer — but by his 
 regular and constant attendants. The following discourse, therefore, is not to be taken as a 
 specimen of his preaching, but as a part ; the propriety and usefulness of which, are to be 
 viewed in alliance with other parts, and in harmony with the whole. 
 
 — A minister, who, like Epaphras, would "stand perfect and complete in all the will of 
 God," must inculcate the relative duties — 
 
 — And he will find his advantage in enforcing them connectedly. Each party will the 
 better receive — especially admonition and reproof; when the corresponding party is ad- 
 dressed at the same time, and in the same manner : because it will show that the preacher 
 has no private aim ; and is no respecter of persons. 
 
 The Apostles . invariably adopted this method. If they addressed servants, they always 
 addressed masters. If they exhorted children, they always exhorted parents also. It was 
 the same with regard to the conjugal relations. 
 
 The Author observed this example himself some years ago, when he preached and pub- 
 lished a Sermon on "The Mutual Duties of Husbands and Wives." A discourse which he 
 hopes has not been without its usefulness in not a few instances. And it was this thought 
 that induced him to add this discourse to the foregoing Charge. He allows, this case is not 
 perfectly similar to the former ; for then, as the Charge regarded the Wife of a minister, the 
 Sermon should have respected the minister himself. Yet the Sermon is not only addressed 
 to Husbands, who have always many things in common with each other; but it is founded 
 on words, which, originally, if not spoken exclusively, were spoken peculiarly to Levites — 
 an order of men, not always, perhaps, the most perfect — here. 
 
 If the Sermon produced some clamour after the delivery ; so it may in the perusal. But 
 it is easy to conclude from what quarter the complaining will come — They never feel the 
 reflection, who are perfectly innocent of the Charge. 
 
 Bath; December 1, 1829. 
 
 302 
 
SERMON. 
 
 And this have ye done again, covering the al- 
 tar of the Lord -with tears, with -weeping; and 
 ■with crying out, insomuch that he regardeth 
 not the offering any more, or receiveth it with 
 good-will at your hand. Yet ye say, Where- 
 fore ? Because the Lord hath been witness be- 
 tween thee and the wife of thy youth, against 
 whom thou hast dealt treacherously : yet is 
 she thy companion, and the wife of thy cove- 
 nant. And did not he make one ? Yet had 
 he the residue of the Spirit. And wherefore 
 one ? That he might seek a godly seed. 
 Therefore take heed to your spirit, and let 
 none deal treacherously against the wife of 
 his youth. — Malachi ii. 13 — 15. 
 
 It has been the lot of some very good men, 
 to live in very bad times. And this was the 
 case with Malachi. Even then, indeed, some 
 were found, "who feared the Lord, and 
 thought upon his name." And they were 
 graciously noticed and distinguished by him 
 — " They shall be mine, saith the Lord of 
 Hosts, in that day when I shall make up my 
 jewels; and I will spare them as a man 
 spareth his own son that serveth him." 
 
 These, however, were only so many excep- 
 tions from the multitude; and resembled a 
 few small luminaries, that serve to render the 
 darkness between the more palpable. Ac- 
 cording to the language of our Prophet, the 
 degeneracy was complete. From the crown 
 of the head to the sole of the foot, there was 
 no soundness. The young and the old ; the 
 rich and the poor ; rulers and subjects ; priests 
 and people — were all deeply revolted from 
 God. 
 
 In such a corrupt state of society, the office 
 of a minister is not a very enviable, or easy 
 one. It is trying to censure and condemn ; 
 and he that is not faithful to his conscience 
 and commission, will fail under the trial, and 
 prophesy smooth things, because the multi- 
 tude love to have it so. But the man of God, 
 raised above the love of fame, and the dread 
 of frowns, will not shun " to declare all the 
 counsel of God," " warning every man, and 
 teaching every man in all wisdom, that he 
 may present every man perfect in Christ 
 Jesus." 
 
 The connexions of life, the sources of so 
 much virtue and sin, happiness and misery ; 
 are numerous and various: and when properly 
 estimated, they are not to be judged of by 
 their publicity, and elevation, and splendour; 
 but by the constancy of their influence, the 
 extent of their operation, and the importance 
 of their effects. The most ordinary relations, 
 
 therefore, are the most fundamental. These 
 are the domestic. Communities originate 
 from families ; and depend upon them : and 
 the quality of the one must partake largely 
 of the attributes of the other. In religious 
 concerns, it is not too much to say, with Phi- 
 lip Henry, that " a man is really what he is 
 relatively." We are aware that there is 
 much of instinct in the relative affections; 
 and that they do not strike far into moral 
 character. The existence of them alone, is 
 not a sufficient proof of piety. But it is other- 
 wise with the absence of them. This is de- 
 cisive evidence against a person. If he is 
 bad at home, he is bad every where. If he 
 is a bad father, and a bad husband, he cannot 
 be a good man. And, therefore, when a 
 very eminent minister was asked whether he 
 thought a certain individual was truly pious, 
 he replied, "I cannot tell — I never lived 
 with him." 
 
 Hence a preacher that would make full 
 proof of his ministry, must enter the scenery 
 of families, and inquire how matters stand 
 between masters and servants; parents and 
 children ; wives and husbands. 
 
 And it is here, we find Malachi. He is 
 dealing with the latter relationship ; and he 
 speaks boldly as he ought to speak — " And 
 this have ye done again, covering the altar 
 of the Lord with tears, with weeping, and 
 with crying out, insomuch that he regardeth 
 not the offering any more, or receiveth it 
 with good-will at your hand. Yet ye say, 
 Wherefore? Because the Lord hath been 
 witness between thee and the wife of thy 
 youth, against whom thou hast dealt treacher- 
 ously : yet is she thy companion, and the wife 
 of thy covenant. And did not he make one? 
 Yet had the residue of the Spirit. And where- 
 fore one ? That he might seek a godly seed. 
 Therefore take heed to your spirit, and let 
 none deal treacherously against the wife of 
 his youth." 
 Let us attend to four articles. 
 The subject of complaint. 
 The aggravation of the offence. 
 The condemnation of the transgres- 
 sor. 
 
 The means of prevention. 
 First. The subject of complaint. The 
 Charge is against unkind husbands; and con- 
 sists in this — That they imbittered the lives 
 of those they ought to have loved and che- 
 rished; so that they caused them, when 
 they approached the sanctuary of God, in- 
 stead of rejoicing before him, as his service 
 303 
 
304 THE WIFE'S 
 
 required, to break forth into the most passion- 
 ate expressions of grief. "This have ye 
 done, covering the altar of the Lord with 
 tears, with weeping, and with crying out." 
 
 Who does not here call to mind the his- 
 tory of Hannah ? " And as she went to the 
 house of the Lord, so her adversary provoked 
 her much, for to make her fret, because the 
 Lord had shut up her womb — Therefore she 
 wept and did not eat — and she was in bitter- 
 ness of soul, and prayed unto the Lord, and 
 wept sore." But you say, " This was not 
 occasioned by Elkanah. He was an attached 
 and an attentive husband." It is true, it was 
 not occasioned by him immediately ; but it 
 was so really. Had Hannah been, as she 
 ought to have been, his only wife, the dis- 
 tress would have been prevented; and she 
 would not have found herself in alliance with 
 a fellow-wife, that delighted to insult and ag- 
 gravate her disappointment. 
 
 And you will observe, that this was one of 
 the ways, in which the husbands, here com- 
 plained of, converted the very devotion of 
 their wives into mourning, and made the al- 
 tar of God, not a place of gladness and praise, 
 but of refuge and appeal. They added to 
 their number ; and thus vexed and degraded 
 their wives, by reducing them from peace to 
 a state of contention ; from supremacy to jea- 
 lousy and rivalship ; from being the sole ob- 
 jects of attraction, to share divided, dimi- 
 nished, precarious regards. 
 
 Though polygamy had been long practised, 
 it was never justified. The very tolerance 
 of it, in every instance, showed most clearly 
 and strongly, by the effects, that it was a de- 
 viation from rectitude. That which is irre- 
 concilable to the welfare of domestic life, 
 could never obtain the approbation of Him 
 who ordained that state, not only for the pur- 
 pose of purity, but of peace and happiness. 
 The evils arising from the usage itself, there- 
 fore, had so far checked it, that in Judea, at 
 the time of our Saviour, we meet with no in- 
 stances of it. It was also forbidden among 
 the Greeks and Romans. And this accounts, 
 as Paley observes, for our finding no particu- 
 lar enactment against it in the New Testa- 
 ment ; but it is said, " To avoid fornication, 
 let every man have his own wife — not 
 wives; and let every wife have her own 
 husband." 
 
 The pleasure of God also appears in pro- 
 portioning the actual number of males and 
 females. There is, indeed, some little ine- 
 quality in the births of these ; but the fact 
 strengthens the reasoning. If there are born 
 more males than females, by one in nineteen, 
 the level is restored by the superior casual- 
 ties to which the male sex is exposed ; and 
 the balance remaining, allows but one woman 
 to one man. And what can show the will of 
 God more decisively than his conduct 1 If 
 we go back to the beginning of the world, no 
 
 ADVOCATE. 
 
 conceivable reason can be given, why, if po- 
 lygamy was to be continued to the human 
 race, it should not have commenced with it 
 But hear our Prophet— "And did not he 
 make one]" One Eve for one Adam ? Adam 
 even in Paradise had one wife only — This 
 oneness, therefore, could not have been 
 deemed a confinement, but a regulation be- 
 coming the most perfect state — " Yet had he 
 the residue of the Spirit" — and could there- 
 fore have made another partner as fair and 
 lovely as Eve herself was — " And wherefore 
 one? That he might see a godly seed" — 
 And where is such a pious offspring likely to 
 be found 1 Can children be brought up in the 
 nurture and admonition of the Lord — in the 
 presence of the lawlessness of one sex, and 
 the debasement of the other 7 In the resi- 
 dence of oppression 7 Sensuality 7 Passion'? 
 Artifice] Hypocrisies'! In the midst of 
 divided and opposing interests'! Dissen- 
 sions? Swellings'! Tumults? "Where envy 
 and strife is, there is confusion and every 
 evil work." 
 
 But another of the evils here reprobated, 
 was the putting away their wives when they 
 chose to dislike them. Unless in one case, 
 conceded by reason and revelation, the mar- 
 riage relation is indissoluble. Hence, says 
 our Saviour, in answer to the question of the 
 Pharisees, "Is it lawful for a man to put 
 away his wife for every cause ? Have ye not 
 read, that He who made them at the begin- 
 ning made them male and female ; and said, 
 For this cause a man shall leave his father 
 and mother, and cleave to his wife ; and they 
 twain shall be one flesh] What therefore 
 God hath joined together, let not man put 
 asunder." Upon which they said unto him, 
 " Why then did Moses command to give a 
 writing of divorcement, and to put her 
 away 7" He said unto them, " Moses, be- 
 cause of the hardness of your hearts, suffered 
 you to put away your wives : but from the 
 beginning it was not so. And I say unto you, 
 whosoever shall put away his wife, except 
 it be for fornication, and shall marry another, 
 committeth adultery: and whosoever mar- 
 rieth her which is put away, doth commit 
 adultery." 
 
 This exception being made, "The Lord 
 God of Israel saith, that he hateth putting 
 away." Cases of hardship bearing peculiarly 
 on individuals, will doubtless now and then 
 occur; but such occasional evils are more 
 than compensated by the advantages of the 
 limitation. For we should consider what 
 would be, not the personal and immediate, 
 but the general and the ultimate tendency 
 and effects of larger permission. Whatever 
 other reasons for divorce were allowed, many 
 would be sure to live up to them ; and licen- 
 tiousness would soon also require yet more 
 allowance. This was seen in France. When, 
 after the Revolution, husbands were permit- 
 
THE WIFE'S 
 
 ted to put away their wives for unsuitable- 
 ness of temper, mutual dislike, perverseness, 
 and other things; bad men availed them- 
 selves of every excuse to disengage them- 
 selves from restraint ; and dissoluteness and 
 misery spread among thousands, who would 
 otherwise have been satisfied with their con- 
 dition. For people soon acquiesce in what 
 they know to be unalterable ; and their des- 
 tiny, by habit, is easily moulded into choice. 
 They who are conscious that they cannot 
 separate, will feel that it is their mutual in- 
 terest to forbear, to give up, and to accom- 
 modate. To which we may add, that when 
 a connexion is formed for life, much more 
 prudence and care are likely to be exercised 
 in forming it, than if it were terminable at 
 pleasure. 
 
 We cannot be censured for these remarks. 
 Not only has our subject brought them before 
 us ; but they are very worthy of our atten- 
 tion ; and we cannot help observing, that the 
 exclusion of polygamy and the prohibition 
 of divorce — confining marriage to one pair, 
 and rendering the union indissoluble — have 
 done more to promote and secure the morals 
 and welfare of the community, than all the 
 institutions, the wisdom and goodness of le- 
 gislators have ever established. Nor can we 
 be sufficiently thankful, that in these import- 
 ant concerns, the laws of our country fall in 
 with the authority of God. 
 
 But though, in this highly favoured land, 
 neither of these modes of domestic persecu- 
 tion is open to a husband ; there are many 
 other ways in which he may " cover the altar 
 of the Lord with tears, and with weeping, 
 and crying out." 
 
 He cannot safely take to himself more 
 wives than one — But to that one he may 
 prove unfaithful ; and basely transfer to an- 
 other, the affection alone due to herself. 
 
 He cannot legally put away his wife — But 
 by oppressive and cruel, degrading and in- 
 sulting conduct, he may force her to with- 
 draw; and then falsely plead and use the 
 refusal to live with him, which he himself 
 designedly produced. 
 
 1 know not how to refer to bodily violence 
 — " No man ever yet hateth his own flesh, 
 but nourisheth and cherisheth it." — But is 
 there a brute in human shape 1 Is there a 
 wretch, miscalled a husband, who is not 
 ashamed to execute what the preacher is 
 ashamed even to intimate 1 
 
 But every depth of disgrace, every exer- 
 tion of cruelty, is not necessary to break 'a 
 tender heart, or to crush a delicate spirit. 
 He may accomplish his work by studied 
 neglect; by churlish manners; by unkind 
 language; by alienated or angry looks. A 
 contemptuous sneer will strike a death-chill 
 into every feeling. A bitter irony will sting 
 like a scorpion, and leave the deadly rankling 
 behind. 
 
 2Q 26* 
 
 ADVOCATE. 305 
 
 He may reduce her to the mortification of 
 seeing him restless at home ; always anxious 
 to contrive or excuse absence, instead of 
 dwelling with her according to knowledge; 
 and fonder of any company than the society 
 of his wife. 
 
 He may deprive her of her needful support 
 and comfort. And though she would pa- 
 tiently and cheerfully share in the privations 
 and distress brought on them by the provi- 
 dence of God, she cannot but feel grievously 
 the trial of liardships and straits arising solely 
 from idleness, or drunkenness, or gaming, or 
 licentiousness. 
 
 He may wound her, by withholding from 
 her the confidence required by the mutuality 
 and unity of the relation — a relation that al- 
 lows nothing to be concealed ; nothing to be 
 found out by search or accident. Yet it is 
 not a very uncommon trial for a wife, unap- 
 prised, unprepared, to be plunged from gen- 
 teel life into destitution and wo ; while she 
 has been censured for living in a style she 
 would have been the first to have reduced, 
 had she divined the event that rendered it a 
 duty. 
 
 We cannot do justice to this part of our 
 subject. The causes of complaint are num- 
 berless. But we must not avoid adding — 
 That relative trials are often more painful 
 than personal ones — That in the case before 
 us, the anguish is enhanced by the nearness 
 and importance of the quarter from which it 
 comes — and That it is frequently increased 
 by secrecy and suppression — the sufferer be- 
 ing denied the relief of pouring her sorrow 
 even perhaps into the ear of friendship. The 
 heart knows the bitterness. The groanings 
 cannot be uttered. But let us pass from the 
 complaint to 
 
 It The aggravation of the offence. 
 It is taken from the character of the ag- 
 grieved. 
 
 First: "She is the wife of thy youth." 'The 
 exemplification is derived from an early mar- 
 riage : and the reference is a countenance of 
 the usage. Men may marry when they please; 
 but, in order to illustrate the force of this re- 
 lation, the Scripture does not notice confede- 
 racies of profit; bargains of conveniency; 
 provisions of nursery-hood for infirmity, and 
 sickness, and death — the only connexion to 
 which God in his word ever alludes, and from 
 which he reasons, is " the wife of youth." 
 
 To such an object there will belong a pe- 
 culiar affection. It is the first attachment ; 
 fresh, simple, and undebased. The feelings 
 strike deeper, and root firmer, owing to ear- 
 lier implantation and longer growth. The 
 conformity between the parties is more full 
 and perfect ; as they assimilate into the quali- 
 ties of each other more easily while soft and 
 pliant, thanl after years and habitudes have 
 confirmed them, and rendered all change im- 
 possible, or difficult and irksome- 
 
306 
 
 THE WIFE'S ADVOCATE. 
 
 About what other object, when taken 
 away, will a man's memory linger so long 
 and tenaciously, as — the image of the wife 
 of his youth ? Of her who first drew into 
 one mighty and exquisite feeling all the 
 sympathies of his heart? Of her with whom 
 he passed the delicious season of virtuous 
 courtship? Of her who inspired him with 
 all the liveliness and enjoyment of hope ? 
 Of her who first made him sensible of the 
 endearments of domestic bliss ? Of her who 
 first by the cry and the image of innocent 
 helplessness told him the tenderness of the 
 parental relation I Of her on whose knee 
 his child first clasped his little hands to pray ? 
 Of her whose leaning so often pressed his 
 arm, in his way to the house of God, in the 
 walks of rural excursion, and the journey of 
 life ? 
 
 — And canst thou, O man, overlook all 
 this while she is living? What if the charm 
 that lighted up the blaze of attachment be 
 now fading? The rose could not always 
 bloom: but surely the fragrance remains. 
 What if infirmities more suddenly or slowly 
 begin to appear : now is the time for evincing 
 and displaying a more grateful and unselfish 
 affection. Is the worth of years to be for- 
 gotten ? Has she not been always thy mi- 
 nistering spirit? Has not thy happiness been 
 dearer to her than her own ? In all thy afflic- 
 tions, has she not been afflicted? Perhaps 
 in giving life, or watching over the pain and 
 malady of thy offspring, she has impaired her 
 frame, and health is only now a living sacri- 
 fice. Go and make God thine example — " I 
 remember Thee, the kindness of thy youth, 
 the love of thine espousal, when thou wentest 
 after me in the wilderness, in a land that 
 was not sown." 
 
 Secondly, says the Prophet, "Is she not 
 thy companion ?" This, perhaps, is the most 
 lovely and becoming idea of the relation that 
 can be supplied. She is not, O man, thy su- 
 perior: she is not thy slave — thy servant — 
 thy dependent. She is indeed a help-mate ; 
 so art thou — but she is " thy companion." 
 
 Yet, as a companion, she is very distin- 
 guishable from every other. A brother or 
 sister is a companion ; but they are so invo- 
 luntarily — she is thy companion by choice. 
 Many are companions for a while ; but they 
 are separable from us, and our intercourse 
 may be reduced to correspondence — She is 
 thy companion for life. Let other compa- 
 nions be ever so intimate, they have yet their 
 separate allotments — she is thy companion, 
 so as to have no interests of her own, but is 
 an equal sharer in all the cares and comforts 
 of thine. 
 
 It will be confessed, that there are some 
 differences between the male and the female 
 character, produced by nature, and enlarged 
 by education. But the very differences ren- 
 der them the more mutually eligible as com- 
 
 panions. The defective qualities of each are 
 provided for in the attributes of the other. 
 Both excel ; but they excel in their own way. 
 He is more characterized by thought; she, 
 by sympathy : but these properties demand 
 and aid each other. The eagerness, the sen- 
 sitiveness, the delicacy, the genius, of the 
 female, would unnerve the man: and the' 
 courage, the inflexibility, the severeness of the 
 man, would unsex the female. Nothing can 
 be more absurd than to oppose their respect- 
 ive claims; nothing more injurious than to 
 separate them. Let their peculiar properties 
 and places be retained — and all will be found 
 adaptation and order. Let them be associat- 
 ed — and all will be found harmony and com- 
 pleteness. 
 
 But how is it to be lamented when their 
 companionship is not carried into the widest, 
 noblest, and most important region of its ex- 
 ercise — I mean religion ? How unmeet is it, 
 while one goes into the presence of God by 
 devotion, for the other to stand without, till 
 this transaction be over ! How forceless the 
 petition singly signed, while the voice of love 
 and union cries, " If two of you shall agree 
 on earth, as touching any thing they may 
 ask, it shall be done of my Heavenly Father !" 
 How strange and unsightly must it be for one 
 of these associates to be walking the way 
 everlasting, while the other is going the road 
 to death ! How hurtful and fatal to divide 
 and separate, where, weak and opposed alone, 
 they need every mutual encouragement and 
 assistance! How appalling to reflect, that the 
 most endearing alliance must be broken up 
 for ever at the termination of a life equally 
 short and uncertain ! 
 
 Husbands and wives! never forget that 
 you are moral and accountable beings ; and 
 that the present life is only the threshold of 
 existence. Be companions in faith and god- 
 liness. Walk together as heirs of the grace 
 of life. Take sweet counsel together, and 
 go to the house of God in company. Allure 
 each other over the land of revelation in the 
 length and breadth thereof. Mutually sur- 
 vey its prospects, admire its beauties, and 
 gather of its flowers and fruits. Encourage 
 one another with these words ; and let your 
 hearts be comforted and knit together in love 
 unto all riches of the full assurance of under- 
 standing to the acknowledgment of the mys- 
 tery of God, and of the Father, and of Christ, 
 in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom 
 and knowledge — Then your children will not 
 be perplexed by contrary counsels and exam- 
 ples. Then you will be lovely in life, and in 
 death not divided. Then your separation will 
 be only temporary ; a time of re-union will 
 come ; and the intercourse of pure and per- 
 fected friendship will be renewed for ever. 
 
 Thirdly : " She is the wife of thy covenant." 
 Covenant here means the marriage contract ; 
 and by the mention of this, the husband is 
 
THE WIFE'S ADVOCATE. 
 
 80? 
 
 called upon to remember that the vows of 
 God are upon him. A truly virtuous man 
 will feel love more binding' than law ; yet 
 considering human frailty, and the interests 
 of society, it is well to be bound by duty as 
 well as affection : and be constrained, if we 
 act wrong', not only to violate principle, but 
 obligation. The forms and rites of the con- 
 nubial engagement may vary in different ages 
 and countries; but some sanction has been 
 always required. If the contract be not di- 
 rectly a religious transaction, it has generally 
 been accompanied and enforced by religious 
 sanctions. And surely such a connexion can 
 never be rendered too solemn and too sacred. 
 It is the most awful and interesting compact 
 into which it is possible to enter. Yet there 
 are men who can trifle with a stipulation so 
 momentous ; and seem to forget all the re- 
 sponsibilities it entails : requiring perhaps at 
 the same time exact fidelity on the other 
 side — as if, in a covenant, both the parties 
 were not equally bound. Did these men, be- 
 forehand, tell the persons they are endea- 
 vouring to espouse, how they designed to 
 treat them; or did they refuse to pledge 
 themselves to any kind of agreeable and good 
 behaviour towards them ; they would act an 
 open part at least ; and their wives, though 
 chargeable with folly in venturing to ad- 
 vance, would yet have no deceitfulness to 
 complain of But when a man has voluntarily 
 promised and bound himself by oath, he is 
 no longer at liberty to behave otherwise than 
 his engagement prescribes, without falsehood, 
 perfidy, perjury, and disgrace. 
 
 He that does not verify the engagement, 
 not only implied but expressed, upon which 
 alone the heart was surrendered to him, is no 
 better than a seducer. He falsely wins con- 
 fidence, basely to betray it'; and proclaims him- 
 self not only to be destitute of the principles of 
 a Christian, but the honour of a man : and for 
 want of common honesty, he ought to be 
 shunned by all reputable society. Herod, 
 though he was grieved at his promise, yet 
 would not refuse to ratify it, for his oath's 
 sake. Jephthah, though he had to sacrifice 
 his own daughter, yet, said he, " I have open- 
 ed my mouth unto the Lord, and I cannot go 
 back." A good man sweareth to his own 
 hurt, and changeth not." And we know who 
 has said, " When thou vowest a vow unto 
 God, defer not to pay it ; for he hath no plea- 
 sure in fools. Pay that which thou hast 
 vowed. Better is it that thou shouldest not 
 vow, than that thou shouldest vow and not 
 pay. Suffer not thy mouth to cause thy flesh 
 to sin ; neither say thou before the angel, that 
 it was an error : wherefore should God be 
 angry at thy voice, and destroy the work of 
 thy hands V Therefore let us consider 
 
 III. The condemnation of the trans- 
 gressor. Here we have both the sentence 
 — and the evidence upon which it is adjudged. 
 
 The first is thus expressed — "Tnsomuch 
 that he regardeth not the offering any more, 
 or receiveth it with good will at your hand." 
 And is this a light thing 1 God is the supreme 
 good. In His favour is life. It is the most 
 delightful consciousness in the world to know 
 that we are accepted of him ; and to have 
 the testimony that we please God. But all 
 here is aversion, rejection, contempt. "I 
 will have no communion with you. I hate 
 not only your sins — but your services." 
 
 It would seem surprising, indeed, that 
 those who live in disobedience to his com- 
 mands, should yet be found attending the 
 worship of God at all: for there is much in 
 the Dutch proverb, " Praying will make a 
 man leave off sinning, or sinning will make 
 a man leave off praying." But the heart is 
 deceitful above all things, as well as desper- 
 ately wicked : and the inconsistiencies it is 
 continually putting forth, are as wonderful as 
 in things in the course of nature or order of 
 providence. There are those who will ob- 
 serve the form of godliness, and deny the 
 power of it. There are those who will sup- 
 port the cause of Christ and defraud their 
 tradesmen : who will regard the positive or- 
 dinances of religion ; and neglect its moral 
 requisitions : who will value the ritual part 
 of devotion, and violate the practical. How 
 many are godly on the Sabbath, and worldly 
 all the week! Who appear saints in the 
 house of God, and are demons in their own ! 
 Are there not some who even maintain morn- 
 ing and evening service in their families, and 
 yet cover the altar of the Lord with tears, 
 and with weeping, and crying out T 
 
 But let such know that omission is prefer- 
 able to perversion. And let them "go and 
 learn what that meaneth, I will have mercy 
 and not sacrifice" — " God heareth not sinners ; 
 but if any man be a worshipper of God, and 
 doeth his will, him he heareth" — He that 
 stoppeth his ears at the cry of the poor, he 
 also shall cry himself, and shall not be heard. 
 Hence the God of Israel saith, " He that 
 killeth an ox, is as if he slew a man : he that 
 sacrificeth a lamb, as if he cut off a dog's neck : 
 he that offereth an oblation, as if he offered 
 swine's blood : he that burneth incense, as if 
 he blessed an idol." Wherefore 1 Were not 
 these observances of His own appointment ! 
 They were. But He loathed them when they 
 became substitutes for moral principle, or 
 connected with practices which he had con- 
 demned. Therefore, says he, "Wash ye, 
 make you clean, put away the evil of your 
 doings, from before mine eyes — Seek justice ; 
 relieve the oppressed ; judge the fatherless; 
 plead for the widows — Come now and let us 
 reason together, saith the Lord : though your 
 sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as 
 snow ; though they be red like crimson, they 
 shall be as wool." 
 
 Is this a light thing? — More is implied 
 
308 
 
 THE WIFE'S ADVOCATE. 
 
 than is expressed. There is no medium be- 
 tween non-acceptance with God, and con- 
 demnation. If we are not in his favour, we 
 are under his wrath. And who can stand 
 before Him when once He is angry 1 The 
 grand question is, In what relation are we 
 found to Him ? Is He our friend or our foe ! 
 If our foe, he can arm all creatures against 
 us: he can operate immediately upon our 
 mind : he can pursue us beyond the grave, 
 which screens us from all other enemies; 
 and, after he hath killed, can cast into Hell. 
 He that judgeth us is the Lord — And if he 
 be for us, who can be against us ? He can 
 make all things work together for our good. 
 They whom he blesses are blessed : and they 
 whom he curses are cursed : and none can 
 reverse it 
 
 And is this a light thing I Wisdom cries, 
 Hide not thy face from me : put not thy ser- 
 vant away in anger. There be many that 
 say, Who will show us any good ! Lord, lift 
 Thou up the light of thy countenance upon 
 me. And, to heal this broken heart ; to 
 soothe every sorrow ; to sweeten every com- 
 fort; to raise me above the fear of every 
 evil ; say unto my soul, I am thy salvation. 
 
 But, secondly, who are these ! In order 
 to punish legally, there must be not only 
 guilt, but conviction; and there is no con- 
 viction without evidence, without witness. 
 Who is the witness here 1 God himself— 
 " The Lord hath been witness between thee 
 and the wife of thy youth, against whom thou 
 hast dealt treacherously, though she is thy 
 companion and the wife of thy covenant." 
 This indeed is a case in which human wit- 
 ness is not, and cannot be always attainable. 
 A few transgressors may be careless of ob- 
 servation, and, in their shame, seek no dis- 
 guise : but in general, the offender courts 
 secrecy. He knows his reputation is at 
 stake ; and that nothing lowers a man more 
 in common estimation than improper temper 
 and conduct towards the most claimful of all 
 relations. He therefore tries as much as 
 possible to cloak it. Before others he is often 
 full of pretensions. He uses, perhaps, the 
 most endearing expressions; and while the 
 sufferer is conscious of the falseness of all 
 this display, he passes for a respectable, per- 
 haps a fond husband. But not with Him 
 whose eyes are in every place, beholding the 
 evil and the good. He sets his secret sins in 
 the light of his countenance. 
 
 It would be well for us always to remem- 
 ber that God sees us ; and the less we are 
 under the cognizance of others, the more, in 
 a way of motive and influence, we need to 
 realize the inspection of our witness in 
 heaven and our record on high. In the 
 world and in the church we are more upon 
 our guard, because there are many to observe 
 us; but in our dwellings we give ourselves 
 more latitudes. But God is there ; and there- 
 
 fore we should walk within our house with 
 a perfect heart, and set no wicked thing be- 
 fore our eyes, and hate the work of them 
 that turn aside. He knoweth our down-sit- 
 ting, and our up-rising. He compasseth 
 about our path ; and is acquainted with all 
 our ways. He is a witness between us and 
 our servants ; a witness between us and our 
 children; a witness between us and our 
 wives — a constant witness — an unerring wit- 
 ness — a witness who is at the same time the 
 lawgiver whose orders we contemn ; and the 
 judge who will bring every work into judg- 
 ment, with every secret tiring, whether it be 
 good or whether it be evil. 
 
 What mysteries of iniquity will that day 
 make manifest! How many tyrants have 
 despatched their victims in dungeons, or by 
 assassins whose employers were never known ! 
 How many seducers have entangled and 
 ruined the innocent and unwary, the disco- 
 very of whom was suppressed by power or 
 bribery ! How many husbands have destroy- 
 ed the peace, the comfort, the health, the life 
 of those who ought to have been dear to them 
 as their own stuls, uncensured, and even un- 
 suspected ! But the Lord comes, who will 
 bring to light the hidden things of dark- 
 ness, and make manifest the counsels of the 
 heart. 
 
 Yet in wrath he remembers mercy : and 
 before he destroys, he warns and admonishes. 
 Hence, 
 
 IV. The means of prevention — " There- 
 fore take heed to your spirit, and let none 
 deal treacherously against the wife of bis 
 youth." 
 
 Here we are led immediately to the source 
 of all evil. "Take heed to your spil■it.' , 
 There all begins : and there is no sanctifying 
 the life without an attention to the heart 
 Therefore says Solomon, " Keep thy heart 
 with all diligence, for out of it are the issues 
 of life." Heal the spring, and the streams 
 will be wholesome. Make the tree good, and 
 the fruit will be good. Renew the heart, 
 and upon the tongue is the law of kindness. 
 Replenish the heart, and out of the abundance 
 of the heart the mouth speaketh. " A good 
 man out of the good treasure of his heart 
 bringeth forth good things ; and an evil man 
 out of the evil treasure, bringeth forth evil 
 things." 
 
 But the meaning is, not only that we 
 should attend to our principles if we would 
 regulate our practice, but that we should 
 never overlook or neglect the very first 
 risings of evil. Evil is spreading like leaven, 
 and a little leaven leaveneth the whole lump. 
 It may be too late to assail the enemy when 
 he has advanced and gathered force from 
 success. Attack him at the outset, while 
 yet his strength is small ; and no strong-hold 
 is taken ; and no pass is even seized. When 
 lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin; and 
 
THE WIFE'S 
 
 sin, when it is finished, bringcth ( forth death. 
 Crush, therefore, the cocatrice in the egg, 
 lest it break forth, and become a fiery flying 
 serpent. 
 
 Again. All are concerned in this caution 
 — and " let none deal treacherously against 
 the wife of his youth." 
 
 Are Levites excepted 1 They arc chiefly 
 the persons here complained of. Their lips 
 are indeed to keep knowledge ; but they are 
 to do, as well as to teach. They are to be 
 examples, to illustrate and recommend their 
 own doctrine. The snuffers in the taberna- 
 cle were to be made of pure gold. They 
 who reprove others are to be blameless them- 
 selves. Their exhortations, dishonoured by 
 their own temper and practice, will not only 
 be unavailing, but repulsive ; and all the con- 
 victions they would fix in the conscience, 
 will drop like arrows from an impenetrable 
 shield. " Behold, thou knowest his will, 
 and approvest the things that are more ex- 
 cellent, being instructed out of the law ; and 
 art confident that thou thyself art a guide 
 of the blind, a light of them which are 
 in darkness, an Lnstructer of the foolish, 
 a teacher of babes, which hast the form 
 of knowledge and of the truth , in the 
 law. Thou, therefore, which teachest ano- 
 ther, teachest thou not thyself! Thou that 
 preachest a man should not steal, dost thou 
 steal 1 Thou that sayest a man should not 
 commit adultery, dost thou commit adultery] 
 Thou that abhorrest idols, dost thou commit 
 sacrilege 1 Thou that makest thy boast of 
 the law, through breaking the law disho- 
 nourest thou God 1" Who revolts not at re- 
 ceiving his food from a leprous hand "! If the 
 bad husband disgraces the good preacher, 
 men will abhor the offering of the Lord. 
 
 Are the upper ranks above this injunction'! 
 It might be supposed that they had this ima- 
 gination, from their conduct in too many in- 
 stances. But the higher the individual, the 
 more is he bound to regard it. He is by his 
 station the more observable and influential ; 
 and the more injurious will his life prove, if 
 it be vicious. Evil is a stream ; and, like 
 every other stream, it does not ascend, but 
 runs downward. Or, to borrow another 
 image, a private person is like a pocket 
 watch, that only misinforms the wearer : a 
 public character is like a town clock, that 
 leads astray the whole parish. 
 
 Yet no man is entirely unobserved and un- 
 influential, especially when placed at the head 
 of a family. Therefore let the low as well 
 as the high remember the advice. Indeed 
 the less of outward prosperity persons have, 
 the more necessary is it to guard against 
 those tempers and practices that will imbit- 
 ter their trials; and to seek solace, under 
 their privations, in the grace of the Gospel, 
 the consolations of religion, and the comforts 
 of domestic peace and love. And execrated 
 
 ADVOCATE. 309 
 
 be the sentiment that love and poverty are 
 incompatible. There may be more of con- 
 tentment, though less of mirth ; more of the 
 reality, though less of the show of happiness, 
 in the cottage than in the mansion. Where 
 the Lord is sought, he blesses their bread and 
 their water. When in the simplicity of faith 
 the Scriptures are read with prayer, and 
 praise, these are found to be better than thou- 
 sands of gold and silver. 
 
 Is this idle talk 1 Here is the language of 
 inspiration — " Better is a dinner of herbs 
 where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred 
 therewith. Better is a little with quietness, 
 than a house full of sacrifices with strife." 
 " A little that a righteous man hath, is better 
 than the riches of many wicked." What 
 heart-cold wretchedness is often found con- 
 nected with splendour, abundance, and ex- 
 cess — " The blessing of the Lord it maketh 
 rich, and he addeth no sorrow with it." 
 
 Let the advancing in life guard against the 
 loss of their first regards. The effervescence 
 of the passion may subside, but let the spirit 
 of the principle be preserved ; and, like gener- 
 ous wines, it will refine and improve by 
 keeping. 
 
 And let not the young be careless. The 
 newly-married pair, happy in the possession 
 of crowned desires, may think themselves in 
 no danger of abated regard : but we have seen 
 goodness, even in wedded life, like the morn- 
 ing cloud and early dew that passeth away. 
 Therefore take help to your spirit. Watch, 
 not only against the grosser evils, but minor 
 delinquencies. Guard against the first symp- 
 tom of declension. One tiling prepares for, 
 brings in, justifies another ; and, when going 
 astray, the smallness of each movement may 
 keep us unalarmed, till we look back, and 
 are shocked at the distance we have reached. 
 Let your wife have no reason for the most 
 distant apprehension. Let no sigh flit across 
 her mind. Be not satisfied to keep within 
 the bare precincts of duty ; but care for the 
 things of the wife, how you may please the 
 wife. Be open. Be candid. Be tender. 
 Be attentive. Be exemplary. In the con- 
 nexion before us, inattention leads to indif- 
 ference ; and indifference to dislike ; and dis- 
 like to disgust. If love be withdrawn, wed- 
 ded life is confinement, misery, hell. Let 
 love abound, and no ennui is known ; no re- 
 straint is felt ; no task is performed. The 
 yoke is easy ; the burden is light. Duty is 
 privilege ; and to oblige is more delightful 
 than to be obliged. But remember, religion 
 is the best promoter and preserver of this 
 love; and therefore let domestic morality 
 be founded in Christian piety. 
 
 " But why have you chosen such a pas- 
 sage as this '!" Go and ask Malachi, why he 
 inserted it in his short series of prophesyings ! 
 Go and ask Paul, whether " all Scripture is 
 not given by inspiration of God, and profit- 
 
310 
 
 THE WIFE'S ADVOCATE. 
 
 able for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, 
 and for instruction in righteousness'!" — Does 
 not the unspeakable importance of the subject 
 justify the selection 1 Does not the charac- 
 ter of the day in which we live, render such 
 a discourse needful ] 
 
 But I have availed myself of a particular 
 event to bring forward these thoughts this 
 
 morning. It is the union of with . 
 
 He will have too much good sense to take 
 improperly the drift of the subject ; or to sup- 
 pose that caution and admonition necessarily 
 imply censure or suspicion. No, my young 
 friend ; I am fully persuaded better things 
 of you, though I thus speak; and believe that 
 you will regard her, whose heart has safely 
 trusted in you as your companion, the wife 
 of your youth and of your covenant ; and con- 
 tinue to love and to cherish till the parting 
 hour. I hail you on the completion of your 
 wishes — " He that findeth a wife, findeth a 
 good thing, and obtains favour of the Lord." 
 I would not interrupt the joy of your espou- 
 sals—But surely it cannot be unreasonable 
 to say to the favoured sons of men, " Rejoice 
 with trembling." The connexion you have 
 formed is frail. It has its duties as well as 
 its delights. It has also its cares as well as 
 its comforts. Look not for a state of unalloy- 
 ed happiness. Expect not to find the perfec- 
 tion in another, which you know another will 
 never find in you. I commend you to God 
 and to the word of his grace : and may He 
 whom you have honoured in believing his 
 truth, that " it is not good for man to be 
 alone," look down from heaven, and say, 
 " From this day will I bless you." 
 
 But I turn to you, my female friends — and, 
 as far as I know my own convictions and feel- 
 ings, I am your friend — you will therefore 
 allow me to address you freely, especially 
 since I have delivered myself unsparingly to 
 those of my own sex. 
 
 First, let me address those who are yet un- 
 connected. It is not improper for you to 
 think of a condition which Nature has ordain- 
 ed us for ; and which the Scripture pronoun- 
 ces honourable in all. Nor should you revolt i 
 from the state because there are husbands 
 who " cover the altar of God with tears." All . 
 men are not liars. Nor should difficulties 
 discourage you. These are found in every 
 condition : and we are persuaded the state, 1 
 if properly entered, is the most happy in this < 
 vale of tears. How much of the relish of f 
 our comforts is lost in unsocial enjoyment ! ] 
 How much do we need a friend, another self, ■ 
 to alleviate by sharing the cares and griefs 1 
 of life ! How many moments of languor, op- l 
 pressiveness, and despondency are there, in 1 
 which the heart beats for attention, sympa- \ 
 thy, and kindness ! How helpless is a soli- i 
 tary female ! how many real dangers sur- \ 
 round her; and how are these perils multi- s 
 plied by solitariness ! A single man has a \ 
 
 , thousand engagements abroad : a woman, if 
 3 single, has little diversion from thought, and 
 t broods over real and imaginary evils. And 
 - how inferior is she reckoned to the female 
 l who sustains the character of a wife, and a 
 parent, and is performing her duty to the 
 
 • world, and is the source of usefulness to the 
 s community ! 
 
 But there is nothing reproachful in your 
 i present condition — unless you choose to make 
 ■ it so by exemplifying in your temper and 
 conduct the imputations thrown on your state, 
 
 • especially in its advancement. Show that it 
 i does not necessarily entail malevolence; 
 
 envy ; scandal ; curiosity ; spleen ; insipid for- 
 mality; prudery; secrecy; a mystifying of 
 trifles. The character and lives of too many 
 of our sex are such as must prevent any re- 
 flection upon you for declining them: and 
 your scorning to espouse worthlessness for 
 the sake of any advantage ; and your refusing 
 every connexion unapproved by your princi- 
 ples and conscience, as well as affection; will 
 raise you in the estimation of all the wise and 
 good. 
 
 Never, therefore, settle it in your minds 
 that you must enter this state ; or that mar- 
 riage is essential to your usefulness, respect- 
 ability, and happiness. Refer it to Him who 
 has a right to dispose of us as he pleases; 
 and who knows what is best for us. And in 
 the mean time improve the advantages of 
 your present state. You are free from a thou- 
 sand anxiousnesses and trials, unfriendly to 
 mental culture and enlarged devotion. " She 
 that is unmarried careth for the things of the 
 Lord, how she may be holy both in body and 
 spirit. But she that is married, careth for 
 the things of the world, how she may please 
 her husband." If you have met with disap- 
 pointment, let these reflections prevent dis- 
 satisfaction ; and sober your hopes ; and make 
 you, when you think of altering your circum- 
 stances, to be the more prudent, circumspect, 
 and prayerful. Look after good sense, good 
 temper, domestic habits, and, above all, the 
 fear of God. And as, after all your caution 
 and care, it is possible for you to be imposed 
 upon, commit your way unto the Lord, and 
 let integrity and uprightness preserve you 
 while you wait upon him. 
 
 Secondly, some of you are found among the 
 bereaved. The guide of your youth, and the 
 companion of your days, is removed from you; 
 and your heart within you is often desolate. 
 I am not wishing to open your wounds afresh 
 — You are no longer seen leaning on your 
 beloved — But there is another Being who 
 now stands in the most interesting of all re- 
 lations to you. He is the " Husband of the 
 widow." Be not hasty to leave a condition 
 into which his hand has led you ; but as a 
 widow indeed, continue trusting in God with 
 all your heart ; and hold communion with the 
 hour when you shall re-unite with those who 
 
THE WIFE'S ADVOCATE. 
 
 311 
 
 are gone before, and are now waiting to re- 
 ceive you into everlasting habitations. 
 
 Thirdly, some of you are in a state that 
 admits of our congratulations. You are af- 
 fianced to those who are sensible of your va- 
 lue ; whose inclinations fall in with their 
 duty ; who render love for love, confidence 
 for confidence, attention for attention — 
 
 But I feel for others. The flattery which 
 once perhaps your ear was too eager to drink 
 in, has ended in disappointment and sorrow ; 
 and your eye poureth out tears unto God. 
 Perhaps you were too sanguine in your ex- 
 pectations. Perhaps you looked for more 
 in the relation than reason and Scripture 
 have ever promised to afford. Perhaps now, 
 upon the whole, you have but little reason to 
 complain. Every state has its deductions. 
 
 But admitting it to be otherwise, allow me 
 to ask — Has there been no blame-worthiness 
 attached to yourselves 7 Have you done 
 every thing in your power to render your- 
 selves and your religion approved? You 
 know the preacher does not join in the vul- 
 gar and unjust reflections cast upon your sex 
 — but there are temper flaws unsightly, and 
 there are tongue flaws intolerable. " Better 
 to dwell in a corner of the house-top, than 
 with a brawling woman in a wide house. A 
 continual dropping in a rainy day and a con- 
 tentious woman are alike. Are you slat- 
 terns] Do you love disorder) Are you 
 idle, tattlers, busy-bodies, wandering from 
 house to house 7 Are you keepers at home 7 
 Do you render your dwelling attractive 7 Do 
 you make it the asylum of your husband from 
 the toils and troubles of life 7 Does he find 
 it the scene of accommodation, and peace, 
 and cheerfulness 7 When abroad, is he 
 " stung with the thoughts of home ;" and is 
 the most delightful part of his absence the 
 moment that turns his face towards the loved 
 place of his rest 7 
 
 We know that you can — we have too often 
 witnessed it not to know — we know that you 
 can, present religion in every interesting and 
 engaging form ; that you can, not only ren- 
 der domestic life graceful, but piously attract- 
 ive ; that you can fan into a flame an expir- 
 ing devotion ; that you can give excellence 
 and energy to every good word and work; 
 that you can teach and enforce with a per- 
 suasive ease, and a tender mildness, whose 
 influence is rarely without some success — 
 Have you employed these efficiencies in con- 
 nexion with every other? For let me tell 
 you, my sisters, if you have not availed your- 
 selves of your religious means, and used 
 them with prayer, perseveringly, and wisely, 
 and invitingly, you have as yet no absolute 
 cause to complain, if your relative condition 
 be not such as you would have it. 
 
 After all, with the exception of human in- 
 firmity, we will suppose a possible case. You 
 have nothing to reproach yourself with ; and 
 
 yet your " house is not so with God." Even 
 here we have a few words of advice to offer. 
 Be not forward to complain openly, not only 
 because noisy grief is seldom deemed very 
 worthy of sympathy ; but also because, in 
 your peculiar case, it is more likely to add to 
 the evil than to remove it. Exposure not 
 only mortifies, but commonly exasperates, 
 and hardens ; and the man, not only feeling 
 the loss of self-respect, but the esteem of 
 others, becomes reckless in his conduct. Be- 
 ware of retaliation and reproach. Render 
 not railing for railing, but contrariwise, bless- 
 ing. Ever follow the example of the Lord 
 Jesus, " who, when he suffered, threatened 
 not, but committed himself to Him that judg- 
 eth righteously." Especially avoid every 
 thing that is irritating when the mind of your 
 husband is in a feverish and inflamed state ; 
 and when a season of speaking returns, re- 
 member, a soft answer turneth away wrath, 
 while grievous words stir up anger. Yield- 
 ing pacifieth great offences. And let me not 
 offend while I hint, that it is not authority 
 but influence that belongs to your condition ; 
 and that your influence is not derived from 
 violence and insistings, but from prepossess- 
 ings, amiableness, a willingness to waive 
 even a right, and a desire to please rather 
 than to conquer — And says not the Apostle 
 the same? " Likewise, ye wives, be in sub- 
 jection to your own husbands : that, if any 
 obey not the word, they also may without the 
 word be won by the conversation of the 
 wives ; while they behold your chaste con- 
 versation coupled with fear: whose adorning, 
 let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting 
 the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting 
 on of apparel; but let it be the hidden man 
 of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, 
 even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, 
 which is in the sight of God of great price. 
 For after this manner in the old time the 
 holy women also, who trusted in God, adorn- 
 ed themselves, being in subjection unto their 
 own husbands; even as Sarah obeyed Abra- 
 ham, calling him lord : whose daughters ye 
 are as long as ye do well, and are not afraid 
 with any amazement." 
 
 Some men, it must be acknowledged, seem 
 strangers to all refinement of feeling; and 
 cannot be overcome by even the meekness of 
 wisdom. Yet if the address of tenderness 
 and entreaty be unhappily useless, all car- 
 riage of an opposite character will be more 
 than useless. The being upon whom gentle- 
 ness and good nature are lost, can never be 
 amended by ill-humour and clamour. A 
 man of sense will often, for the sake of pro- 
 priety or peace, submit to be talked down by 
 a wife talented in this species of oratory ; but 
 a man destitute of sense, will be sure to re- 
 tort such treatment with double violence and 
 insult. " With the well-advised is wisdom :" 
 while fools are the most unpersuadable of all 
 
312 THE WIFE'S 
 
 animals — But you should not marry fools. 
 You may be imposed upon with regard to 
 piety — but you cannot be mistaken with re- 
 gard to sense. 
 
 But if, after all your blamelessness and 
 commendableness, you are in the affliction we 
 have been endeavouring to prevent — one 
 source of relief is open — Carry your distress 
 to the mercy-seat ; and spreading it before the 
 God of all comfort, say — " Lord, all my de- 
 sire is before" Thee, and my groaning is not 
 hid from Thee." While He permits your 
 sufferings, He loves you. He pities you. He 
 is on your side. He is able to turn the curse 
 
 ADVOCATE. 
 
 into a blessing — " We know that all things 
 work together for good to them that love 
 God." We have seen wives who have been 
 chosen in the furnace of affliction. They 
 have had this valley of Achor given them for 
 a door of hope. Their purposes being broken 
 offl even the thoughts of their heart ; and 
 their prospects on life's fairest side being 
 clouded and gloomy ; they have looked out 
 after "a better country." They have asked, 
 " Where is God my Maker, that giveth songs 
 in the night V They have said, " And now, 
 Lord, what wait I for 1 My hope is in 
 Thee." 
 
 END OF MISCELLANIES. 
 
Princeton Theological Seminary Libraries 
 
 1 1012 01195 5244